#god the journey I’ve been on in the past ten years

[thisisabitofme]

tw: death, possible suicide, past experience of suicide loss

[separatist-apologist]

Hey MB<3 I just keep rereading your fics over and over and they hit everytime (like seriously they itch every scratch in my brain), but just wondering, do u have any elucien fics on your tbr rn, or recent ones that you recommend? I'm mostly looking for canon compliant bc that is crack to me but im not too picky, just looking for recs!

I ANSWERED THE WRONG ASK god kill me right now

You're so sweet. Sorry it took me so long to write this- I wanted to put together a good mix. I hope you like them- these are just one's I've read, there are more on @elucienweekofficials list of multi-chapter fics set in canon, too!

This is long so I put it beneath a cut. I tried to mix on-going fics with completed fics and not recommend the same ones I always do. If anyone finds this list helpful, be better than me and leave a review

I Believe The Word You're Looking For Is Friends by @kingofsummer93

Elain Archeron and Lucien Vanserra are haunted by ghosts of their past, unable to move forward, unsure where they belong.

Together they come to an agreement. He'll teach her everything he knows about Prythian. He'll take her anywhere she wants to go.

In return, maybe she can just stop slapping him so much.

All You Have Is Your Fire by @clockwork-ashes

'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Elain goes to the Autumn Court demanding an audience with the High Lord to save the mate she can barely stand to be in the same room with. She ends up having to stay much longer than she bargained for.

What If I Told You I'm Back by climbingmountains

Come one, come all, it's happening again…Elain and Azriel have been married for ten years. Koschei is defeated, their family is at peace. And if she feels a hollow ache of something every once in a while, that’s just the price one pays for love and duty.

Until she comes home one day to the news that her husband has a mating bond of his own.

OR: I listened to nothing but The Tortured Poets Department for over a month and had a lot of angst to release.

Mockingbird by @avabrynne

After Lucien reluctantly agrees to meet with Eris, he’s shocked when his brother reveals his biggest secret: he has eight-year-old twin daughters. Unwilling to entrust them to anyone else and with Beron's gaze on him more intense than ever, Eris has Lucien swear to protect the girls and take them with him.

When it becomes clear they can’t stay in the human lands even when glamoured to look human, Lucien turns to the Night Court. While it’s easier to handle outbursts of young magic there, Lucien needs help. Enter Elain, who bonded quickly with the twins after their arrival. On top of everything else, Lucien and Elain start to navigate their bond while also finding out a few more secrets, like who Lucien’s actual father is. It's an Autumn and Day Court family drama Elucien and ErisxOC fic!

ACOWAR (Eluciens edition) by @crazy-ache

One moment. All it takes is one singular moment to change the trajectory of fate. Following the events of Hybern, everything changes when Lucien instinctively grabs his mate—Elain Archeron—and brings her back to the Spring Court with Feyre and Tamlin.

In the midst of war and ruin, Elain and Lucien will have to face the bond that connects them together if they hope to survive the unintended consequences. To do so, they’ll have to prevail through games of deceit, powerful forces of magic, and deadly enemies. And hope their hearts survive the journey.

A retelling of A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) and a Canon Divergent AU.

A Court of Ash and Sunlight by aturner1205

“I know you’d rather not get help from me. I know you’ve rejected our mating bond and I’ve accepted that. But I still want to make sure you’re safe.”

Her heart twisted in its cage, filling her whole body with icy tears that would not spill.

Tell him. He deserves to know the truth. Tell him.

And because this time the voice inside was hers, because it was strong and clear and right, she did.

“I haven’t rejected the mating bond with you, Lucien,” she said quietly, her chest pounding so loud she could hardly hear the words. “But I think I damaged it, because—because I’ve never felt it.”

The Scenic Route by @bonecarversbestie

Elain grows discontent with her role in the Night Court as she grapples with grief for her human life and powers that she does not fully understand. One evening she accidentally winnows to Lucien's doorstep and he agrees to take her back to Velaris via the scenic route.

Can I Be Close To You by @temperedink

Elain and Lucien have been feeling out their tentative new relationship for a while, and Elain is getting antsy about the slow pace she's set for them. But maybe it's time to take things to the next level.

Set a few years post-ACOSF.

Oceans Apart (Never) by angryramen

Living in the Day-Court with her mate seemed like a damning at first. But slowly Elain started to enjoy Lucien’s company. They conversed together in the Day-Court gardens and slowly became friends. He even promised to charter a ship to take her to the continent, somewhere she’d always wanted to go. But when the time comes to say goodbye…

The Heirs of Fall and Flame by arosebetweenthorns

Eris Vanserra has always been a complicated male. Born as the first son to a tyrant of a High Lord, he was raised on cruelty, learning never to reveal weaknesses. But as Eris' allegiances to his father's court are questioned, his loyalties forming with those across borders, he realises enemies in his own court - especially his father - may be too difficult for him to keep at bay, especially when he inadvertently sets his father's sights onto his youngest brother. Then there's Rhysand's Inner Circle to contend with - one particular shadowsinger that Eris can't seem to avoid... but does he even want to? --- Lucien Vanserra always thought his suffering at the Autumn Court's hands was behind him. But when his father shows a vested interest in him years after banishing him, it's clear he will have to fight to keep the fragile peace he's built himself. All Lucien wants is to be with Elain and begin a life of his own, but when Elain's life is threatened by his father, Lucien learns just how much he has to learn before life can truly begin.

This is a direct continuation of the events of ACOSF. Joint POV of Eris and Lucien.

A Court of Breaking by @aldbooks

A year after the events of A Breaking, Elain feels a tug on the bond and realizes her estranged mate is in danger. Lucien, now returned to the Night Court, wonders if he might have been too hasty in his decision to leave, and if there might still be a chance for him with his mate

Summer Heat by @zenkindoflove

Lucien nodded his head, looking for any cue that he was dismissed. “Got it. Keep everyone in line and try not to make an ass of myself in front of my mate. I’ll see what I can do.”

Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years.

Meanwhile, Eris has been sent to the summit to spy on Summer's developments. What he doesn't anticipate is entangling in a steamy, forbidden romance.

Post-ACOSF, Elucien, Eris x OC, Multi-chapter.

Healer In The Night by @infinitefolklore

Lucien has been away on the continent on a mission. No one has heard from him in over two months. Elain is worried. On a dark and stromy night, he shows up bloody on her doorstep. Elain nurses him back to health.

The Luck Of The Draw by @sad-scarred-sassy

Elain Archeron is determined to end her unwanted mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. She has resigned herself to a loveless life, convinced she will never be able to experience true love without the fabricated weight of an assigned mate.

Her plans take a sharp turn when her mate arrives with a proposition to accompany him on a mission to a foreign court. When no one else believes her capable of succeeding Elain decides to prove to herself and others that she is not as hopeless as everyone else thought.

Only this will mean she will have to face him, and with that all that she has sworn off, battling between not knowing where the mating bond's influence ends and where her true feelings begin.

[indigovigilance]

Aziraphale, Kermit the Frog, and Fraggle Rock

Inspo from @crowleys-hips, images shamelessly ripped from original post:

The costumes and set design in the Book of Job episode were supposedly inspired mostly by The Ten Commandments but I’m ignoring that for right now because this is more fun. Now that I’ve written it, this is actually one of my dark ones.

Ready? Let’s go.

read on Ao3

The Frog Prince

[Source]

Kermit, created in 1955, was originally an abstract character without a defined species. He did not [officially] become a frog until The Frog Prince episode in 1971. At the same time, he gained his pointed collar. Kermit is not the prince in this retelling, but is one of the many frogs, who don’t believe that the Frog Prince is actually human and try to convince the Frog Prince that even if there is a curse, they don’t need to try to break it, being a frog is great!

Sing out for the swamp and sing out for the ooze The life of a frog is the life you should choose Sing out for the mud and sing out for the bog It’s ever so jolly just being a frog We love the old mud hole, we say that we soak The feeling’s so good that we just gotta croak The muck and the mire, the slush and the slime Are the reasons a frog has a wonderful time

It’s a very weird musical number. I have exactly one semester of music theory under my belt but it sounds awfully minor key to me.

It’s very much about bullying someone who doesn’t feel like they belong into conforming. Exchange “frog” for “angel” and we’ve got a pretty on-the-nose parallel story here.

Two Interpretations

First: Aziraphale is a prince among frogs whose unique identity is being ignored. The ones he has turned to for help are ignoring his pleas and insisting that their way is the best way, even though it is clearly not.

Second: Aziraphale is the frog! Kermit gained his collar when he finally began to solidify as a character with a set identity. Both of these themes apply to Aziraphale’s arc in Book of Job.

*topic change*

Jim Henson & Richard Hunt

Coming back to the extreme queer theming of Season 2 (God bless you GO production team) we have a nod to Jim Henson and Richard Hunt. Much like Pterry and the Notorious NRG, both men began their artistic journeys very young. Henson began in high school, where he began developing what would later become the Muppets; he continued his work on puppets on Sesame Street. He is the creator of Kermit the Frog. He’s also well-known for The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, other queer culture mainstays. Some years later, at 18 years old, Richard Hunt shot his shot and asked for a job puppeteering on Sesame Street in 1972; he got it. He would continue to work as a puppeteer with Jim Henson on the Muppets and related works until he died in 1992 at the age of 40 due to complications of AIDS.

Gone But Not Forgotten || Terry Pratchett

If you have not read my meta on Terry Pratchett’s representation in the Final Fifteen, I will link it at the bottom as well and highly suggest you read it. It’s not necessary reading for what comes next, but it is relevant.

Richard Hunt was openly gay and heavily involved in the New York gay community during the AIDS epidemic. He was in a relationship with a painter named Nelson Bird, who died of AIDS related complications in 1985. There is some speculation that Fraggle Rock Season 5 Episode 7 is an artistic representation of Richard Hunt losing his partner. In that episode, Wembley makes a new friend, Mudwell, played by Richard Hunt, that he abruptly loses at the end of the episode following a confession of mutual affection. You can follow the link below to watch the full episode. The final-fifteen parallel content begins at 12:30:

Gone But Not Forgotten (Fraggle Rock S05E07)

The loss is followed by a conversation between two characters that centers around remembering those who have been lost by keeping the things and memories they left behind, and the partner who [survived] goes through rituals of grieving.

If you scrolled past it but would like to read it now, here’s a link to my meta Terry Pratchett’s representation in the Final Fifteen.

[cozywriter]

🥮 ~ EPIC the Musical: A Rant ~ 🥮

🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮

This isn’t really an important post, I’m just here to let my bainrot loose onto the world since the Wisdom Saga is out (🥳). So now, please enjoy my dwindling mental health and ever decreasing emotional state (or not, whichever you prefer is okay with me…)

1.) Something I’ve noticed is that whenever a god plays a role in any saga, one of three things happen. Either Odysseus confirms their true identity to us, the audience, by saying their name (I.e. Athena and Hermes), a chorus introduces them to us (I.e. Poseidon and Apollo), or they themselves introduce them to us (I.e. Calypso). However, this is not the case in the Thunder Saga. In the song “Mutiny” Odysseus says:

“These cows were immortal, they were the Sun God’s friends!”

“And now that we’ve pissed them off, who do you think they’ll send?!”

Odysseus doesn’t explicitly confirm who but in the next song, ”Thunder Bringer”, it doesn’t open with Odysseus mumbling his name under his breath in fear or a dramatic chorus announcing his arrival. Instead, it was just a few thunder claps and then Zeus already singing away. This is because, he needs no introduction, being Chieftain of the Gods and all.

The first incident this happens is during the Troy Saga during the song “The Horse and the Infant” when Zeus sends Odysseus a vision about his older self about his final moments, and then proceeds to command him to kill Hector’s infant son. The only confirmation we get that he is Zeus is the thunderclap and flash in the sky, which seems to be the only thing that precedes his arrival.

2.) Another detail I found interesting (read as: absolutely earth shattering, I actually might need therapy after listening to this) is during the song “Love in Paradise”, when Athena says:

“Old friend, it’s been ten years since I last saw you..”

And the next line cuts to Odysseus’ reveal during the song “Remember Them” in the Cyclops Saga when he reveals his identity to Polyphemus. This is because, that moment was truly the moment she last saw him. Either this means that during their argument in the song “My Goodbye” — which mind you, is the song directly after “Remember Them” — she was blinded with rage because he didn’t follow her instructions, or that she was so blinded with the fact that he disobeyed her, she didn’t think to look past that and see why he disobeyed her.

The next few lines support this and truly show her guilt, seeing as after Athena says:

“Let’s see where you’ve been…”

The song cuts to Aeolus’ game, then to Poseidon’s encounter, Circe’s confrontation, Tiresias’ vision, the Siren’s massacre, Scylla’s cost and then Zeus’ retribution. Notice how every song that plays signified a major event that changed the course of Odysseus’ travels. However, these were all events that Athena wasn’t guiding Odysseus in any way. This either means that she was purely just going along the timeline of his journey to see where he went, or she also wanted to see just how far he went without her help, being that in the song “We’ll Be Fine” during the Wisdom Saga, she says:

“I had a friend before and he was a lot like you…” “I helped him fight through war but he had his demons too…” “And then we grew apart…” “Then his light went dark..”

“And so I thought, maybe, if I made a different call, maybe, if I hadn't missed it all, maybe he'd be fine… Maybe we'd unwind…” “Maybe, if I help another soul, maybe, if I helped you reach your goal, life could be that bright…! I could sleep at night…!”

During this, when she calls Odysseus her “friend”, either she means that she truly did see him as more than a student all that time she mentored him and didn’t want to tell Odysseus because she was afraid she’d look weak to him, or after she cut ties with him, she realized that she cared about Odysseus more than she let on.

3.) Lastly, during the song “Ruthlessness” in the Ocean Saga, when Poseidon was taking his revenge on Odysseus and his crew for making Polyphemus suffer, the rage and hatred towards them was genuine, to the point that were it not for Odysseus’ quick thinking, their journey would’ve ended there. Now, compare it to Zeus during the song “Thunder Bringer” in the Thunder Saga. Zeus was toying with them. Almost like he didn’t care about the situation and was only using it for entertainment. This parallel really tells you a lot about the brothers and how they’re like, Poseidon being unforgiving and ruthless hehehe get it? Because you know… it-it’s his song… when necessary but “chill with the waves” — his words, not mine — because that’s how the sea is. Calm but unforgiving. As for Zeus, he’s flamboyant and passive, not really caring about who or what he hurts as he makes a grand musical number before he strikes, much like how like thunder and lighting do.

🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮🧋🥮

[sitp-recs]

BL Reclist - Part 4

Hello hello, here I am with another BL rec list no one asked for 😌 I’ve been reading a lot these days, while I wait for my fandom spark to come back. Most of these manhwas are still ongoing which means I’ve been busy with: alpha x alpha romance! Break up make up! Identity porn! Revenge! Mafia love triangles! It’s all here folks, pick your poison and have fun. If you’re looking for completed works, better start with 4, 8 and 9. You can also check my previous BL lists here, here and here for a few more completed series. I know these lists are a bit niche and not very popular but who knows, maybe I’ll find fellow BL fans who will enjoy these as much as I did!

1. Aren’t You My Type? by Ha tae jin / Toffee (M, ongoing)

Geon-ah responds to Hyun-dal's message, who mistook him for Hye-sung. As they continue to communicate, they grow closer and closer, their first face-to-face meeting seems like it will never come. An alpha x alpha romantic comedy that starts with a misunderstanding!

2. Blaze Out by Chepali, Zelnut & Kkoyo (E, ongoing)

Once a promising high school baseball player, Yeon Hong’s bright future is shattered by a tragic car accident, leading him to uncover the involvement of private loan sharks. Seeking revenge, he transforms into a loan shark himself, establishing “Coco Loan.” However, twelve years later, Hong’s journey takes a surprising turn when the powerful President Yoo Jaeyoung orders Hong to mentor his mysterious lover, ��Panther.’

3. God’s Identity Card by Ni sansui & Djun (M, ongoing)

Lu Lanqiao, a forensic science student, became the most likely suspect in the murder of his elder brother overnight. His brother's last words put him on the run. While trying to find out who killed his brother, Lanqiao meets Fu Cheng, the police inspector who was hot on his trail. However, the relationship between the fugitive and the pursuer gradually changes.

4. Here U Are by Djun (M, complete)

Receptioning the newcomers is a task for YuYang, and he ends up helping the unsociable and towering LiHuan, the kind of person that does everything to be disliked. But after better knowing each other, he discovers that the giant isn’t that bad of a person at all.

5. Payback by Samk & Fujoking (E, ongoing)

While other students were preparing to take their CSAT exams, Lee Yoonhan was swept up in an exhilarating lifestyle of crime and debauchery. While working for a loan shark, karma catches up to him when a family member dies from an act of revenge against him. After years of repenting for his sins and trying to turn over a new leaf, he meets a man in the entertainment industry who gives him the opportunity to get his revenge.

6. Private Scandal by Totiko (E, ongoing)

Known as the muse of a renowned designer, Iliyan Moore has achieved almost everything a model could want: celebrity status, money, full bookings…and a reputation as a man-seducing home wrecker. Stalked by the paparazzi and harassed by an obsessed boss with a jealous wife, Iliyan is on guard against everyone around him. So, one could only imagine his shock when dashing Kyle Hackman manages to effortlessly charm his way past his defenses and into his bed on their first meeting.

7. Sparkling Baby by Zec (E, ongoing)

Due to a recent heartbreak, Hanjoon arrives in New York. Not only is he delighted to meet a Korean in an unfamiliar city, he has a one-night stand with him. "I should've asked for his name." However, these two end up meeting again years later, in an unusual place. Where will their one-night stand lead them to? Spin off from Lover Boy, featuring side character Baek Hanjoon.

8. Spring, the Color of Love by Chepali & Park Ji-yeon (M, complete)

"Je te veux. I want you." Cheongsun and Gonghyeon meet as college students, but their different social background and experience lead to a painful falling out. Ten years later, the two meet again in the world of hotel management and get to reminisce about their short spring love all those years before.

9. Unintentional Love Story by Pibi (M, complete)

Wonyoung gets unjustly suspended from work after getting caught up in a corruption scandal. When he accidentally discovers the chairman's favorite artist Yoon Taejun living under an alias, he is tasked with a tricky new mission. Could this be Wonyoung's chance to get his job back?

10. Wet Sand by Doyak (E, ongoing)

Click. A thoughtless finger slip leads Jo to snap a picture of Ian smoking on his balcony - and thus, their fates begin to intertwine. Jo can't stop fantasizing about the tall, handsome stranger on the balcony, and grabs any chance to get to know him better. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize that Ian does the dirty work for one of the region's largest, most unsavory gangs... and is the lover of one of their most powerful people.

[snapdragonsimming]

Author's Note and Transcript Under the Cut

(AN: Hello! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my fledgling fundie simblr. I’m by no means new to simblr, but because this blog and story is new, I figure an introduction is due.

So: hey, I’m Talia! I had another fundie simblr a few years back (it’s now inactive for a multitude of reasons), but like a certain someone, I have risen again! My fundie sims obsession was reignited over the summer after I joined a wonderful fundie sims-themed Discord server. Somehow they convinced me to make a new blog, and a few months later, here we are! In the intervening years I continued to lurk, so if you’re an active fundie simblr, I’m probably a fan of your story.

I’ve been playing the de la Cruz family for a while now and they have a special place in my heart- I can’t wait to share them with everyone else! Get ready for lots of God-honoring drama, mildly dubious baby names, and leopard-print modesty undershirts. Note that as the de la Cruzes are fundamentalists and this story is satire-heavy, there will be some viewpoints expressed that I very much disagree with. I’ll trigger tag certain sensitive subjects (e.g. physical violence, miscarriages) as ‘tw [thing]’ but fundie-typical bullshit will go untagged for the sake of my sanity.

Some basic housekeeping stuff to wrap up this far-too-long intro note: I have a queue full of posts ready to go, but I’m a busy student with unpleasant things like homework and AP classes, so I’m still not sure how frequently I’ll post. I’ll do my best to ensure that stays consistent, though, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out via my askbox or DMs!)

-

PRAISING HIM!

Every Sunday, Praising Him! features a family dedicated to spreading the Word. Today we meet the de la Cruzes, a San Sequoian family of 16.

When Alejandro and Alina (née Fletcher) de la Cruz married at nineteen, they could not have imagined what would come next! Over the past twenty-six years, the couple has made faith the centerpiece of their lives, and has continued to “Praise Him!” through the ups and downs of busy family life.

Read more about their family below!

-

Alejandro, 45, works as a programmer at United Christian Publishers, and holds a Distinguished Degree in Computer Science from Foxbury Christian University. He began his journey into higher education not at 18, like many students, but at 26, shortly after the birth of his seventhborn, Cecilia! Owing to his unique circumstances, he chose to enroll in a six-year program that enabled him to work full-time as a freelance programmer in addition to his courseload. Though money was tight at times, the Lord provided, and Alejandro welcomed five bundles of joy (including a darling set of twins!) with wife Alina while enrolled at Foxbury. Whew!

Alina, 45, has chosen to fulfill God’s design for women by staying at home with her family. Raised in a devout household, she always knew He was calling her toward marriage and motherhood, and she says the “greatest blessing” in her life was the day she gave birth to her eldest son Gabriel, ten months after her wedding day and just shy of her twentieth birthday. In addition to raising and homeschooling the seven de la Cruz children who have yet to graduate, Alina is active in her church and in Institute for Strong Christian Standards (ISCS) circles, and enjoys spending time with her four (soon to be five!) beautiful grandbabies. A true Proverbs 31 woman if we’ve ever seen one!

You may recognize Gabriel de la Cruz and his lovely wife Esther, 23, from last summer’s print edition of Praising Him! At just 25, Gabriel is a rising star in the Christian legal world, coming to the aid of innocent Simericans simply trying to practice their faith. Ten months ago, they welcomed their first little girl, Abigail, and just last week they announced the upcoming arrival of their second child! Congratulations to them.

-

Althea Brown (née de la Cruz), 24, is following in her mother’s footsteps and proud of it! The young woman, who wed husband John-David, 28, three years ago, resides in Newcrest and is a content stay-at-home-mother of two.

Jasmine Booth (née de la Cruz), 23, known to friends and family as “Jazzy,” is enjoying the bliss of new parenthood alongside her husband of two years, Jason!

The first set of de la Cruz twins, Joshua and Sofia, 21, are both unattached and living at home. Sofia is pursuing a calling in missionary work, and Joshua is hard at work saving money and praying for his future family. “If you’re reading this as a young Christian woman,” Sofia jests, “have your father write into Praising Him! and I’ll set up a date with Josh!”

Caterina de la Cruz, 20, is diligently knitting, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, and cross-stitching her way through her season of singleness! Though she prays every day for her Prince Charming (nonbelievers need not apply!), she assures Praising Him! that she’s quite content to assist her mother in running the busy de la Cruz household in the interim.

Cecilia de la Cruz, 18, the only unmarried de la Cruz not living at home, declined to comment.

The rest of the de la Cruz children, who range in age from 8 to 17, are kept busy with homeschooling, ISCS conferences, music practice, and Bible study.

If you would like to get in touch with the de la Cruz family, click here to send a message!

[heartslogos]

2022 Writing Summary

Works Published this year: 33 new works published, I believe. I might be off by one or two as I can’t remember the publication date for a few of these.

Published Word Count for the year: 1,297,214 (written word count is a few hundred thousand higher if I’m remembering my current drafts and WIPS correctly)

Longest Published Work for the year: the hands of god (133,818) -- skipping my Dragon Age works because those were one large collection and AO3 is counting them in aggregate so it isn’t quite fair.

Shortest Published Work for the year: boysenberry pie (1,199)

This year was definitely a year of growth and change for me. For the past ten or so years my practice was a minimum of 1k of anything in any combination per day, whether that was 10 100 word fics or 2 ~500 word fics or one ~1k scene. I turned my focus onto longer formatted fics, starting with “the commitment of a lifetime” and began to pause the daily publications in favor of focusing on longer stories. This has, strangely enough, increased my daily word count exponentially. I feel a lot more relaxed in this new mode though.

This year I also fully left my Dragon Age works to move completely onto Genshin Impact works somewhere around June of this year. But I think I carried over with my all of the skills I practiced writing all those Dragon Age fics. I feel much more solid as a writer after all of that improv practice and my many, many, many experiments in genre and style. I’m having a lot of fun now in the Genshin scene. I think the Genshin side of fandom that I’ve been exposed to thus far is also much more encouraging -- more willing to interact, I suppose? And that’s also been a great boon to me.

Writing Dragon Age fics was like shouting into a dark, empty room. There were sometimes people who answered back, but for the most part I was alone and that’s entirely understandable because I was writing in an extremely niche corner of the fandom. Writing in the Genshin fandom, even before Sumeru came out, came with a lot more interaction. I still write for myself and write what I want as I please, but it does feel nice to have someone stop by and say “hey you like this? me too!” now and again. I haven’t had this kind of engagement (is that the right word??? engagement???) in a fandom since I was consistently writing batfamily fic way in the beginning.

This year the fic I’m proudest of still remains “the commitment of a lifetime” by far along with the entire universe I set up there. Granted it was the first of many dodge balls that I failed to dodge as Apollo pointed at me from on high and laughed at me repeatedly, but I’m still quite happy to have written it.

I don’t really have any writing goals for 2023 -- I never have writing goals in general -- but I hope that I continue to have fun and that if people choose to come with me on the journeys I take these characters on that they have fun with me, too.

[gl4ssw1ngp1xy]

Get to know me: Walking dead edition

“ Hi, I’m Amaya Thatcher, I am twenty-two years old and I live in Duluth, Georgia with my Mom, Dad, Two brothers and my sister. I am a student midwife, I do work experience at my local hospital actually. Once I left school I spent three years in nursing school and I’m now moving into the real thing. Yeah, It’s pretty crazy!

Umm, I was adopted at a young age, actually as soon as I was born, I was given to my Mom and Dad. they’ve always been pretty cool about it. They told me about it as soon as I was old enough to understand. Didn’t want it to be this big, dark awful secret, you know. And it’s not, they did a really good job with always making me feel part of the family. It was just a natural part of my life, my journey but I was where I belong, where god or whatever higher being planned me to be. If every puzzle piece was made the same way, you wouldn’t be able to fit them all together, I guess. See the bigger picture.. When I was six I joined the scouts. That was fun, I got a high from earning badges. they were my pride and joy! I stayed with the scouts for ten years, learned some pretty fun skills. Setting campfires, Foraging and first aid. Then there were the not so important skills like learning bird noises. Still fun though! I use to spend a lot of time in the garage with my Dad. Mum didn’t allow him to smoke in the house so he would hide away in there while he did so, not wanting to wait out in the cold. We had this deal that I would keep his smoking habit a secret as long as he let me sit with him. He would often tell me stories while working on the car or some project he had brought from inside the house. One of my favourite stories was about this girl, she would walk past this road that has this massive stone in the middle of it. It nocked every cart and carriage going over it, just a pain to all the travellers but no one bothers to do anything about it. So this girl, she decides she’s going to move it herself and day after day, she goes to this stone in the road and digs. She does this day in, day out, no help from anyone else but she’s determined to move this dam rock and help out the travellers. Finally one day she reaches the bottom, the whole stone gone! under that stone was a bag of gold. because she was determined, persistent and cared about the travellers that moved across this road, She was rewarded with a bag of pure gold. I always loved that story… Maybe I always wanted to be that girl... To put so much effort and love into what I do. If Dad had never told me that story, I doubt I’d be where I am today with all the things I’ve achieved. With my dream job. I’m so close to becoming a full on midwife. I love my work experience! I just feel at home when I’m on the team helping mothers-to-be and new-borns on their journey into the world. They are my bag of gold, my reward for all I do. It’s truly an incredible job. Unfortunately I’m doing most of my work experience at home right now. Writing up the last of my course work on my laptop, It’s not as enjoyable as actually working at the hospital, but oh well. This Virus, Wildfire, It’s just made things a bit difficult lately. Rules are stricter, more wards and parts of the hospital are being zoned off. restricted access. Yeah, it’s annoying but it won’t last forever, Right?"

(Faceclaim made with Artbreeder)

GWP X

[puckingoff]

Life is about balance. I’ve struggled with finding balance for quite some time. Ten years at the very least, if not longer. Finding that happy medium where all aspects of life fall into place and create a level lifestyle has been eluding me. Especially this last year and change. It doesn’t have to be perfect nirvana bliss. Just the right mix to be the person God wants me to be. Happy, healthy, wealthy, and wise I guess.

I’m not complaining in any way, shape, or form about my life. I truly live a life second to none. I can honestly say in looking back at my almost 48 years on this earth that I wouldn’t want to trade places with anyone. I wouldn’t trade my journey’s past, present, or future. I’m honestly living the life that I was meant to live. Good, bad, and ugly. I’ll take it. I got sober for a reason, and it’s been beyond my wildest expectations, dreams, mistakes, and whatever else.

That being written, I can’t find my place RIGHT NOW. I’m stuck. I’m off balance. Out of sorts. Lost. One step forward, two steps back. However you define it. I don’t know what to do with myself professionally . I truly don’t. I want to cover hockey. I took on student loan debt to achieve this goal. I can’t quit. I can’t give up on my dream, or give up on myself.

I got fired from the T over five years ago. I was ok with it. It sucked but I had a plan. I was back in college to get my degree and was going to write about ice hockey for a living. I was doing it, I just wasn’t getting paid. But that “internship” (as I looked at it) got old last season. I lost the spark. I was tired of going to rinks and spending time away from my family for writing experience or making connections, etc. I needed to make money, I still need to! And believe me I know it’s not a lucrative occupation, but I want it. My wife, Katie, has been tremendously patient, supportive, and believes in me. She sees what it can be even when I don’t. I’m beyond thankful for that. I want to reward her for her faith in me.

I still want to write about hockey but I can’t bring myself to go to games. Even recently, North Dakota was at Boston University and this series was what rekindled my love of college hockey a decade ago. I had no desire to go, but back then I chased it. I put it all together and was living it. But I lost the fire. On multiple occasions I drove over 10+ hours one-way to catch a game. Now, the thought of trekking into Allston/Brighton to catch that BU game, dealing w/ City Sq. before a Bruins game, or a four hour round-trip to Amherst to catch my Minutemen, has all become meh. Even watching the game on TV hits me different now. That feeling that I should be doing something when I’m not. Maybe it’s regret. I don’t know.

I’ve applied for multiple jobs over the course of the last few years. Journalism jobs, public works jobs, and god knows what else. I don’t want to drive a bus at some local company. I don’t want to go back to swinging a hammer and getting screamed at in broken English by Italian or Portuguese foremen. I’ve put in my time. I don’t know what the fuck I want, but I do know what I don’t want. 9-5, a 45+ minute commute, a cubicle, coupled w/ doing something unfulfilling for 40+ hours a week.

If it’s not one thing it’s another. I know that’s pretty much everyone’s experience with life. I don’t go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings like I should. I go to the gym plenty of times a week, but I’m eating like crap again. I work on one thing about myself to see another thing fall by the wayside. Hence the balance… But now, I’m just stuck. I have more free time than I need and I do shit with it. Zero. It’s pathetic. I can go to Bruins practices. Write a book. Walk my dog. I do fuck-all. Laundry, dishes, vacuum, and nap. That’s obviously not good for my mental well-being. In some ways the pandemic and the lockdown helped. It showed what’s important and what isn’t. I’m tired of it now. But I can’t get out of my own way.

I go on social media, which I know, I know, I know, (I KNOW!) is phony but I see people writing the stories I know I can write, taking the pics I can take, or making the videos I can do. All these thoughts and ideas that I had and just let pass me by because of complacency, laziness, or whatever. I’m not crying over spilt milk. I can still do whatever I set out to do. I may be a lot of things but diffident I am not.

It’s time to put up or shut up. I’ve said it multiple times, Katie can, and will, attest to that. I’m writing this to hold myself accountable. I’m going to post it on my PuckingOff site and link it to my X and Facebook accounts so it’s out there in the universe motivating me to succeed.

I just needed to vent and put it out there. I’m calling myself out. I need direction, a push, or whatever. I’ve prayed on it enough and asked for signs. Shit, once I asked for a sign and that day’s Wordle was “WRITE.”

I love that I’ve been able to spend time at home with my kids but they’re teen-aged girls and a young man now. It’s now or never. And I want to be able to say I tried, at the very least.

#sober #grateful #family #ncaaicehockey #nhl #puckingoff #insidehockey #umass

[influencermagazineuk]

An Interview on the “Living My Best Life Tour” with Humanitarian and Business Woman, Calynn M. Lawrence

Calynn M. Lawrence Calynn M. Lawrence is a 27-year-old media personality, humanitarian and businesswoman from Chicago, IL. She’s been acknowledged in the press as “a one girl revolution,” “the Queen Midas of creative community service,” and a “Supergirl of small business PR.” You may have seen her on the front pages of The Los Angeles Tribune (2021 and 2023), The Washington Mail (2021, 2022, and 2023), New York Today (2022 and 2023), The Billionaire's Diary (2017 and 2018), Cosmo Press (2023), Yahoo! Finance India (2020) or the tens of other media outlets that she has been featured in. She is the Founder and CEO of the Calynn Communications & Creative corporation. They own the nonprofit initiative The Fresh Faces Project (est. 2014) that has helped over 800 budding starlets, the Chicago Talent TV (est. 2018) web series that has amassed hundreds of thousands of views, and the online publications The World Times, What’s Good Weekly, Millionaire’s in the Making and Icons in the Now. She’s been critically acclaimed for her influential and impactful work in marketing, media and PR with a resume over a decade long filled with community service, a plethora of successful campaigns with industry giants and countless red carpet photo ops. Some of her accolades include holding four RCCI Academy Awards, Woman of the Year, the National Humanitarian Award, and more, as well as being the former Miss World America Nation 2020 and Miss United States Universe Tourism 2021. Today, we had the chance to sit down with Calynn and discuss the latest updates on her “Living My Best Life Tour” and get some intel on her personal and professional life as an inspiring entrepreneur. Calynn M. Lawrence Overall, how is the “Living My Best Life Tour” going for you? What have you been up to? Life is going pretty good for me! I’ve been doing awesome secularly between all of my entrepreneurial ventures and my day job that I’m enjoying. I’ve been doing well academically as I’m about to graduate with a Social Science degree with honors, before finally starting grad school in a couple of months to get my Masters and doctorate. I’ve been doing well mentally and spiritually through my journey of healing and peace that combines therapy, coaching and a conscious self care routine. And, I’ve been doing well in my personal relationships with my loved ones, family and friends. I’m definitely blessed and I praise God for that, as well as my support system that makes all of these accomplishments possible. If 20 year old me could see me right now, she’d vehemently weep tears of joy. What are some highlights of exciting things that you’ve done this past year? I have so many amazing things to be grateful for that’ve happened within the past year that it’s hard to choose between trips, concerts and events! But, if I had to narrow it down to a couple of them, I’d say that attending private premiere screenings for both “Wakanda Forever (2022)” and “Plane (2023)” alongside two of my besties was great. Also, getting the chance to travel to such fun-filled destinations like New Orleans and Las Vegas for the first time in 2022 and enjoy those experiences with loved ones was fantastic. And, lastly I’d say that hosting the annual Fresh Faces Project Awards ceremony and honoring all of our nominees and royal ambassadors free of charge with no sponsorships, ticket sales or entry fees for the 4th year in a row was super fulfilling. You mentioned that you’ve been sharing in all of these special moments with your “loved ones.” Would that include a significant other? Having been so open in the press, on your blog and social media about searching for your life partner, do you have anyone in your life who could possibly be that? I am not currently in a relationship with anyone, while I am openly getting to know people as I meet them online and in person. Since I am looking for a man to settle down with and hopefully be my last relationship, I’m not willing to commit to someone who isn’t on the same page as me about the important things. As you may have seen when I did my case study for my blog, “2 Years on Every Dating App Taught Me This,” I’ve strategically cast my net very far with an almost brazen honesty for what I seek in a husband. And, while I don’t feel my asks are a lot, I think that guy is worth waiting for if that’s what it takes to have my next love be my forever love. Calynn M. Lawrence You certainly have quite a bit to bring to the table in a relationship. A thriving career, a supportive following, a philanthropic persona and a quite literally nationally awarded congeniality. What would you say is the main thing holding you back from finding your “forever love?” Thank you! I think that one thing that counts against me is my very limited time and energy. Because I’m already stretched pretty thin between my more than full time career and full time school, I don’t have the bandwidth to dedicate hours a day to swiping and reaching out on the apps. So, I rely kind of heavily on people coming to me. Since dating apps are a numbers game and the algorithms reward activity, this makes my chances of having my profile seen by new guys much lower than someone who was actively on the apps daily. Granted, I still get quite the traffic to my profiles. At one point, I had over 10,000 people in my Tinder que and over a few thousand in my ques on various others. But, the reality is that none of that matters unless the man has what I’m looking for and I mutually fit what he’s seeking. I’m not a perfect ten, paper thin, Hollywood illusion and never aspire to be, but I know I’m a good woman who’s real, passionate and loyal. The right man will see that one day.  I’d rather just be single and wait for that right guy than to mindlessly “date, hump and dump” any cute guy who pops up in my feed. I’m searching for my future husband to start or expand a family. I’m not entertaining anything or anyone else, and that’s a promise I made to myself that I’ll never break. That’s great to hear. Keep up the great work being an exemplar that smart, pretty, successful women can be single intentionally and not need the validation of a relationship to feel accomplished or complete. When you do find Mr. Right, we'll be ready to share yours and the lucky fellow’s story with our audience! What are some things you have coming up that you’d like to promote to our readers? Thank you so much! That means a lot to me to be recognized as such, and I’ll certainly be shouting it from the rooftops once this left hand has a ring on it by the right man. As far as upcoming projects, you guys can stay tuned to my social media for updates on a few things I’ll be doing this year. A couple of examples would be the scholarship giveaway that The Fresh Faces Project will be doing soon in honor of my graduation, nominations will be opening in a few months for the next Fresh Faces Project Awards ceremony, my firm (Calynn Communications & Creative) will be offering a KILLER sale of press and media coverage this summer and I’ll be blogging some really interesting content this year that I think a lot of people would love including various international events and my POSSIBLE return to television screens near you. Just search “Calynn M. Lawrence” on Facebook, Instagram, Linkedin, and Google and you’ll find me. It’s been a true pleasure. To keep up with the adventures of this rising Marketing/PR rockstar, follow her blog www.fashionthunderclap.com Read the full article

[soy-poisoning]

I know many of you (my family, friends, FB friends, and acquaintances) have come to see theater productions I've been involved with in the past. Thank you for your encouragement and support over the years. Now I encourage you to come see this new production. I know you'll be very blessed. My good friend, Troy Ferguson, wrote it and is directing, and I've been involved with producing it as well (editing, auditions, directing drama, and am acting, and singing too) (I've been busy) We have a great cast from multiple churches of differing denominations in Blair County. I love the unity and I'm pleased by how it is all coming together. I'm also excited to be at the historic Mishler Theater, downtown Altoona, a first for us. It's been nearly ten years since we've produced a musical production and through the years many have encouraged us to do it again. One of them, my friend Jan Mills, if he were still with us, would be so excited and would be bringing in bus loads to see it. If this is a box office success, which I'm actually hoping we sell out, I can see it becoming an annual event again. Bring friends and family and those you know who don't know Christ as Lord. This is a great opportunity to minister to them. I know the Spirit of God will touch their hearts, and yours too. I hope to see you there. "IN JESUS' NAME, presented by Joy In The City and multiple churches from our community, is a musical production that parallels a modern-day story of a teenage girl battling anxiety, a teacher who mentors her through this struggle; and the story of Martha, sister to Lazarus as she also confronts issues of anxiety and comes to freedom through experiencing the passion story of Jesus Christ. The production will entertain you through comedy, drama and music, but more importantly, will impact you emotionally and spiritually as you experience the journey of these two characters." Cost is $13 per ticket, $10 + $3 ticket fee. If you order online below there is also a $2 processing fee per order. http://mishlertheatre.vbotickets.com/event/in_jesus_name/91721 https://www.instagram.com/p/CpdBz23u2H3Qstc5mD8b9FlSU-wTqcF-sdLOMI0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[the-struggle-artist]

Superhero

Ever since I was young, I believed that I was supposed to change the world. 

This set me up for a lot of failure. 

Everything I’ve done in my life is in service of this goal, but it just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me. My big ego is one of the only things that feels like a constant part of myself though, so I don’t want to pull that out of my house of cards. 

I’ve always learned a lot more from movies and TV shows than real life. In movies, there is such a clear-cut plot and you can tell what the right thing to do is when you hear the music swell. I’ve never experienced that in real life. Maybe nobody does, or maybe it’s because I’m broken. I’m not sure. A lot of issues in my life could be attributed to my being broken, but more on that later. 

To believe you are supposed to change the world at such a young age - no decision was taken lightly. And when I went to church, I found the Jor-El to my  fledgling Superman. I took the word of God as law - if I could follow His will then I would become a vessel of Goodness and Grace in the world full of broken sinners. (I love how I still feel I have to capitalize certain Holy words even though I haven’t been to church in ten years.) 

But when I stopped believing in God, it made believing that I was supposed to do something to change the world much harder. Now I didn’t have the answers handed down to me from on high, and the playing field was constantly shifting as I tried to understand the world without religion. 

What are the steps to take when changing the world? What sort of person do you have to be to believe such a thing? 

Step One: Figure out something that is wrong with the world

Step Two: Figure out if you can fix it

Step Three: Fix it

I’ve been going between steps one and two for the past 27 years. This is what those answers look like with religion. 

Step One: Figure out something that is wrong with the world. 

Answer: The Bible says that humans are broken because they are separate from God. 

Step Two: Figure out if you can fix it

Answer: The Bible says that if you accept Jesus into your heart and spread His Word, you’ll help others by saving them from a life without the Love of God. 

Step Three: Fix it

Answer: Be the perfect Christian human so that you can save as many souls as you can. Sacrifice any moment you can to serve this purpose. Then you will have changed the world.

But what’s so good about changing the world anyway? Is it so awful as it is? Sometimes I have believed that it is, but I don’t actually think so now. There are definitely a lot of bad things in the world, stuff that you learn growing up that don’t fit into your definition of fairness, but there are a lot of good things too. I think it’s pretty balanced. So why put all the effort into changing the world? Well, because it’s not really for the sake of the world, it’s for me. 

You see, my brain is like water running down a hill - it will not stop until it finds a path to it’s destination. I can trick myself sometimes into engaging in activities that seem to be going in another direction, but I will figure out a way to get these things to fit into my narrative of saving the world. Oh, you lost all hope? Well, that’s a part of every hero’s journey, and that’s when they find the answers they’ve been searching for, things that nobody else could have discovered. 

My destination, like many others’, is to feel a little in control in the world, feel like I’m important and have some say in how things go. What’s that? Impossible, you say? Well not with this handy dandy trick. To do this, I commonly engage in a practice called magical thinking. I assign arbitrary rules to the world that make me feel like I’m in a movie. If I’m the main character and I start out super depressed in the beginning of the movie, I must go on a journey of self discovery and find that the thing I hated about myself actually turned out to be the thing that makes me strong all along. I apply this logic to social interactions, my aspirations, my identity and much more! It’s easy. If I don’t like something that someone else says, they must not like what I say. If I am good enough, then the world will feel less out of control. If I can fix something in the world, then people will love me. But that’s not really how it ends up working in real life. It confounds me, but a lot of the time, I work really hard on solving this problem, and nobody ends up slapping me on the back and saying “Thank you for saving us by sitting in your room and brainstorming really hard about how you can make a difference, you’re a hero. Now take a break and eat some chips, we insist.” But that’s the sort of scenario I imagine all the time. I imagine how good I could feel if I could accomplish this. I don’t really feel good right now in the moment, in fact, a lot of the time, I feel pretty shitty. 

So now I’m going to go pet my hamster, because that act, that I sometimes view as simple and meaningless, makes me feel better and more at peace that any world-saving heroic fantasies that I can dream up. 

Goodnight. 

[that-one-depressed-author]

Oh! Look at that! Melody’s server mod stepping into an issue that didn’t even concern him!

Well, hello good Sir! Thank you for making my morning magical! Because now I get to deal with someone wanting to be a ‘civil adult’ about an issue that they were not at all apart of!

I’m gonna try and format this the way you did, just to make this easier to read!

- I will admit that I may have been a bit hasty in accusing Melody of favoritism, I’ve had issues with my own self worth in the past that have caused me to be paranoid about things. So, for that, I will apologize.

-You may have not been online at the time this was happening, but Melody admitted to me that she was just watching it happen. If this person was already a problem, it shouldn’t matter if they react badly to being reprimanded. As the owner and moderators of a server, it is your responsibility to ensure that problem people are taken care of. Also, way to pin it on the victim. I am a very non-confrontational person, once again, due to my own trauma from past experiences. I had people in power consistently belittle me and refuse to listen to me when I told them what was happening. But apparently, because I didn’t speak up, I’m the one in the wrong!

-Could you please explain to me how my OCs are harmful? Because I genuinely don’t see it. The set of OCs based on the Seven Deadly Sins are not in any way connected to the biblical ones! I did what many others have done and used the idea of the sins as a way to make a character! And even then, the Seven Deadly Sins are not just limited to Christianity and Catholicism and have been shown in other religions and various adaptations! Now, I am not Christian or Catholic due to religious trauma, and I did say to Melody in that very same private call where I brought up my Ten Commandment OCs that they were based on the anime! But for some reason, she didn’t mention that to you!

-I did state I was tired and not willing to argue! Though the message is lost by now, I told Melody that I was just going to go to bed and we could talk later because I was so tired my eyesight was getting blurry! As mentioned in my original post, I woke up to this without any warning or indication of it happening!

Now, here’s where your ‘debunking’ loses all of its validity:

-Child Porn? Really? I already said I wasn’t going to debate Nezha’s age and I’m still not! Instead, let’s talk about what you have done! You and many others in the LMK community, including Melody, desensitize the heinous crime of Pedophilia! You call others Pedophiles over a fictional character! You are the disgusting one here! A picrew of one of my OCs and Nezha is not on the same level as taking inappropriate photos and videos of CHILDREN! I am 17 and have an 8-year-old brother at home! If someone were to ever do such a disgusting thing to him, I’d be furious!

- Are you Chinese? Is Melody Chinese? Does anyone in that god-forsaken server come from Chinese descent and has lived or been taught Chinese culture? Many LMK fans who are Chinese and have been raised around this culture have spoken out about how what you’re doing is harmful! But every time they are accused of not knowing their own culture! You claim that I don’t listen to Buddhist texts and yet you and Melody completely ignore a Chinese text that came BEFORE Journey to the West: Fengshen Yanyi! Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that text is where Nezha’s origin story comes from and follows his life to I believe the age of 26! Journey to the West has been shown multiple times to contradict stories that existed before it! Also, if you can find me an accurate source claiming that Nezha is a child that was made before 2015 and valid, I will be surprised! Because that seems to be how far back this all goes!

-And, no. I did not know that everyone in the server were people who believed he was twelve! Because when I first joined, it was when Melody was still doing writings for Nezha! It’s actually a little suspicious that she only stopped after my ban!

- I didn’t question the reason behind her nicknames, I simply stated that despite having those names she does not act like them.

-I didn’t try and talk to her? Really? That’s news to me considering I did try to message her before I went to check her blog! And guess what! Not only was I banned, but I couldn’t contact Melody due to the fact she blocked me! I was completely cut off from talking to her other than sending her an ask to her blog! And I didn’t need that to be public! I didn’t have your discord nor did I have anyone else’s in the server because I was still adjusting!

-I agree with you to a point here! People are responsible for their actions. Like I said before, I probably would have lashed out too if not for the fact that I got ahold of a close friend of mine! But, Melody is responsible too. She didn’t have to make a post about my ban, she could’ve kept it in the server! And you completely ignored that fact in favor of doing what she has done: painting her as the victim. There are three consecutive times where Melody has banned someone from her server, and then made a post about it on her blog that was not needed! That is baiting to get a reaction!

Now, I am not going to respond to you anymore after this! Because you didn’t have to come in here and make this nonsensical ‘debunking’ that completely ignored parts of my original post. Melody is blocked on this blog for a reason and will stay blocked. But, if she wants to speak to me and clear up the ‘misunderstanding’ that happened here, she is more than welcome to unblock me on Discord! From what I have seen, she is not wanting to discuss this and has sent you in her stead.

I can’t really believe that I’m posting this at…

*checks time*

1:47 AM!

But, I’m tired of being silent and now have the motivation and energy to come forward!

I’m here to share my experience with Melody (yanderelmk)!

Let it be known that I could not write, draw, or even look at myself in the mirror after this happened for a good month!

Hello, everyone! Those of you from the Yandere!LMK Discord Server may remember me as Goat! In this post, I will be discussing my experience with the server and its owner, Melody. I want to go ahead and tell you all to not bother Melody or her blog, instead, go straight for the block button. This post is just meant to be a cautionary tale and hopefully provide insight and validation to those she is near or has hurt.

Here's a bit of context to the events leading up to my ban from Melody’s server. I had been stalking Melody’s blog for a little bit before I joined the server, and when I saw the Shauna situation, I felt like I needed to respond. I also have extreme bipolar disorder and ADHD, and even I didn't respond the way Shauna did. So, after making an anon emoji combination for Melody’s blog, I joined the server.

When I joined, I was a social anxiety-ridden mess, but I was welcomed with open arms. My own trauma from past friend groups clouded the already well-hidden red flags. Looking back, I noticed some things.

I noticed that when I first joined the server, everything I sent (drawings, writings, character-inspired makeup, etc.) was showered with love and praise. But the longer I was there, it slowed to a stop. Meanwhile, everyone who was close to Melody and in her inner circle got most of the attention and praise. I may be petty, but I am not jealous.

I noticed that Melody did little to talk about people causing problems and simply watched from the side. When someone was saying that their character would unalive mine because I shipped mine with the same character, Melody said nothing to stop it in the channel. But, later during a private call, she admitted she was watching it happen and didn't know whether or not to step in. As the server owner, she and her moderators should try and keep the peace when she sees something wrong.

And finally, I noticed that Melody had a bad habit of bringing up things that happened somewhere else where they didn't need to be brought up. Which leads me to my next topic: the events leading up to and the reason for my ban.

A little while before my ban, someone (I don’t remember who) had sent some Twitter fan art of the LMK characters as FNAF animatronics. And we all reacted positively, a few of us including myself talking about making it an AU.

So, Melody hosted a role play. I had used one of my OCs for this little role play, mainly her human design. We went for a few hours and when we had to stop, it was six in the morning.

Now, I had not slept for the past two days and was ready to pass out on my couch after a few after-role-play messages. I believe we had started talking about what our OCs would be like in a FNAF!AU and I had brought up one of my ocs whom I made with a group of friends and was the embodiment of lust.

Someone had mentioned and compared my OC to Asmodeus, the biblical king of lust. In my delirious, sleep-deprived state, I had incorrectly worded my message. I had said that I would say Asmodeus was a former sin of lust and my OC was the current one.

This was not what I had meant, I had meant using the name Asmodeus as a reference, not the actual biblical figure. And even then, I would have shortened it to make it even more of a reference. (ex: Ozzie, Azzy, Moudes, etc.) But, for some unknown reason to me, Melody had an issue with this.

She started an argument with me about how Asmodeus was from Christian religion and that it was offensive to Buddhism or something. I’m gonna be honest, the details are a bit fuzzy. In an effort to make me look like the bad guy, she brought up another set of OCs me and my friend group had made that were based around the Ten Commandments. (Also, I didn’t even use the biblical Ten Commandments because those are paragraphs, I used the ones from the Seven Deadly Sins anime!) These OCs were mentioned in that same private call outside the server!

Melody, being more awake than me, sent several messages in quick succession, not allowing me to get a word in or get my thoughts together. And as always, the person who could get more of a word in wins. Me, being half awake and ready to fall asleep, told Melody I was going to bed and would continue to talk about this later because I was tired and didn’t feel like arguing with her.

I woke up at around five in the afternoon and decided to go into the server and apologize for how I acted and let Melody know I was ready to talk. Only to find the server missing from the list.

Confused, I went to check Melody’s Tumblr blog to see if something happened or if I was banned by mistake. Instead, I found that Melody had made a post about banning me over a picrew I had made.

I will admit, the picrew was BDSM themed and it did include Nezha. But, I was not the first person to send it nor was I the only one who participated. Melody herself participated with one of her OC and Macaque. I will also admit that I forgot to spoil the picrew I made due to being tired.

However, I am not here to get into the ‘NeZhA iS tWeLvE’ debate. I'm here to share what I experienced with Melody and her server.

Here's what could've been done instead of straight-up banning me: talking to me about the image and asking me to spoil or delete it! I was given no warning of my ban, only waking up to it and seeing the post about it! She had made no effort to message me or inform me!

Alright, now that you have all of the info and my side of the story, time for a little analysis. I am a major psychology lover due to my own mental problems and I adore learning about the human mind.

Melody’s two nicknames in her server are ‘Queen’ and ‘Mother’. She is not either of these things.

A queen looks after her subjects, a mother looks after her children. Melody, on the surface, appears to look after the people in her server. But as someone who's seen beneath that surface and experienced people like this long before I met her, she is anything but.

Melody invites people into her server, welcomes them, and smothers them with affection. Then, when they aren't so new anymore, she winds to a stop and focuses on the people in her inner circle.

Melody watches over above, looking at everything and everyone in her server with the eye of a hawk. Waiting and biding her time for them to give her a reason.

Then, when she gains that person’s trust, makes them let down their walls around her, she sees them do something she doesn't like, and she finally has her reason. She strikes.

She removes them from the safe environment she builds around them and feeds them to the wolves. She takes mentally unwell people and puts them in an unsafe environment where they can be harmed.

She wounds them so they aren't thinking straight and baits them to lash out with posts on her Tumblr blog so she can paint herself as the victim. And once they do lash out, she links the places where people can attack them in the form of a ‘call-out’.

Have you noticed the fact that everyone Melody bans and posts about, deletes their blog? Now, I am not excusing these people's actions. But, no one should be put in an unsafe environment where they can be harassed and threatened.

In fact, I’m sure I would’ve been in a similar situation had I not gotten a hold of a close friend of mine. She comforted me, calmed me down, and distracted me from Melody. Her support and love allowed me to be the bigger person and not respond, blocking Melody and removing the problem.

But, I’m stubborn and tired of being the bigger person.

Melody is a manipulator and an abuser.

Let my story be a cautionary tale on these kinds of people. And, don’t harass Melody over this. If you do, you’re no better than her. Instead, go straight for the block button.

[missno-0ne]

SEA FOAM Chap. 1~ Steven Grant x F!Demigod!reader.

❥ Masterlist Summary: After being fired from her latest job and nearly being expelled from university, the daughter of Poseidon has recently moved to London to try and live a somewhat normal life. However, things never turn out quite how she expects them to be when she runs into a certain museum gift shop clerk.

Warnings: Language, violence, slight gore, crossover (if that counts? please let me know if I missed anything at all.)

*Sorry, that was so bad I'm the worst when it comes to summaries* *and apologies if this is a bit OOC, I literally haven't written in a year.*

Word Count: 3k+

Rounding the corner, breathing ragged, I reached for the small compact in my pocket. Feeling a hand grasp my arm, “This way!” 

I quickly open the compact revealing a bronze shield with the same dancing and swirling patterns circling the front, the leather strap biting into my arm from how tightly I grip it against me. I can hear Steven gasp behind me, just as the creature before us launches forward biting at my shield… 

☆:☆

My eyes scanned the airport in sheer boredom as a man scanned my boarding pass and gestured for me to move forward. I walked forward and started looking for baggage check. Moving was a real hassle, although I suppose I should be used to it, seeing as though I moved every year when I was still in school. But moving to another country? That was a real pain. It was a year-long journey to successfully move to the United Kingdom, or should I say England? There were so many precursors to moving; getting a passport, a job, (after being let go), getting a work visa, taking a leave of absence from college, then finding a place to stay, and finally shipping my stuff across the ocean. 

To be honest, I was more full of dread than excitement, I never did well on planes. I shuddered thinking of the last time I was forced to board one, and quickly made my way to sit down. Surprisingly, there were only a couple of other people sitting at the gate when I sat down. I felt the chill of air rushing past me as someone ran across the linoleum, their clothes in disarray, carrying nothing but a briefcase. I opened my laptop and checked my email, nothing much other than past assignments and job application follow-ups. My lips pursed as a ‘ding’ reached my ears. I looked down at my phone and felt a chill, and my arms were covered in goosebumps. It was from my mother. I tentatively clicked the notification and read; 

Hey just wanted to let you know your things are shipping out today, Aleta dropped by, she left a pamphlet, do you want me to mail it with your stuff?

I frowned and responded, 

No, you can just throw it out, gods know she’ll find my new address and send more.

I hit send and decided to stare out the window at the tarmac for the rest of the wait. 

☆:☆

I jolted in my seat as someone started announcing the flight boarding order and stood to get in line. 

I shifted my bag from shoulder to shoulder and screamed at myself for having packed so much. 

My eyes scan the aisle and I find my seat easily enough, although my anxiety is through the roof, just sitting here. I check my seatbelt at least ten times and pray nothing eventful will happen this time around. I lean back in my seat and listen to the pilot and attendants go over safety measures and slide in my earbuds. 

And despite my caution, I feel my eyes fall shut and drift to sleep. 

☆:☆

When I awake, the world is falling, no, I’m falling! I look around only to find that the cabin is gone and there is nothing but the sea below me. My stomach lurches, I’ve been here before, I think to myself, as my body hurls downward. I am about to hit the surface before my body stops, hovering just above the blue expanse, and a voice rings in my ear, I feel it reverberating through my body,

Do NOT make this attempt again, girl, I have no patience for rule-breakers. 

☆:☆

I gasp as I shoot up in my seat, cold sweat on my brow, the other passengers look at me warily. I smile nervously as I sit back, only to notice that the plane has landed. I sheepishly grab my things and exit the plane, my body shaking, bile once again rising in the back of my throat. 

I walk as quickly as I can to the exit and hail a cab. A friendly man with a wide smile asks me where I’m headed and I relate to him the address. 

☆:☆

I quickly open the door to my new apartment and slam it shut behind me, gasping for air. Who knew it would start raining that quickly? Although I suppose I should have checked the weather before I left. 

The room is pitch black as I feel the walls for a light switch. I flick it on and brace my eyes as the lights come on. This seems to be the living room, its hardwood floors, and white walls, although the one at the back is brick I note. There is a small fireplace that looks like it hasn’t seen a flame in over a century, and a small window with a seat next to the door. I smile as I see a small vase with narcissus flowers sitting on the ledge, a gift from the realtor maybe. I wander into the kitchen, which is essentially a part of the living room, the only thing separating the two being wood-to-tile flooring. I set my bag down on the island and walk through a short hallway in which there are three doors. One a bright cherry red, at the end of the hall, the one on the left a bright lilac, and on the right a deep forest green. I open the red door to reveal the bedroom, the lilac is the bathroom and the forest green ends up being a small closet. I smile when I notice the walls are a bright canary yellow. To be honest, I kind of like it, even if it is a bit strange. 

My phone beeps and it's my mom, wanting to know if I got here safe, I send back a quick 

‘Yep, heading to bed now, goodnight.’

It must be late over there because she doesn’t respond right away. I scroll through my email for a bit before my phone beeps again, this time it's my little brother, asking if I’m here yet. I smile and shoot back a quick ‘yep heading to bed now though, I’ll call tomorrow,’ but before I can hit send, he sends another text, 

‘Aleta’s already bugging me about you, so you’ll probably get some more pamphlets in the mail.” 

I frown, Aleta is my best friend, however, she could be a bit overbearing. And by a bit overbearing, I mean handing me a pamphlet, or talking nonstop about the group she joined a while ago, I blank on the name even though I’ve heard it a billion times, every time we’re together. It’s starting to get old. 

I grab my bag and quickly look through it, hoping the compact I had was still in there somewhere. 

“Aha!” I shout, clasping it in my hands, its bronze surface gleaming in the kitchen light. I look at the weaving patterns and figures wrapped around the side and I remember that summer. It wasn’t all bad I guess, I did get this out of it. Placing it in my work bag, I sigh and look out the window of my new bedroom. I’ll have to get curtains later, I think as I make a note on my phone. After grabbing my blanket from my bag I settle down on the floor and try to sleep. 

The morning sun bears down on me as my alarm echoes across the room. I sit up and rub my eyes, look at my phone and- 

“Oh shit! I’m late!” 

I run to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth and washing my face, no time for a shower, although my hair could use a wash. I almost kill myself changing, slipping and sliding into my pants, and nearly giving myself a black eye on the bathroom doorknob. 

I do a mental checklist before going out the door; keys, check, bag, check, wallet, check, laptop, check, phone check. Check check check, and I’m out the door. 

After nearly missing the bus, I slide down into an empty seat and let out a sigh of relief. Great, just great, late on my first day, although, I should have seen it coming. My eyes snap open as the bus comes to a halt, and the doors swing open. The driver waits a few minutes before starting to close the door at the same time a man comes running toward us. 

“Wait! Wait!” He cries out as he narrowly misses the closing doors. Panting, he walks through the aisle and stops across from me, "Is this seat taken?"

I shake my head and gestured for him to take the seat. He gives a nervous smile back and sits down, wiping his brow before the bus lurches forward. 

☆: ☆

The bus comes to a stop and I start to walk towards the doors, glancing out the window at the building of my new job. I practically sprint to the doors but make sure to hold the door for the person behind me. A security guard greets me and a woman clears her throat. 

“Late on your first day, are you?” She says shaking her head.

My face burns as I apologize profusely, “I am so sorry, I missed my alarm this morning, it must be the jetlag!” I say, scratching my head, my eyes burning a hole in the ground, wishing I was anywhere but there. “Well, nothing you can do about it now,” She huffed, turning and walking briskly beckoning me to follow. I walked quickly after her, my face ablaze. 

“Now, seeing as you’re a new hire, tour guide right?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” I said as we walked into what looked like a storage room. 

“You can keep your things back here then,” she says gesturing to a set of lockers.

I nod and open a locker, carefully placing my things inside, and taking a deep breath, my heart racing. Please don’t mess up today, please don’t mess up. Don’t set anything on fire, flood the bathroom, or summon a hydra. 

“Well, I’ll call over one of our other tour guides and have them show you the ropes, just wait here.” 

As the woman left, I stared down at a table with boxes upon boxes, filled with, merchandise? I stepped closer to the table and smiled a bit when I saw a small keychain of a pyramid? I hummed to myself and entertained sending one to Aleta. She’d love it, at least I think, she had been a history major. My thoughts are interrupted as the door swings open, the woman from before, another woman, and a man walk into the room. I smile and back away from the boxes, setting down the keychain. 

The doors open again revealing the woman from before, another woman, and a man who looks a bit familiar. I give them a nervous smile and wave, they wave in return.

Donna, I think her name was, introduced the tour guide I'll be shadowing for the day, "This is Kara she’ll be showing you the ropes today,” she paused in thought, “Oh! Don’t forget to clock in, and Stevie,” she gestured to the man at the end of the room, “you’re on inventory again!”

"It’s Steven,” He nodded before starting to move the boxes around on the table. 

“And this is the new hire, just so you know,” the woman gestured to me. my lips turned up into a small smile, and he waved back as I turned to Kara. 

“Well, shall we get going then?” she said, walking through the door, leaving me to follow. 

☆: ☆

After hours of touring the museum with Kara, taking notes while she spoke about each exhibit and answered questions, it was time to clock out and go home. I walked down the stairs and opened the door to the storage room I think it was. I ran my fingers through my hair as I walked toward the lockers. Grabbing my bag and keys I turned on my heel to leave when I noticed the man from before, Steven I think he said his name was? Still scanning the last few boxes left on the table.

"Hey, are you heading out soon?" I blurted out, without thinking, of course, my face heating up.

I must have startled him because he nearly dropped the scanner when he turned to me, "Oh, yeah, after these last few boxes."

And oh would you look at that, my brain's stopped working, I think to myself before more words come tumbling out of my mouth, "Um, I could be totally wrong but, did we take the same bus today? Not the same stop of course! I just thought I'd seen you somewhere and well, I think it was the bus? Sorry, I'm being weird."

I burn another hole into the ground, and I hope, maybe I'll burn it all the way to the Underworld.

"Oh, right, yeah, I thought you looked familiar too, but I didn't want to say anything," he murmured, eyes falling to his shoes.

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to catch the last bus with me?" I ask tentatively, wringing my hands behind my back.

"I- that would be alright with me I suppose," he says eyes now on the last two boxes on the table, "I just need to finish these up first."

"Oh, yeah I'll just wait over here then," my lips form into a nervous smile as I take a seat on the steps leading up the basement to the main floor.

☆: ☆

After Steven finished the last few boxes we made our way to the exit, walking and talking a bit about work, which led to discussing various hobbies we had. I learned that he was extremely knowledgeable when it came to Egyptian mythology and the history of ancient Egypt. Along with the gods of course.

"Wow, you know so much," I said boarding the bus after him and then taking a seat across from him. The bus was practically empty, except for a lone elderly woman sitting a few seats down. I turned my attention back to Steven as he rambled on about the gods of ancient Egypt.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I've been rambling on this whole time and you haven't even gotten a chance to speak!"

I shrug my shoulder, "It's alright! I don't mind. And, if I'm being honest, I could listen to you ramble on for hours, you're so," I pause searching for the right words, "interesting."

"Oh, I don't think so," he replied his hair falling in his eyes.

"No, no! I'm serious. I never really thought about it before, but the gods of ancient Egypt are interesting. You're definitely great at explaining everything too," I shrug again, as the bus slows to a stop.

The driver announces the stop and I stand to leave, "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Right, yeah I'll see you tomorrow then," Steven says as I wave goodbye, noticing the older woman walking down the aisle.

I let her pass and then exit the bus with one last wave, and begin the walk back to my apartment. Or I would have, had a claw not ripped into my upper arm. I fall forward dropping my bag, head almost slamming into the concrete before I'm lifted into the air.

I hear a snarl and come face to face with... a lion? With three heads... One of a snake, a goat, and of course a lion. It lunges at me, its large paw swiping across my abdomen as I unclasp my necklace. I can feel it materializing in my hand, the smooth wood cool against my sweaty palms, bronze tip shining dimly in the light of the street lamp. I jump back nearly tripping over my bag. It charges, I stab at it with my spear, connecting with its side, my spear is batted away, and run. I look back and see it chasing after me, I keep running when I see an alleyway. I make a sharp left and hear it clamoring after me, its claws scraping against the brick walls and dumpsters. I make another turn and face a wall, a dead end.

I turn around and find it staring me down, the lion's head growling. It lunges and I dodge just in time, as a column of flame nearly burns me alive.

"Wow, you breathe fire too? I am so not going in tomorrow," if I make it out here alive, I think to myself as I strike at it.

I continue striking, but it keeps batting my spear away as if it's a stick. I swing again and this time connect with the lion's eyes. It howls in pain and the head of the snake lunges at me, but I bring my spear up just in time. It connects with the head and I tear it loose, the creature retreating from the alley. I lunge at it again, and another column of flames comes from its mouth, and this time I'm not lucky enough to dodge it.

☆: ☆

The pain is excruciating. I look at the burns that cover my arms, legs torso, and a bit of my face. I reach into my bag, which I thankfully managed to recover and search through it. I find the unbroken bottles of nectar and ambrosia, I slowly take a drink and smile at the taste, but not for long. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, it reads 4:30:AM. I could scream, and I do.

I grip my hair and throw myself into my newly acquired mattress face first. Guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight. I sigh and close my eyes listening to the rain falling against the windowpane.

☆: ☆

I groan in frustration as I hear a loud beeping noise interrupt my dreamless sleep. I turn over and try to ignore it, but it won't stop. I sit up and rub my eyes, looking around I see that my alarm clock is the source of the noise. I go to turn it off when I see the time. "Fuck. It's eight-thirty."

Running down the street I stop when I see a bus coming toward the stop. I run to it, throwing myself through the door, handing the driver my change. I grab onto a handle just as the bus lurches forward, almost falling on my face.

☆: ☆

"You're late," a voice rings out as I step past security, "Again."

I look up at Donna and force a smile. "Yeah, the battery in my alarm clock died last night."

She turns, "Well, set one on your phone next time you're an hour late so you can help with inventory tonight."

I let out a deep sigh as she walks off, leaving me with my thoughts., as I go to put away my things. As I push open the doors to inventory and put away my bag, and go to start my first tour of the day.

I like to think it went well, albeit I forgot my flashcards and answered stared out into space a bit too much, lost in my thoughts of what happened last night, trying to remember everything about the creature that attacked me. The second tour, however, did not go well. In the slightest, and it must be written all over my face when I push open the door to inventor because Steven is asking if something is the matter. I sigh before plopping in a chair and hold my head in my hands.

"No, it's nothing," I say grabbing a scanner and a sphynx shaped keychain bringing it up for closer inspection.

I reach across the table for another box and suddenly he's right beside my hand hovering over my arm, where there is a now particularly bloody bandage. "What happened to your arm? Let me go grab the first aid!"

Shit! I pull my arm closer for inspection and start to unravel the bandage. In my rush this morning I forget to take it off. Steven is back now gingerly holding my arm examing it.

"It's healed?" He asked letting my arm drop in confusion.

I sigh, I'm seriously not ready to deal with this again. "It's fine, I burned it a while ago and then it got caught on something last night. It's just a scratch it's fine," I try to reassure, a nervous smile coming over my lips.

"Oh, alright."

I hear him sigh in relief, picking up his scanner again.

----

If anyone is interested in beta reading the next chapter or future chapters, feel free to let me know! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you so much for reading!

Tag list! Feel free to let me know if you want to be added!

@preciousbabypeter

@lillycore

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

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

Oh, you loved this man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

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

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

“I thought he was cool before.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kinda do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epi-epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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