#but not being able to play piano skillfully feels like a failing to me. i felt the same way before i took up crochet again

[rubiatinctorum]

:/ turns out i haven't bothered to learn anything for piano in THREE YEARS oh no................

[frozenprocedural]

Elsarik week, day 2!

Here's my submission for day 2! I wanted to create some sort of story behind this artwork I commissioned from @comickergirl.

Acquaintances

“Any success on the song?”

Elsa let out a sigh at Anna's question and rubbed her eyes, the mostly-blank staves of her sheet music seemingly burned into her retinas. She’d been fighting the song for weeks now- while the lyrics had practically written themselves, the tune continued to evade her.

"Nothing so far. I don't understand. I just can't hear a tune. I can't…" Something prickly and hot rose in her throat. Elsa threw the pencil aside and grabbed the paper, crumpling it and tossing it into the waste bin.

Anna stopped her when she reached for the lyric sheet. "Hey, no, leave that Els. It's been hard since Kai had to leave. Give it some time- it'll come to you."

The burning increased in her gut, and Elsa had to turn away. Kai had been with them for well over a decade. Beyond their accompanying pianist, he'd been a dear friend, helping both of them through the difficulties of establishing themselves as singers and songwriters. But with his wife falling ill, and his own age making it difficult to keep up with the job, he'd made the reluctant decision to retire.

And ever since then, Elsa had been stuck. The song lyrics had come easily enough, though she still had yet to choose a title, but nothing she tried seemed to work. Anna had helped, but both of them were quick to realize how much they'd relied on Kai and his inventive playing to create new works.

"I may have some good news. Kai was able to track down the guy he mentored… Hold on, I have his name somewhere…" Anna scrolled through her phone for several seconds, "Ah! Alarik! Alarik Geatland, that's his name. He'd been travelling, but he's interested in trying out."

Elsa shrugged. "It's worth a try, I suppose." She attempted to hide the disinterest in her voice. It wasn't that she was unaware they needed a new pianist, or how hard Anna was trying. But Elsa had always been withdrawn and slow to trust, and fitting new people into her life, even in what might only be a professional capacity, was difficult.

Anna's sad look was all she needed to know she'd been unsuccssful in keeping her tone neutral. Elsa forced herself to smile back, if only a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I know you're trying hard to make this happen. I'll keep an open mind, alright? When can he meet with us?"

"How does this afternoon sound?"

Too soon, Elsa wanted to say, but she nodded nonetheless.

………………

He was late.

Elsa was surprised to find she felt irritated at Alarik's tardiness, given how little she'd wanted the meeting. Nonetheless, she found herself tapping the edge of the chair and shifting in her seat.

Just as she was about to suggest they leave, the door to the studio burst open, admitting a tall lean man with a head of red curls flopping into his face. He was drenched, and Elsa realized it was pouring outside.

"I am so sorry!" he gasped, pushing his hair aside to reveal a sharp-featured face and bright green eyes. "I got a flat tire a few blocks from here, and had to run the rest of the way. If you are still willing to give me a chance to do so, I would still like to audition."

Anna was already standing, her smile wide. "Alarik, of course we will hear your audition. I'm sorry to hear you had trouble on the way, but you're here now, and that's what matters. I'm Anna, and that's my sister Elsa. Why don't you go ahead and play something for us?"

Elsa nodded, surprised to find herself almost… amused. Alarik's whole face lit up at Anna's words, with a wide grin that made him look boyish and young.

Alarik set aside his soaked jacket and went to the piano, lifting the key cover and sitting down. He closed his eyes, resting his hands on the keys for a moment, then began.

It was an old seafaring tune Elsa recognized from her childhood, simple enough in nature, but somehow, Alarik made it...more. He skillfully wove new harmonies and rhythms to create a masterful rendition that had Elsa tapping her foot and humming along, completely lost in the music. When he came to the last notes, she found herself wishing there was more.

Anna gave her a look, an eyebrow raised in question. Elsa nodded and stood, walking over to Alarik and offering her hand.

"Welcome to our group, Alarik."

Somehow, his smile was even wider than before.

…………

Despite their positive first meeting, it took Elsa time to become accustomed to Alarik's being there. To his credit, he gave her the space she needed, didn't try to engage her beyond what the job entailed. He and Anna got along almost right away, often laughing and joking. Even Kristoff, when he came in, tolerated Alarik's presence, although they spoke less to one another than Elsa spoke to Alarik.

And still, Elsa's song continued to evade her. With the upcoming tour looming, her frustration grew. She desperately wanted to perform it, but with each passing day, she was forced to accept it would not come to be.

It was after one particularly tough day, hot and muggy, with the air conditioning doing little to alleviate the oppressive atmosphere. With multiple failed attempts to gain traction with the tune, Elsa, fighting a growing headache, finally crumpled the paper and hurled it to the side with a growled “I can’t!”. Ignoring Anna’s outstretched hand and Alarik’s concerned look, Elsa found an empty room and entered, pressing her palms to her throbbing head.

She could just hear the murmured conversation between Alarik and Anna, although she couldn’t make out anything distinct. She heard retreating footsteps, then silence.

As she focused on her breathing, eyes closed, she heard a few tentative notes begin. Slow, spread out, the notes being teased out. Silence again, and then a lilting line began to play, a few notes standing out from the repeating pattern. Elsa listened, something hopeful growing in her chest. She stood, returning to the practice room to find her crumpled paper resting on the music shelf. Alarik was bent over the keys, and even without seeing his face, Elsa knew his eyes were closed. His head swayed back and forth, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The song had changed, sped up, the fingers of his left hand rolling over and over, invoking a feeling of running, of freedom.

“That’s it.” Elsa didn’t realize she’d spoken so loudly until Alarik stopped, turning to look at her with wide eyes. She shook her head, instinctively taking a step back. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, wait, please.” Alarik held his hand out. “Anna… Anna said you’d been working on this song. I’m sorry if I overstepped, but I wanted to try to see if I could tease something out. If you don’t want me to, I’ll stop.”

Elsa stopped, then stepped up to the piano, resting a hand on the edge. “Could… could you play the beginning again?”

Alarik grinned. “Of course.” He began to play once more, and it was Elsa’s turn to close her eyes, listening to the flow of the tune. With each rolling note, a melody began to form. She hummed it at first, then let the lyrics flow.

Every inch of me is trembling

But not from the cold….

…………….

No matter how many times she performed, Elsa always experienced a rush of nerves before stepping on stage. This time was no different, and she found herself nervously plucking at the fabric of her white dress. It was the final song of the night, after Anna and Kristoff’s duet.

“Hey,” She jumped, then turned to see Alarik. He wore a dark suit over a deep green shirt, his normally messy curls oiled and combed back. “Are you alright?”

“A bit nervous, that’s all.” He nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I know you’ll be fine. You’re amazing at this.” He flushed, looking away, but Elsa found herself smiling.

“So are you.” It was her turn to blush, but before she could say anything more, she heard their names being called, and the stage manager motioned them on. Before they stepped into the light, Alarik took her hand and squeezed it.

Elsa greeted the crowd, as she had done numerous times, and then nodded to Alarik, who was at the piano bench. He nodded back, then began.

The notes all but danced about her, and as she began to sing, Alarik’s playing wove masterfully around her, bolstering her sound without being overpowering, swelling as the bridge and final chorus echoed through the hall. As the final notes echoed throughout the hall, the audience surged to their feet, their applause thunderous. As they stepped back and made one final bow, Elsa glanced sideways at Alarik, surprised to feel a warmth growing within as she watched him, curls flopping in front of his face.

She found herself eager to see what more they would accomplish...together.

[satoshi-mochida]

Atlus has released new information and screenshots of Catherine: Full Body introducing Vicent’s nightmare curse, more game systems, and sub-characters Jonathan, Orlando, and Tobias.

Get the details below.

■ He who cheats receives the nightmare curse!

Vincent, who is unable to take the leap of marriage despite his girlfriend of many years being pregnant, cheats at the worst possible time. Each woman wants a “serious relationship” with him, and soon he starts having life-threatening nightmares.

—The girl you’ve been with for five years is pregnant.

—And yet, thoughtlessly, you cheated.

—A girl with an unsteady healing presence about her… Whether she is a dream or reality, the love triangle will reach an extreme.

■ Will you choose “Wild” or “Steady?” Or perhaps “A New Possibility?”

As you play, Vincent (the player) will be inquired about his values in various aspects. The ending will change depending on your responses, just like the previous game, but this time the answers have been completely redone, and the results of your responses will not only lead you to “wild” or “steady,” but also to a “third route.”

—Vincent is asked about a “new possibility” that will significantly change his future. Depending on his answer, the mysterious gauge will…

—Which future (which Catherine?) will you choose?

■ Useless men lapse into a nightmare tower full of traps.

After he cheats, Vincent starts having nightmares every night. A high tower is erected in these nightmares. And in addition to Vincent, other men in the form of sheep appear in the tower. This place seems to be a curse that has somehow taken hold on unfaithful men.

—The tower is divided into several stages, and the higher you go, the more difficult it gets.

—Various threats to Vincent appear inside the tower, including a monster that resembles his girlfriend’s face. It it said that those who reach the top of the tower “will gain everything.” How far you go will change depending on your choices.

■ Is the one who appears in your nightmares a helpful angel or a demonic pawn?

After a certain point, Rin will appear in your nightmares. While the other men have all been transformed into sheep, Rin alone remains unchanged. However, Rin seems to be able to use her skills with the piano to help Vincent and the others. But there are also those suspicious of how Rin was able to mysteriously appear…

—When in a pinch, Rin will automatically use her piano-playing to support you.

—Vincent will hear the sound of Rin’s mysterious piano, which seems to put a hold on the stage from collapsing. But what is the story behind this power…?

■ Think hard, utilize techniques, and make your way to the top.

Although called puzzles, you are really only just moving blocks around to make your way to the top of the stage. Make full use of your wits and reflexes—avoiding skillfully placed traps, using items at the right timing, and so on—to make your way to the goal.

Skill Memo

You can check your Skill Memo at save points, which contains tower-clearing strategies from the other sheep.

Use Items

Using the items that you obtain along the way is essential. Some item effects have changed from the previous game as well. Support items that can be used in the tower have also been introduced. Skillfully utilize these items to reach the goal.

■ Connect online and discover friends to share in on the suffering.

By connecting online, you can enjoy the game even more. Signs of your friends may even appear in the tower each night.

Find out the death counts and circumstances of players across the nation.

After moving from one stage to the next, your “Death Count” will be displayed on the screen. This is further broken down into “Falling Deaths” (falling off the stage), “Crushed Deaths” (being crushed by stones), and “Accidental Deaths.”

See the souls of the dead in places where death comes easy.

If you are connected online, you can see the souls of dead players in places where many players died. These souls are the mark of a tough spot.

Check the responses of the sheep who lost their way.

When moving between puzzle stages, you can check the ratio of “Confessional” answers in the form of a pie graph. If you are connected online, you can see the answer trends of Catherine: Full Body players across the nation.

■ Rin’s existence will not only influence Vincent’s future, but also the futures of others.

While it has already been announced that the existence of new character Rin in Catherine: Full Body means that the game’s variety of endings have increased, now it can be said that Rin’s existence will also affect the futures of sub-characters. Today, we will introduce Vincent’s group of friends. How will their futures change compared to the previous game? We will leave that to your imagination.

Jonathan Ariga (Johnny) (voiced by Takehito Koyasu)

“You might encounter it, you might not. That’s just how love goes.”

Vincent’s classmate from high school. He appears cool and pragmatic, but he is an idealist who believes you marry the one you are destined to be with. For that reason, he says he is “not interested in marrying” his current girlfriend. He is more concerned about Vincent’s relationship with his girlfriend Katherine.

A reliable person, Johnny had a rule in high school that he “wouldn’t go out with a girl unless I really like her.” However, is that rule still in place as an adult…?

—The truth is that there is somene other than his girlfriend that he likes… That dishonest behavior also lands Johnny in the nightmare curse.

—Johnny, who is also a friend to Katherine, is fed up with Vincent’s behavior. Is his protectivenes sof Katherine just friendship, or…?

Orlando Haddick (voiced by Hiroaki Hirata)

“Whoever you end up choosing, at least we’ll still be drinking together in the end.”

Vincent’s classmate from high school and his current co-worker. He has failed in business since he was young, which was the reason for his divorce. He has an optimistic personality, and although he says that marriage is the cemetery of life, he still seems to think about his ex-wife. However, how will his meeting Rin change that feeling…?

—Whether or not it is due to his divorce, Orlando seems to have a clear-cut philosophy of love.

—Perhaps because he and Vincent spend so much time together at work, Orlando’s advice regarding Vincent’s problems is pretty half-hearted.

Tobias Nebbins (Toby) (voiced by Kishou Taniyama)

“Ohh, so everyone has finally recognized me as a grown man!”

Johnny’s junior at work. A 23 year-old with an vague desire for marriage. He has a thing for the bar’s waitress, Erica, but is considerably lacking in skill due to his little experience with women. He is a simpled-minded and kind-hearted guy who naively admires his friends.

—Toby is a kind-hearted guy who naively admires his friends—“examples of useless adults.” Since he does not seem to have any nightmares, what is it that makes him different from Vincent and the others?

—Toby, who has a thing for older women, seems to have a crush on the bar’s waitress, Erica. While his youth means his behavior is often unreliable, will he make a bold move this time around…?

Catherine: Full Body is due out for PlayStation 4 and PS Vita on February 14, 2019 in Japan. A western release is also planned, but has yet to be dated.

View the screenshots at the gallery.

[writingwitchly]

Normal day

@weasleyprotectionsquad June event → LGBTQ+: Ginny Weasley x Luna Lovegood

Word count: 1,5k

A/N: Feels like it was one hundred years ago when I last wrote over 1k words. This is basically a drabble, with absolutely no plot, and a veeery lame attempt to humor. Hope you guys will enjoy!

***

“Pfff… Such a drag.”

Ginny ran her stained hand across her sweaty forehead, managing only to leave there a long stretch of yellow, which started to slide toward her eyes in little drops. No need to say this annoyed her even more.

She turned over, toward the window, hoping that the street would have become magically empty in the last five minutes, so she could draw her wand from her pocket to finish this mess. But the Muggle kids who were playing and running seemed to have multiplied, coming from all the places, and had been joined by their mothers, who were gossiping happily on the sidewalk. The sunshine rays of late afternoon made the scene look like a painting extracted from Ginny’s favorite Muggle tales.

If only they could have thought about buying curtains before the extra beds, they wouldn’t have found themselves exposed to sight -- and with no more budget for house items to spend this month.

Ginny knew that if she kept eyeing the rolling balls and the turning loops, she would be overwhelmed by the will to join the kids outside, so she swung round, facing the wall.

“And some idiotic purebloods think Muggles are just witless slugs. You need to have some kind of strength of character to live without magic.”

Merlin, I sound like dad.

With her sleeve, Ginny erased the fresh paint from her face -- thankfully, Christmas was not too far, and she’d get a new sweater -- and crouched to grab another pot of the thick liquid.

“Out of all the places in the world, we had to choose the one where there are more Muggles swarming around than books in Hermione’s shelves,” Ginny grumbled, but an amused smile raised one corner of her mouth. “At least, we’re safe from the nargles here.”

With a sigh, she was back to her chore.

***

Half-an-hour later, feeling the muscles in her neck and arms contracting in protest, Ginny had already given up in favor of yet another break. As she contemplated the work she still had to do, a door slammed. The best moment of the day had arrived, and Ginny was glad to drop her brush in the paint, not caring about staining the wooden floor.

As she did so, light steps carried a voice with them in the house,

“For Merlin’s swimsuit, I still can’t get used to the draught in the entrance. I will need to pin a word under the bell to rem- This is not the right way to the kitchen,” The voice stopped, as if its owner was taking some decision, but it resumed promptly, “This house is so big, seems like a labyrinth. Would be funny if I get lost in the corridors. Actually, it would be interesting. I could write a paper about- This isn’t the right door either,” Another pause, but still, the steps didn’t give up. “These doors, all the same. We should think about painting them too, the same color as the opposite room, so it’ll be easier to find them. Ah, there it is. No? I thought I remembered from this morning. Ginny? Are you here?”

“Right here, honey! I’m coming!”

After a few more missed tries -- the house was big --, the young women managed to reunite in the living room, and, following their usual warm greetings, they both slumped on the just-bought-smelling couch, Ginny rubbing Luna’s bare feet.

“We will need to draw a map,” the blonde sighted, extracting a single pin from her bun and letting her hair cascade down in curls. “You’d think that after a couple of days, we would have gotten used to the multiple corridors. I wonder if the blibbering humdingers are confusing us. Didn’t check for their presence.”

“Bad thing about wanting a big house to host family is that it’s big,” Ginny laughed. “Let’s make a mental note to warn Ron and Hermione  about it. How was your day?” she asked eagerly, hoping to get some distraction from her boredom. With Luna’s anecdotes, she never failed to.

“Quite normal,” the other girl answered, and Ginny’s lips stretched: she was going to discover once more how far her girlfriend pushed the limits of the word ‘normal’. “Seamus and I went to interview Neville on this new discovery he made, the one about the singing cacti, and we could witness how poor Seamus hasn’t lost his ability to set things ablaze. Neville wasn’t too cooperative after this, and I kept asking questions only to distract him. Lucky I managed to take pictures of the plants before. Wonderful discovery, it was.”

The simple image of a steaming Seamus and an appalled Neville being assaulted with questions by a comforting Luna made it impossible for Ginny to suppress a snort, which she skillfully turned into a sneeze.

“Bless you, love. So, because of the explosion, we couldn’t come back by apparition, Seamus was too groggy, and we had Hagrid dropping us. He doesn’t often go to London, you know, so he kind of confused St Thomas Street with St James’, and he quickly flew away, tears in his eyes because of the name of the place. I was very sad for him, so I didn’t think it was the case to call him back and tell him it was the wrong side of the city.”

“So how did you-?”

“Oh, it was easy. Don’t you know what Muggles do to move from one place to another?” Ginny thought about the black Muggle cars, or the strange, underground metallic snake she was still not used to, and asked herself how on Earth her girlfriend had managed to orientate herself in middle of the thronging street, with a smoky Seamus to carry. “They walk of course!” Luna piped, oblivious of her lover’s groan. “It was very distracting, and it seemed to wake Seamus up because, after the first half-hour, he said he would prefer to be splinched rather than to walk a step more. He still didn’t look alright, mind you, but- ”

“So you apparated?”

“Yes, and we made it safely.”

A sigh of relief escaped Ginny’s throat. “Good. I wouldn’t have wanted to face an angry Dean.”

“Oh, we could have faced a lot more than an angry Dean. When we made it back to the Quibbler, there was the president of the D. A. F. T. who pretended he had some news-”

“The what?” Ginny asked, a bad presentment running down her spine.

“Defensive Association For Trolls,” Luna precised airily. “And he wanted to show us one of his latest pets-”

“Some nutty brought a troll in center London? He brought it to you?”

Ginny felt her fists ball on their own accord, but she agreed with them: whoever had put her girlfriend in danger was-

“Ginny!” Luna’s waving hand brought her back to the moment. “Calm down! It was not a troll, and even if it had been one, it would have been very amusing to study it. Mr. Foolsh wanted to show us his cat! He claimed it could play the piano better than anybody.”

“Oh.” The ginger’s shoulders relaxed, and she started massaging Luna’s ankles again, ignoring the allusion to how ‘amusing’ studying a 600 pounds heavy creature seemed to her. “Could it?”

“If Mr. Foolsh pressed the play button on his recorder, yes,” Luna explained, grinning happily as Ginny threw her head back in laughter. “I thought about friendly sending the cat and the man back to their home, but fortunately Ernie reached me before I could. He said Seamus was utterly sorry, but all the documents we had gathered at Neville’s were- still at Neville’s.”

“Seamus forgot the documents?”

“We can’t blame him, after the blow…”

“Did you get them back?” Luna’s eyes clearly communicated that getting ashes back was quite complicated. “So tomorrow’s Surprise Article is going to be a surprise for you too?”

“Oh no, not really. You see, that cat had some grace in its movements…”

Ginny shook her head and giggled: her girlfriend was full of original resources. 

They sat there, discussing the rest of Luna’s day -- which seemed to have been endless and, in Ginny’s opinion, not normal at all -- until the Sun bid them goodbye and the stars winked at them, bringing along the night’s usual chill air.

“How are you doing with the painting of our first guest room?” Luna asked after Ginny came back with some coverts. She had chosen the paint’s color, which she knew was Bill and Fleur’s favorite.

“Fancy a hot chocolate?” Ginny replied, wanting one herself before having to confess: she hadn’t been able to finish what they had planned the day before.

“Of course!” the other young woman said excitedly. She raised as well, stood on her tiptoes, and left a delicate kiss on the spread-with-freckles cheek. “Yours are the best.” Then, their lips quickly found each others.

Ginny blushed a dark pink, like she had done the very first time Luna had kissed her, and all the times after that. She might not be able to use magic in the day, nor find her way in her own house, but she wouldn’t be anywhere with anybody else right now.

Her heart belonged to her, to the blonde woman with wide blues eyes and a golden soul, the one with the strangest ideas and the cutest reflections. It belonged to the girl who was half-a-foot shorter than her, and who was afraid of nargles but not trolls.

Ginny’s heart belonged to Luna.

“That is, if we find the kitchen.”

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Ivory - Portraits of In-Between

Author’s note: Prior to posting or even conceiving of my Duty series, I had a bunch of little snippets worm their way into my mind. These tiny scenes, while not substantial enough for a large fic, do all have a common theme: friendship. They’re cute, they’re sweet, and they’re pretty fluffy. As many of you have experienced, it’s in those teeny tiny moments that a whole relationship can be defined.

Summary: Hana always finds herself at a piano when she’s anxious, something about the creative nature of interpreting a piece of music soothes her. In the one place she’s usually left entirely alone, a friend finds her.

Word count: 1225

Tags: @butindeed

Complete and total worry took over Hana Lee from the moment they’d returned to the palace for the final days of the social season. While she’d made so many wonderful friends, she failed at the one reason for coming here, catching Prince Liam’s eye. To her, it didn’t matter, she wasn’t even entirely sure a life at court in the stuffy social gatherings was her thing. To her parents, she might as well have never even left home. The connections she made during the few short months however, felt way more important than the crown right now. Honestly, she was happy for the first time in her life.

Whenever she needed time to think, Hana’s mind always turned to music. There was something about being able to create something beautiful that made others feel what she was feeling that drew her to it. As had become routine, Hana found herself in the salon at the palace, her eyes taking in the baby grand she sat in front of many times before, an old friend now.

She looks down the hallway in either direction, inspecting them for any signs of someone who might be awake right now. The palace was quieter than she had ever heard before. Hana crosses to room, stopping at the right of the piano, drawing her hand down the keys as she slips delicately to the bench.

Hana closes her eyes, allowing her fingers to find their positions over the keys by memory and she begins to play. Her hands dance skillfully over the piano’s surface and she allows her fingers to do the heavy lifting. The room fades to nothing and she feels as if she’s floating and the only thing that holds her still is her fingers as they kiss the keys. The piece she plays is her favorite, but a challenging one, and she chews on her lips as she works her way through the complicated passages. Liszt was always her favorite to play, the variations in dynamics while still maintaining a quick speed through it all intrigued her. Her hands come to rest as she finishes, the quiet enveloping her again as the final notes fade into the night. Her fingertips are barely a whisper on the keys and she lifts her hands and turns her palms upright, clenching and unclenching her hands a couple times. She knows she can play it faster and cleaner, she felt heavy on the piano with all that was going on in her mind. Suddenly the silence is broken.

“I knew you played, I didn’t know you could stand in for a concert pianist,” he pauses taking a step inside the salon. She jumps only slightly at his voice, maintaining her gaze on the keys in front of her.

She bows her head, a smile playing on her lips, only for her.

“Is there anything the notorious Hana Lee can’t do?” he asks, sliding into the bench beside her.

“Woo a prince and marry him, at least that’s what my parents say,” she turns her head to face him, laughing and sticking her tongue out just barely at him.

Something passes over Liam’s face, regret perhaps, but it’s quickly thrown away and one side of his mouth twitches up as she exhales lightly in a small laugh. He brings his hands to the keyboard, playing a few tentative notes and scales.

“Music was always one of the lessons I didn’t mind too much, and as neither of my parents played I was often left alone to practice,” she tells him. “It felt nice, a private moment just for me to create and express myself,” she takes a breath before continuing in a lower, slightly sarcastic tone, “Naturally, I can’t do anything halfway so I studied the greats, trying to find the most challenging pieces. It became a way to work out frustrations and clear my mind.”

“I don’t see how giving something your entire self is bad thing,” he stops, his face now a little contemplative, “My mother always loved music and I’m afraid I didn’t share the same passion she did until it was too late. That was Liszt, was it not?”

“Correct! You know your composers,” she smiles at him again, her hands in her lap. “One of my favorites.”

“Ah, a Lisztomaniac I see. He was sort of a nineteenth century one-man Beatles.” Hana giggles at the joke.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Prince Liam?” she asks, bringing her hands to the keys once again. She begins lightly playing the opening to Chopin’s Raindrops. Again she’s transported away and all she can feel is her fingers, featherlight, on the keys.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies, “not an uncommon problem of mine right now. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Hana nods and as she finishes a phrase, she pauses and looks at him. “Did you ever take lessons?” His brow furrows not understanding her question, “Piano lessons. Did you ever take them?” she clarifies.

“Ah, yes. Although, I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t the best student,” he laughs. “It wasn’t until a bit later in my life that I truly began to appreciate classical music, after my mother passed. By then, the priorities were a bit shifted though, and I never had the opportunity to try again.”

“I see,” Hana turns back to the piano and asks, “do you happen to know who your mother’s favorite composer was?”

“Schubert,” Liam says looking down at the keys.

Hana’s hands position themselves and she speaks, “Tricky, I actually haven’t studied much Schubert, I’m ashamed I only know a couple pieces.”

Suddenly, her hands are flitting rapidly up and down the keys, playing a short solo piece. The music rises and falls as she sways back and forth when the notes go higher and lower. Hana has her eyes closed and her head nods to the beat. A smile plays around her lips and she laughs quietly to herself when she nearly trips over a more difficult passage. After several minutes, she finally hits the last two chords and releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding. They fade into the quiet, just as the first piece had before Liam entered the room.

Liam sits, still watching her hands after the silence blankets them again. His lips pull into a small smile.

“That was perfect,” Liam whispers, “for a moment it felt like she was back here with me.”

“I think she’s more present than you realize,” Hana turns to him. “From what I’ve heard about her from you, you two are very alike.”

“Another thing you’re talented at, compliments. That’s the absolute nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Good night Hana, I’d love to hear you play again sometime, if you’ll have me. And I promise I won’t sneak up on you next time.” He slips his legs around the piano bench and rises to leave.

“It would be my pleasure,” Hana says, slowly facing the piano again. “I’ll study up on Schubert.”

As Liam leaves, another piece by Liszt begins to wisp from the salon. His mind quiets, the looming decision he needed to make at his coronation seems so clear now. With the social season drawing to a close, he knows he needs to be more like his mother, the romantic.

[kafeuka]

[1/1] i’ve only felt religion when i’ve lied with you

█ title: I’ve only felt religion when I’ve lied with you █ author: kafeuka █ pairing: jeon jungkook/park jimin █ rating: nc17

█ summary: Nineteen year old Jeon Jungkook refused to go to church, so his mother brought the church to him. (aka: Jimin was a youth minister who happened to be the man in Jungkook's sexual fantasy and oh crap, was his mother really inviting the pastor in training to dinner to fuel his raging libido?)

Note:

this was inspired by an episode in the 70s show lmao i've written this decades ago and stopped halfway before i could get into the smut bc honestly speaking i suck at it and despite the researches i've made, i never seem to get things right and i cant stop turning red when doing so,,,,,, in conclusion: i cant write smut for shit (◕‿◕✿)

warning: i have no idea how the religion works neither do i practice it so if i offend you, please click exit lmao

regarding the hankie jimin mentioned, i just knew there was a thing where people place their hankies according to their preferencing by representing them on their right/left side or colours. isn't that amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me know what you think here! Read on AO3 here.

There were times when Jungkook wondered if his mom was clinically brain dead.

Like, now.

He was already late – thanks to that stupid alarm clock Uncle Jooheon had given him as a present last Christmas (that clock had one job! One job! And it failed Jungkook) – and yet here his mother was, blocking the door with her arms on her hips, glaring at her youngest son as if he was caught stealing cassette tapes from a record store.

“Mom! Please! Just this once, I beg of you!”

His favourite band was in Busan and the tickets for their concert were on sale. There was nothing more Jungkook wanted than to attend Radio Wrecker’s first gig in Busan. He swore that he would never miss it for the whole world.

“Jungkook,” his mom sternly said, eyes staring straight at Jungkook. “It’s Sunday. You’ve got to attend church!”

“But Radio Wrecker is going to be here! The tickets will be sold out in just a few minutes and I can’t believe I’m not at to the amphitheater right now!”

“And I can’t believe my own son refused to come to church.”

“Mom, please!” He purposely widened his eyes, jutting out his lower lip to give his mom his puppy eyes – which, usually worked – but somehow, his mom was not having any of it. By now, she should have caved in and let her son buy tickets to see his favourite band and let Jungkook had the time of his life but no, the woman just had to ruin it.

“No, Jeon Jungkook. You’re going to church. All of us are.”

“But—”

“Go change into something nice. Don’t wear that zombie t-shirt, you hear me?”

“Mom!”

“Shut it, or no allowance for a month.”

   Jungkook ended up crossing his arms, trying not to look like a petulant child, while being seated next to his mom on one of the pews in the House of God. His mom had been bitching inside the car, about how late they were to church, all because each and every one of them was being tardy. Even his father, who had absolutely done nothing wrong, had to listen to his mom rambling about how important it was to go to church.

As soon as his mother was done talking, he abruptly wore the earphones and crank up the volume of the music to the maximum.

If it were not for the cassette player and headphones Jungkook had secretly bought with his allowance (when asked, he lied that Minghao had bought it for him), he did not think he would be able to stand it. He might have jumped out of the car and begged for someone to run him over rather than listening to his mother pointing her finger at him and Junghyun.

(Junghyun just got home from a party that morning – it just so happened that his mom caught him entering his room through the window when the petite woman busted through his bedroom door with the intention of waking her oldest son up.)

Junghyun was not probably listening at all. Despite his eyes being open, Jungkook knew his mind was somewhere else as if he was sleeping. That was the only thing Jungkook found his brother to be good at, and he thought it was an amazing skill too, how his brother’s brain was completely shut down even though he seemed like he was paying attention to everything that came out of their mother’s mouth.

They were sitting on one of the pews behind, which clearly irritated his mom because usually they were either sitting in the middle or on the front seats.

All Jungkook wanted was to wait in a queue for a concert ticket yet, the only concert he would probably gotten in his whole life would probably the choir in front which was singing right now. He let out a sigh, trying his hardest not to cry because he would probably be the only loser in his group of friends who did not manage to get a ticket.

He regretted not accepting Yugyeom’s proposal to camp in front of the ticket stand.

Jungkook tried to focus his attention to something else, not wanting to burst into tears right then, and stared at the children dressed in white in front. He recognized a few of them. His mom let out a sigh, probably because she felt content or whatever and Jungkook could only roll his eyes in annoyance. He wondered if the woman beside him really gave birth to him because how could she do that to Jungkook?!

He had been a very good son all this time — he had manage not to get caught drinking and sneaking out and he never brought any girls or guys home unlike Junghyun. It was unjust for his mom to not let him skip church just for once. He never skipped church before but this was Radio Wrecker. Jungkook believed Radio Wrecker was the whole reason for his existence and it was his one and only chance to see them perform with his own eyes rather than pretending he was a part of the crowd when watching their performances on TV but who knew it would be his own mom that stepped on his dreams and vomit all over it?

Jungkook glanced at the figure clad in black cassock that was playing the grand piano, and scoffed. He recognized the pianist. He was Park Jimin, Jungkook’s senior by two years, who was now working at the church or something like that, Jungkook did not give two fucks. He remembered his mom mentioning about God showing Park Jimin the light or whatever during dinner a few days ago.

Jimin had a stupid grin on his face as he mouthed the lyrics to the song the kids were singing as his fingers pressed on the keys of the organ skillfully.

He cannot believe the guy was the same Park Jimin whom he used to almost kiss at a party a year ago. The one who had coaxed Jungkook to drink another cup with a playful smile on his lips. How can someone change so drastically?

   When the mass ended, Jungkook expected for all of them to went straight to the car and for Jungkook to lock himself in his room and cry himself to sleep. But of course, things did not really go his way recently, and he wondered what he did in his past life to deserve this whole ordeal. Instead of going straight to the car when they went out of the church, his mom decided to have a small talk with Jimin, who was standing outside and wishing everyone to have a pleasant day.

He wondered why his mother wouldn’t just thank Jimin, like everybody else, and then walk the fuck away.

Jungkook groaned when his mother stopped and began to praise Jimin like there was no tomorrow. Junghyun was nowhere to be seen, perhaps he was already heading to the parking lot, even though their dad was still here. Jungkook’s fingers were itching to grab his black headphones and shove it into his ears and turn up the volume of his cassette player to its maximum volume to block out whatever shit his mom was spewing.

At this rate, being deaf seemed appealing.

He almost choked on air when Jimin turned his head slightly to him, gave him a small smile and nodded, “Good to see you, Jungkookie.”

A year ago, Jungkook would probably be crying blood and thank whatever religious figure to ever exist out there that made this happen but now, all he wanted to do was run for his life and wish for a piano to fall from the heavens and crush him deep into the earth. He could only swallow and replied with a nod, not trusting his voice to speak. His voice might have cracked or even worst, he might have started to sob.

“I’m sure your mom is so proud of you, Jimin-ah! Look how handsome you’ve become – you’re going to be a good pastor!” Jungkook’s mother cooed. Jimin smiled, a blush evident on his cheeks as he shook his head, “That’s not true!”

‘Damn right,’ Jungkook wanted to yell out. If only his mother knew how Jimin was literally seducing him on one of the worn out couches in Seokjin’s home and eyefucked him the moment Jungkook entered the house, she would not be talking to Jimin right now. Hell, she would probably even find a new church to go to.

It was only when his dad placed a hand on her shoulder when his mother finally stopped talking and finally, thank God, took the hint that they were supposed to go. She complimented Jimin one more time, thanked him with a small bow before making their way to their small caravan.

‘Finally,’ Jungkook huffed, sliding himself lower on the car seat. ‘I can wallow in self-pity in peace.’

  That afternoon, Jungkook did cry.

He was so ready for Yugyeom to boast about the tickets he obtained and for Yugyeom to slap the fact that Yugyeom got a ticket his face but when the phone rang, Jungkook realized that no, he was not ready at all. His hand was visibly shaking when he picked up the receiver, and despite the number not shown, he knew it was Yugyeom.

“Jungkook!” Yugyeom yelled from the other line, as if he knew that Jungkook would be the one to pick up, not his mother.

Jungkook almost winced, readying himself for the inevitable humiliation that would come upon him.

“Yugyeom,” he answered with a grunt, fingers twirling on the cord of the phone, suddenly feeling antsy and super nervous.

“I was waiting for you to show up at the amphitheater!”

He glared at his mom, who was washing the dishes on the sink. “Yeah, someone stopped me from going there,” he said out loud, hoping his mother would realize it was directed to her.

“Whatever, whatever, whatever! Listen, I’ve got the tickets!! Isn’t it exciting?”

He swallowed. “It is.”

“Now, you just gotta pay me back and we’ll have the best day of our life next week!”

“… What do you mean?”

“I bought three tickets, man.”

Jungkook felt his heart beating quickly as he felt a hunch where Yugyeom might be getting at, but he refused to believe the nagging voice in his head unless Yugyeom said so. He waited for Yugyeom to speak, to tell him that he was joking or whatever explanation he could offer, but it seemed like Yugyeom was waiting for him to say something too.

So, he did.

“Uhuh…”

“One for me. One for Minghao. And one for you!”

“No way!” Jungkook let out a joyous scream, eyes widening in disbelief, earning a pointed look from his mother. “You’re kidding me, Kim Yugyeom! How— wh-what even – please tell me you’re joking, man. I swear, if you’re playing with me, we’re not going to be friends anymore. Don’t get my hopes up!”

Yugyeom let out an excited squeal. Jungkook could vision Yugyeom jumping up and down on his bed, a cordless receiver on one hand and the other holding three tickets for the concert of the most Influential and Amazing Band In The Whole World. Without realizing, Jungkook was jumping up and down too in the kitchen, causing his mother to exclaim, “Jungkook!”

Any other day, Jungkook would have mumbled an apology and silently retreat to his room but not today.

“I’m not lying, dude! How can I attend Radio Wrecker’s first concert without you, man?”

“You’re the best, dude! Oh my god, I love you so much. I think I’m going to cry, I swear.” He could already feel the tears prickling in his eyes and he wiped them with the back of his free hand before it could fall. “I really thought I would’ve missed it.”

Yugyeom giggled. “I love you too. Just bring the mulah, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hung up with a huge grin and a high-pitched squeal that would have made a siren envious. For that, he received a dirty rag thrown to his face.

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 If you ask Jungkook what was the best moment in his life, he would answer the night he went to Radio Wrecker’s concert. It was on a May 21st, 1978 on a Saturday night. While Jungkook was always the goody two shoes in his parents’ eyes between the Jeon siblings, Jungkook risked his reputation to sneak out to the concert. He knew his dad would be okay with Jungkook going to concerts but not his mom.

It was as if she had never been nineteen. He did not regret sneaking out though. His throat was sore from all the screaming and he cried when they performed ‘Chrysanthemum’ – which was Jungkook’s favourite song – because everyone started to sing along as they slowly waved their arms. Jungkook ended up sleeping over at Yugyeom’s, the boys could not stop babbling about how perfect the concert was even though some idiot accidentally stained Jungkook’s Radio Wrecker’s white tee with fucking ketchup.

(Yugyeom insisted that they had to wear their matching black Radio Wrecker’s tees but Jungkook was a stubborn fuck.)

That night, Jungkook slept peacefully like a baby, unaware of the wrath of his mother that he had to face the next day.

    When Jungkook got home, his mother was already in the living room, flipping through the cosmos magazine with her slender legs crossed. Jungkook gulped, slowly closing the door behind him and tried to go to his room as slow as he can although he knew his mother already sensed that he was there.

“Why, if it isn’t my son who skipped church!”

Fuck.

“Hey, mom! I didn’t see you there!” Jungkook sheepishly grinned, rubbing his nape. “I thought I’ve told you about the concert, didn’t I? My, how forgetful of me!”

His mom narrowed her eyes towards him, standing up from the couch and threw the magazine to the wooden coffee table. At this moment, Jungkook wished to disappear to thin air. His mother never really used her fists but rather, her words. One time, she said something to Junghyun that made the grown man cried. And that was because he wanted to move out of the house. Jungkook shuddered remembering the incident.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Jeon Jungkook.” There was venom when she strongly emphasized his name. “This band of yours is slowly corrupting your mind. Didn’t you realize that?”

“Mom, what—”

“Sure, it’s going to be a one-time thing you say. But I can see you straying away from the right path and live in the streets with only the morning papers as your blanket. Would you like that?”

“I don—”

“And now you’re trying to talk back to the woman who gave you birth. Who gave you life. Who fed you every single day!”

Jungkook grimaced, deciding to remain quiet. If he was a little bit braver like Junghyun, he would have stormed out of the house right now but he had no money with him and he reeked of sweat and ketchup. Speaking of the devil, Junghyun coincidentally walked out of the kitchen and gave Jungkook a sardonic grin when he witnessed the scene unfolding right before his very own eyes. Instead of walking back to the kitchen, he sat on the couch and watched because he, undoubtedly, was a dickhead.

“You’re going to apologize for today, Jungkook, but what will you say when God himself questions you this?”

“Jungkook’s God is Victor Miura, mom,” Junghyun chuckled.

Which proved to be a bad move because their mother whipped her head towards Junghyun with a glare that would normally made any human being ran away from pure terror and begging for forgiveness.

“And you, Jeon Junghyun, don’t you have anything to say to me either? How dare you, you imbecile, still sitting on my damn couch!”

Junghyun abruptly stood up like a soldier given command, dusting his pants with a terrified expression on his face. While their mom had her back on Jungkook, Jungkook took the chance to stick out his tongue at Junghyun and damn, that felt good.

“Is that where your money go to – for you to smoke crack?”

Jungkook hissed internally. He had found a few things under Junghyun’s bed and unlike Junghyun, whom he was sure jacked off to women in bikinis riding motorcycles, Jungkook found the powder in a plastic bag was far more interesting. He had been using it to threaten Junghyun but it seemed like he had lost his blackmail material now that their mother found out.

“Both of you,” his mom hissed, pointing to her boys, “Are disappointments!”

There was nothing to do now except to hung his head, stare at the floor and waited for the lecture to be over. Maybe Jungkook could try to do his puppy eyes but Junghyun was here – his hyung might steal his tactic!

Surprisingly, after a few seconds that somehow felt like years of waiting, the lecture did not come. Jungkook dared to lift his head a bit to look at his mom, who was now crossing her arms and smiling scathingly. Jungkook glanced at Junghyun, who seemed to be waiting too.

Still with her arms crossed, the woman with feathered hair tapped her foot against the wooden floor.

“I’m going to give you boys a second chance – although I’m sure the both of you don’t deserve any,” she began before uncrossing her arms and dusted the high-waisted beige skirt she was wearing.

Jungkook looked at his hyung, who was already looking at him. The both of them exchanged confused looks before exhaling long breaths from their nostrils, slowly relaxing even though their mother was not finished yet. Now, that certainly never happened.

“I shouldn’t have forced my own boys to go to church, don’t I?”

Jungkook’s eyes wavered before gulping, wondering if he should answer or if his mom was just asking a rhetorical question.

“Both of you are grownups, surely the both of you can make up your own mind and know what’s best.”

Junghyun blinked. “Really…?”

“Sure,” their mom smiled. “If you want to turn your backs on God and spend eternity doing laps in a lake of fire, then that’s your choice!” she added, with exaggerated hand motions before glaring at both her sons and stampeded upstairs, purposely stomping her feet loudly with each step she made to show how pissed she was.

The two brothers waited until a door slam was heard before exhaling a loud sigh.

“So. How’s the concert?” Junghyun asked.

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  Jungkook was lying on the worn out fawn-coloured bridgewater sofa that was probably as old as his grandmother – occasionally sitting up and most of the time not, to sip on his cola while the record player that was placed on end table was playing On The Backseat Of My Car by Sunset Patrol – when his moment of peace and pretending to be rockstar was disrupted when Junghyun came down to the basement, with their mother prattling behind him.

“What are you doing, Jeon Junghyun? Why aren’t you dressed? Church starts in ten minutes!”

Jungkook had to tilt his head to observe what was going on. Junghyun grabbed a popsicle from the white freezer, unwrapping it before whining, “Mom, I’m not going!”

“What?” their mother shrieked, mortification was written all over her face.

She was wearing a long-sleeved green floral patterned blouse with a matching long skirt, which meant she was ready for church. Junghyun, on the other hand, was wearing his usual maroon shirt and usual ugly dark bell bottom trousers.

Junghyun gulped, popsicle forgotten in his hand. “Well…” he sputtered and then pointed to Jungkook. “Jungkook isn’t going, isn’t he?!”

Great, Jungkook screamed inside his head. This airhead just had to drag me down with him!

Their mother turned her head to Jungkook and when Jungkook stood up, she looked like she almost had a heart attack. “Why are you still in your zombies shirt!?” she yelped in disbelief.

Jungkook made a mental note to kill Junghyun in his sleep but his plans on murdering his brother by suffocating him with a pillow was interrupted when their mother let out a shrill voice, “Where’s your tie!?”

“Mom,” Jungkook sighed. “I’m not going.”

“WHA— oh dear God, what?”

Jungkook gawped at Junghyun, who was now eating his popsicle as if their mother was not on the brink of rage, silently begging for help.

“I-I thought you said w-we had a choice,” Jungkook stammered, his hands began to fidget and he had to hold on the hem of his shirt to quell the apprehension that was building in his chest.

“Uhuh,” his mom answered. Her brows were furrowed, waiting for Jungkook to continue. Jungkook had to glare at his no good older brother and widened his eyes, indicating that he needed help.

Junghyun was still sucking on the popsicle, nodding for Jungkook to continue. Jungkook envisioned himself lunging forward and throttling his older brother. He took a deep sigh, readying himself for the response he would get from his mother. “Well, my choice is no.”

His mother let out a loud gasp, which was a little bit dramatic in Jungkook’s opinion. It was not like Jungkook was confessing that he had his dick sucked by a senior when he was sixteen. He simply declared that he did not want to go to church on a lovely Sunday morning.

“I don’t understand this at all,” their mother began, massaging her temple. “Tell me one good reason why the both of you are not going.”

“It’s boring,” Junghyun started.

“The music sucks.”

“I have to wear a tie.”

“It’s hot!”

“The girls have to wear bras!”

“The past—”

“ENOUGH,” their mother interrupted, both hands on her slim hips. Junghyun shrugged triumphantly as he licked the popsicle. Jungkook only blinked. “I am going to leave in five minutes and I’m sure the both of you will make the right decision.” Her voice was honeyed, a little bit too sweet for Jungkook’s liking, as he pointed to her sons.

She continued, with a smile added this time, “Something tells me that I won’t be sitting in that pew alone.”

The boys only stared at the woman as he slowly backed away, making her way to the wooden stairs. With another huge smile, she walked upstairs.

Just when Jungkook was about to lie down on the couch again, not giving two fucks about what his brother was now doing at the storage room, he heard his mother’s sweet voice from upstairs again, “Five minutes, okay, boys?”

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  In Jungkook’s defense, his mother was the one who told the both of them that they have a choice and it just so happened that both boys chose not to go. Besides, their mother was not sitting alone on the pew – their father was there! So Jungkook was not really sure why his mother was acting rather odd to the both of them.

When she first got back from the mass, he had been ignoring the boys the whole day. While she would usually set the plates with food ready on the table, the siblings had to grab their own plates and took their own food. It was not a big deal, not at all, but Jungkook began to feel guilty because his mother was not talking at all.

Usually, she would have made a conversation right now and most of the time, Jungkook wished she would shut up but now, he would do anything for the woman to chatter about anything at all – even if she talk about Park Jimin because Jungkook would not mind. Their father kept on clearing his throat, occasionally trying to make a conversation but kept on failing. Their mother only answered shortly and every time she opened her mouth to speak, Jungkook kept on holding his breath for unknown reason.

The next day, however, gotten a little bit better but certainly freaky-deaky. Their mother was acting brighter than usual and she did not even yell when Junghyun placed his dirty feet on the coffee table. Jungkook was beginning to feel cautious at this point, frequently tensing whenever his mother was around.

He even helped in washing the dishes and rejected Yugyeom’s offer to hang out at Minghao’s house to listen to some sick songs by a band Minghao recently discovered. The whole week, he tried to be extra good to his mother and he began to wonder if she was really losing it.

When Sunday came, Jungkook skipped church again and to his surprise, his mother did not force him to wear a stupid tie and get out from this radical shirts. He thought that he was finally going to spend his Sunday doing productive things.

(Productive Things On A Sunday aka Jungkook listening to the songs his friends recommended and sometimes meeting up with Yugyeom and Minghao)

It was in the afternoon when it finally dawned to Jungkook that his mother had something planned all along.

Jungkook was in the kitchen, making a sandwich while humming to Another Boy Without A Sharper Knife, when he heard the sound of the bell ringing. He deliberately took his time to spread the mustard, expecting someone else would open the door for whoever it was. However, the bell rang again and Jungkook let out a groan, wondering where the hell his family members were.

He counted to twenty and the bell rang again. Exasperated, he grabbed his sandwich, took a bite and strode to the front door, cursing whoever it was that had to ruin his moment. Rolling his eyes, he swung the door open to find Park Jimin, clad in a super ugly black turtle neck along with a tawny-coloured blazer that was a little bit too big for him and a matching slacks and— what the fuck? Why was Jungkook staring?

Jimin grinned, revealing his slightly crooked front tooth which was not cute at all.

“Hello, Jungkookie.”

HOW DARE

Jungkook’s jaw dropped and he swore the sandwich almost slipped from his hand but he was thankfully able to hold on to it and oh shit, he must have looked like an idiot right now.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Jimin!” came a sweet voice behind him, that was unmistakably belonged to his mother. Jimin turned his gaze to the woman behind Jungkook and grinned. Jungkook felt his mom’s hands on his shoulders, softly squeezing them as she giggled, “You came right on time!”

“What is going on?”

Jungkook was slowly getting scared now as he slowly tried to back away but his mother was still holding onto him, wondering if he had destroyed a country in his past life because there was no way in hell this was happening.

“Jungkookie here.” His mother said, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulders a bit tightly now that he almost wince, “And Junghyun refused to go to church. So I’m bringing the church to them!”

If it was possible, Jungkook swore Jimin’s smile gotten a little bit bigger. His eyes were now forming half-moons and damn, Jungkook really should have stopped staring.

“What do you think, youth minister Jimin?”

“I think it’ll be groovy!”

‘God, if you’re out there,’ Jungkook thought. ‘Just let me die already.’

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 Jungkook believed in God.

Always have.

But he wondered where the Old Man was now that Jungkook desperately needed him. When his mother just broke the news of Park Jimin being in the same house as him, breathing the same air as him and will try to bring some sense to him about his behavior of skipping church lately, Jungkook found himself dashing to the bathroom, sputtering a made-up reason and locked himself in it, hands clasped together a little too tightly and began praying aloud.

He hoped the Old Man can hear him. Inguk once told him that he had sex with his brother’s girlfriend in the van and when questioned if he was scared, he simply replied that God cannot see through lead. Jungkook hoped that God can still hear him through the wooden door though, because damn, he really needed his prayers to be answered right about now.

He glanced at his reflection on the mirror, noticing that he had some mustard on his upper lip and abruptly washed it with tap water while berating himself. ‘I must look like an idiot!’

Taking a deep breath as he smoothen the band tee he was wearing, he silently declared that he would walk out of the bathroom door while being Cool and Nonchalant™ despite having Park Jimin sitting down on the living room. His living room.

He tried to act casual when he swung the wooden door open with more force than intended, which somehow only made his presence even more known because of the loud creak and found Jimin turning his head to his direction and gave him a huge grin.

‘Stupid moron with his stupid fluffy hair and his stupid smile. Go to hell.’

Jimin was sitting on the couch across the television, whereas his mother was sitting on a brown recliner. His mother seemed more cheery than he had ever seen before, and instantly, he knew that she was trying to ruin his life.

“Honey, go call your hyung. Tell him I need him down here.”

‘Why don’t you call him yourself?’ Jungkook almost retorted but he found Jimin was already staring at him, somehow making the words Jungkook wanted to say caught in his throat. Jungkook nervously coughed, deciding that he did not want to answer his mom back and went upstairs to Junghyun’s room without knocking.

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 The urge to grab the phone, call his best friend and let out an inhumane scream was too strong. Minghao was probably at Yugyeom’s house, listening to some song right now and Jungkook wished he was there to bang his head with them. He wanted to tell Yugyeom that The Park Jimin was here but he would not want Jimin to overhear his conversation and got the wrong idea.

So he stayed put in his seat, which was unfortunately beside Jimin’s, feet tapping vigorously against the carpeted floor while his older brother was sitting at a small stool beside their dad’s piano. Their mother watched them lovingly, but Jungkook could not help but think of the possible categories of demon that possessed his mother right now.

“Religion can be cool,” Jimin explained, still wearing the same bright grin.

Jungkook tried to focus on the black screen of the TV, and sometimes the cover of his mother’s cosmos magazine on the coffee table (“20 Kissable Lips: What Your Lover Loves About Your Lipsticks – huh, what a rip-off, I didn’t need lipstick to make Jimin wanted to kiss me. Fuck, wait, what?”) while Jimin was prattling about Jesus and some other thing that Jungkook really did not give two fucks about.

“Do you know what’s the best thing God ever did was?”

Jungkook tensed when he felt an unfamiliar weight on his thigh. He took a glimpse, saw Jimin’s small hand resting on his thigh and swore the room temperature rose. His eyes travelled to Jimin’s face and the dork had the nerve to lock his eyes on Jungkook’s, lips parted waiting for response. The thing about Jimin’s lips was that it seemed as if it was made to do something greater than just talk; they were plump and kissable – Jungkook would have to check the cosmos magazine later to see if Jimin’s lips made it into the article – and Jungkook would love to know what those lips could do.

Jimin probably noticed that Jungkook was staring at Jimin’s lips, because the corners of his mouth instantly quirked upwards in a teasing manner before his tongue ran over his lower lip and Jungkook found himself swallowing.

Whatever they were having was soon interrupted, causing Jungkook to jolt in his seat when Junghyun yelled out, “BOOBS!”

Jungkook turned his head around with wide eyes, a bit thankful for Junghyun and saw that their mother’s jaw dropped to the ground. “Junghyun!”

“And God say, ‘Let there be boobs!’” Junghyun continued in a terrible imitation of God’s voice, spreading his arms wide open. Jungkook could hear Jimin giggle and was a bit disappointed when he felt Jimin’s hand leaving his thigh.

“Junghyun, you imbecile,” their mom gritted her teeth, knuckles turning white. Usually, at this moment, their mother would have started yelling by now but Jungkook knew she could not do anything when Jimin was here. Maybe it was the perfect time for Jungkook to start acting up to made their mother realize that they did not need this at all. Perhaps if he annoy Jimin, he would probably refuse their mother’s offer to stay for dinner next time.

Jungkook cleared his throat.  “So, Jimin—” he began, only to be cut off rudely by the same woman who claimed to have given birth to him. Jimin seemed to be a little taken aback when Jungkook attempted to start a conversation with him, but he also seemed amused at the same time.

“It’s hyung, Jeon Jungkook. Where are your manners?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes before continuing. “Jimin hyung,” he emphasized the word hyung just so his mother would stop interrupting him and saw that Jimin’s face broke into a grin for the hundredth time for the past hour. “Did Jesus ever waterski over a shark?”

Jimin blinked and damn, Jungkook could literally feel his mother’s murderous glare burning a hole at the back of his head. Jungkook half-expected Jimin to answer in stutters but instead, the older man only giggled before pinching Jungkook’s cheek, causing the younger to almost whine petulantly.

“Aren’t you too adorable?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook squirmed.

Jungkook’s question was left unanswered when Junghyun added, “Could Jesus start up a jukebox just by hitting it?”

Jimin turned to face Junghyun. “He could, but Jesus doesn’t like to hit anything.”

“Speaking of hit, you never score, did you?”

The question was directed to Jimin but Jungkook was the one who instantly felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Jungkook, somehow, also found himself wondering if Jimin ever Did It with someone because there was no way in hell (or heaven, whatever) Jimin would never score. Even when he was wearing his clerical shirt (which somehow made Jimin ten times more attractive, holy shit thank you jesus), anyone could tell that he probably had some way before he chose to do whatever it was he wanted to do now.

Surprisingly, Jimin seemed calm. “Well, everyone make mistakes at least once in life.”

Then, there was the hand again. Jimin rested his hand on Jungkook’s knee, his thumb softly caressing it and fuck, Jungkook wanted to scream. How can his mother not see this? See what a sinner Jimin truly was? His mother probably took it as Jimin being friendly. If she thought having a very young youth minister who happened to be the reason Jungkook was sexually frustrated one night before was a very good idea, then she was completely wrong.

If anything, Jungkook wanted to commit even more sins than he ever did in the past right now.

So, maybe he was still attracted to Jimin.

Maybe, he still wanted to know how Jimin’s lips felt against his.

It was only then he finally regretted pushing Jimin away when the said man was inching closer to him that one eventful night. His waterfall of gushing regret was interrupted when he felt Jimin’s hand softly squeezing his knee. “But God is merciful, for he will forgive when you seek forgiveness.”

“Cough – Virgin! – Cough.”

“Bless you, Junghyun,” their mother practically yelled out, hoping that Jimin would not catch it and not be offended if he heard it.

Jimin, on the other hand, only had a hint of smile glinted on his lips, almost like he was enjoying the entire situation.

‘He probably was,’ Jungkook thought bitterly. Jungkook almost wanted to stand up and explain that Jimin was not as innocent as he look but decided that he was against it. Besides, he knew his mother would never believe him anyway. She would probably assume that Jungkook tried to make Jimin look bad or even worst, assumed that he was jealous of Jimin.

But how can he make Jimin look bad when Jimin was the one who purposely ran his tongue over his lips and placed his hand somewhere he was not supposed to?

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  Dinner was even worst.

While waiting for his mother to prepare dinner, it was awkward in the living room. Junghyun had abruptly left to lock himself in his room the moment his mother announced she was going to prepare dinner, and when Jungkook tried to do the same, his mother had grab him on his arm and he was sure that she was threatening him.

(“You don’t want our guest to feel uncomfortable, don’t you?” If anything, it was Jimin who made Jungkook felt uncomfortable.

“But mom!”

“Stay, Jeon Jungkook. Make him feel welcome.”)

The couch was spacious, but their thighs still kissed. Jimin just had to sit so close to him. It was at this moment Jungkook decided that God was deaf. Jungkook switched on the TV, watching whatever show was running although his mind was screaming at him to go upstairs. He could hear Jimin humming some tune and fuck, if that wasn’t beautiful, Jungkook did not know what was. It irritated him that he was the one who felt awkward with the whole situation and yet Jimin seemed to be able to look as if he had never wanted to pound on Jungkook before.

When his dad came from the front door and joined them to watch a rerun of a sports event, Jungkook murmured an apology to God for doubting Him. His dad greeted Jimin first, the two were talking about something Jungkook did not care enough to listen to before focusing on the television screen.

After what seemed like forever, his mother finally walked out of the kitchen to announce that dinner was ready. They were sat at the rectangular wooden dining table at the dining room, with Jimin sitting across of Jungkook, his parents sat at the opposite sides while Junghyun came down to grab a chicken and then leave. Jungkook watched, snickering as his mother pinched the bridge of her nose at Junghyun’s behavior.

His parents were conversing with Jimin, leaving him to wonder why he even bothered to be there at all. It seemed like he did not belong in his own house. Clearly, his presence was ignored. It was dull until he felt something tapping on his foot lightly. He ignored it at first, thinking that it was Miura, the dog he secretly brought home a few weeks ago.

(Junghyun had laugh his ass off when Jungkook was caught bringing a dog home and guffawed even harder when Jungkook told him his name was Miura; just like the lead singer in Radio Wrecker)

Only to realize that his mother had been a major fun sponge and forced Jungkook to put the adorable little puppy to an animal shelter.

What the fuck?

Gradually, he straightened his back and chewed his mash potato slowly. Mustering his courage, he stole a glimpse at Park Jimin, who was nodding to whatever his dad had to say while feeding himself a spoonful of mash potato. Whatever, Jungkook thought and resumed eating normally until he felt it again.

There was no way in hell that would have been an accident or just wishful thinking.

He shuddered when he felt someone’s (aka Park fucking-stupid Jimin) foot casually running up to his calf and knee before lightly backing down. He was frozen in his seat, eyes wavering and internally screaming to his parents for help. There was no doubt that Park Jimin was purposely doing this to mess with his mind. When Jungkook looked up, Jimin was softly smiling and appeared to be listening intently to Jungkook’s mother rambling about the influence heavy metal music had on teenagers.

Jungkook was supposed to shift his feet, he even considered sitting crossed legs on the chair but instead, he let out a yelp when he felt Jimin’s foot brushing against his clothed crotch.

“Jesus,” his mother gasped, almost dropping the metal fork she was holding while staring scornfully at Jungkook. “What is wrong with you?”

Jungkook turned to his dad for help, but apparently the man found the chicken wings to be far more important than supporting his son out.

When he turned to Jimin, however, he was so close to lunging forward to snap his neck into half. The fucker was staring at him in fake confusion, as if he had not just purposely played footsie underneath the table while Jungkook’s parents were around. Jungkook cleared his throat in embarrassment, muttering a “nothing” and earned another glare from his mother.

And great, his pants suddenly shrunk a size.

  ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

  Jungkook could finally relax when Jimin went back home. His mother was literally gushing when the door was closed, voicing out her thoughts on how lovely Park Jimin was. Jungkook did not even bother to hide how pissed he felt when he stomped upstairs.

He abruptly dashed to his room, took his towel and locked the bathroom door to have a quick jerk off session. Jungkook almost let out a loud cry at the image of Park Jimin, in his clerical shirt and all, sucking the tip of his dick. He had to swallow the groan at the edge of his tongue as an image of a naked Jimin, wearing a rosary necklace around his neck and legs wide open crossed his mind.

When he finally came down from his high with his chest still heaving and heart still beating rapidly against his ribcage, Jungkook cursed himself for thinking of unholy thoughts about a very unholy man whom might actually be Satan himself.

He swore it would be the last time he ever think of Park Jimin like that ever again.

   Who the fuck was he kidding, of course God would torture him this way.

Jungkook finally gave in and went to church just to humor his mother, eyes often drifting away to steal glances of Jimin in his black clerical shirt. That stupid black shirt was supposed to be a symbol of holiness or whatever the fuck it was supposed to represent, but Jungkook found himself swallowing when he saw Jimin clad in said outfit. If anything, Jimin looked like the human depiction of sin itself.

He tried to weigh out the pros and cons of going to church. For starters, Jimin would not have to step a foot in his house ever again. But it still did not change the fact that the church was still fucking hot, he still had to wear the goddamn tie and Jimin was there, playing the piano oh so skillfully, making Jungkook wonder how those cute fingers would feel inside of him—

Fuck.

Jungkook was really fucked.

   So, maybe he did want to get fucked by pastor in training Park Jimin.

After all, what was that thing Jimin said about making a mistake at least once in life? Whatever, if Jungkook wanted to make a mistake, he had to make sure it was in the form of Park Jimin. At least he would make the eighteen year old Jungkook feel at ease after pushing Jimin away.

He convinced himself that he was simply trying to take back the chance he had lost.

The sensible part of his brain screamed: ‘Yeah, but he’s a pastor now, you fucking idiot.’

However, the Jimin-induced part of his brain screamed: “Pastor in training, not yet pastor. Pastor or not, son of a bitch is a fucking tease.”

Jungkook thought that he might be able to get through all the torture but every time Sunday came, he found himself ogling Jimin from the pew. Now, he was the one who fussed if they did not get to sit at the front row of the pews.

His mother, unaware of his son’s libido, was in tears. “Ah, look at my son! I’m so glad you’ve opened up your eyes, Jungkookie. I’m so proud of you!”

If only she knew that God was not the reason he was there. (“No offense, man,” Jungkook whispered as he glanced at the sky.)

And Jungkook knew he needed to put an end to it after he found himself, yet again, in the shower with very dirty thoughts of Park Jimin.

   Jungkook finally came up with an idea that would have made Isaac Newton green with envy as he cries in his grave.

“Mom, where does Jimin live?”

“It’s Jimin hyung, you imbecile. How many times should I—”

“Sorry. Where does Jimin hyung lives?” he repeated with an eyeroll.

“I supposed he still lives with his family,” his mother answered, cleaning the ceramic plate with a rag.

He inwardly groaned – he knew pushing Jimin away was a horrible idea. But who was he to blame – he was eighteen, he was scared and the only person he ever kissed was Yugyeom and it was just an experiment for fuck’s sake! (“God, you’re a bad kisser.” “Are you helping me or not? I don’t want Yien hyung to think I’m inexperienced!” “But you are—” “Shut up.”)

“Why?”

Jungkook shook his head, walked over to the small table beside the kitchen counter to grab a cracker. “Nothing. I was just wondering a thing or two about Mary and Joseph.”

Hearing this, his mother’s ears perked up with obvious interest and a wide smile took over her cherry-tainted lips. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm.”

While Jungkook had always dreamed of becoming a professional bassist, he was considering being a soap opera actor now. Damn, he was such a good actor.

“I’ll call the Park household and ask.”

“You’d do that?”

“Anything for my sweet boy.”

   There was absolutely nothing sweet about Jungkook going to Jimin’s apartment at a Thursday evening, holding his mother’s homemade apple pie in one hand and the other softly knocking on Jimin’s blue painted door. He secretly hoped that he got the wrong apartment, and then maybe he would not have to go through this.

But as soon as the door was open, he knew there was no turning back from whatever it was the he planned to do. Jimin had a startled look on his face, but soon enough it morphed into an open mouthed smile that could make the sun hide in shame. Jungkook swallowed before wincing internally – he was supposed to be nonchalant and irresistible but fuck that. Jimin’s usual groomed hair was tousled, making him even more attractive despite only wearing a plain shirt and ugly brown shorts.

“Oh, Jungkookie! Didn’t know you’d be here.”

All of a sudden, it was as if everything in his brain was switched off. The only thing he was able to do was shove the dish into Jimin’s chest in an effort to become Detached.

Jimin raised an eyebrow as he took a hold on the dish, fingers accidentally brushing over Jungkook’s and it was fortunate that the dish did not fell to the ground when Jungkook pulled his hands abruptly. He faked cough into his fist, eyes looking at the hallway as he lied shamelessly, “My mom asked me to come over.”

There was a glint in Jimin’s eyes that Jungkook did not catch. When Jungkook turned to him, Jimin only smiled, “Is that so? Come on in then.”

Jimin’s apartment was small; across the entrance there was a marbled countertop and a kitchen behind it. On Jungkook’s left was what he assumed was the living room, the bulked TV was placed on top of a wooden cabinet filled with books and a peach-coloured couch was situated a few steps away from the TV. Jungkook closed the door behind him, glancing to his right and figured Jimin’s bedroom was the one with the door slightly ajar, whilst the one with the plastic door must have been the bathroom.

“You’ve got a nice home,” Jungkook murmured, looking up at the ceiling and wondered why Jimin did not switch on the fan.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, walked behind the countertop to place the dish and took out two soda cans from his fridge. “Thanks. Please, sit down.”

He slightly skipped to the couch and sat, noting that it was far more comfortable than it had looked. If there was anything Jungkook noticed about Jimin (other than how pouty his lips were and how gorgeous he absolutely looked in just a plain white shirt), it was the fact that he loved to occupy the space between them, leaving none.

The couch was not as big as the ones in Jungkook’s home, but there was still some space that Jimin could spare but no, he chose to sit right next to Jungkook, let their thighs touched as he placed the red cola can in front of Jungkook on the coffee table.

“So… what brings you here?” Jimin asked casually, opening the can. His eyes were trained on Jungkook the whole time he took a sip and the younger could only avert his gaze away and grabbed his soda just so he would have something to occupy his hands with.

Well, honestly, Jimin, I was planning to have a quick fuck or something like that but now that I think about it – this is such a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have thought with my dick.

“Well,” he stammered before clearing his throat, eyes glued to his lap.

“Mhm?”

“You see—”

“Mhm.”

“R-remember when, uh, how do I say this…” Jungkook muttered, ruffling his hair in frustration. Jimin only stared at him patiently as he set his drink on the table. Jungkook’s whole body tensed when he felt Jimin’s hand on his thigh and he had to physically refrain himself from shuddering when the same hand that played the piano skillfully every Sunday was inching higher.

“Yeah?” Jimin breathed out.

Jungkook swallowed.

“D-don’t do that,” he managed to croak out. “It’s distracting.”

Jimin only let out a small giggle, his hand began to stroke Jungkook’s upper thigh and brought his face nearer. “Do what?”

Jungkook bit his lower lip, his mind screaming for God to take his soul right there and then but his cock begged to differ. He could feel himself slowly hardening at the soft touches and the way Jimin was watching him.

“This,” he answered with a murmur, placing his hand on top of Jimin’s.

Jimin’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “Why is that?”

“Hyung.” Jungkook had imagined that it would come out as Tough and Intimidating, but as soon as he heard himself whine, he wanted to cry. “Don’t.”

Jimin’s hand underneath his was squeezing on his thigh lightly, and he had bitten down his lower lip coyly when he did so. “What was it you were saying earlier?”

Jungkook should have removed Jimin’s hand from his thigh, but he did not. He berated his libido for letting Park Jimin doing this to him. He continued stupidly (or rather bravely, he was not sure), “The night at Seokjin hyung’s party. You tried to kiss me.”

Instead of denying and pulling his hand away, Jimin only nodded and began moving his hand on Jungkook’s inner thigh, almost making Jungkook clamp his thighs together. Jungkook pulled his hand away from Jimin, awkwardly holding the can of soda with both hands.

“I did,” Jimin agreed with a hum. “Still am, honestly.”

While his mind was screaming for him to push Jimin and run as fast as he could, there was a small voice inside his head that was encouraging him to just go with it. Jimin worked in a church that was only a few streets away now, training as a pastor and yet there he was, giving Jungkook suggestive looks and touches that were far from friendly.

“But it’s all wrong,” Jungkook heard himself whisper. He watched as Jimin’s lips curved into a wider grin, revealing his slightly crooked front tooth.

“But it feels right, doesn’t it?” Jimin whispered, his hand now left his thigh to palm on Jungkook’s crotch.

The younger looked away in embarrassment, a crimson flush spread from under his collar when he felt Jimin lightly rubbing his clothed semi. “Jungkookie,” Jimin whispered tantalizingly on his ear. Jungkook was thankfully able to stop himself from letting out a whimper when he felt Jimin’s tongue slowly licking his earlobe. “Hyung wants to do this for so long, do you have any idea?”

“N-no,” he gulped.

“You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” Jimin asked, before lightly biting his helix, Jimin’s hand still rubbing him.

Jungkook gasped softly before nodding. Shit, he really needed to go now.

Why go when you can finally live your bathroom fantasies?

Before Jungkook could turn his head, to kiss the lips he had been dreading to taste, Jimin pulled away and shifted his position a bit further than before. The emotion Jungkook felt was betrayal and perhaps disappointment at the sudden action. Jimin can’t just get somebody hot and all flustered and then suddenly stop – it was unforgivable.

“When did you change your mind? Last time I remember, you pushed me away.”

Jungkook pursed his lips in a straight line; the forceful waterfall of regret began gushing again. He placed his soda can on the space behind him, it was not like he had the purpose to drink it in the first place. Jimin was watching him with amusement now as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“Well,” Jungkook licked his dry lips. “Things might have changed,” he reasoned lamely, looking up to Jimin to watch his reaction. “And I might have been spending my time in the bathroom tad longer than I was supposed to…”

Jimin chuckled drolly, slowly leaning back to eye Jungkook from head to toe.

“Show me then.”

“Excuse me?” he croaked.

“Why did you spend your time in the bathroom, Jungkookie? Were you doing something you weren’t supposed to?” Jimin lowered his voice an octave, but despite trying to sound intimidating, Jungkook can still hear the enjoyment in his voice.

“You know,” Jungkook muttered, ears burning hot. “The things… boys do sometimes. I’m pretty sure you do it too.”

Jimin blinked with feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Unless you show me, then maybe I can tell you if I do it too.”

There was no way Jungkook would have jerked off in front of the object of his fantasy, but his hands were already holding the waistband of his jeans. He felt like he was suffocating in the tight jeans, with the tent that was already growing in there so he might as well take it off and start putting on a show. Of course Jimin knew what exactly what he was talking about, he could see the malicious intent behind his innocent façade but somehow Jungkook wanted to give his all to Jimin.

“I…” Jungkook bit his lip in shame, slowly standing up from his seat. Jimin watched as Jungkook lower down his jeans, but still leaving his gray brief on. “I guess I have to show you then.”

    Jimin wanted to backflip to the sun, to scream on top of his lungs because holy fuck, was Jungkook really going to do it? He had been just jesting around, trying to get Jungkook to become bothered and flustered but he had no idea that Jungkook was really going to jack offin front of him.

Jimin swallowed, eyes glued to the obvious bulge.

He should have stopped, he knew he should have but a part of him refused to voice this out. Jungkook looked vulnerable, adorable even, with his blushing cheeks and eyes that can’t seem to turn to Jimin. The room’s temperature suddenly grew hotter, he blamed it for not switching on the fan.

The Jimin A Year Ago would have started to pound on Jungkook the moment Jungkook whined, but after spending a few months training with Father Choi, he had grown to be collected and tranquil but fuck, no one actually taught him to stop himself from tainting the younger.

Jungkook was his junior, whom he tried to sleep with a year ago because he saw the orange hankie on the left side of his jeans, and Jimin had lost his chance when Jungkook rejected him. While he should have moved on and maybe kick Jungkook out of his apartment right this instant, he found himself letting out a groan when Jungkook slowly and rather torturously, placed a hand inside his brief while the other inched his tee up just a bit.

Jimin’s breath hitched in his throat when Jungkook glanced up to him, doe eyes watching his reaction. It was getting difficult for Jimin to remain composed when Jungkook let out the prettiest sigh, his hand tenderly massaging his aching cock.

Jimin had to clear his throat as quiet as he could, knowing well that his voice might come out hoarse if he did not do so, before blinking innocently. “Did you have your brief on when you usually do this?”

“No, but—”

Jimin cocked a brow. Jungkook bit his lower lip for umpteenth time today, hesitating to expose himself but he was already here. Shutting his eyes, he finally discarded his briefs, lightly kicking it to get it off from his feet. Jungkook did not dare to look up to Jimin, feeling a little bit humiliated as this was the first time someone saw his dick – and it was half hard, at that.

“Proceed.” He heard Jimin instructed.

Jungkook licked his lips as he pumped himself.

Jimin began shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his cock twitching with excitement as Jungkook clamped his lips shut to stay silent.

It was only when Jungkook’s mouth dropped open, head thrown back that Jimin finally spoke. “Stop.”

Jungkook’s strokes gradually slowed down and finally stopped to thumb his slit that was oozing with precum.

“I understand,” Jimin nodded. He may have looked collected on the outside, but he was literally burning on the inside. The devil inside of him was screaming at him to pin the younger against the wall, fuck him so hard he would not be able to walk for days but he managed to breathe through his nose properly before standing up from the couch.

Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes followed Jimin’s movement; finger did not stop to swirl around the head. Jimin strode closer, a smirk on his lips and Jungkook gasped softly when he felt Jimin’s hand wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezed it lightly. “To answer your question earlier,” Jimin murmured, nosing the crook of Jungkook’s neck.

“I touch myself too, sometimes,” he continued, hand began moving to stroke Jungkook.

Jungkook held back the groan at the back of his throat, one hand flew to grab Jimin’s arm. Jimin only smirked against his collarbone, satisfied at the way Jungkook’s hand holding on to his arm. Jimin stopped at the tip, gave it a squeeze before pulling his hand away, earning a small whimper from Jungkook.

Jimin stepped back, sardonically grin at Jungkook’s expression – half-lidded eyes, lips parted and chest heaving. He was beautiful.

“Hyung…”

Jimin would be lying if he said it was not a turn on. Jungkook had been difficult, a little bit hardheaded in showing respect to Jimin. When they first interacted at Seokjin’s house, the younger had rolled his eyes when Jimin asked to be called ‘hyung’, he even assumed that Jimin had been lying about his age. But now that Jungkook was flustered, Jimin did not need to remind him who was older now.

“Yeah?” Jimin chuckled.

He thought it was impossible for Jungkook to turn even redder, but he was wrong. Unlike the times he would turn his eyes away, Jungkook mustered every courage he had to look up to Jimin and hoped he looked enticing enough when he said, “Want you.”

Fuck.

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

Jimin seemed to be pleased with Jungkook’s answer when he grinned.

“Well,” Jimin huffed, sitting on the couch. “Come here.” He patted his lap.

Jungkook obeyed, sitting astride him. He sighed when Jimin moved closer, causing his hardened cock to brush against Jimin’s stomach. “You’re so cute,” Jimin murmured before tilting his head slightly and let his lips rested on Jungkook’s tenderly. Jimin parted his lips slightly, running a tongue on Jungkook’s bottom lip and the younger opened up, letting Jimin’s tongue slid over his. He did not even realize that Jimin had one hand on his nape, softly massaging it.

It was Jimin who pulled away, and Jungkook found himself leaning as if he wanted to prolong the kiss.

“You wanna come see my room?”

   Jungkook lied on Jimin’s bed, shirt was thrown somewhere on the floor while Jimin began undressing himself. Jungkook did not dare to look up, only focused his gaze on the ceiling as his mind tried to convince him to back out before things could get even worst. But damn, he had been thinking about this for days and Jimin was such a fucking tease and yeah, he deserved it.

“You alright?” he heard Jimin murmur.

“Yeah.”

“First time?”

Jungkook gulped before nodding.

He felt the bed dip beside his legs and before he knew it, Jimin spread him open. He tilted his head to look at Jimin, and thank fucking God, he was finally naked too. Jimin lowered himself, stomach flat on the bed as his legs kicked the air. “Up a bit,” Jimin instructed, placing a hand underneath Jungkook’s cheek to spread it. Jungkook lifted his hips a little, one foot planted on the mattress.

“H-hyung…” he gasped when he felt Jimin’s tongue licking his entrance. “What are you—” he was unable to form a coherent sentence when he felt it again.

“Wanna make you feel good,” Jimin answered, one finger circling on the rim before kissing Jungkook’s balls, causing the younger to shudder.

“I…” Jungkook panted. “Wanna make you feel good too.”

Jimin chuckled.

Jungkook was about to sit up, to probably switch their position but was abruptly against it when he felt Jimin’s warm mouth sucking on his scrotum, back arched at the sensation. “J-Jimin… Oh my god…”

Jimin softly tug on his balls before pulling away, earning a groan from Jungkook that was soon replaced with a whimper when Jimin gave his perineum a lick.

“Wanna fuck you. Can I?”

Jungkook nodded, a little too eagerly. Jimin smiled the 1000 watt smile and at that moment, Jungkook felt something swell in his chest, despite Jimin resting his cheek against his inner thigh and his hand kneading his ass.

“Have you ever fingered yourself?” Jimin asked, sitting up from his position and Jungkook could now see Jimin’s cock standing proud, curving towards his stomach. Jimin was thick and Jungkook, fuck, found himself gulping at the sight.

It was only when he heard a click that Jungkook realized he had not answered Jimin’s question yet. He willed himself to look up from Jimin’s dick, and focused on the older’s lips instead. “No, never,” his voice drowned into a whisper.

Jimin smirked, closing the lid of the bottle he was holding. “You wanna do it yourself, or shall I?”

The question made Jungkook wonder the amount of times Jimin had probably done this. He grimaced at the thought of Jimin doing it with someone else that was not him. The only thing Jungkook ever did with another guy was giving him a head, and it was something he wished to never relive again. It was a horrible experience – the guy was practically fucking his mouth and fuck, he had to swallow it all. It was nasty.

But Jimin seemed like he had done more than just a sloppy blowjob, he could tell from the way he was prepared with the lube. Jungkook had one at home, but never had the chance to use it. He was afraid he’ll get caught with a finger up his ass by anyone in the house.

Jungkook blushed as he replied, “Do it for me.”

“If you say so. Turn around, on fours.”

Jungkook obeyed, using his arms to prop himself. He wanted to look at Jimin, to see his face expression, see the way his lips fall when he came. He heard the click again and this time, Jungkook turned around. Jimin cocked an eyebrow, his hand squeezing the lube into his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he faked cough. “Just wanna see you, that is all.”

“That’s cute,” Jimin giggled. “If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Jungkook frowned – why would I stop when I got you where I wanted? – but nodded nonetheless.

“Relax, okay? Trust me.”

Jungkook took a deep breath, attempting to calm his wildly beating heart.

Jimin inserted two fingers inside the pink rim, as much as his eyes wanted to watch Jungkook’s hold clenched around his fingers, he had to look up to see any sign of discomfort from Jungkook. Jungkook was biting his lower lip so hard, eyes shut and nose scrunched. In spite of being worried, he could not help but to think how cute Jungkook was.

He began to twist his fingers, moving them in and out slowly, often curving them and scissoring them before adding in another digit.

Initially, it was painful but as soon as Jimin thrusted his fingers, the pain subsided. Jungkook’s mouth opened into a silent moan, his tensed arms slowly relaxing. Jimin began to increase his speed then with Jungkook’s moans fueling him. When Jungkook began to rut himself back onto his fingers, Jimin pulled out.

“Hyung, no no, put them back in,” Jungkook whined.

Jimin snickered at the younger, pouring a liberal amount of lube onto his shaft, shuddered at the coolness and stroked his dick with it.

“Shh,” he murmured, brought himself closer to peck on Jungkook’s nose, one arm propped at Jungkook’s side while he used the other one to align his cock to Jungkook’s entrance. “This will be better.”

“Holy—” Jungkook inhaled sharply when he felt Jimin’s tip pressed against his entrance. Jimin entered rather slowly, stretching the inside of his walls and it was more agonizing than his fingers. Jungkook threw his head back and Jimin took the chance to nip on his neck.

“Fuck,” Jimin panted when he was fully inside. “You’re so tight.”

Jungkook would have snapped (“What the fuck do you think?!”), but he had Jimin inside of him and there really was no space in his brain that would let him do anything other than think about how huge Jimin felt inside of him. His own cock was hot and heavy, but he made no move to pump himself.

Jungkook was about to instruct Jimin to move, but he let out a yelp when Jimin pulled out and snapped his hips.

“Shit, hyung…”

Jimin began moving slowly, straightened his back to hold onto Jungkook’s hips as he moved.

Jungkook was so lovely underneath him, as if he was made to be like this – to have his dark hair sticking up everywhere, half-lidded eyes staring straight at Jimin, pink lips open to produce such dirty sounds that sound beautiful in Jimin’s ears and knuckles gripping tightly on the mattress.

He knew he found the spot when Jungkook let out a particularly loud moan, back arching so gorgeously.

“T-there… Keep going…”

Jimin loved seeing Jungkook writing on his bed, loved the obscene noises they both made, loved the way Jungkook’s hand wrapped around his while the other grip tightly on the pillow beneath his head and god, he absolutely loved the way Jungkook kept on calling him hyung, begging for Jimin to go faster as his breathing became erratic.

The younger came untouched, painting their chests and stomachs white, toes curling and hips lifted from the bed when the orgasm hit him. On the other hand, Jimin kept on going, despite Jungkook jerking every single time he hit the bundle of nerves due to sensitivity. Jungkook began whimpering then when Jimin touched his cock, milking him and at the same time, bucking his hips into him.

Jungkook watched as Jimin moaned his name, eyes scrunched tightly as his body stilled from a minute, before he felt Jimin filling his inside. He abruptly pulled out from Jungkook, collapsing on his chest with a groan. Jungkook let out a yelp as he pushed Jimin off, can’t bear to have his dick being in contact with anything.

Jimin rolled lazily onto his side, placing a peck on his cheek. He looked gorgeous, cheeks tainted red and bangs matted on his forehead. His ribcage expanded and contracted heavily against the mattress, hand slowly travelled to entwine his fingers with Jungkook’s.

With heaving chest, Jungkook croaked out, “Now what?”

The thought of having to meet Jimin at church every Sunday pained him, not that it dawned to him that he loved seeing the half-moons Jimin’s eyes made when he smiled.

“Now,” Jimin breathed on his ear, causing him to shudder. “We have a secret.”

“What would…” Jungkook gulped, trying to steady his breathing. “What would they say, if they knew?”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

“Screw them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook decided that he found Jimin’s smile to no longer be annoying, but contagious. He found himself grinning when the older did, and he could not help the fluttery feelings he felt in his chest, slowly bubbling its way up to his throat and came out as a giggle.

Jimin pressed his lips on Jungkook’s shoulder, slightly grazing his teeth on his skin before asking, “Wanna go again?”

[promdreamsofficial]

Prom Dreams Side Story Volume 6: Claire

“But Dev,” you cry, “didn’t you already post this story before?” Well, yes, but I did say I was gonna repost it with some slight tweaks (mostly changing a few words here and there for better flow) when I decided to reorganize the side stories. So, once again, here’s a story about our favorite creepy transfer student, Claire! Spoilers within!

(Don’t worry, I’m posting a brand new story right after this one, for those of you who don’t wanna read this one again. ;) )

She did not flinch as the door to the music room shut behind them. Wherever that boy wound up outside of it was none of her concern.

Prom Dreams Side Story Volume 6: Claire - “Emptiness” by QZProductions

Two Years Ago

Whoever seeks the aid of Ronove, giver of servants, shall prepare these materials three: a sliver of bone, a tuft of hair, and a piece of skin, all human, to give his creation form. These materials must then be offered to the demon within a seal of blood, and only then shall the empty vessel, the slave of its master's will, appear before him.

It had remained unchanged for centuries: the blueprint for the perfect servant, the unwavering familiar that could carry out any task set forth by its master. However, it was not just the task of the servant that would be determined by its creator - its form, its name, and its very identity were also subject to his or her whims.

For one such creation, the process was no different. From the hands of Ronove first came its consciousness. Then came its form - a delicate figure, one which resembled a girl on the verge of adulthood, with flaxen hair and a smile one could easily mistake as genuine. Finally, its manifestation complete, it opened its eyes, its gaze fixed tightly on the one who had given it life.

"You who have sealed the pact of blood," it said, its voice airy yet decidedly mirthless, "Ronove, giver of servants, has accepted your offering. In return, I, your familiar, offer you my service."

From her chair, the girl who had summoned the entity grew pale. Her blue eyes widened in both terror and awe, her frail arms shook as she clutched the grimoire tightly.

"You..." she stammered, "I... I can't believe it... it actually worked...!"

The familiar took a brief moment to adjust to its new body, taking note of the clothing she had manifested in - a green uniform exactly the one its maker currently wore. From the wealth of information about the human world implanted in its consciousness, it was able to determine that it was a school uniform. Indeed, it supposed, its mistress was but a simple schoolgirl, one who had unconsciously created a being similar to herself. It then returned its gaze to the girl, its expression slowly forming into one that a human might call "reassurance".

"Fear not, Lady Dolores," said the familiar, approaching her and extending its hand - this, she knew, was a common gesture used by those of this culture to encourage trust. "I am here only to serve you. My only purpose is to obey your every word - such is the nature of my kind, after all."

Dolores flinched, sinking slightly into her wheelchair at the entity's approach. She eyed it warily, her gaze darting to its face, its hand, and back again.

"...You'll," she said, her voice still laced with a hint of fear, "you'll really... do whatever I ask...?"

The familiar nodded, its seemingly warm smile unwavering.

With a gulp, Dolores timidly lifted her hand - then, she took the hand of her creation. After a moment, she finally began to relax, sighing deeply in relief.

"I was so scared the ritual would go wrong," she said. "I've - I've never tried a spell like this before..."

"You're fortunate to have the blood of powerful witches and warlocks in your veins," said the familiar. "Lord Ronove only grants his power to those deemed worthy to wield it - you ought to be honored."

Dolores' face brightened. "I'm so glad," she said with a timid smile, "now I'll finally have someone to talk to..."

The entity tilted its head. "Talk to? ...I assume you mean for me to be your social companion, Mistress?"

The girl nodded eagerly. "Mm! I, um, don't have a whole lot of friends at school," her gaze lowered, "or... anywhere, for that matter." She quickly perked back up, however. "But now that you're here, I won't be so lonely anymore, will I? Even if I did make you myself - I have a friend now, don't I?"

For a moment, the new creation seemed slightly perplexed by its mistress' wishes. Most witches or warlocks used their familiar to amass power, wealth, or fame - so it came as a surprise to hear that, over all else, this girl simply wanted another presence to share her thoughts with.

But it was just as well - after all, who was it to question its creator's motives?

"I suppose you do, yes," it stated; it would have to acquire a better understanding of the concept of "friendship" during its time in this world.

Dolores let out a giggle. "Finally, a real friend..." She used her other hand to hold her servant's, although the grip of her fingers was weak. "So, um... what should I call you? Do you have a name, or...?"

"My name will be whatever you wish it to be, Mistress."

"Oh! Um..." Dolores pondered this for a moment, then grinned. "How about... Claire? It suits you - at least, I think it does."

The newly named familiar nodded in approval - it was a suitingly feminine name for its new feminine form. "If you believe it suits me, then I have no problem with it."

"All right, then - from now on, you're 'Claire', all right?" Dolores lowered her hands. "We'll just tell people you're my classmate - you are wearing the same uniform as me, after all. I bet no one will notice!"

Claire straightened herself before her maker. "As you wish, Mistress."

---

Loop Three, Day Two

She did not flinch as the door to the music room shut behind them. Wherever that boy wound up outside of it was none of her concern - that would be entirely up to her mistress' whims.

For now, Claire's only job was to play. Her fingers ran effortlessly up and down the keys of the piano as the all-too familiar sounds of Liszt filled the air once more. She had a theory as to why Dolores enjoyed this particular piece so much; perhaps, she thought, it embodied the titular "Dreams of Love" that she had so earnestly believed in during life. Although Claire had only a superficial concept of what these so-called "dreams" entailed, she did at least know they encompassed a wide range of human emotions, from euphoria to desire to purest affection... and it was this fact that made the well of unadulterated hatred in her creator's heart all the more perplexing to her.

"...Mistress," said Claire, her playing continuing uninterrupted, "if I may...?"

From her chair, Dolores' eyes twitched before opening once more. "What is it, Claire?" she said curtly, almost annoyed that her concentration had been suddenly broken.

"We both know that I have no desire or ability to question your orders," she continued, "but there is still one thing that none of my knowledge of humanity can properly explain - and I was hoping you could enlighten me."

Dolores cocked an eyebrow. "Enlighten you?" She scoffed. "I thought you familiars couldn't feel curiosity..."

"Correct," said Claire, "but in order for me to properly carry out my orders, I require as thorough an understanding of them as possible - wouldn't you agree?"

With a sigh, Dolores relented. "All right, fine, then. I suppose I can try."

"Thank you, Mistress." Her hands moved to the right side of the piano, skillfully performing the complex interlude that had given the piece its reputation as she spoke. "I was simply wondering: if you truly did hold so much affection towards this boy, Kyle Mason... why have you chosen to torment him?"

Dolores grimaced in irritation. "What? ...Claire, explain yourself. What kind of an idiotic question is that supposed to be?"

"Well, from my admittedly limited understanding, love and hatred are two opposing sides of an emotional scale. They are, to put it one way, mutually exclusive to each other." She returned her hands to the center of the keys, beginning the next section of the piece. "I simply fail to understand how you can seemingly harbor such intense feelings of both towards him; how you want to make him suffer like the others, yet spare his life at the same time."

Dolores' grip tightened on the arms of her wheelchair, her face further contorting into an expression of rage. Then, suddenly, the world around them stopped in its tracks - dust that had swirled in a sunbeam stood still in the air, and even the strings of the piano froze in place, casting an eerie silence throughout the room, and indeed, throughout the entire fabricated world she now called her domain.

"...You..." she hissed. "You would dare question me like this!? Question my reasons like this!?"

Claire turned towards her mistress, her expression unfaltering. "Please do not misunderstand, Lady Dolores. As I've said, I have no intention of questioning you. I simply want to hear your answers, nothing more."

A shadow seemed to fall over Dolores' features. "Even if I told you, you'd have no hope of understanding." She glared, her cold blue eyes staring straight into her minion's. "Something like you could never understand...!"

"Mistress, I -- "

"SILENCE!!"

Even a being as unmoved as Claire couldn't help but flinch at the sudden wave of magical energy emitted by the frail young girl. This was undoubtedly the power of her hatred, a power magnified many times over by the sacrifices she had claimed for the demon king. She did as ordered, however, and remained silent.

"Love and hate aren't just phenomena you can study!" continued Dolores with a frenzied look in her eye, "They're what dreams are made of, what nightmares are made of - even we humans could never hope to define it!" She bellowed, the full brunt of her anger directed straight towards her familiar, "So what makes you think that you can, huh!?"

For a moment, Claire almost seemed taken aback by this - yet, even still, she said nothing.

Dolores hung her head, her grip on her chair loosening somewhat. "...You're nothing but a shell," she said, "an empty vessel for me to impose my will on..." she shot one last glare at her servant, "so act like it."

Claire paused to take in her newest order; then, slowly, she turned back to the piano.

"...As you wish, Mistress."

The dust by the window fell once more, and Claire continued her playing. Satisfied by this, Dolores shut her eyes, immersing herself in the music once more.

Perhaps she was right - perhaps she never would understand the change in Dolores' heart. But, then again... who was she to try?