#besides his personality is PERFECT to twist around into an evil one

[blu3b1rd]

Ahahah so about that swap force rewrite, :) I've always been super miffed that Whiskers got an evil form, and like a year ago decided to actually just have an alt AU where I'm just rewriting the plot to make it more fun. Most of the gameplay/goals are the same but the story is decently edited. The overall story is the same, but theres this now, and all the fun stuff that could really bring. I could go on a whole tangent about why removing him from the good guy team for that game would actually let the player get more attached to Tessa as a character but thats for the big lore dump post coming up.

[stillness-in-green]

codenamesazanka mentions you a lot when they talk about the new mystery person. any extra analyzes you want give? do *you* think its Tenko?

I 100% do not think it’s Tenko.  It would raise way too many questions about how he got in some rando’s house, why he had to use scissors to free himself, how or if he was recognized, why he was imprisoned if he wasn’t, why he was imprisoned if he was, and so on and so forth.  I wholly believe that he’s just an expy!Tenko, meant to demonstrate how society has changed.

I suppose the only other analysis I have to offer—and I don’t remember if Nal’s touched on this or not in the time it’s been since I got this ask—is the issue of how an expy!Tenko to save is kind of meaningless as a reflection of how Tenko might have been saved when the story was in such a rush to blame every aspect of him on All For One anyway.

That is, if every problem Shigaraki Tomura posed was actually because of the way AFO “groomed” him, then what does saving Scissors-kun change or prove?  Killing or imprisoning all the Villains in the endgame just proves that the Heroes can’t do shit about helping Villains because they’re “too far gone.”  Saving Scissors-kun before he becomes a Villain is great, sure, and much to be desired, but it doesn’t prove anything about how society has changed in such a way that it could now save any future Tomuras.

Conversely, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that Scissors-kun is a Tenko parallel in a different way, and that’s making him be All For One’s fault, somehow, even though AFO is already dead.  He could be from one of the twisted orphanages Ujiko ran, or, for the stronger Tenko parallel, be the child of someone who grew up in one of those orphanages.  And if he was being kept locked in a basement as a result of someone twisted by the seedbed of hatred they grew up in, that ultimately makes the situation All For One’s fault, meaning the story gets to continue to blame all of its setting's problems on one (1) Evil Bad Man, even after that Evil Bad Man has already died.

Really, the whole issue with Scissors-kun as an expy!Tenko, even while I think it is most likely where the story’s going with him, is that he isn’t much of an expy!Tenko if his circumstances have nothing to do with AFO, but it’s still really shitty if they do.  He’d be a much better expy!Toga, but then saving him means the story doesn’t revolve around Deku, and I hardly expect that to start happening now!

Also, for all the talk about him looking like Tenko, I just don’t think he actually does.  The hair color and waviness is one thing, but to me, his eyes are wrong.  Sure, the color/lack of color is right—uninked irises with a black outline—but even accounting for the fact that they’re widened in distress, they’re much too large to be Tomura’s eyes unless he’s lost at least six years in the process of winding up in that house, and the corners of them are pointing at the wrong angles, besides.

Below are some comparison pictures--first of Scissors-kun compared to Tenko, then compared to Tomura:

Note how, whether as a child or as an adult, Shigaraki's eyes always have that upward angle to their outermost point, the shape of the his bottom eyelid sweeping upward in a smooth curve, such that the outer corner rests higher on his face than the inner corner. Conversely, Scissors-kun's eyes come more to a more level, horizontal-facing point, or maybe even a slight downwards-angled droop, such that the outer and inner corners of his eyes seem more level with each other.

To throw a third character into the mix, compare Scissors-kun with both Shigaraki and Re-Destro:

(Note: Shigaraki here has been mirrored for comparison purposes; I used the shot where he and Re-Destro visually face off during the latter's declaration of war.)

Scissors-kun is looking downward in the only shot we have of his face so far, so it's not a perfect comparison, but try to imagine how his eyeshape would look if he were facing directly outward, head held as level as Shigaraki's and RD's are. Do you see how the shape and angles involved would make his eyeshape look more like RD's than Shigaraki's?

Also, there's that funny little arrow point at the end of one of his bangs, the one by his nose that looks more like a baby version of one of Chrono's silly hair arrows than anything we've seen on Shigaraki or Tenko.

So, yeah, I think he is clearly supposed to be reminiscent of Shigaraki/Tenko, presumably for thematic reasons we'll be covering in the last few chapters, but I don't think he is him.

But then, it's only one panel so far, and the very first one at that, on top of the tilted angle. Maybe the resemblance will be more pronounced when he shows up next time. We'll see. Thanks for the ask!

[theicarusconstellation]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

HI MY SUNSHINE

and though i burn, how could i fall?

No touch has felt like this before. No touch was as caring, as tender, holding Regulus like he is something precious.

Precious.

To a god.

Will you sing for me?

or, my jegulus icarus x apollo au

your life begins by leaving (and our love is stored in the letting go), cowritten with my beautiful fiancé kit @ninety-two-bees

Regulus came and went in the blink of an eye, and James kept wishing.

At some point, though, wishing stopped being enough. James could sit around and lament to his friends about what could’ve been, but it didn’t change what was. The wedding announcement was what finally tipped James over the edge. He couldn’t keep waiting and hoping that things would work themselves out for him. He couldn't keep worrying about giving Regulus his space. If he was going to lose the only person he had ever truly wanted to build a future with, he had to at least try to change how things played out. He had to know for certain if he had any chance to be with Regulus at all.

or, james and regulus go on a roadtrip

into the dark

His curls are swept delicately over the side of his face, and when James brushes them away, they reveal his marble skin dotted with near-invisible freckles, spattered across his cheekbones and the little bump on his nose. James wants everything about him: how his Cupid’s bow dips into a perfect little heart, his lips, smooth and rose-red, the soft rustling of his curls against the pillow as he exhales, his hands, slim fingers resting against the mattress, donned in the rings he wore to the Gryffindor party.

Regulus is more than just angel-like; he is a boy from Heaven itself.

or, my jegulus canon-divergent au spanning both wars

into the stars

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” James murmurs into his hair.

“Baby? That’s a new one,” Regulus replies, praying to all that is holy that James can’t feel how hot his cheeks burn at the use of the pet name. Baby, baby, baby.

or, a little fic set in the into the dark universe written for my fiancée, @ninety-two-bees

with a broken heart, the transformation begins

Do you know what it feels like to witness the end of the world?

It does not happen with a bang, nor with a whimper, but rather a twisted combination of both.

Centuries of preparation and training are not enough, though you can hope and hope and hope until your feathers fall out that they will be.

There is no hope as you stand on the edge of a grassy hill and watch as the most ancient and powerful of evils tears through space to destroy everything you hold dear.

Do you know what it feels like to fail?

or, my revali character study — a description of his death

little universes

a collection of my tumblr jegulus microfics (@theicarusconstellation), updated continuously with each new prompt i write for.

always an angel (never a god)

“Alia Atreides.”

Something shatters right beside the foot of the servant who holds the holo-communicator. The shards of Alia’s glass cup litter the stony ground.

“I’ll kill them,” Alia hisses, hints of the Voice seeping into her tone. “I’ll kill them all.”

In the chaos, no one bothers to observe Emperor Shaddam as he moves on to the next Reaping Bowl.

Paul knows what is coming. He would know even if the emperor never read the name on that slip.

“Paul Atreides.”

or, my dune hunger games au, set in the dune universe

gun in my lips

hidden because it’s being rewritten, but it’s my jegulus and lilycissa the secret history au

cela en valait-il la peine? (ça l’était)

"Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard."

or, marlene goes out kicking and screaming with her lover on her mind and ferocity in her heart

[shirefantasies]

Why is Tolkien so charitable regarding Frodo's missteps? After all, Tolkien conveniently and entirely blames all of Frodo's missteps regarding his handling of the ring on the ring itself.  "I do not think Frodo's was a moral failure. At the last moment the pressure of the Ring would reach its maximum -- impossible, I should have said, for anyone to resist."- JRR Tolkien. One can't imagine him saying anything remotely like this about the others who tried to take the ring. It's only Frodo's actions that Tolkien excuses by saying that anyone in Frodo's position would have done the same thing.

Hi there! Not sure if this comes from dislike of the character or just Tolkien’s handling, but if it’s the former I know I have characters I wouldn’t want someone to push me to like so I for sure will be surprised but respectful if Frodo is a character you don’t enjoy. Having people try to change your mind can be exhausting and annoying lol, so this’ll focus on just how I take things in the story personally! I am by no means a huge Tolkien scholar, but here’s how I take that situation with the ring and some evidence for the points as I at least see them (with some general agreement from other fandom and analysis discussions and conventions with other LoTR fans as well!). Hope this is at least an interesting read and I’m pretty darn flattered you chose me to ask this to ☺️

1. The ring bears a heavy weight (literally) on everyone’s decisions interacting with it, but I’ve always taken the story and Tolkien’s words on it as a bit of commentary on the folly of man, and as a religious person the concept of original sin. I.E. that we as humans (men, hobbits, dwarves, and even elves included in this setting) are simply not perfect and cannot be. Part of that evidenced in quotes like that from Tolkien himself but also scenes where even characters seen as beacons of good, strength, wisdom, morals, etc. do show temptation by the ring or that it would turn good intentions to evil. Galadriel and Gandalf, for example, are some of the most powerful beings and they tell Frodo that they would become corrupt and misuse the power they already have and that of the ring. Boromir as a character shows this too, because he is held overall pretty blameless too despite doing a bad thing. I love Boromir personally but nearly every fan on here I interact with does too and many discussions are had around his desperation, his life experiences up to the point of the fellowship’s travels, and how we all believe him to be a good man that made bad decisions out of both the influence of the ring and the pressure put on him to be his people’s hero. So I hold Frodo and Boromir especially on an equal ground of people who are flawed and strained, people tired of fighting and who just want an escape, frankly, a solution they don’t feel is coming especially not through the dark lens of the ring and its temptation to trust the way it warps you.

2. I think part of why Frodo gets emphasized in what can seem like the ‘oh he did no wrong’ narrative comes from the simple fact that he’s one of the characters who holds/interacts with the ring the longest. Besides characters like Bilbo and Gollum, we don’t see as much detail on a long time spent with the ring- in fact, beyond the what the Smeagol flashbacks do Frodo is the main indicator of it all for readers/viewers. Most of the other characters only touch/hold/carry it briefly, not for months like he does. So the weight of it does not fall as heavily on them, but we do see that Sam, the chief hero of the story (Tolkien’s words!), even hesitates before giving the ring back to Frodo after carrying it for a fraction of the time. Would Sam have been driven that much further down by it if he had been the one to carry it? I believe so, though it would have manifested differently (Frodo is more a quiet, brooding type who spits venom on occasion where Sam is much more a man of action and outward anger, so the ring would have twisted that and I think he would have been more tough and explosive while Frodo got nasty if that makes sense). Bilbo and Gollum take on similar traits when they try to snatch the ring and I believe Frodo would have descended further into those, too, with even more time carrying the ring.

3. If we’re looking at LoTR also as a showing that absolute power corrupts, we have to have someone like Frodo fail. We have to show even a ‘little guy’, someone young and joyful at the beginning of the story, someone with innocent beauty, falling to it for that very idea that anyone would. It’s almost easier to believe that one of the aforementioned beacons of power and strength like, say, Gandalf, would fall because they already have power to go to their heads. We see this with Saruman, for example, and how he literally falls from grace and dies trying to dominate. But a hobbit and a young innocent one falling when he has nothing of the sort is more telling and tragic. He never wanted this, in fact though he is brave enough to take it on he also tries to give it up numerous times because of the pressure that ultimately threatens to crush him. It’s a cautionary tale that’s sad because it’s true- pressure and power get to us.

4. I totally agree that Frodo made some bad decisions on his own, too! Once again, nobody’s perfect so as an author I can see why it’s realistic to have him screw up, but for sure I would not blame the ring on every single bad thing Frodo has done! The ring definitely amplifies and warps things, but one of the biggest tells of that is Gollum. Sam doesn’t trust him and is right to do so, and while Gollum is very essential to the story, Frodo does let fear and a desire to do every single thing right (again, pressure, imo a big theme here lolol!) take over the decision to trust their shady guide and then the ring takes the stress of that and Gollum’s words and twists all his feelings of exhaustion and resentment against Sam.

5. We’ll never know for sure, but I’ll wrap this up by saying I do personally believe that Frodo is by far not the only person who would fall in this way. He isn’t a perfect character, either, but that is exactly why what happens happens. But then that logic can by applied to many others too, like not only more obvious targets like Boromir or Gollum but even Gandalf, who feared what he would do with ring in hand, would succumb. The concept of the folly of man is especially interesting to me outside of ‘man’, like in the case of Saruman who is supposed to be of great wisdom and purity as a white wizard, but even he falls short. Even the Valar can fall short. Tolkien to me exemplifies the idea shown biblically that anyone can fall, even angels like lucifer/Maia and Valar like Sauron and Morgoth, if they let greed follow their hearts or do not trust the guidance of others. In this case, for Frodo that was Sam. Distrusting Sam gets him in world of trouble, Tolkien lists Sam as the chief hero, and to me the other core of Lord of the Rings is that NO ONE in that story can do it alone. Frodo would have died and fallen all the way without Sam. Rohan had to come to Gondor’s aid. The Three Hunters would not have succeeded if just Legolas or only Aragorn set out and I firmly believe that. Friendship and trust are what keeps us afloat, and Frodo’s mistrust in that, greatly amplified by stress, exhaustion, and indeed the ring, is his undoing. Human nature and evil temptation are a heck of a combo, friends!

Again, hope you find this an interesting read and even if you still don’t personally enjoy Frodo as a character I understand! I hope this comes across as just an analysis, for I don’t like debating and want to be respectful. People with the ‘I’m right, you are wrong’ mentality are a huge turnoff for me so I try to avoid that type of thinking. Thanks again for giving me a lot of food for thought anon, feel free to stop by more if you want to talk so long as this blog can keep a tone of study, not debate 🫶🏻

[yeets-ix]

Sonic Bad Guys AU Infodumping

@thefakehedgehogaroundhere pitched the AU and its roles, I went too far and fleshed it out a LOT.

Here's the first round, the basics of the characters:

The Bad Guys go by “Ms. Surge,” Ms. Metal, Mr. Rough, Mr. Tumble, Mr. Duo and Mr. Kitsunami (for fun.)

Backstory: While the AU is mostly just the self-contained plot of the movie, Eggman and Starline did exist in the AU… emphasis on DID. In a very very deliberately loose interpretation of Sonic canon setting up this AU, they created Surge, Kit and Metal, but were ultimately defeated for good, with their former creations and minions being left to form various random organizations including the Bad Guys, none of whom are nearly as much of a threat anymore. Sonic took all the credit for “beating” Eggman, though it probably wasn’t actually him in this AU considering this version of him is also a villain and has just been using his hero image for personal gain (hell, considering his Marmalade-assigned wealth, he probably bought out Eggman Industries after the Doctor was gone.)

Ms. Surge, instead of the “big bad wolf,” boasts about being an “evil twin.” A twisted and evil counterpart to a hero. Of course, she turns out to actually be the good one between herself and Sonic in this AU, but that’s beside the point. She still doesn’t remember her original life and has only experienced being compared to Sonic and seen as a monstrous, evil version of him, never being given any other chance. When Sonic gets exposed as the criminal he is and arrested, Surge, Kit and Metal recognize they’re fully free and able to go good, what with him being put away for good.

Ms. Metal was also originally designed after Sonic (that’s why she and Surge are best friends,) but being “the safe-cracker,” has modified herself with some help from Kit into a heist-focused robot with stealth tech, safe-cracking tools, and the ability to turn into a hyper-boost engine for the getaway car. She’s the “most evil” because she’s still programmed to defeat Sonic, even if she’s currently spending almost all of her time pulling heists with the Bad Guys. She comes around in the end and rejoins Surge and the gang, and stays with her as a good guy after finally taking down Sonic. She’s also kind of addicted to absorbing Wisps.

Mr. Mimic actually goes by Mr. Duo most of the time - he’s made the happy-go-lucky but still evil cat his public identity they think of when they hear the term “Bad Guys.” After genuinely befriending the others, he wants to move on from and forget the even worse crimes he committed as an octopus (even though not necessarily those of his canon self.) That being said, he’s still a shapeshifter and “the distraction.” Instead of Mr. Shark swallowing Mr. Snake when he annoys him, Duo can mess with Metal’s circuits since he’s “good with computers.”

Mr. Rough and Mr. Tumble are the flattest ones, but then again, they always are. They beat the shit out of people, make immature jokes, and Rough uncontrollably sprays when he’s nervous. Mr. Piranha is perfect for both of them (and also for Surge - she’d release catastrophic EMPs - if she wasn’t Mr. Wolf here.)

Mr. Kit is “Drippy” the same way Ms. Tarantula is “Webs.” His laptop has extra monitors and keyboards for his Hydro-Coils the same way as Webs’ does for her eight legs. He’s also still Surge’s younger brother for the feels. Owing to being around 13, he's less anxious and less formal, and with the world aware of his power, more confident in being scary on his own or at his sister's side.

Governor Rose’s backstory as the Crimson Paw Rascal is changed a bit. She, too, gave up just as she was about to steal the Awardy Award (the Golden Dolphin equivalent,) but it was because she realized she’d built her criminal career upon being a “sweet widdle hoggo” who nobody would suspect or believe could be a criminal mastermind, instead blaming more scary or ugly animals. Realizing that not only would some undeserving creature take the fall for the Rascal’s ultimate heist, but she fully knew and wanted to exploit this, just made Amy feel like shit, and she immediately hung up her cowl. Note that this same reason also leads to her despising Sonic for working under the same ideals, and makes her very happy when he’s the one who takes the fall for her crimes in the end.

“A wolf and a fox are not so different” becomes “A tenrec is just a false hedgehog.” Sonic later reuses this line to mock Surge, before Surge and Amy finally wreck him with it in the end.

Sonic as Marmalade? Take every bad take on IDW Sonic in the entire hatedom, make them completely true, and then sprinkle the resulting abomination of a Sonic with Scourge dust. He’s supposedly the same hero as his canon self, but in truth all he cares about is his own entertainment and his own reputation. Lying and manipulating people are what give him “the tingle.” He’s gonna scream “LET’S DO IT TO IT! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!” like in that one satire comic as he’s dragged off to S.U.C.M., utterly determined to the end to convince everyone he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Fuck him. He deserves nothing, he is the scum of the earth, I want to punch him in the face, and maybe call in a few other AU Sonics to punch him in the face too.

Heck, I have an OC named Shine who is basically “Sonic but Marmalade” already, and I’d be willing to donate her for this role if I didn’t want Sonic himself to get to chew some scenery.

We’ve agreed Whisper is Chief Luggins due to her power to be incredibly biased against these people, especially Surge with a good helping of Mimic on the side. Lanolin would work too, but I think Whisper being really angry a lot fits better. You poor wolf, you poor meow meow, you poor thing, how did you end up becoming a cop?... or she's just the face of what's left of the Restoration in this universe. Lanolin can probably be Tiffany the reporter, IDK.

To be continued.

[pyroreadscomics]

I just finished Batman Eternal (2014) and... I have thoughts. Mostly about the final villain reveal Spoilers underneath

First of all, genuinely, Cluemaster was such an excellent choice for the twist villain because... well for the entire of the he's got an excellent excuse as to why he's part of the story: He's here as part of Steph's backstory. This story reintroduces Steph / Spoiler into the post flashpoint world so of course you've got to do Cluemaster. And he's initially presented more as one person in a much larger scheme who's being forced to kill Steph to save his own skin. And while that subplot spans the entire book Cluemaster doesn't actually get much focus because it's about Steph and her becoming Spoiler. For almost the entire book he's a bit character in one of a half dozen subplots, and what better place to hide the true villain then there? And everything about his scheme, his motivations, his plan, as laid out in issue 51 is a near perfect capstone to the series. And also it's so nice because reading it you just know that this is going to end with Steph turning her bike around and coming back to Gotham and she's going to defeat her dad once and for all and earn her place in the batfam and it'll be a nice clean ending to the series. And then fucking Lincoln March shows up. Lincoln March, in contrast to Cluemaster, wasn't in the story at all. Seriously nothing. I checked and apparently he was the shadowy figure in issue 3 where Cluemaster was introduced, you know, the figure who was never seen or named or had any indication of who he was outside of "probable big bad". He makes his visible debut on the second to last page of the penultimate issue upstaging Cluemaster to be a just worse. And I don't mean more evil I mean qualitatively inferior (accept in ability to fight). Lincoln March feels like a cop out, a dodge of the basic principle of storytelling to introduce your main antagonist prior to climax. And maybe at the time he was a major player in the comics so him popping up here makes sense in the boarder context of the DCU but in this story his inclusion as the big bad is an ass pull. Which is a shame, because besides a bit of a bumpy start while the story got all it's subplots set up and rolling the story was actually pretty good and Cluemaster as the big bad actually made things come together for me but Lincoln March's appearance just... idk it leaves me feeling cheated out of a proper ending.

[sorry-page-not-found]

When life is wondering, and all things distracting you from those who truly are important,

we should remember again the beginning

Never forget the love we’re given to share with others.

Though we did fall. Once upon a time, things changed when

a savior came to gather us all under His wings.

When time slipping seems ever so daunting, and a dark normal beginning to set in, light, peace, and love are there to guide us even when we can’t push to shine bright,

The Lord is always with us. Look no further for a love abounding.

Out, of everyone existing, He chose you for this mission. Trust Him against the darkness He’s forever with His children and is always defending them against the evil still

among us.

With choice, evil remains lurking.

For now, that is, but soon peace will be everlasting to those choosing rarely a road smaller than the rest. lasting life only given when deciding correctly.

In today’s age, many find the choice a simple one. while most choose the world it’s best to not.

A world corrupted. It’s easy to slip into the darkness. Finding temporal pleasure, alone, no one sees the habits we keep hidden, the things ashaming, yet hard to give up, we still often want to choose it. Can’t, we simply see the downfall when it is evidently given to us?

God knows what’s needed for perfection,

Him loving us doesn’t always seem so clear and well when it seems as though hurt and burdens are all put forth,

His uses of us as if pawns when our choices feel overlooked.

That is our weaknesses.

Forever thinking that all bad is against greater good instead of it guiding us. down a path that later turns if into certainty.

Choices if selected prior you would have picked differently,

but experiences had now change what was a left to a right.

What was once a fight, is now better sight from wisdom.

Rules are not meant to hinder you so you have no fun,

but making limited the hurt and corruption to yourself and those around you.

Still, trouble finds a way in,

so keep a strong self and spirit. 

Protect yourself and train so evil won’t keep you down.

The dark, only has the power you give.

Wouldn’t it have already overtaken everyone and you if given the power it perceives too?

God has you now,

evil can pry but keeping strong even the weakest areas of yourself with Yahweh always overcomes.

Already damaged defenses can be rebuilt.

Anything broken can be made anew through God.

Or are you still scared? Afraid of breaking?

Again after so many failed repairs.

Be strong child,

for even your faintest wary. can be brought to Him.

Declare only Him as Lord over your life, then life begins, and all your troubles can

be weighed as worth it.

Nothing you face will compare to His Love.

Realize then that the eternity waiting defeats personal gain in this life.

No twisted reality life puts you through trumps it.

Is glory besides for Him worth it?

No.

Time is ticking, running short,

the longer you wait,

the more you’re death’s objective.

So be careful to choose now,

That or it will be done when things are only one option.

Your new surrounding one of horror and despair,

Hell you won’t be able to escape from.

Can you really say it’s worth it?

No.

Life for the choice of perceived.

Longer death in place of one you’d be only sacrificing the flesh.

I am telling you, it’s life or death.

Death of the flesh or of your spirit.

What’s it going to be?

Is it real, are my words the truth?

Maybe, and Maybe not.

To me, they are,

What’s telling you they aren’t?

They say not. but why put trust there either?

When a soul is on the line, voices will argue for and against.

What’s heard can only be filtered through you and what you are willing to risk. 

Beings fight for both sides,

both those seen and not.

This war of realms can’t be taken lightly.

Not when you’ll be what’s tragically lost.

Souls may be differentiated but God loves us all still.

Between you and me,

His love is what’s tying us all together.

Nothing that’s hidden is from Him,

yet He chooses us and makes us righteous through Him.

Love that is so pure can’t be found of anyone else.

You might claim this false,

but maybe please consider some other projections.

[novemberthecatadmirer]

I personally find the characterizations that Eol is an evil abusive rapist and Maeglin inherited the evilness from his evil father very boring. Not wrong or unconvincing, just boring.

The depiction in the Silmarillion about them… Really uncomfortably reminds me of the history textbook I read in my home country. In those books Han people are good and innocent, while the barbarians around our nation are evil and need to be drove away from our land. There were many poems about slaughtering Xiongnu in glorious battles. (There is one very famous poem talking about eating their flesh and drinking their blood while laughing and chatting with your fellow soldiers, hopefully just metaphorically.) (Having no written history really allowed your enemies to hijack the narrative)

The Silmarillion was written in a way that’s very much like a history book. I like to imagine people in Gondolin really had no idea of what was happening besides how the events actually unfolded, and tried to fill the gaps by biased imagination and speculations, and survivors of Gondolin definitely are angry and bitter enough to believe the people they hated were just dark and evil.

My personal head cannon about the marriage between Eol and Aredhel is the relationship was consensual in the beginning, but gradually become very toxic and codependent because of the differences in their history, world view and moral values.

I like to imagine Eol viewing the Nordor elves as greedy colonizers that come to take the land of his people. Meanwhile the elves from Valinor probably didn’t even get the concept of a piece of land belonging to anyone.

And they likely have a lot of arguments over what to teach Maeglin, each believing the other was poisoning the kid’s mind. (Parents with opposite political views fighting over children’s education, but much more extreme.) From Eol’s perspective it is very possible that leaving Maeglin to be raised by Gondolin’s people would mean his child would be shaped into cold blood monster by all the invaders’ propaganda, and his child would grow up to hurt his people without second thoughts, and that’s truly a fate worse than death.

Gondolin being this beautiful place that “you can only stay else you’re killed/jailed” doesn’t help. Like, growing up being used to the dangers and darkness and deceptions of the world then seeing this place that’s just trying to be too perfect and pure probably really rings some alarms in your mind. Like, that scene in Midsommer where these people from outside seeing all these smiling people dressed in white wearing too many flowers living in secluded town. That’s definitely not extremely unnerving and suspicious.

Not saying Eol is any good person; he is probably a very damaged problematic toxic piece of shit. I just don’t think he is evil and dark by nature or something, more like a result of Arda marred and twisted by the horror created by Morgoth.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[bratkook]

quiet, baby. (m) jjk

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. smut, pwp warnings. exhibitionism, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, slightly teasing/mean kook turns into whiny kook at the end lol word count. 3.2k note. today on jlin spews together a smutty drabble while ignoring her other wips just bc that one specific photo of jungkook is eating away at her brain, i give you this, it’s not edited, idk if i hate it or not and i wrote it all on tumblr mobile so..yeah🤩

leave feedback/reblog/send an ask okie bye❣️

“That’s it, slow and steady baby.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, husky and teasing, edges of his lips ghosting around your ear as he sighs when you do exactly as he asks. 

Your head falls forward with a choked groan as his hand slips under your skirt, fingers finding their desired target as he begins to circle your clit, your skin feeling hot from his sinful hands. Everything feels stuffy now, the sweat accumulating behind your neck, your face burning in embarrassment at you actually doing this, the thrill of where you were making another gush of arousal escape you. 

When you had jokingly teased your boyfriend during dinner, your hand lightly ghosting over his cock through the thick denim he wore, you were lying if you said you didn’t think it would lead to anything besides seeing him flustered as he asked for the check. Jungkook always had something up his sleeve whenever you decided to be bold and you knew your actions would be well worth it.

Apparently you were right, your boyfriend did in fact have plans, the gears turning in his mind as you walked hand in hand down the streets, his half hard cock pressing against his jeans so prominently it was a blessing he wore long enough layers to cover it up. Jungkook wasn’t a sucker, if you thought you could tease him and act coy without getting similar treatment in return you had another thing coming. 

As he stepped onto the subway and glanced around he smiled when he took note of one other person occupying the car, tucked away in a far corner with their eyes shut and earbuds blasting who knows what. It was perfect, you were completely unaware of the filthy plan he had as he guided you to the very back, but as soon as the subway started moving so did his hands. 

Slowly at first, trailing along the exposed skin of your thighs, playing with the hem of your pleated skirt in a way so innocent you allowed yourself to get comfortable in your seat. Then came the teasing words, knowing just what your fantasies were and using them to his advantage, wrapped neatly with a ribbon on top, beautifully disguised to make you think it was in your favor. 

You in fact were a sucker, which is exactly how you found yourself perched on top of Jungkook with your skirt bunched up, thighs held apart and hooked over his knees as you creamed his cock, taking him completely without a care in the world. Each roll of your sensitive clit makes you shudder above him, needing to shut your eyes to stop the possibility of making eye contact with the only other person here, if you couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see you. That’s the mentality that kept you going. 

Jungkook simply chuckles when you rest your forehead against the seat in front of you, enjoying the way your body trembles with pleasure, your own hands tightly clutching onto the arm circling around your waist as you do your best to keep your moans in. The pleasure was slowly bubbling inside of you, the roll of his fingers lulling you further under the haze of it all and thats when he speaks.

“Let’s play a game hm?” he whispers, voice sounding steady and unaffected, only making you feel like more of a mess at how you were behaving. 

“A game?” Your voice is soft, slurred at the ends as it spills out of your mouth, curling over your tongue as you struggle to speak. Jungkook knows he has you now, your competitive streak mixed with the lust clouding your brain made for the perfect scenario for Jungkook’s plan, there was no way you would say no. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek, rutting his hips up into you and smirking when you whimper in response from his cock rubbing against your g-spot. “If you can be a good girl and make me cum before our stop, I won’t punish you for your little stunt during dinner.”

“I didn’t–“ you start, the lie catching in your throat before it can even fully form, your nails digging into the leather of his jacket when he spreads your thighs further apart and delivers a swift smack against your aching clit, laughing meanly when your body twitches at the sensation. 

“You did.” Jungkook continues to mouth along your skin, kissing down your jaw and onto your neck. When the automated voice fills the car and alerts you of the coming exit you feel the way he smiles against your skin, a small hum reaching your ears at the thought of you running out of time. The shadow of his bucket hat not allowing you to see his eyes when you turn back to look at him in curiosity, but you don’t need to see them to know the evil glint he’s sporting. “Better hurry up baby, we’re a few stops away.”

“Jungkook,” you whine, the first fully audible response from you so far. Could you make him cum in that amount of time? Possibly, but when Jungkook was determined to tease you he could hold off his own orgasm without a hitch, you on the other hand couldn’t and you knew if you came before him whatever punishment he had planned would only stretch out, it could go in your favor but you were too needy to test it out. 

“C’mon, this is what you wanted isn’t it?” His hands roam up until he’s gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin and beginning to guide you to grind on top of him, the torturous glide of his cock rubbing all the right spots inside of you making you gasp. 

“No,” you whimper, but the way your hips start to move once more show otherwise, a steady roll of your hips continuing and Jungkook doesn’t need to see the mess you’re making to know just how turned on you are by this. The base of his cock had a pool of your arousal around it, sticky and shiny each time you slid off before rolling back, no doubt ruining his underwear pushed a few inches down but that didn’t matter when you felt this good around him. 

The disinterested sigh he lets out only makes you speed up, the loosening grip on your hips as he leans back into his seat has you desperate to keep his attention on you, show him how good you could be for him. With newfound determination your hands move to grip onto the back of the seat a few inches in front of you, holding yourself steady as you begin to bounce on top of him, hoping your actions are discreet enough to conceal what you were doing from wandering eyes. 

Jungkook smirks when he feels your velvety walls tighten with each raise of your hips, lifting up until the head of his cock was the only thing nuzzled within you before your warmth took him in once more as you sank back down with a light thump. The rumbling of the subway wheels conceal the noise enough but he isn’t even sure he would care if anyone bares witness to this, seeing you lose yourself on top of him, desperate to make him cum despite being in public. 

This had been a fantasy for both of you for so long and as the subway approaches the following stop you feel the tiny sense of panic begin to set in, the bright lights of the station grabbing your attention as you spot a handful of people lingering by the tracks. You still your hips as you wait, hoping none of them would step foot onto the car you were in, not entirely sure if you’d be able to pass off riding your boyfriend as innocently sitting on his lap. 

“Is my baby shy now?” His words snap you back, a tilt of his head finally allowing you to see his eyes as he stares at you, a genuine look of understanding being passed between you, knowing if you had become too uncomfortable to continue he’d stop with no questions asked. 

Your eyes move to stare out of the window once more, sighing in relief when the passengers board the car in front of you instead and the train resumes moving. “Just don’t want anyone to see.” 

Jungkook laughs lightly at your words, sitting straighter as he circles his arms around your waist again, holding you still on top of him with his cock buried deep within you as his right hand creeps under your skirt once more. “Don’t want anyone to see what a needy slut you are?”

His words have the desired effect on you, whimpering and dropping your head back as his deft fingers find your clit like second nature, rubbing tight circles around your hardened nub as you tightened around his length. 

“No,” you gasp, “only w-want you to see that.” The desperation laced in your voice makes it hard to recognize yourself but he revels in it, let’s himself soak in your words, the small tingles of pleasure spreading throughout his body before he’s planting his feet firmly onto the floor and thrusting up into you. A squeal of surprise fills the space, piercing through the silence it's a shock the single passenger was still sound asleep with his earbuds popped in. 

“Quiet, baby.” he mocks with a teasing tilt to his voice, continuing to rut up into you, loving every moan that slips out of your plush lips, swollen from the way you bit down on them. Jungkook knew neither of you were being discreet now, with the way your body jostled each time he thrust up, your face twisted up in pleasure, illuminated by the bright lights, if anyone glanced in your direction it would be clear as day.

You didn’t care anymore, too lost in the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, the sensation of the denim rubbing along the back of your thighs with each roll of his hips, the familiar scent of your boyfriend's cologne wrapping around you as he held you close. Paired with the way his fingers continued to flick against your clit, it was too much, already feeling your climax approaching. 

Jungkook knows, can feel the way your walls get tighter, the tremble in your body as it starts to take over you, the breathy whines of his name as it gets closer. The need to cum has you quickening up your hips, meeting his thrusts in tandem, the two of you so lost in your pleasure you don’t notice the approaching stop. The automated voice doesn’t register in your head, your ears full of the rhythmic thumping of your heart, eyes once again shut and the prettiest pout on your lips that Jungkook could faintly see in the reflection of the window. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” he groans, eyes locked onto your reflection, seeing your brows furrow together as your mouth drops open in a silent moan. Just as your orgasm is about to wash over you he pulls his hand away from your clit and stills your hips entirely with an iron grip, with all the stimulation gone your orgasm is ripped away from you, a whiny plea making Jungkook chuckle. 

“No, no Jungkook please.” Your hips fight against his grip, desperately searching for any friction to relieve the ache of your ruined orgasm, rutting against him with a frown, head dropping forward as you stare down. With shaky hands you lift up your skirt and sigh when you see the way his fingers are covered in your slick, inches from your throbbing clit, choosing to deny you your pleasure like the teasing asshole he was. 

“Did you forget already?” he asks, bringing a hand up to gently rub along your cheek as you whimper, leaning into his touch. When the doors close and the subway takes off again he chuckles, knowing your time was running out, already planning all the ways he would tease you the minute you got home. “One more stop baby.”

Taking a deep breath you try to ignore the flutters in your stomach, knowing exactly what you had to do to make Jungkook fall apart underneath you. When his hand loosens up on your hip you begin moving again, not holding back the moans that spill from your mouth anymore, making a show of grabbing his hands and trailing them up your thighs and under your shirt, knowing just how much he loved your tits. 

He grunts against your shoulder in appreciation when his large palm grabs a handful of your boobs over the flimsy bralette you’re wearing, giving them a rough squeeze as you mewl above him.  “Fuck, Jungkook,” you sigh dreamily, humming when the tip of his cock nudges along your g-spot. “You always make me so messy.”

Jungkook groans now, your words and the soft wet smacks of your messy pussy sinking onto his cock affecting him, making his head swim with desire as you whine when he pulls at your hardened nipple. “Shit, you feel so warm.” He’s speaking softly, almost like his thoughts are spilling out without warning, always losing himself whenever you become vocal, needing to hear just how good he made you feel to allow himself to bask in it. 

His eyes flutter shut, enjoying the drag of your walls on his cock with each roll of your hips, your chest heaving as you panted, his hand still cupping your breast, teasingly tugging and twisting at the pebbled bud, wanting nothing more than to lick and suck his way around your chest but this would have to do. 

“Kookie,” you breathe, “wanna feel you, please.” Your earlier orgasm starts to rise once more, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold it back before him and with the stop approaching soon he had to cum now to save you from whatever torture he had planned. 

“Yeah?” He huffs out a moan, whiny and needy, a complete contrast to the unaffected demeanor he had earlier. Jungkook couldn’t play calm and collected anymore, already diving head first into this, too far gone to be able to pull back now. 

“I’m gonna make you even messier for me, s-show you–“ he’s cut off with a gasp when you start to pulse your walls around him, head falling back as a deep groan escapes him, his own orgasm crawling up his spine. “Fuck, show you how good girls get rewarded.”

“Please, I’ve been good, just wanna make you cum.” An unrestrained moan fills the air as he starts to thrust up into you in desperation, the only thought in his mind being filling you up full of his cum, wanting to see it dripping around your ruined underwear, slicked along your inner thighs and concealed by that tiny skirt you wore. You were always so hell bent on teasing him, knowing just how much he loved to ruin you afterwards, turning you into a delirious mess all because of his cock. He loves it. 

“Don’t worry baby,” he grunts, the added layers he wore only making it stuffier for him as he begins to sweat, clinging to his body as he pants behind you. “Gonna fill you up.”

Trailing your own hand down your torso your fingers meet your throbbing clit, shuddering on top of him as you start to rub against it, jolts of pleasure coursing through you as your climax inches closer. Jungkook isn’t far off, the coil inside of him tightening as you whimper each time his cock hits the back of your cervix, his brain heady with lust, not being able to hold back the increased volume of his moans. 

“Fuck, almost there.” You hum in confirmation, nodding along as your body heats up, muscles beginning to tense, mind starting to float with each flick of your wrist. 

“Show me I’m a good girl Kook,” you whine out so beautifully, so needy and desperate for him, and he loses it, rutting into you sloppily until he’s cumming, ribbons of white stuffing you full and warming you up as he fuck you. The feeling of his cum inside you sends you over the edge as well, your thighs giving out on you as you fully plop on top of him, your fingers continuing to rub along your sensitive clit as you shudder and twitch above him. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, panting by your ear and mixing in with the small ringing you hear from the strength of your orgasm. Slowly, his hand slips out from underneath your shirt, rubbing along the skin of your hips to help calm you down as your body trembles. With a small groan you pull yourself off of his softening cock, readjusting your messy underwear before scooting back onto the seat beside him. 

Jungkook watches as your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, shiny with your arousal, coated in globs of his cum, looking just as inviting as always. He chokes on a moan when you instantly bend forward and slip it into your mouth, the sensitivity making him whine as you lick his cock clean, pulling off with a pop and a smirk. “Was I good?”

He narrows his eyes at your teasing tone, the devious look on your face showing him that you weren’t done yet. Jungkook thought he had one upped you, caught you by surprise after you teased him and took you on a run for your money by doing this, but you looked completely satisfied with yourself as he slid his cock back into his underwear and pulled his jeans back up. 

“You’re evil.”

Jungkook smiles when you laugh, both of you pausing when the automated voice alerts you of your stop approaching in a few seconds. As the two of you stand up from the seats your eyes roam the car once more, a gasp escaping when you realize the only other person here has stepped off. 

“Oh my god, when did they leave?”

“Last stop, don’t worry they left before it got good.” He clutches your hands when you go to swat at him, laughing heartily as you approach the car doors. “They totally knew too.”

Jungkook had seen the moment they left, earbuds still pushed in, but the way they had glanced in their direction shaking their head with a smile let him know that he was completely aware of the filthy things you two were doing. 

“Jungkook!” you whine, stepping off the subway and onto the platform, grimacing when you feel the way your sticky underwear rubs against you. 

“What? This was all part of your scheme you little devil, at least we didn’t have a massive audience.”

Well he had a point, it could’ve been worse, at least this way you were able to tick off the box beside this fantasy. “We’re never doing this again, I don’t care how hot it was.”

Your boyfriend just smiles, intertwining your hands together as you exit the station. He knew you better than anyone so he knew you were absolutely doing this again.

[silverdreamscapes]

I think one of the funniest theories I’ve seen is that Azriel is going to reject Elain, choose Gw*n, and Elain is going to go crazy and become Evil Elain.

Did we read the same books? Because right now the one hanging on by a thread is Azriel. (Not even Lu*cien seems as bothered as Azriel does over Elain, and they’re supposed to be mates).

WHO IS THE ONE BEING OVER PROTECTIVE?

Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.

No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace.

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

WHO IS THE ONE BEING TORMENTED BY THOUGHTS OF ANOTHER PERSON TO THE POINT WHERE THEY ARE IN PAIN, MISERABLE, CAN’T SLEEP, CAN’T STAND TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM WITH THEM, THINKS ABOUT THEM EVERY NIGHT FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR WHILE STARING AT THEIR GIFT?

“Can’t sleep?” Cassian took up a fighting stance. A shadow curled around Azriel’s neck, the only one brave enough to face the sunlight. “Something like that,” he said, and settled into his own stance across from Cassian.

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers.

A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. “Why did you come if it torments you so much?”

But sleep so rarely found him these days. Too many razor sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.

Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

Wrong-it was so wrong. He didn’t care. He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue-

Azriel’s cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think.

He allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He’d beg on his knees just to taste it.

He nearly groaned in relief and need as he lowered his head towards her.

WHO HAS TROUBLE BEING AROUND THE OTHER’S MATE. AVOIDS HIM. WHO WOULD FIGHT TO THE DEATH IF THE OTHER’S MATE TRIED TO INVOKE A BLOOD DUEL?

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit.

“By the Cauldron,” a familiar male voice said beside Cassian, and he turned to find Lucien in the archway to the training area. The rest of the priestesses and Azriel had left ten minutes earlier. Nesta hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” “Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.” I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.” To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together. “You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

Are people really trying to say that they read all that and think that Elain…ELAIN…is going to be the one who is rejected and goes crazy? Let’s not get it twisted. If anyone is in agony it’s Azriel. Look at how many times the word NEED is used in his POV, like it’s a driving, primal force that draws him to Elain. How hard it is for Azriel just to function because he wants her so much and he’s pretty much in agony over not being with her. And it’s interesting that the one time relief is mentioned in the whole POV for all of this torment and need he’s been experiencing only comes when Elain reciprocates and gives him permission to kiss her.

First off, Azriel wouldn’t be the one doing the rejecting. The man is in literal pain around her and can’t be in the same room with her and the mate bond. He has been plagued and tormented by his desire for one woman for at least year. The man who refused to let anyone eat until she sat down. The man who listened to her garden plans, even though we aren’t even sure if he cares about that sort of thing but because it mattered to her it mattered to him. The man who risked his life to save her.

It’s weird to think that he’s all of sudden going to be blasé and “Meh, thanks but no thanks, I changed my mind because Rhys told me I had to stay away from you” about Elain now. And I don’t care about some imaginary, hypothetical smile over a second hand gift someone not even in the dreaded friend zone may or may not have gotten. A gift meant for another woman. Nothing that happened between Gw*n and Azriel in ACOSF would lead a reader to believe that he feels even a fraction of what he feels for Elain for Gw*n.

Secondly, people must not know SJM if they really think she’d write a story centered on a love triangle where two women fight over a man, only to end with one of them going crazy over dick because she got rejected. If anything, all of the drama and the tension that’s been hinted at so far says that the triangle is Elu*ien and Elriel, with Elain in the middle not Azriel. Elain Archeron has Azriel in a chokehold, not the other way around. The evil Elain theory isn’t happening.

[plant-flwrs]

hello love! i was wondering if you could write a fred x gryffindor reader in which she is in the same year as ron and he’s constantly flirting with her, so she gives him the same energy but inside she’s afraid he’s like that with everyone and that she might be just another one but the truth is that he’s hopelessly in love with her? maybe george can give him a push? maybe a fluffy ending? thank you so muchhh 🥰

smiling kisses // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ok when i wrote this i had interpreted it as you wanting ron and the reader to be friends and now i’m rereading it and you didnt explicitly say that, so i hope you don’t mind that I made them friends lol! i love the flirty but clueless trope and fred is the perfect person for this. thanks for your request! i’m actually so proud of this and I hope you like it!!!!!

(4.2k)

------

“I don’t see what the big deal is!” Ron said, rolling his eyes at Hermione.

“He’s your brother, certainly it must bother you,” she retorted, undeterred by his exasperated tone.

You bounded down the stairs, your hand grazing the wall as you turned to meet your friends. They looked at you, and Hermione’s face flushed red.

“Talking about me?” you teased, sliding onto the couch in between the two of them.

Ron smirked at Hermione, and her face grew redder.

“You were, weren’t you?” you said playfully, throwing your arms behind each of them, pulling them closer.

“Hermione was,” Ron mumbled, and Hermione reached across your lap and pinched Ron’s arm.

“Ouch!” he said, and before you could ask what they were saying about you, the topic of Hermione and Ron’s previous conversation sauntered through the portrait hole.

It only took Fred a second to find you, sandwiched between his brother and Hermione. He and George strolled over, leaning over the back of the couch and putting their faces close to yours. They were on either side of you, and Hermione squeezed out of your grasp and cringed away from them. Ron wrapped a long arm around George’s neck, pulling him over the couch and onto the floor in front of you.

“That was a mistake, Ickle Ronniekins,” George taunted, leaping from his spot on the ground. Ron’s smile faded and he scrambled to move off the couch, missing George’s grasp by an inch as he stumbled up the stairs.

“Ah, boys,” you exhaled, pretending to be awestruck. Hermione giggled from her spot in the corner of the couch, and Fred retracted his head from beside yours.

He walked to the front of the couch and took Ron’s spot, sitting close to you. Your thighs touched, and your school skirt had rose while sitting. Fred’s eyes drifted to the exposed skin, and he raked his gaze over you. You watched his eyes move, and when they met yours a smirk flirted on your lips and you rolled your eyes.

“Very charming, Fred,” you said, moving to pull your skirt down.

“Don’t cover up on my accord, darling,” he said, leaning back into the couch and spreading his arms across the length of the cushions.

“Really, Fred?” Hermione said from besides you, shifting uncomfortably and scowling.

“You look nice too, ‘Mione,” Fred gave her a charming smile and her scowl deepened.

“Don’t let him bother you, he’s all talk and no bite,” you said, turning towards Hermione and away from Fred.

He tugged at a piece of your hair, and you turned to face him again, an eyebrow quirked.

He had an evil smirk on his face, and his eyes were a little darker than usual.

“You think?” he asked, a flirtatious tone dripping from his tongue.

Hermione groaned loudly, fed up with the antics of teenaged boys. She stood and grabbed your hand, pulling you from the couch. Fred was disappointed to see you leave, but he enjoyed the view. You looked over your shoulder, and sent him a flirty wave, which only widened his smirk.

George had given up his chase after Ron’s dormitory door slammed shut in his face. He walked down the stairs in time to see Fred nearly drooling on the couch, watching you leave through the portrait hole with Hermione.

“You’re hopeless,” he said, sitting opposite of Fred on an armchair.

“Shut up,” Fred retorted, still staring dreamily at the portrait hole where you had been moments ago.

“When are you gonna tell her?”

“I tell her just about every day!” Fred said, turning to look at his brother.

“No, you flirt with her. There’s a difference,” George said, picking off a piece of lint from his sweater.

“How can she not know by now?” Fred sighed, sinking deeper into the couch and covering his face with his hands.

“You have to be upfront with her, tell her outright,” George proposed, beginning to twirl his wand between his fingers.

“Maybe,” Fred mumbled.

“It’s disgusting!” Hermione shouted for the twelfth time, her tone just as disapproving as the first.

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone,” you reassured her, “and I don’t even mind it.”

“How can you not mind it?” she said, looking at you like you were out of your mind.

“I don’t know,” you twirled your fingers behind your back, “I think it’s a bit charming. He’s not always that unseemly, usually, it’s much tamer.”

“How often does he do that?” she asked, her tone softening a bit.

“I don’t know, most times I see him, I guess,” you admitted, smiling at the thought of it.

Hermione stopped walking suddenly like she was frozen in her spot. You turned to her, and her mouth was agape.

“You like him!” she shouted accusingly, pointing a shaky finger at you.

“Hermione!” you moved towards her, pushing her finger down.

Your eyes were wide at her accusation, and you felt your face become very warm.

“You do! You absolutely do!” she said again, her voice still too loud.

“Shut up!” you hushed her, pulling her to keep walking.

“Please tell me you don’t,” she pleaded, her face twisted like a child begging their parent for candy.

“Stop!” you hushed her again, wanting to forget about Fred.

“Just tell me, and I’ll drop it, swear,” she said, pulling you down an empty corridor.

“Fine! I like him, just a little,” you admitted, resting your forehead on your hand and looking at the floor.

“Why?” she asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“I don’t know! Why do you like Ron?” you retorted, and her eyes grew wide.

“I-” she started, stuttering through her words, “that’s not even relevant right now.”

“See? Not as simple as you thought,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall.

She did the same, standing next to you, and you both slid down the wall until you were sitting. The stone was cool against your back, and hard beneath your head.

“I suppose it makes sense,” she said finally, turning her head towards you.

“What?” you asked, meeting her eyes.

“Well you’re both always flirting with each other,” she said, recalling all the times she nearly gagged as Fred said something flirtatious to you.

“He flirts with everyone,” you said, sounding defeated, “that’s why I didn’t tell you. He doesn’t like me back.”

“He doesn’t flirt with me,” Hermione started, furrowing her brow, “and he doesn’t look at anyone else the way he looks at you.”

Her tone of disgust changed to the tone she had when she was trying to figure something out, looking at it like it was a puzzle.

“Logically, you have to admit that he may have feelings for you. I mean, who would do all that flirting just to want a friendship?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione. She sounded like she might be right, but she hadn’t accounted for something; Love and Fred do not follow the rules of logic.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Fred drawled, sliding into the bench next to you.

“Morning,” you said plainly.

You were a bit haunted by Hermione’s words. You had never thought in depth about yours and Fred’s relationship. He flirted with you, so you flirted back, simple. Now, the threat of real feelings loomed behind each of your words, and the pressure was too much.

“Sleep well?” he asked, leaning his shoulder into you as he scooped some eggs onto his plate.

“Yeah. You?” you kept your head buried in your newspaper, reading the moving advertisements over and over.

Fred looked at you curiously. You were never this dry with him, you always had something on the tip of your tongue. He was worried he went too far yesterday, maybe he had been too obvious. Did you not reciprocate his feelings after all?

“I slept wonderfully. Dreaming about you, of course,” he continued, sounding awfully proper and dragging out the syllables.

You felt your cheeks burn beneath the newspaper, and suddenly Fred’s long fingers were pushing the paper down so he could see you. You struggled to keep it up, but the thin paper eventually crumbled and you dropped it. You looked up at him, his smile widening when he saw your blush.

“Aww,” he said, moving to pinch your cheek endearingly.

He had only been able to pinch one before you swatted his hand away.

“Stop it,” you said, no infliction or seriousness in your voice.

“Can’t help it,” he said, balancing his cheek in his palm and staring at you.

You fought the shy smile rising on your lips and rolled your eyes at him. He was leaning closer to you, smiling. Just as he was inches away, peering into your eyes, you pulled the newspaper up to separate you two. Ron laughed evilly next to you, having watched the entire exchange.

Fred reached behind you and hit Ron upside the head. He cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened his tie, moving his attention to George who was sat across from him.

Fred caught his twin’s eyes and widened them as if to ask “did you just see that?”. George gave him a sympathetic nod, feeling some second-hand embarrassment for his brother.

Hermione pulled you away from Harry and Ron the second you left breakfast, and you wondered why she hadn’t tried out for beater with the grip she had.

“Ouch! Hell of a grip, ‘Mione!” you mumbled to her when you were out of the boy’s earshot.

“I wanted to talk to you, mind if we go the long way?” she asked, not waiting for your answer as she pulled you down a hallway with long rays of sunshine casting onto the floor.

“What’s up?” you said, finally being released.

“What was all that with Fred? It looked like he was going to kiss you for Merlin’s sake!” she waved her hands while she talked, nearly hitting your shoulder.

You ducked and widened your eyes at her evaluation of breakfast. Was Fred trying to kiss you? At 7 in the morning? That was his grand plan if he did like you?

“No he wasn’t!” you said with disbelief. It had come out more like a gasp than a protest, and Hermione’s eyes widened at your cluelessness.

“He was! And you put up the newspaper! It was horribly awkward, really,” Hermione rambled, ignoring your loud and embarrassed groan and the sound of your palm hitting your face.

“I thought he was just being annoying,” you mumbled, replaying the events in your mind, “I mean who kisses someone right before breakfast?”

“This is going to be difficult,” she said, seeming to be lost in thought.

“What is?”

“Getting you two together, of course,” Hermione said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

George was tired of Fred’s elongated sighs and downcast lips.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he reassured his brother for the millionth time.

“It was awful,” Fred groaned, hiding his face into the wall they were leaning against.

“She probably didn’t even realize, mate,” George said, but he knew he didn’t mean it. He had very little hope for his brother.

“She doesn’t fancy me, it’s confirmed,” Fred said miserably, trying to suppress the very real sadness he was feeling.

Fred moped around for the next few days, and it was starting to affect George. Fred never wanted to go to the common room in case you were there, and they locked themselves away in their dorm most afternoons.

George had to cheer his brother up, Lee was no replacement when it came to pranks. The idea had struck him one of the many afternoons he spent looking out the window by his bed, longing for Quidditch season. He had been thinking about how amazing it would be to be out on the pitch, beating Slytherin 100-0, when he was inspired. He sat from his spot on the windowsill and told his brother all about the genius plan.

The next morning, they had gotten to the Great Hall early, as they discussed. They had cast all the charms and were waiting to watch the results. The other tables slowly began to fill up, and the genius of George’s plan was that he knew Snape was calling a house meeting this morning. This meant that when all the Slytherins would come down for breakfast, everyone would already be there to watch the prank.

Even though his eyes were locked onto the Slytherin table, Fred did not miss you walking in with Ron. You and Ron usually slept late, and often missed breakfast if it weren’t for Hermione. Fred watched your eyes divert his own, instead, focusing very hard on what Ron was saying. His happiness faltered for a moment, until George elbowed him, bringing his attention to the herd of Slytherins walking in.

The first people to sit on the benches were promptly launched into the air, and one of them happened to be Draco Malfoy, which really was the icing on the cake in Fred’s opinion. More and more people began bouncing on the bench like it was made of a bouncy rubber (it was) and laughs filled the hall. The bench made a comedic wobbling sound as it bent and curved to each student falling onto it. Arms flailed and eyes widened.

Dumbledore’s icy eyes looked entertained for a moment before he waved his wand and all of the students were frozen in the air. He guided them to the ground safely and instructed them not the get back on the bench. The group of students in green ties scowled, immediately looking towards the Gryffindor table. The twins smiled and waved innocently, standing to the sound of wild applause. They couldn’t help it, they were willing to take the credit if it meant detention.

And it did mean detention. Snape had walked over so fast, that Fred and George felt a gust of air as the black cloak halted in front of them.

They were charged with polishing the hundreds of cauldrons in Snape’s room and had to take extra care to Snape’s personal large cauldron in the front of the room.

They had been doing this for a few days, their spirits yet to be broken. They were given a brush the size of a fingernail, though, so they weren’t making much progress.

Sneaking out past curfew wasn’t something you and Harry did often, but tonight you found yourselves doing it quite easily. You realized, while studying with Hermione, that you had left your Potions textbook at the girl's bathroom in the dungeons. You made Harry go with you to retrieve it because you were too scared to go on your own. He offered you the invisibility cloak and you gladly accepted, moving close to him as he slid it over you and you made your way to the dungeons.

You held your breath almost the entire time, and Harry had to remind you to keep your eyes open. He nearly yelped when you stepped on his foot for the fifth time.

“Sorry!” you whispered, giving him an apologetic look.

You eventually made it to the dungeons, slowly creeping down the stairs. You entered the hall and saw that the door to Snape’s classroom was open, some light coming from it. Harry looked at you and you shrugged.

You slid from under the cloak and slipped into the bathroom. You easily found your textbook and hurried to the door. When you opened it, you figured it might be stuck, because the door wouldn’t open. Harry might be playing a joke, you thought, so you chuckled and pushed harder. The door swung open, and you fell to the floor. When you got up, dusting your knees, you realized who you had knocked to the ground. Snape was a mess of black clothing, his greasy hair scattered across his face.

“Professor! I’m so sorry!” you began, still speaking in a hushed tone.

“I hadn’t realized you were out here, I thought the door was stuck!” you continued, watching him slowly get to his feet, a look of rage slowly overcoming his features.

“What are you doing out past curfew?” he snarled, dusting off his robes.

You looked around, and couldn’t find Harry. He must have put the invisibility cloak on. You couldn’t blame him, he definitely would have gotten the worst of it from Snape. You glanced behind Snape, towards his classroom. Two redheads were peeking out from the crack in the door. It was Fred and George. You remembered they had gotten detention for their prank a few days ago. Your cheeks became a deep red, out of fear and embarrassment.

“I was trying to study sir, but then I realized I had left my textbook down here. I had to get it, I have to finish the essay you assigned,” you said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

You heard a snicker from Snape’s classroom, undoubtedly from Fred, and Snape whirled around to face them.

“You two! You’re dismissed, back here tomorrow, same time,” Snape snarled, and when neither of them moved he raised his voice, “go!”

They walked off slowly, looking over their shoulders at you. You ducked your head down, trying to hide your face.

“You will be joining them for detention this week,” Snape snarled, peering down at you with disgust, “cleaning my cauldrons.”

You sighed, nodding your head. It was already Wednesday, so you supposed you’d only have to do it for two days.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled and rushed past him and up the stairs.

When you climbed the stairs, you put your hand over your heart, trying to slow it down. Coming to the final step, you were met with three too joyful faces.

“Rotten luck,” George said.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Harry said, only his head peeking out from the cloak.

“Professor! I’m so sorry!” Fred finished, imitating your voice and tumbling into George as you had tumbled into Snape.

You blushed, even more, feeling your entire face get red.

“Some help you are, Harry,” you said, shoving his invisible shoulder.

He stumbled back and gave you an apologetic smile. You and Harry walked a few paces in front of the twins, arguing over whose fault the whole thing was.

Fred watched you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He had so much he wanted to say to you, so much he wanted to finally confess, but it was stuck in his throat.

“Well, now you’re going to be stuck in a room with her,” George began, talking only so Fred could hear him, “maybe now you’ll tell her.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and maybe the sky will be red tomorrow.”

George huffed out a breath, tired of hearing his brother’s excuses. George was a big believer in saying how you felt, and he was sick of this little cat and mouse game you and Fred were playing.

The four of you slipped into the portrait hole, and you were upset to see it was just as crowded as when you left. Hermione and Ron were huddled over their Transfiguration homework, and she was talking animatedly to Ron about a vanishing spell she had read about.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Hermione said as you settled into the couch next to her.

“Just Professor Snape,” George teased from an armchair next to her.

“You got caught?” she said as if she was asking if they had also killed someone while they were out.

“Oh yeah, Snape caught her right as she fell on top of him!” Fred called from where he stood behind George.

Harry offered no help, sitting lamely on the floor by Ron’s feet. You hid your face behind Hermione, slumping into her.

“Are you alright?” she asked, trying to lift your head from her shoulder.

“It was so bad,” you said, cringing as you remembered it.

The twins laughed loudly, drawing the attention of anyone who was near them. Harry began to chuckle and Hermione hit his shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked, finally sitting you back upright

“Harry was supposed to keep watch!” you said, standing and pointing down at him accusingly.

“I was!”

“Then how did Snape end up right in front of the door?”

“He just walked there? What was I meant to do?”

“I don’t know! You could have given me a little knock so I didn’t bust the door down on him!”

You and Harry yelled at each other with no real aggression, and a smile flickered on your lips when you couldn’t suppress it anymore.

George jumped from his chair and pulled Fred to stand in front of everyone. George pretended to be pushing down a door, which made Fred become brooding and intimidating like Snape. He twisted his face into a scowl and hugged his arms around his waist as if he was holding shut a robe. George fell onto Fred, sending Fred to the ground. George stood, putting on an exaggerated innocent look and covering his pouting mouth with his hands.

“Professor!” he raised his voice to the highest octave it would go, “I am so sorry!”

“Detention!” Fred screamed, copying Snape’s signature drawl.

“Yes, sir,” George screeched, putting his hands in his face and pretending to cry.

“I did not cry!” you said, laughing.

“Oh, you didn’t? Could have sworn we heard some crying,” George said, wrapping a brotherly arm around your shoulder.

“You got detention?” Hermione asked, standing from her seat with a bewildered expression.

“Yeah, two days with these idiots,” you said, pointing a thumb at Fred and George.

You met Fred’s eyes, and his laughter soon faded to a look of admiration. You looked away from him, blushing.

“Oh, that’s awful!” Hermione said, falling back into the couch.

You moved from George’s arm and sat next to Hermione again, pulling your Potions textbook to your lap. You peaked at Hermione’s, trying to find the right page.

Harry and Ron were still laughing, and a smile ghosted your lips.

You managed to finish your Potions essay, and upon seeing Snape’s glare when you turned it in, you were not looking forward to detention.

You said goodbye to a disappointed Hermione, and giggling Ron and Harry, sulking down to the dungeons where you had to spend your evening.

“Here,” Snape handed you the smallest cleaning brush you had ever seen and shoved a filthy cauldron into your arms.

You sank into a stool and cradled the heavy thing in your hands, dipping the brush into a cleaning solution Snape gave you. He left the room with a sweep of his robes, and the thought of using magic to clean the cauldrons crossed your mind. You decided against it though, figuring Snape would just give you some other act of labor to do instead.

You waited for the twins to stumble in, they were already late. When they eventually showed up, according to your watch, 20 minutes late, there was only one of them. Fred’s tie hung undone around his neck, and his collar was unkempt.

“Hello, love,” he said, pulling up a stool across from you and moving a cauldron between his hands as if it weighed nothing.

“Hi, Fred,” you said, smiling politely at him, “where’s George?”

Fred sighed and put the brush to the cauldron.

“Prank backfired, he’s in the infirmary for warts,” Fred explained, gesturing to his face, where George presumably had the warts.

“Yuck,” your fast twisted with disgust, but a smile was still there.

Fred chuckled at your reaction and nodded.

“So it’s just us tonight,” Fred said, and insinuation on the tip of his tongue.

“Guess so,” you said, unbothered.

“Haven’t spoken in a while,” he said, looking up at you while you kept your eyes locked on the cauldron in your lap.

“Been busy?” you asked him, hoping he wasn’t going to mention the newspaper incident.

“Oh, this and that,” he said, abandoning the cauldron and resting his elbows on the table, “you?”

“This and that,” you replied, looking up to meet his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, a smirk contrasting to the genuine tone of his words.

“That’s sweet, Freddie,” you replied, shocking yourself with the levelness of your voice.

“Freddie?” he repeated, undeterred.

“Freddie.”

“Only girlfriends have called me Freddie,” he said, smirking still.

You felt your face warm, “Oh the long list of girlfriends you’ve had? Who was there?” you paused, pretending to be in deep thought, “Angelina for a week or two?”

Fred chuckled, gazing at you.

“Future girlfriends too,” he said simply.

It took you a second to realize what he had meant, and when you did you were sure you were bright red. Your hand brushing the cauldron stopped. You tried to think of something to say, focusing on keeping a steady voice, but all you could think of was: “Shut up.”

Fred laughed, his shoulders shaking. He shook his head with something like amazement at you, grinning like a fool.

“Do you want to call me Freddie?” he said suddenly after it had been quiet for a while, his tone a little serious.

“What?” you squinted your eyes in confusion.

“Do you want to call me Freddie? Like a girlfriend would,” he said, and his face was stern. His eyes were locked onto yours.

“Do I want to be your girlfriend?” you repeated to him, your mouth open in shock.

“Do you?” he said, leaning over the table, closer to you.

“Fred,” you said, feeling dumbstruck. You didn’t know what to say, but a smile crept onto your face.

“Yeah,” you said finally, and his eyes widened.

“Really?” he said, smiling like a mad man.

“Really,” you repeated, nodding.

“Cool,” he said, still smiling widely and not knowing what to do with himself.

“Cool?” you laughed, putting the cauldron down.

Fred stood from his stool and pounded his fist into the air, celebrating.

You laughed, covering your face in your hands.

You felt him move to stand next to you, and you lifted your head, looking up at him. He gazed down at you, still smiling.

“Freddie,” you teased, dragging out the word.

His smile turned into a crooked grin. He pulled your face up to his, cupping your cheeks.

His dazed smile didn’t falter as he pressed his lips to yours, and you found it feeling quite awkward. His lips were pulled tight into a closed smile, and his eyes were wide open with glee as he kissed you. You pulled away, laughing and ducking your face into his chest. You felt his chest move with laughter, his arms snaking around you. His fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater until his long, nimble fingers ducked under it. He traced little swirls on the skin of your lower back, and you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“Call me Freddie again?” he said, and you could hear the smile on his face.

“I don’t know,” you trailed, pulling your face away from him and looking at him through your eyelashes, “you might enjoy it too much.”

He groaned teasingly, his head lulling back as he looked at the ceiling. When he met your gaze again, his smile softened into a plain face. He pulled you from your seat, stepping back an inch to give you just enough room to stand. You were still pressed against him, his arms wrapped around you.

His resting lips were much nicer to kiss, your faces met in just the right way. You thought the two of you may have melted together somehow, moving in perfect synch. One of his hands trailed up your back, tickling you ever so slightly and rested on the back of your neck. He pulled you closer there, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue in. It grazed your bottom lip, and you felt his eyebrows furrow against your face. He breathed in deeply, his hand on your neck moving to burrow itself in your hair. He grabbed a fistful of it and pulled you back gently. You struggled to open your eyes for a moment, and when you did you saw Fred grinning at you.

You leaned in close again, this time going to his ear. “Freddie,” you whispered.

He leaned back, as if in a fit of laughter, and pulled you into a tight hug. He groaned playfully again, and you laughed at the reaction you could cause.

You slid out of his grasp and back onto the stool. He pulled up the stool next to you and sat very close. Your knees touched, and he watched you dreamily as you began to scrub the cauldron again.

“Finally!” George said as he strolled into the classroom, wart free.

“All patched up?” you asked him, and Fred acted as if George wasn’t even there, still staring at you.

“Oh, yeah, easy fix,” George said, taking Fred’s previous seat across from you. He continued Fred’s cauldron, picking up the discarded brush.

“So you two finally got together?” George asked after some time had passed, glancing up at you while you cleaned.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, elbowing Fred as he leaned very close to your face, like he was memorizing every detail.

“Well, I think Fred is drooling,” George said, kicking his brother’s leg under the table.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

[kiki-shortsnout]

You know, people say that IronStrange is a sad ship because they're clearly "right person, wrong time". But I think our ship is sailing on tears because Tony and Stephen are "right person, not enough time".

Can you use this as a prompt? If you're not busy? Or if you feel like it? Thank you 🥺

Of course I can use it as a prompt! What I came up with is a little but sad though!

Warnings: Mention of a terminal illness. (Nothing specific)

***

Smoothing out the collar of his shirt, Stephen checked his reflection in the mirror, picking up the bouquet of flowers he’d placed down on his desk. Taking a deep breath and checking his reflection once again, he practiced his smile before he left his bedroom.

He’d done this walk thousands of times without thinking about it too much. The Sanctum corridors were part of the background of his life, the setting blending into all the other memories he had of it. Today was different though, today he took his time to look at everything as he walked.

One of the cabinets was missing a ceramic incense burner that Stephen had always secretly hated. It was meant to ward off evil spirits and the like, but it had always given Stephen the eerie feeling of being watched. Tony had bumped into the cabinet by accident, leaving an indent in the wall that Stephen now brushed his fingers over. The accident had destroyed the gruesome thing, and Tony had replaced it with a sculpture of his own, a miniature Iron Man figurine.

‘That will stop the evil spirits dead in their tracks.’

His clutch on his flowers faltered as he looked down at the figurine, a few petals fluttering down to the floor.

Stephen could feel his resolve wavering, and he bowed his head, gritting his teeth against the burning in his eyes. The onslaught of his emotions raged in the confines of his mind, scratching and biting at his barely held together resolve. Why was this happening?

No, this wasn’t about him, this was about Tony, and he wasn’t going to let his arrogance invade now, not today. Clearing his throat, he refused to allow himself to feel anything else but this cheerful façade he’d constructed for the day.

Tony was sat in his armchair among the artifacts, talking to the Cloak about something inane. The Cloak’s collar twitched up, indicating it had realized Stephen was nearby, but it didn’t move from beside Tony, still giving him its full attention.

He was having a good day, which was why he’d suggested to Stephen they do this. A simple date, just the two of them. Stephen allowed himself to watch Tony for a moment, just listening to the sound of his voice and not the meaning of his words.

There were things he took for granted in his life, things that were constant, never faltering, his reality built upon them. Perched in his chair and talking to the Cloak, that was a fundamental part of Stephen’s life, not just a person he spent time with. He was as integral to Stephen as the air he breathed, the halls he walked down, the tea he drank.

There wasn’t a Stephen Strange without Tony Stark.

He couldn’t fathom a reality where Tony wasn’t in it.

Who else could he call douchebag and mean it as a form of endearment? Who would understand behind the snark and the sarcasm was genuine concern when Stephen spoke? No one else spoke the language they used with each other, their lexicon developed from their love and time spent together.

Shoving the feelings down, he ignored them, imagining stamping them into submission. He wasn’t going to do this now, not now, later, he would break later, now he would be there for Tony, give him the day he wanted.

‘Afternoon sweetheart, sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but Wong would just not shut up about some trivial illness he thinks he has now,’ Stephen said as he strode over to Tony, offering him the flowers.

‘I thought it was common knowledge that if you have a friend who used to be a doctor, you’re supposed to ask them to look at everything,’ Tony answered, leaning up to accept Stephen’s kiss.

‘I brought you some lilies-’

‘Hot rod red, just the way I like them!’ Tony burst out, reaching with grabby hands. Making sure his touch was delicate, Stephen helped guide his hands to the bouquet, ignoring how skeletal they were, the paper thinness of skin and how he could see the spiderweb of indigo veins beneath.

One of the strongest men in the universe, Earth’s defender was now reduced to this.

‘Peter told me they symbolize passion and romantic love, but I looked it up and they can also symbolize hard work.’

‘You trying to imply I’m not working hard enough or something, asshole?’ Tony mock growled, inhaling the scent of the flowers.

This was one of life’s crueler twists of fate, a final screw you to Stephen.

You still think there will be no consequences, Strange? No price to pay? We broke our rules. Just like her. The bill comes due. Always! The words ricocheted around his brain, plastering themselves over and over inside his skull, branding themselves on the back of Stephen’s eyelids, motes of red against the darkness.

He’d thought by saving Tony when he defeated Thanos he’d been doing the right thing. He’d forced his magic to comply, warping the very fabric of space and time to save Tony, to heal his charred body, his damaged brain. At the time he told himself that he was doing it not because he himself had fallen for the man in the millions of lifetimes he’d glimpsed of Tony, but because of Pepper and Morgan, the family he deserved to have.

Stephen had tried to stay away from Tony after that, hadn’t wanted to destroy a happy family, but Tony had been drawn to him, just as he had been to Tony. His relationship with Pepper had come to an end, an amicable end, there was too much love and memories between them for it not to be. Even then, Stephen had waited months, held Tony at arm’s length to make sure he was ready for this relationship.

Months they could’ve had together.

As a doctor, he knew what Tony’s diagnosis meant, knew that no matter what miracles the hospital performed that this was always going to be terminal. He wanted to fix this, dear God how he wanted to fix it. He didn’t want Morgan growing up without a father, didn’t…couldn’t imagine life without Tony, how he was meant to go on without him.

This had been the price of his arrogance. He had saved Tony’s life by breaking the natural law, and this was how it had demanded payment.

He brought Tony’s hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss against the delicate skin.

Love stories were not always about the everlasting love, the stretching of years before you. Sometimes it was as short as finding the right person and not having enough time.

‘I know, Stephen, I feel it too,’ Tony said, leaning his forehead against Stephen’s. ‘You promised me one day. One day without treatments, hospital appointments, being prodded.’

‘I did, and I meant it, sweetheart. What did you have in mind? We’ll do anything you want to do. I could portal us to the beach? Or another country?’ Stephen asked, offering his arm to help Tony up, and passing the flowers over to the Cloak.

‘Let’s go for a walk in Central Park, take an aimless meander,’ Tony told him.

‘An aimless meander? Since when don’t you have a plan in mind? A thousand different things that you want to do?’ Stephen teased as they walked down the Sanctum stairs, the Cloak waiting at the bottom for them both, attaching itself to Tony’s shoulders to help carry some of his weight.

‘Maybe I just want to spend time with you without any of life’s complications getting in the way,’ Tony countered.

Opening the front door for him, Stephen bowed at his waist, extending his hand in an exaggerated gesture. ‘Your wish is my command, douchebag.’ He hesitated for a moment, looking at the sky, the brilliance of the blue, the cotton candy spun clouds.

A perfect day for meandering.

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

Medieval Au

Princess Y/N Stark of York New must marry a man chosen by her brother, by the time she is 21. Her brother's council have the perfect man in mind, one that is terrifying and hell bent on having his Queen. But Princess Y/N's heart belongs to another, and luckily so does her hand in marriage. 'A princess is far more powerful than a king, my love. You have the power of merging families and kingdoms. You have the power of carrying hopeful heirs to the throne. You have more power than you know...'

Bold italics are flashbacks.

Series warnings: swearing, medieval views on women, arranged marriage, smut, bloodshed, violence, 18+ readers only

Part warnings: talk of arranged marriage, light swearing, slight violence, talk of beheading

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<Part 5<

Part 6

The days that followed the chaos in the woods went by in a blur. Steven seemed to be in meetings none stop, his council keeping him busier than he would have liked but he was King after all. You were certain you went almost three days without seeing him. But there was always someone to keep you entertained or to spend your time with. You did miss the King's company though.

Not long after the clock had hit midnight on your last night in Brook, you found yourself walking down the hallway toward Steven's study. The sound of raised voices coming from behind the closed door made you stop just before you could raise your hand and knocked.

"ENOUGH!" Steven shouted along with what you assumed was him banging his fist down against a table. "I am not discussing this any further, Sir Alexander, please leave."

You tried to move back as quickly as you could before Sir Alexander opened the door but it seems he was far closer than you had expected.

As he stepped out, he almost bumped into you, glaring down at you like you were something underneath his shoe. "Spying on us, Miss Stark."

You glared up at him, "Certainly not, Pierce, I was about to knock on the door. And have you forgotten who you are speaking to?" You scowled at the man.

"My apologise, Your Highness." He bowed to you half-heartedly before sulking off.

You stuck your tongue out behind the wretched man's back before you turned back to face the door, only to find Steven stood leaning against his desk with a grin. You began to blush as he beckoned you in.

"Not very lady-like, Princess." He teased.

"Don't you mean, Miss Stark," You scoffed and closed the door behind yourself, "God, that man,"

Steven sighed heavily as he nodded and pushed himself up from where he was leaning. "He is infuriating... My apologies for the way he addressed you, Y/N. I will have a word with him." He said as he moved around to sit in his chair.

You shook your head, drifting towards his desk. "No need, Steven. I know what he is like... Unfortunately, he is like most men I have the pleasure of knowing." You scowled.

Steven's brow creased as he looked at you, "I hope I am not included?" His tone was light.

You shook your head with a warm smile. "Of course not, Your Majesty."

Steven watched you as you wandered around his office, running your fingertips over the surfaces. There was something troubling you, he could tell just by the way your brow was knitted together, and the soft pout you had on your lips. You were overthinking, why else weren't you asleep.

"What's troubling you, Y/N?" Steven asked.

You looked over your shoulder to him, taking in a deep breath as you took him in. He wasn't wearing his formal court attire, just a plain white tunic that was open, letting some of his chest hair peak out and breeches and boots. He was stressed, you could tell he'd been dragging his hands through his hair.

"I was thinking of you,"

Steven's face twisted with confusion, "Me?" You nodded turning your head back towards his bookcase. "I don't understand, Princess, why would I trouble you. Have I done something wrong?" He frowned.

"No," You spun around quickly, taking steps closer to his desk. "Of course not." You smiled warmly at him. "You could never do anything wrong to me, Steven."

"I hope so," Steven gave you a pleased smile as he rested his head on his hand, "So if I'm not the cause of your trouble, what is?"

"I-" You let out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with your own hands, "You mentioned before we were attacked in the woods, something about your council forcing you to marry?"

Steven silently nodded.

"Well, I was just thinking about it... I hope you marry someone who adores you... And truly, cares for you... not just as the King of Brook but, as a person..." You blushed deeply looking down to your slippered feet. You'd forgotten you were in your nightdress. Pepper would have a heart attack if she could see you now. "You're wonderful, Steven..."

Steven groaned as he leaned forwards onto his desk and hid his face in his hands. "... Clearly not everyone agrees with you," He sighed, "Why else would Margeret have done what she had?"

Why indeed? You never understood why the Queen of Brook, Steven's wife, did what she did.

Six months after your 16th birthday, Steven and Margret were married and crowned King and Queen of Brook. They were the picture-perfect couple, or so you would have thought. Steven always been a good king. He worked hard to look after his kingdom. 'Queen' Margret didn't like Steven not paying her enough attention over the eight months they were married, not that she was lacking it and she never had anything to do with the court as a Queen should.

No, Queen Margret was far too busy with her lover. Her lover that was from a neighbouring kingdom, one that was not on good terms with Brook. Steven was a broken man for a long time after learning Margret was with her lover since before they were married.

'You look weak, Your Majesty,' Sir Alexander had hissed, 'You need to make a point with her... you know what needs to be done'. And so Steven had his wife and her lover trialled, they were charged with treason and both sentenced to death by beheading.

"I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead..." You frowned as you thought about that woman and what she had put Steven through, "But she was a bitch!"

Steven looked up at your outburst, unable to help the crooked smile as he watched your frown deepen. He sighed deeply as he ran his hand over the back of his neck.  "... Sir Alexander seems to think her family is a good one, and I should marry her cousin-"

"Sharon!" You cut the King off, stepping as close to his desk as you could without bumping into it. "Steven you can not marry that woman, not after what she did."

Sharon was just as evil as Margaret, in your opinion. It was obvious she was jealous of her cousin, having had a crush on Steven since they were children. Sharon preyed on Steven's broken heart, wormed her way into his everyday life, trying to replace the woman who had once been his wife.

Just before your 18th birthday, Steven invited you to visit Brook for one of your first trips without Anthony. Steven had promised you could visit when the weather was warmer. He knew how much you loved the ocean there, and he kept his promise.

One night whilst you were having dinner along with Bucky and Sam, and of course Sharon, the men were making jokes, some at their King's expense. They were friends, their titles did not matter when they were joking. That wasn't the case it seemed for Sharon. She'd always hated having you around the castle and Steven because you were a princess and she was Lady Sharon. You weren't aware of her dislike to you, you had done nothing wrong as far as you knew.

"Sir James, you should not say such things in front of the Princess." Sharon hushed the knight that sat opposite you.

You grinned at Bucky, "No need to worry, Lady Sharon, you'd be surprised of the things I have heard whilst these three jest with one another."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to stop being in their company, Princess. After all, you are supposed to be a young lady and not some thick-headed man." Sharon spoke down towards her plate.

You let out a small giggle, "I knew it, Your Majesty," You turned to look at Steven with a playful grin, "I always said you were thick." You teased, making the men once again start their laughter and jokes.

"How dare you speak to the King like so," Sharon cried out as she swung her arm through the air and hit the back of her hand against your cheek. "You wretched little child."

"Sharon, no!" Steven snarled as he along with Sam and Bucky pushed their chairs back and stood up. You held your face as tears burned your eyes, threatening to fall. "What have you done."

"Lady Sharon, we have no choice but to arrest-"

"No!" You cut Bucky off and grabbed a hold of Steven's arm as he knelt beside you, wanting to check you were okay. Your eyes were wide and teary as you looked into his. "Please, don't. It-it was a mis- misunderstanding, Steven,"

He shook his head as he reached up and slid his hand over your burning cheek. "Y/N, I-"

"Please. You can't-" You sniffled as the tears finally fell. You cleared your throat and quickly stood up, "If, you'd excuse me," You gathered your skirts and began to run towards the doors, slipping through them before they were barely open.

With a heavy sigh, Steven pushed himself up from where he had been knelt beside you and glared down at Sharon. "Why would you do something so ridiculous as that, Sharon?"

"She was insulting you, Your Majest-"

"SHE IS A FRIEND!" Steven snarled.

"SHE IS A CHILD, STEVEN!" Sharon cried as she tried to move closer to him but Steven stepped back and held his hand up in front him. "Steven-"

"I want you gone by first light. You are no longer welcome here, Lady Sharon." Steven turned his back to her, clasping his hands behind his back as he did.

"But-"

"GO!" Steven ordered her.

Bucky and Sam lead Lady Sharon out of the great hall and to her chambers where she was ordered to stay until first light.

However, that wasn't what happened. When Steven had decided to retire to his chambers sometime after the incident, he found Sharon naked in his bed, begging him to forgive her for her actions. Steven ordered her to leave Brook at once.

Steven stood from his chair with a frustrated sigh, "I know, Y/N," He walked around to where you stood and leaned against his desk. "I have made sure Sir Alexander knows I have no intentions of marrying Lady Sharon." He gave you a reassuring smile as he reached up and laid his hand over the cheek that Lady Sharon had hit. His eyes moved to the other one that the bandit had hit, it had bruised quite badly but thankfully the bruise had nearly faded. "I am sorry for what happened that night." He whispered, smiling as you tilted your face into his palm as your eyes closed.

You reached up and placed your hand over his. "It is in the past, Steven, and it's not you who needs to apologise." You smiled up at him.

Steven let his hand fall from your face and quickly pushed himself from where he leaned, clearing his throat. "You best get some sleep now, Princess."

You nodded, "I shall bid you goodnight then, Your Majesty," You turned away from him but before you left, you turned back and leaned up, pressing your lips against his cheek. "I shall miss you." You smiled, "Good night, Steven," You whispered before quickly turning your back to him and leaving Steven's office before he could respond.

He stood there long after you had left. His cheeks were flushed as he thought about your warm soft lips against his stubble. He would most certainly miss you too. He always did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @coffeebooksandfandom @vxidnik @fckdeusername

[blossom-hwa]

pirate!ateez |2|

The continuation of the pirate ateez au inspired by pretty much every wonderland stage and the kingdom wonderland performance!! Once again credits to mai @wingkkun for the ideas that sparked san, mingi, and yeosang’s stories!

(Reading part 1 isn’t required to understand what happens here; however, there are spoilers for previous members’ stories!!)

Pairing: Ateez x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 11.9k (total)

Genre: some fluff, mostly angst, pirate!au

Triggers: cursing, blood and death (sometimes semi-graphic) - specific triggers for each section are listed below the header!

Part 1 (Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang) | Part 2 (San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho)

Ateez Masterlist

san (ABS - specialty in swordsmanship)

warnings: cursing

so. san.

poor dude i put him through a lot in hongjoong’s part :/ he didn’t deserve that i’m sorry san

but let’s start from the beginning

unlike some of the others, san has only ever known the streets. he has no memory of real parents, just various random caretakers who ended up causing him more harm than good

there are two singular exceptions to this during san’s childhood: you and an older pirate named jongin

you’ve been there ever since san can remember. even now he’s not entirely sure how or when you two met, he must’ve been very young, but he just knows you’ve been with him for what feels like forever

the two of you wandered the streets together, begging and stealing food whenever you could

it only makes sense that you two would fall in love once you were old enough to understand it (which comes a little later than either of you would’ve liked - you’re probably sixteen or seventeen when you get the guts to press san against a wall and kiss him like person starved as san kisses back with just as much fervor)

when you were still together, it sometimes felt like you were the only reason san could stay alive

you mean the world to each other. the literal world

so that’s you - someone san knows will never abandon him willingly, will always stay by his side as long as they can

now uh moving on to jongin

you two were young when you tried to pickpocket him that one time

immediately it was clear you’d messed with the wrong guy - he noticed you two immediately and you were caught

but surprisingly, all he did was smile and offer to buy you something to eat

and being the hungry children you were (san thinks you were around twelve at the time) you said yes without a second thought

luckily jongin didn’t have any ulterior motives - in fact, he taught you and san to become better pickpockets, how to take advantage of people’s blind spots and your natural talents

so naturally, he became both of your role model

and because jongin was a pirate, you two resolved to become pirates just like him when you grew older, even asking him to take you on his ship whenever he returned to the city to visit.

but every time, jongin refuses. when you’re younger you kind of accept it, but as you and san grow older you start to insist more and more

there’s nothing left for you two here except a life still on the streets, and isn’t being a pirate pretty much the same? stealing and pillaging, just on the ocean instead of on dry land

neither you nor san flinches at blood, and you can both deal with injuries

but jongin still refuses, finally telling you just how far from heroes pirates really are. they kill and steal, often more than they need, not taking just enough money and food to survive or pass out to those less fortunate the way you and san both do

this kills the dream a little for you and san, though you both come to the conclusion that not all pirates have to be horrible - look at jongin

so you still resolve to become pirates, maybe on a crew that isn’t as terrible as the ones jongin has told you two about

this sort of dream goes on for another year or so. you and san figure out your shit and finally kiss, jongin mock claps when he finds out before disappearing again, you and san wander the streets again still with little aim but your interlocked hands are purpose enough

until you get kidnapped. 

san literally almost goes insane when he can’t find you after two days. tears around the city like a man possessed, looking everywhere you might be and then everywhere you definitely aren’t on the off chance he’ll find you

but even when jongin arrives back in the city a few weeks later and joins san’s frantic search, you’re never found

it’s all too much. way too much for san - he’s literally lost the one person who keeps him sane - and honestly the last straw is when jongin asks if he wants to join his crew now

deep inside san knows he means it out of the goodness of his heart. jongin isn’t evil and he’s hurting too with your disappearance, he’s just trying to give san a semblance of a new home

but san explodes. none of this would’ve happened if jongin had taken them in earlier, had let them join the crew together, if he’d even taught them more - it’s his fault, it’s his fucking fault

jongin tries to grab san but he just twists away - jongin’s touch feels like fire burning against his skin - and runs

for how long he runs, san genuinely doesn’t know. he just knows that he can’t stay here, can’t stay in this city anymore 

so he becomes somewhat of a highway robber? holding travelers at sword point and demanding what they have

the sword he uses was gifted to him by jongin and it makes him feel sick every time he pulls it out, but even though san is sometimes irrational, he’s not stupid - he needs a weapon, and if this is the only one he has, so be it

doesn’t matter if memories of you and an older pirate come flooding back every time he grips the handle.

san makes a name for himself - people whisper about him, tell travelers to avoid the paths he frequents, but the thing is he doesn’t really frequent anywhere. he’s a wanderer too, which makes him so dangerous because he’s so unpredictable

until hongjoong appears and san makes the mistake of challenging him to a fight. 

i say mistake but really, it was probably one of the singularly most life-changing events for san except for 1. meeting you, 2. your disappearance, and 3. leaving jongin 

because when hongjoong has his sword positioned over san’s neck and san thinks he’s about to die, hongjoong gives him a choice - join his crew or get his throat cut

san just scoffs at first and is like why would you want a highway robber on your crew? don’t you know who i am?

hongjoong does know, of course - he actually tracked san down because he needed a good swordsman to join his crew and thought san would be perfect

san is on the edge of saying no, but hongjoong is one of three people who’ve ever beaten san in a fight (jongin, you, and now joong) so he’s got a little grudging respect for the guy

but even more than that, he remembers you and remembers your pact to find a semi-decent ship and join the crew 

it seems like a childish pact now, but for some reason, once he remembers it, he can’t put it out of his mind

(maybe it’s because if you’re dead, which you probably are, san wants to at least fulfill his part of any promises you made so long ago)

so he says yes

for the first few weeks, san really considers jumping ship

seasickness is a bitch, first of all, even if the ship’s doctor is nice enough to give him tips on how to handle it

but the main issue isn’t just him being sick - it’s the people

not all of them. most are fine. but san has a particular problem with wooyoung and his partner, not because they’re assholes or anything, but because they remind him way too much of him and you. childhood friends who grew up together and wouldn’t part for the world, except they’re still joined at the hip while you’re lost

and san just thinks it’s horribly unfair that you had to be torn away from him while others are allowed to stay together

but really, the ship is better than living on the edge on land. besides woo + his partner, the others are nice, and san has found himself a match in sword fighting with hongjoong and yunho

so as time passes, san acclimates to the ship. he gets closer to everyone there and comes out of his shell, even becoming friends with yeosang whom he previously deemed too close to woo + his partner to deal with

and because yeosang is a package deal with the other two, san eventually becomes friends with them too

for the first time in a long time, san thinks he’s happy, even though he still sorely misses you and wishes you were here. but you’re dead or at least long gone, and he’s not going to find you again

so when you turn up on an enemy pirate ship several years later, san nearly has a heart attack when he sees your face (wooyoung actually has to catch him when he stumbles)

from the widening of your eyes, it’s pretty much the same reaction for you

there’s no fight, at least not then. the town your ships have docked in is safe ground for pirates, meaning the villagers will deal with them but won’t tolerate fights

so your crews resupply, all the while studiously ignoring the pirates from the other ship

but san is itching to talk to you - even just see your face one more time

you look so different yet somehow exactly the same and san wants to know what happened to you - how did you get that scar down the side of your face?

you feel the exact same way. 

when you were kidnapped, you were taken on a pirate ship that was far less respectable than hongjoong’s. meaning you went through a fucking lot

you tried to escape at least five times but each time you just got caught, so you eventually gave up. so here you are, ignoring the literal love of your life because your ship is shit and happens to have beef with hongjoong’s

meaning you couldn’t escape if you tried. 

so you’ve resigned yourself to mere stolen glimpses of san’s face but then your captain gives all of you a mission

he wants a hostage. and he wants you to lure one of them in. 

you don’t want this mission. you fucking hate it and you hate your crew and you don’t want anything more than to just run away so you just ignore it and resolve to subtly sabotage your crewmates’ efforts in any way you can

and for the most part it works

but then you’re on deck, helping one of your crewmates put some supplies away

when a crowd comes on board, bruised and bloodied, and drops choi san onto the wooden floor.

the captain is ecstatic - they’ve managed to catch hongjoong’s best swordsman, no doubt they’ll get a hefty ransom for him

but you’re not listening. all you can do is avoid san’s sharp gaze

and think of a way to help him escape.

the ship sets sail within hours, trying to get away from hongjoong as quickly as possible. san lives his days in one of the tiny cells belowdecks, barely fed between questioning sessions during which he says nothing

but he can feel hope slipping away, day by day - even he can’t break through chains, and even if he could, his sword is gone. five or six pirates he could maybe take alone without a weapon, but there are far more on this ship

still, when the ship finally docks, san has resolved to at least attempt an escape. he knows the captain is in negotiations with hongjoong over getting him back so hongjoong has to be in the same port, or at least nearby

so when someone opens the cell again, san literally launches himself at them in an aborted attempt to run

you subdue him quickly - you’re not dehydrated and underfed, after all

san just gapes into your face that’s barely lit by a torch on the wall outside his cell. he has so much he wants to say, the first being how could you do this to him, did none of your time together mean anything - 

but then you unlock the chains around his wrists, toss him a bundle of fresh clothes, and tell him to get changed

dressed in the new clothes, he looks like a member of the crew, and you tell him to keep his head down as you bring him up out of the ship and into the village

san’s still kind of dumbfounded so when you tell him to run, he doesn’t understand at first. run where?

hongjoong’s ship is in the next port, you say. on foot, it’ll take a few days to get there, so he needs as much of a head start before people realize he’s missing

therefore - you push back his forehead with a finger - fucking run, choi san. i don’t recall you being stupid before.

when he understands, he tries to tell you to come with him - hongjoong’s a decent captain, he’ll probably understand

but you shake your head. you yourself need to leave. once your captain realizes san has disappeared, it’s only a matter of time before you get found out, considering the number of unconscious and dead bodies you left in your wake, and you need to be long gone and away from san before that happens. you’re not going to bring more harm on him again. the least you could do is maybe divert their attention for a while

san’s heart sinks when he realizes you have no intention of coming with him, no matter how much he tries to convince you

and he almost starts crying again - just when he’s finally gotten you back, fate is forcing you to slip through his fingers yet again

you just hug him and apologize for everything, for getting kidnapped, for not helping him escape until now even though none of that is your fault

san says that and more, apologizes for even thinking you’ve changed - he should’ve known you were still the same person he’d fallen in love with so long ago

but there’s no more time and now you’re pushing him away and telling him he needs to go before it’s too late. in the process, you press a blade into his hand. 

for protection. 

it’s faintly familiar. and when san looks a little more closely, he realizes it’s the blade that jongin gave you so long ago, a copy of the same one he gave san. only the initials etched into the handle are different.

it makes him feel sick. san had switched his blade out for another sword the second he could, too many memories of you and jongin attached to it. but you never stopped using yours. 

that knowledge makes his insides burn with shame and he tries to give it back to you but you force him to take it. i have more weapons than just this. you have nothing. and now you need to go.

he kisses you one last time. you kiss him back with just as much fervor and when you break away, there’s a small smile on your lips 

you tell him you’re glad he’s found a kind crew, a crew he’ll be happy to remain with. you’re glad he’s luckier than you

san tries to tell you again to come with him, but you shake your head. hongjoong won’t be happy to take in a member of an enemy crew, and even if he was, that’d only turn your ship’s sights on san’s for a long time. you won’t have that. 

so you disappear with a last reminder not to be stupid, a wavering smile on your face 

it takes everything san has to return to hongjoong’s ship without chasing after you, and he’s welcomed back with open arms and warm words

but despite being back with his family, san’s heart sinks the farther they get from the harbor, knowing that he’ll probably never find out what happened to you, his original family, after this

wooyoung tries to comfort him, saying not to lose hope - after all, you met once after your separation, you might meet again

however, fate isn’t kind. san knows that very well. twice you’ve met, and twice you were separated

san hopes wooyoung is right, hopes he’ll see you once more

but as the ship cuts through the water into the open ocean and land fades from sight...

deep inside, something tells san he won’t.

mingi (ABS)

warnings: cursing

you look me in the eyes and ask how it is possible for me to write angst for someone like mingi. i tell you i will try my best

that is a threat and a promise

anyway! let’s get on with it

mingi is a pure-hearted orphan who has somehow survived the demoralizing and horrible orphanage system in his hometown

he never knew his parents, all he’s ever known was that shitty little orphanage, it’s a miracle that didn’t break apart his pure personality

it helps that from a young age, mingi was taller and bigger than his peers - people didn’t want to mess with him

also when he’s not smiling, he can look pretty scary

but that left mingi lonelier than he wanted to be, so he resolved to smile whenever he could so that people wouldn’t feel intimidated by his stare

it didn’t win him many friends??? like the kids his age were more just weirded out by him smiling when they lived in a fucking orphanage. but he did get more free handouts from adults when he’d pretend to act like a cute kid, so he just kept doing that

eventually when he grew older, maybe mid-teens, he got a job working at his town’s port

mingi’s pretty smart and more importantly here, he’s very strong - just the type of worker his supervisors were looking for

the job is okay - not horrible, but it’s kind of boring and mingi’s supervisors aren’t always the nicest

but mingi’s always been the type of person to just content himself with the fact that hey, things could be worse

he might not have survived the orphanage

he might not have been born with strength

he might not have gotten a job that comes with a semi-stable roof over his head

so for a couple of years, this goes on, mingi helping ships unload and reload, stuff like that

until hongjoong’s ship pulls into port

it normally wouldn’t mean anything if hongjoong hadn’t been half dead on his feet with his partner and seonghwa pretty much carrying him down the gangplank

most people were just shoving them around, totally ignoring the fact that hongjoong clearly needed help

but even though his supervisor told him to go help one of the bigger ships, mingi saw hongjoong and went off to go help them

recommended a cheap place to get rest and offered to help them with some of the ship repairs so they wouldn’t have to pay so much (because their boat was... a little beaten up to say the least)

after a few days, hongjoong recovers from his sickness (brought on by exhaustion, not eating well, and god knows what else - his partner chewed him the fuck out), and they all thank mingi profusely

they’re about to leave then - the ship has been repaired thanks to mingi’s help and they’re ready to set sail again

but a glint appears in seonghwa’s eye and he suddenly turns around and asks mingi if he’d like to come with them

mingi: wha - you mean me?

seonghwa: is there another guy named mingi around?

mingi: i mean technically yeah, there’s a lee mingi working on the other end of the shipyard -

at first mingi’s like... no i don't think so because he has a stable job here, right? nothing really happens and it’s kind of boring, but being a pirate sounds kind of scary

but another part of him has been aching for something more interesting than the monotony of working at the port day in and day out

besides, hongjoong seems like a much nicer person than his supervisors

so in the end, mingi throws caution to the wind and joins the crew

he kind of questions it at first because he really doesn’t seem to have a knack for swordplay, also he kind of tends to panic/get squeamish when there are fights

but seonghwa keeps faith in him no matter what - he was the one to ask mingi if he wanted to stay, after all

so as time goes on and more people join the crew, mingi adjusts to life as a pirate. he finds his role on the ship in making repairs when they’re in port or even when they’re on board, which makes him happy - mingi likes being useful

he also likes jongho, who joins him as one of the ship’s repairmen when he ends up with the crew

he even becomes a fair swordsman - definitely not the best on the ship, not by a long shot, but after being trained by first hongjoong and then yunho (with san occasionally interjecting when he joins the crew), he definitely has the skills to defend himself and others

emphasis on others. because while mingi might panic during a fight where he’s only defending himself, when those he cares for come into play, mingi is a demon. an absolute demon. 

an enemy pirate once got within a hair’s breadth of killing seonghwa once and mingi just unleashed absolute fury. first time he ever killed someone

it haunts him sometimes, but the knowledge that he was protecting seonghwa keeps him from dwelling on it too much. that’s how much mingi cares about his crew

and that comes into play when you enter his story

you’re the child of a couple corrupt aristocrats who have never, not once in their lives, given you the attention you deserved

no matter what you did, they didn’t care

you studied your ass off. you worked so hard on swordplay. you’re literally the golden child in the aristocratic circles of your region and other nobles wish you were their child, but all your parents ever do is give you a passing glance and a fake smile

sure they’ll praise you at parties and things when they talk to other nobles, but it’s all empty - they only barely remember all of your accomplishments. they just don’t care

then one day, hongjoong’s crew pisses off your family - ruins trade at some port or whatever

so your father puts a bounty on his crew’s heads

it’s not exactly a common thing to put bounties on the heads of pirates, but it can happen if a crew fucks around a little too much

and when the bounty goes out for the crew of the aurora (hongjoong’s ship), you seize on it as your last chance to gain your parents’ approval, the approval you’ve been seeking for quite literally your entire life

you’re not dumb - you know it’ll be hard, and you know your family is only going to be completely satisfied if you bring back proof that the captain is dead. not some other random crew member, though that’s a step in the right direction

you decide to go for one of those crew members first, preying on the fact that if one goes missing, the captain will likely be easier to capture

you’ve heard stories about hongjoong, he isn’t heartless. he actually does care about his crew, each of whom plays an integral role on the ship

which means if you can get one of them, you can lure him out - you might not even have to kill off the rest of the crew if you can just take him out

therefore you set your eyes on one song mingi. from the rumors he’s the worst at fighting, but he’s also essential when it comes to ship repairs 

the perfect target for your plan

so you set out on your journey. your idea is to try and see if you can befriend mingi somehow, get him to trust you, then take him hostage

and somehow, you get lucky at the first port you visit - hongjoong’s ship is right there, aurora emblazoned on its side

it’s not hard to spot mingi - he’s one of the tallest, and he’s busy tinkering around the side of the ship

it’s even easier to get his attention

because your master plan is simple and dumb as fuck

fall into the water and pretend to drown. 

mingi, being the pure-hearted lovely soul he is, jumps in to save you despite you being very able to swim

he’s worrying over you when he pulls you out of the ocean, spitting and choking water

and all you can think is 1. mingi is very handsome but more importantly 2. all of this is genuine. like too genuine

it unnerves you - how can a pirate be so pure of heart?

but you push that thought away. there has to be some hidden side of mingi that he hasn’t shown yet, he’s a pirate after all. you can’t feel guilt for using him - you need to gain your parents’ approval. you need to

so you do your damn best to keep him in port. every night you go out and subtly undo some of the repairs he’s made and create a few new problems as well

the ship ends up staying in port for a few more weeks than expected

and during that time, you find that mingi... is really not hiding anything

at all

you keep trying to prod at him when you invite him to bars for a drink, when you “coincidentally” catch him on the streets, etc. 

but there’s nothing to mingi except his very kind personality that sometimes, against your better judgement, sweeps you off your feet

like when that horse-drawn carriage almost hit you and mingi pulled you away just in time

or when you bumped into the wrong person and they pulled a knife on you that mingi was fast enough to deflect

by the time those several weeks are over, you haven’t made any headway in your plan to kidnap mingi

you tell yourself that it’s fine, this mission was always going to take a long time - you could be here for over a year before the right opportunity presents itself after all, and mingi probably doesn’t trust you enough just yet for that to work anyway

mingi ends up sailing off again, and he promises to come back

also makes you promise to stay and wait for him. 

you tell yourself another lie, that you’re happy he’s asking you to wait just because it’ll make your plan so much easier - plus, it means he likes you, which is a step towards trust

it’s definitely not because mingi’s smile is as bright as the sun itself. 

the next time you see the aurora come into port, you swear to yourself you’ll do it this time. you’ll kidnap mingi, force hongjoong to come out so you can put his head on a silver platter

but it doesn’t happen. and the next time it doesn’t happen, either. 

and in the end, you have to accept that the reason you keep sabotaging the ship, trying to keep mingi in port as long as you can, is that you like his smile. way more than you actually should. 

some stupidly hopeful part of you tries to convince you that it’ll be fine, you can continue living like this

but another part of you knows lies never last

and a last part of you screams that you’re a disappointment to your family, falling in love with one of the pirates your parents have put a bounty on when that pirate probably doesn’t even love you back

he does, though. he really does

mingi loves the curve of your lips when you smile genuinely, when the clouds in your eyes disappear for a moment of pure, blessed happiness

he’s fallen in love with your mind, with your quick wit and light banter when you speak

for the past two trips on the ocean, mingi has dreamed of little more than holding you close and kissing you and he’d resolved to that, finally, when he came back this time

which is why his heart completely shatters when he finds you by the ship one dark night, carefully undoing some of the repairs he made just this morning

he never suspected it, but as he stands, watching you work, the pieces begin to click together

mingi isn’t stupid, after all - he knows you’re smart, knows you’re good with your hands, and you’ve also been extremely secretive about your past

even more secretive than he is about being a pirate.

you sense his presence when he gets closer before he even says anything and your hands freeze

for a moment, neither of you says anything

then mingi just lets out a cracked why?

you could lie. you consider it for a few frantic moments, mind working to conjure something credible 

but it’s mingi. it’s fucking song mingi, the pirate you’ve fallen in love with against every single one of your wishes

so the truth behind all of your lies spills out in one go

in the moonlight, you can see mingi’s eyes turn from confused and betrayed to even more betrayed

but what really drives it home is when you mention hongjoong, and how you were trying to use mingi to lure him out

mingi’s eyes turn angry for the first time since you’ve met him

because like i said, mingi doesn’t take kindly to anyone who tries to hurt those whom he cares about

like yeah, he cares about you, but hongjoong is his captain, the captain who’s saved mingi’s life multiple times, often at risk of his own

that’s when mingi’s eyes narrow and his expression turns cold

a chill runs down your back, a chill you’ve never felt before in his presence

and mingi tells you then and there that he better not see you ever again

because if he does, it won’t end well

you’re in the next town before you allow yourself to process anything that just happened, mainly because you know that if you try you’ll start crying

and that’s exactly what happens in a dark little tavern at the edge of the city

you cry over yourself, over losing mingi, over failing your stupid mission for stupid parents who were never going to accept you anyway

you cry because you hurt someone so pure of heart just for two cold aristocrats who didn’t give a shit

you cry because now you have no purpose in life - you’ve catered your entire existence to your parents, and they don’t even care

what’s the point of anything now?

back on the ship, mingi doesn’t cry. he just stares at the fading town as the aurora draws farther and farther from land

your story plays in his mind over and over again

he sympathizes for you, he really does - mingi isn’t cruel or heartless, he heard the desperation in your voice when you talked about your parents and he’s seen the clouds in your eyes firsthand

but it doesn’t change the fact that you’d sought him out with the intention of hurting his crew beyond repair

he tries to tell himself this as comfort, to reaffirm that he did the right thing by chasing you off

deep inside, though, even if he’s sure he did right

the pain of a broken heart and what could have been, he knows, will never fully go away.

wooyoung (ABS)

warnings: cursing, death, blood

before i start i’d like to preemptively apologize

probably should’ve done that before every other part too idk why i'm only doing it now

maybe it’s because this one is 3.4k long and the second longest is a mere 2.8k (fuck you san)

doesn’t matter i've done it please don’t come for me

wooyoung is a ball of pure sunshine aboard the ship. almost literally

sometimes shines a little too bright (ie he gets annoying), but without him, the crew would fall into darkness

but a light needs a source, doesn’t it? it doesn’t just spontaneously emit out of nowhere - fires need kindling, candles need wax, even the sun burns on fuel

and wooyoung’s fuel is you.

like i mentioned in san’s part, you and wooyoung are childhood friends. probably not quite as long as san and his partner - you met when you were a bit older, maybe just after you turned twelve or something, but that doesn’t mean your bond is any less strong

wooyoung remembers your first meeting very clearly - in fact, it’s one of his favorite memories

some older kids were pushing him around, and wooyoung was just trying to run away

he’d just broken free and was running off when a hand grabbed his wrist, dragging him behind an empty market stall, and another hand slapped over his mouth to muffle his cry of surprise

the older kids ran past, then stopped, looking confused, but when they couldn’t see wooyoung anywhere they just left

you finally let go of wooyoung and he turns around to look at you

and from then on, he swears you’re his savior

seriously, wooyoung thinks you’re literally the greatest fucking thing on this planet. might not act like it all the time because he’s a little shit, but you mean more to him than anything in the world

you don’t plan to get attached to him, not at first - you’re a little more standoffish, you told wooyoung you only helped him because you really hate the group of kids that was messing with him

but wooyoung attaches himself to you like a fucking limpet and as the months pass, you find you don’t mind. not at all. 

you’re both street orphans, pickpockets and all that - neither of you are in the orphanage (wooyoung just never ended up there, while you ran away early on) and you’ve both been alone for a long while, so it’s nice to have someone with whom you can trust your back

and as time goes on, you start thinking of wooyoung less as an ally and more as a friend, then less as a friend and more as someone you love

wooyoung, on the other hand, has been head over heels since day one - getting into your space, pressing stupid little kisses onto your dirty face even as you try to bat him away

but he obviously doesn’t make a move at first because he’s like fucking twelve and doesn’t understand what he feels, and when he grows older and figures it out, he refrains from doing too much (like kissing your lips) because you don’t seem to feel the same way

except you are an impatient fuck

so once you figure it out and more importantly, you figure wooyoung out, it takes less than a day for you to have him pressed up against a wall, kissing him with all the strength you can muster

when you pull away, lips swollen and eyes suddenly shy, wooyoung tries to crack a joke like wow, didn’t know i was that irresistible

you just smirk and say you’re the one who’s been staring at my lips day in, day out for the past several years, woo

oh yeah that’s when wooyoung knows you’re the one

(he does ask why the fuck you waited so long if you noticed everything over the past few years)

(the truth is you only really figured it out a few days ago, but you tell him you just wanted him to suffer)

(it cues a lot of angry whining and cute pouts even though he knows it’s a joke so what can you do but kiss him until he shuts up?)

anyway you and wooyoung more or less rule your small section of the streets

master pickpockets and all that, plus you know how to use a knife very well and wooyoung is adept at fighting with whatever the fuck happens to be nearby

you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and though you never truly lie, your reasonable-sounding words always have several layers of meaning, which is very useful in negotiations

meanwhile wooyoung is just really, really good at sliding out of sticky situations - you turn your head the other way for one second and he’s disappeared

people don’t really dare mess with either of you because they know that if one of you get hurt, the other will literally go out for blood

the same goes for yeosang - you met the quiet orphanage boy on one of the rare times he went outside, and everyone knows not to mess with him since he’s under your protection

this reputation precedes you, which is why you and wooyoung are very surprised when a tall, gangly looking dude comes into your little pocket of territory looking very lost

both of you immediately think this is someone good to pickpocket, or at least harangue for news - he’s clearly not from here

too bad mingi has a hongjoong on his side who is very worriedly looking for his tall lost repairman

and in the middle of you two getting up in mingi’s space, hongjoong appears, wielding a very scary-looking sword

both you and wooyoung know this is someone not to be messed with, but curiosity gets the better of you - who is this guy, why is he here, and why doesn’t he know to stay away?

instead of asking, though, you both run away fast enough that hongjoong doesn’t have to deal with you

the next day, though, when you see a familiar face with a familiar sword hanging around the market, you decide to tail him for a bit

turns out he’s a pirate, which is intriguing in and of itself - it also explains the unfamiliarity with the territory

but what’s even more intriguing is how he manages to defend himself against your knives all the while answering your peppered questions in the most evasive manner possible

in the end, hongjoong has you pinned against an alley wall, sword inches from your throat

he clearly expects you to start begging for your life

but you just laugh breathlessly and say - hey, i’ve got two friends who’ve got nothing left here, just like me. do you have an opening for three on your crew?

hongjoong thinks you’re joking but you’re dead serious. there’s nothing in this town, you’re sick and tired of pickpocketing people and protecting your little territory to no end - there’s no point to it all

you know wooyoung feels the same way. he’s so energetic, always looking for something new, and even though he doesn’t say anything, you know he’s itching to get out of here

yeosang might take a little convincing, but if you can prey correctly on his desire to visit the lands he’s only ever marked on maps, he’ll come too

hongjoong asks what you have to offer to his crew. you say a sharp tongue, resourceful fighters, a navigator

and most importantly, a source of light. 

(hongjoong doesn’t ask and you don’t elaborate on the last one, even though you can see a hint of confusion in his eyes)

he gives you two days to convince wooyoung and yeosang, if you don’t show up by then he’s setting sail

wooyoung is convinced almost immediately - his only qualm is seasickness, and you tell him he’ll get used to it

yeosang takes a little more effort, but with your persuasion skills, he agrees

and so the three of you join hongjoong’s crew

being a pirate isn’t as glorious as you originally thought it’d be - the first few weeks are just being seasick all the time, and there are fewer fights and less exploring than you’d like, more just running around and maintaining the ship

but the crew makes up for it more than tenfold

you and wooyoung have never really had family - just each other and then yeosang

but now that you’re with the crew, that sense of home you’ve only ever felt with woosang just multiplies

you love it on the ship. so does wooyoung

(he says it’s because there are so many hidden places where you can hide to kiss, but you think it’s because he has seonghwa to annoy now and not just you + yeosang)

both of you are on cloud nine, even with the nonstop work day in and day out

it’s all worth it when you can see the new cities, pilfer a little something in the marketplaces every now and then

life goes on like this - some crew members are lost and others join

you mourn for those gone, especially hongjoong’s partner, and you try to welcome the new members as best you can

(san is a tough nut to crack, but in the end, you and wooyoung are both happy that you kept at it long enough to see the results)

it’s a constant give or take - you know the ocean isn’t kind, know that the life of a pirate isn’t kind, and you’ve learned to live with it even though a piece of your heart breaks away with every crew member who falls

but then yeosang falls. literally. 

and wooyoung begins to fade away.

wooyoung feels his emotions deeply, he’s always known that - it’s what binds him so strongly to you and what bound him so strongly to yeosang

so when he fell during that battle, stabbed several times, and could only watch yeosang fall into the ocean from the crow’s nest - essentially yeosang’s home on the ship - 

wooyoung cries for hours after the battle, locked in your arms

and for once, even the knowledge that you’re by his side doesn’t seem to be enough to fill the void left by yeosang’s loss

the entire crew is experienced with their own types of loss, loss of partners and friends

but this is the first time wooyoung has felt it so deeply, like a knife carving out a hole in his chest

eventually, though, he recovers

it takes months, but he still has you. he still has san. he still has yeosang’s grieving friend, who might have become his partner had he lived, and he still has all of the crew

and you let him latch onto you whenever the void comes creeping on him again, because though wooyoung might be the light, you’re the source of fuel that keeps his sputtering flame burning

(guilt eats at you, too - you’re the one who convinced yeosang to join the crew, after all. but wooyoung calls it bullshit - you’re not at fault, not at all, yeosang understood what he was risking - and when he latches onto you, you take your own comfort in the warmth of his arms)

life goes on after the battle and yeosang’s death. wooyoung takes a long time to recover from his injuries and you’re by his side the entire way

but then san gets kidnapped and wooyoung almost goes off the deep end again - he can’t lose another friend

thankfully, san returns, so wooyoung doesn’t lose himself completely

but he begins to fear the disappearance or death of one of those whom he loves even more than he used to

as time goes on, he realizes he might not be able to handle the life of a pirate - he cares too deeply, too much, losing the people he cares for is breaking him slowly, bit by bit

you ask him what’s wrong one day and he spills all of this to you, sobbing

the next day you ask hongjoong to leave you and wooyoung at the next port - you can’t be on the crew anymore

hongjoong asks why, but when you explain he doesn’t even hesitate to nod and thanks you for your service

he does say that he’ll miss the source of light on his ship, the light and its kindling, but if this is what you and wooyoung really want, then it’s what he’ll give you

wooyoung feels a guilty sense of relief when you bring him back the news - he’s relieved that you two are going to leave, but there’s also the guilt of taking you away from a life that you enjoy

but you remind him that he’s your life. wooyoung is everything to you, and if he isn’t happy, you’re not going to be happy, no matter what

so it’s settled that you two will split off from the crew at the next port, which you’ll reach after a few weeks of sailing, maybe

you reach the port and are ready to part ways, saying goodbye to the rest of the crew

the aurora is staying in port for a couple of days for repairs, and you and wooyoung decide to stick around for at least the night before you go off

you go on a walk that night with him, darkened streets lit up by evenly spaced torches and lanterns

which is why you see the other ship pull into port with a navy seal on its side. and your blood freezes. 

with one look, you and wooyoung are racing off to where you know the crew of the aurora is staying because you have to warn them

hongjoong looks grim. there’s a fight, it’s going to be inevitable, and you can feel wooyoung tensing up next to you

your former captain says you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to, you’re technically not part of the crew anymore

but one look between you and wooyoung settles it. one last battle to help the family that took you in

the battle is in the dark, bloody and brutal and made even worse by the fact that you can’t see the rivers of blood flowing down the streets - it’s all a mess of sticky black that your feet leave tracks in on the roads

you and wooyoung are back to back with san, the three of you fighting to the last

until there’s finally an opening and you manage to escape into a little alley

except the alley ends in a wall. a wall tall enough to climb over, maybe, but wooyoung has a wound in his stomach and san’s bleeding out of his side and you’ve got injuries of your own so you’re wholly, completely fucked

as several naval soldiers appear at the end of the alley, all you can think is how you and wooyoung were supposed to have gone off today, were supposed to have left to find a more stable life together

but at the same time, you know that if you hadn’t stayed for the night, your crew, your family, might not have gotten enough warning to save at least a few of their lives

wooyoung is starting to wheeze behind you. san doesn’t look much better, and you feel like you’re going to collapse

there are four soldiers standing in front of you, and there’s no shred of uncertainty in your mind when you think we’re not going to survive this

except - maybe if you can buy yourselves some time - 

your eyes light on one of the torches on the side of the alley and a really dumb plan springs into your mind

you spring forward, ignoring wooyoung’s cry, and snatch up the still-burning torch

with a prayer that the ground is flammable, you hurl the torch in front of you 

and thankfully, a flame begins to burn

you turn around and start helping wooyoung boost san over the wall

wooyoung is about to go next, grasping san’s hands - you go to help push him up

but then metal flashes in corner of your eye and you have to whirl away, dropping wooyoung to dodge the sword that came a hair’s breadth within slicing the skin off your cheek

how the soldier got past the fire, you have no idea - it’s still burning

maybe they got over it when it was still low

but then there are two shadows, not just one, both with blades flashing

and you know with a stark certainty that both you and wooyoung are going to die if you don’t get up that wall immediately

the problem is, there isn’t enough time to get both of you up - one is going to be slashed to pieces by the time it’s their turn

but one of you...

you block one of the blades and send the soldier crashing to the ground. the other is farther away and for one split second, you lock eyes with them

there’s enough light to see your smirk

give me a moment here, will you? you say

then you turn around and kiss wooyoung on the mouth. 

it’s a brief kiss, barely longer than a second, but it’s all you have time for before you bodily lift wooyoung as much as you can so that san can reach him, arms pulling him up

san acts on reflex - he doesn’t realize what you’re planning just yet and neither does wooyoung

but they sure as hell figure it out when you duck under the second soldier’s swipe and begin fighting, despite the blood streaming from your face and body

in the background, you can hear wooyoung screaming and no doubt he’s thrashing around in san’s grip

but it’s all you can do to focus on the fight at hand - two against one with the one injured isn’t fair, but since when has the navy played fair?

you notice the sword flashing down at your side. you notice it, but you’re not fast enough

white hot pain bursts below your rib cage and you fall to your knees, blades clattering from your hands

another explosion of pain enters your back and you let out a scream of agony, collapsing to the ground

wooyoung watches you fall in the moonlight, red and black blood pooling beneath you

and only then does he stop thrashing in san’s hold

because he’s crying too hard, too hard to see or do anything but let a silently crying san carry him away

san takes him back to the ship where hongjoong manages to set sail in record time, leaving the navy behind

wooyoung doesn’t even move from where san has laid him on the floorboards - the only sign he’s still alive are his eyes, deadened eyes that track the land they’ve left behind, growing smaller and smaller in the distance

the land that holds your body

the body he’ll never see again.

several hours pass. someone’s moved him into the medbay, wooyoung doesn’t know who because all he can see is you collapsing to the ground over and over again, dark blood flowing endlessly from your wounds

tears build up behind his eyes again and he wants to scream, scream how nothing is fair, nothing is fucking fair, he was the one who wanted a new life that wasn’t that of a pirate and you were just going along with it but now he’s still alive and on the same fucking pirate ship he wanted to leave in the first place 

and he’s lost both of his childhood friends, first yeosang to the waves and now you to the navy

with this loss, wooyoung is grasping his will to live by a mere thread

and he isn’t even sure he wants to hang on any longer.

there is no sun aboard the aurora anymore, at least not in the form of jung wooyoung

because once a fire’s fuel is gone, it can no longer burn

and wooyoung’s fuel is out.

jongho (ABS)

warnings: cursing, death, blood

ah yes jongho stronk boy

when i listed the best fighters i bet you were expecting me to put him in there too

but what i meant by best fighters is best sword fighters

see, jongho is extremely good at fighting and has the arms to prove it

however, his skills don’t solely lie in swords - hongjoong/yunho/san are better than him there - but he will fight with whatever the fuck else happens to also be around him

mingi sometimes likes to bring up that one time there was an enemy pirate fighting next to him and jongho just picked him up, swung him, and knocked out a second enemy pirate right then and there

so yeah. that’s jongho. well-rounder extraordinaire

no one knows how the fuck he’s so good at everything and at this point most of the crew is afraid to ask

but anyway let’s talk about the back story a little shall we

unlike most of the others, jongho has parents that he remembers and as far as he knows are still alive

however that does not mean he likes them

they weren’t abusive, exactly - they just were never around and when they were, jongho mostly got ignored or ordered around to do stuff like cook dinner or fucking whatever

so that’s what he suffers through for most of his childhood

during that time, he learns how to be pretty self-sufficient - he’s the one who takes care of himself, after all

he learns to cook, clean, etc.

but most importantly he learns to repair things, like the house

he gets really good at it too, to the point that people start hiring him to help them with fixing their shit

which is how hongjoong finds him

well, more accurately, yunho finds him

the aurora has docked in jongho’s town after a long storm and the ship has a lot of damage that’s going to take mingi a lot of time to fix

so yunho sets out to find someone who they can hire to help mingi out

he asks around and everyone recommends jongho, so yunho goes to find him. after losing his partner in that storm, hongjoong is in no shape to leave the ship, san is still recovering from injuries and guilt, and seonghwa’s busy tending to the crew members and making sure they don’t fall apart

when jongho answers the knock on his door, yunho is like ???? at first because what the fuck this guy can’t even be older than him - is he really that good at fixing things??

tbh yunho was expecting some middle aged man with massive muscles or something

but jongho’s staring at him like wtf do you want and yunho remembers he actually has a purpose here plus jongho does have really big muscles even if he isn’t middle aged so he’s like hi i heard you’re jongho can you help us fix our ship we’ll pay you

and what’s jongho gonna do? say no? 

so he works with mingi for the best part of a couple of months, fixing up the aurora

and during that time, he meets the rest of the crew, who come and go

jongho gets to know them and he grows to like them - he used to be a pretty solitary person, but it’s really impossible to stay that way after meeting one jung wooyoung and his partner

even after he puts it together that they’re pirates, he still likes them

jongho isn’t stupid, it’s pretty obvious after working with mingi for a couple of weeks - they talk of treasure and travels when they think he doesn’t hear

but really, jongho doesn’t care too much - pay is pay, no matter who it comes from

and really, pirates can’t be much worse than the greedy nobles and aristocrats who run his city, right? their illegal acts are just blatant and out in the open, while the aristocracy try to keep their wrongdoings under wraps

he does ask mingi about it one day - why he decided to join the crew of the aurora

after the initial spluttering of we’re not pirates, cueing jongho’s deadpan expression that has mingi immediately quailing, mingi tells jongho more or less his story of joining the crew

maybe a few embellishments because yknow it’s mingi and we love him for it

and jongho listens carefully. his story is a little similar to mingi’s, actually, even if he knows his parents and was never at an orphanage

they were both alone, they both learned to do repair work...

that night, jongho lies awake in bed in his empty house, thinking about what mingi said

as they continue working, jongho prods mingi for more and more stories about the crew and their adventures, and though he visibly shies away from some topics (major fights and major storms, particularly the one that drove them into this port), mingi tells jongho enough for him to see that hongjoong’s crew isn’t immoral. far from it, really

there’s no explaining away the battles and murder and pillaging, but as far as jongho is concerned, at least they’re upfront about it

nobility does the same shit, they just prefer to call murder “the hanging of criminals” and pillaging “taxes”

and jongho is tired of both

after about a month or a month and a half, he decides to himself that he wants to join the aurora

so he asks mingi one day how hongjoong might feel if jongho wanted to join the crew

he doesn’t know hongjoong, he’s only caught maybe a glimpse or two of the captain because he’s been grieving this whole time, which is why he goes to mingi first

mingi tells him to come back the next day, he’ll see if seonghwa can better answer that question as the second in command since hongjoong is still out

seonghwa takes a liking to jongho almost immediately, and the feeling is mutual

even just minutes after meeting, seonghwa gives jongho the sense that he truly cares for him in a way that jongho really hasn’t felt before, not even from his own parents

so the deal is settled and after the repair job is finished, jongho returns to his small home to pack up his stuff. the next day, he’s sailing into the open ocean without looking back

like almost every other new crew member, jongho gets seasick for the first few weeks he isn’t on land

meaning he stays in the medbay more often than he’d like to

but it’s fine - because that’s where he meets you

you’re the ship’s doctor. relatively new since the last doctor was killed in battle maybe half a year ago, but wooyoung was lucky enough to befriend you, an apothecarist’s apprentice, in one of the towns the aurora docked in 

you come from a town that’s a safe zone of sorts for pirates - the locals are friendly if wary, and pirates don’t get into fights on your land

it’s a pretty decent existence if you ignore the fact that royalty/nobles would have all of your heads if they could find definitive proof that your town likes to harbor criminals, but people keep their mouths shut here so it doesn’t happen

however, as decent as this existence is, you got a bit of the short end of the stick

your parents died after you were apprenticed to the apothecarist, leaving you with no nearby relatives or places to stay other than the orphanage or the apothecary

and the orphanage in your town majorly sucks so you just opted to stay at the apothecary

except the apothecarist is not a good human being. major leech. creepy. you hated being around him any more than necessary

which means you learned everything as fast as you could just so you could stay away and look after customers on your own

and when the opportunity to use your skills elsewhere came up, you barely hesitated before telling wooyoung please get me the fuck out of here

only thing that made you balk was the possibility of death on the seas, but you’re young and naive and when you’re at that age, you feel like you’re invincible - therefore you brush it off

plus, everyone dies eventually, right?

you’re the new blood for several months until jongho joins the crew

and because he’s the new guy now, you take it upon yourself to familiarize him with how the ship and the crew work while he’s currently bedridden

it gives him something to focus on other than the rolling sea beneath him

and it’s nice to talk to someone who’s just mildly sick and not bleeding to fucking death

even after jongho gets better, he continues to spend a lot of his free time in the medbay because he likes being around you. your voice is soothing and somewhere in the back of his mind, he probably associates it with care and comfort, given how you treated him during those first few weeks

slowly but surely, you grow closer and closer

you’re the one jongho goes to when he feels a little stifled, too used to independence on land and unfamiliar with the teamwork that comes with being part of a crew

and you like to talk to him when you’re exhausted after treating wound after wound after wound after a harsh storm or bloody battle

it feels like you understand him, no matter what, and jongho does his best to lend you a listening ear as well - it’s the least he can do

you feel comforting, but in a different way from the rest of the crew

like yeah, seonghwa’s comforting in that mother sort of way, hongjoong has that tired dad vibe where jongho knows he can go to him with whatever, and the rest of ateez are like older brothers he knows he can trust

but there’s something different about you

he figures it out, of course, because jongho isn’t dumb or clueless - but he is a little afraid of being so attached to you

because what if he loses you? then what happens?

he tries to go to seonghwa to talk about it because he’s genuinely so scared

but seonghwa’s not in his room and instead, a tired-looking hongjoong catches jongho in the hallway knocking on seonghwa’s door and asks what he needs from hwa

jongho is slightly nervous because he hasn’t spoken that much to joong, or at least not as much as some of the other crew - after all, he joined the crew when hongjoong was still in grieving and has only really been talking to him for a few months

and by now he knows what happened to hongjoong’s partner in the storm - the same storm that wrought the damage on the aurora that jongho helped repair

so he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea to talk to joong about it

but hongjoong presses him a little, saying that hwa is dealing with some other stuff at the moment and that jongho can talk to joong if he wants

so in a fit of recklessness (he’s also been holding it in for kind of a while, he needs to talk), jongho spills it in hongjoong’s office

and hongjoong goes silent. 

jongho regrets his entire existence during the few minutes of silence and he’s opening his mouth to apologize and take his leave

but hongjoong talks first

and he says to go for it. 

you can’t live your life in fear of what might happen, especially when it comes to love

losing love hurts, but the memories you make are worth the pain

hongjoong’s eyes look haunted, but there’s a faint smile on his face that jongho somehow knows isn’t faked - his words are the truth

and he takes them as comfort when he goes to talk to you later about how he feels

turns out you’ve felt the same way for a while, but you didn’t think the feelings were reciprocated so you didn’t say anything, just kept caring for him in the ways you know best

you talk the entire night about what this means for the two of you, and it ends with you and jongho holding each other on one of the medbay beds, curled into the other’s warmth

it turns out to be a blessing that jongho talked to hongjoong about this and not someone else

mingi/yunho/san don’t have partners on the ship, while wooyoung and his partner have been together for literally forever - getting together was barely a decision for them, more like the only logical path to follow

seonghwa would’ve been good to talk to, probably - he lost his partner (at this point he still thinks they’re dead) and would’ve said something similar to hongjoong 

he still wears the ring, after all

but the talk with hongjoong breaks down that last wall between him and jongho, and they grow closer

which is something jongho really appreciates, because hongjoong is as dependable as seonghwa and another figure jongho can now trust

life goes on - it gets better for jongho, actually, what with you and finally growing close to every member of the crew

he loves sword fighting practice and delights in terrorizing his crew members during mock fights by using whatever happens to be nearby, not just his sword

he also loves sitting with you on deck and breaking an apple in half, wordlessly handing one part to you and keeping the other for himself, all the while staring at the clouds during the day or the stars at night

just being near you makes jongho instantly feel not safer, but more comforted

because jongho’s in as much danger as he always was, he knows that

but having you close by makes him feel more able to handle that danger.

at least, until yeosang dies. 

jongho watches him being flung off the crow’s nest and into the water, never to resurface

watches his partner race to the railing and scream until their throat goes raw and the screams die to begging wails

the scene replays itself in his head again and again after the battle is over

only instead of it being yeosang flung through the air, it’s you

which doesn’t make sense. you’re the doctor, you stay belowdecks during fights and have never ventured into the crow’s nest as far as he knows

but suddenly jongho is confronted with the very real fear that you could die any second

he knew that before, but like you, he was young and reckless and thought himself invincible

now, though, he knows what could happen

and it worries him. you’re not the worst at fighting on the ship, you can defend yourself pretty well, but you don’t have have as much experience as even mingi because 1. you’ve been on the ship for less time, and 2. you don’t go above decks during fights - you stay in the medbay with someone designated to protect you. a ship’s doctor is valuable, after all

your instincts are to heal, not to destroy, and that terrifies jongho

it gets even worse after wooyoung loses his partner and jongho sees the shell that he’s become

jongho didn’t see it happen, but san tells him and seonghwa several days later, eyes haunted as he tries to describe the sight of wooyoung’s partner jerking under the blades, wooyoung going limp as a rag doll as they fell, san being forced to bring basically a corpse back to the ship - the only reason he knew wooyoung himself wasn’t dead was because of the tears running down his face

the story cuts deep into jongho’s heart - wooyoung’s partner was a very good fighter, far better than you, and even they were lost

what if it was you, not them?

jongho decides it’s better to be paranoid than to do nothing and he trains you harder, asking san/yunho/hongjoong to help

you notice the change in his demeanor but don’t question it - after all, you’re wrestling with similar thoughts to his

you confide to him during long nights with you two curled up together on one of the infirmary beds and jongho talks, too

neither of you wants to end this, and you both agree that ending it won’t do much, anyway - you still live on the same ship together, and breaking apart will only hurt you two more

but jongho wishes there was something he could do about this constant fear that he’s going to lose you

wooyoung is still a shell of his former self - jongho doesn’t know if he’d become the same way if you died, and he doesn’t want to test it out

he tries to ignore the fear, to just enjoy every day with you like it’s his last

pressing his lips to yours always makes him feel a little better, anyway

the fear never goes away, though - it’s almost like something is warning him that he will soon suffer the same fate as wooyoung and his partner

jongho ignores it. prays to every higher being he knows that you’ll be safe and extends his prayers to those he doesn’t even know

but prayers don’t work when fate has already decided its path. 

the battle comes quickly, and jongho is thrown into the fray, incapacitating as many navy members as he can

he’s so focused on the fight to see the two navy soldiers going belowdecks

because nobody goes belowdecks. the fight stays on top of the ship, only when the ship is being pillaged after the fight do they go below to see what’s there

but since when have naval officers played fair?

jongho has just stabbed an enemy soldier when he hears the muffled yell through the floorboards

a yell of fear, familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time because he knows the voice, but he’s never heard it so frightened

no one has ever seen jongho move that fast. he crashes through the throng of individual battles, earning himself a scrape in the side and several cut ons his arms, but in the moment, he doesn’t feel any of the stinging pain

he crashes belowdecks and freezes for a second at the sight of a dead crew member on the floor, the crew member who was assigned to guard you during this battle

and in that frozen moment, he realizes that there’s no screaming anymore. 

jongho throws himself into the medbay

and the first thing he registers is the blood all over the floor.

grief pulls a desperate cry from his lips

the soldiers turn around

and jongho doesn’t know what happens next.

when his mind catches up to the present, jongho’s throat is raw and two naval officers are dead at his feet, their blood seeping into the floorboards, almost ripped apart

but he can’t even take sick satisfaction in that

because no matter how much navy blood he spills, you will still be gone

dead

your blood staining the medbay floors

jongho falls to his knees - blood soaks into his pants, your blood or the officers’ blood, he doesn't have any fucking clue

all he knows is that you’re dead, gone forever the way he always feared

and no amount of blood he spills will ever bring you back.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for me these parts were so much longer than they should’ve been I think I’m going insane)