#guys i put my blood sweat and tears into this
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⏾ MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT | jack hughes x singer!reader smau
summary : trying to struggle releasing a new album and doing press can be too much, are people starting to speculate that it’s taking a toll on you relationship?
warning(s) : break up mentions (poor reader 😕), a couple of cuss words i think idk,
a/n : AHHHH HERES THE FIRST CHAPTER i’m so excited to start this series!! i did create this series around midnight (if the shows fits) and i just knew i needed to get this first chapter out ASAP so here it is!!! im taking each chapter slow and steady since ive never done any type of series before. i also wanted to lyk that each chapter is named after a song but most won’t have a lot of correlation to the songs! also ik jack isn’t in this one (spoiler sorry) but he will soon! i promise i have a vision 😋 i hope yall enjoy and i love you!
series masterlist
liked by taylorswift, gracieabrams, vincedunn and others
ynuser surprise! Midnights out on october 21st! 🌌💜✨
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user1 OMG OMG OMG ITS HAPPENINGGGGGGG
user2 CLAIMING LABYRINTH
taylorswift So proud of you my little bird!! Thank you for having me featured on an amazing album 💜
❤️ by author
user3 sweet nothing is def about vince 😋
yourbestfriendsuser she put blood, sweat, and tears into this!!! ya'll better not do her dirty EVERRRRRR
| ynuser clock it
user4 the album cover EATSSSSS
user5 DOES THIS MEAN UR GOING ON TOUR???
gracieabrams OMG (i knew about this for months)
| ynuser the best secret keeper EVER
yourmomsuser So proud you honey!!
| ynuser i love you mom!❤️
user6 taylor being featured on snow on the beach YESSSSSS
user7 KARMA IS MINEEEE
sabrinacarpenter ALBUM OF THE YEAR I FEAR???
❤️ by author
user8 what’s it like carrying the music industry on ur back queen?
| ynuser i need to see a chiropractor immediately
vincedunn 💜💙
on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon…
liked by jimmyfallon, vincedunn, taylorswift and others
ynuser kicking off midnights press with the best tv host ever!!
tagged : @/jimmyfallon
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jimmyfallon It was great having you on the show!
❤️ by author
user1 a duo i didn’t know i needed
user2 sweet nothings being the first song written and with vince 🥹
vincedunn sick asf babe!!
user3 i can’t wait another week for this album OMG
user4 why hasn’t she been liking vince’s comments :(
| user5 oh bye that is not our business
user6 her writing all the songs around midnight I LOVE THIS WOMAN
user7 am i the only one that notices that her eyes don’t light up anymore when she or anyone mentions vince???
| user8 oh ur REACHING
liked by yourbestfriendsuser, yourmomsuser, vincedunn and others
ynuser breaking news! Midnights is out now! maybe stay up until 3am for a little surprise!
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user1 I LOVE THIS ALBUM SO MUCH
user2 u took my heart out of my chest and squeezed it with ur bare head with YOYOK
taylorswift Congratulations!! I can’t wait to see you at the Grammy’s this year 😉
user3 crying this is my album
user4 SNOW ON THE BEACH WITH TAYLOR??? EATSSSSS
yourbestfriendsuser TIME TO GET OUR SPARKLY DRESSES ONNNNNN
user5 we want more taylor pls
user6 KARMA IS THE GUY ON THE SCREEN COMING STRAIGHT HOME TO ME 💃💃💃
yourrecordlabel 🔥🔥
user7 bejeweled is THAT GIRLLLLL
user8 wait vince wasn’t at the midnights release party??
| user9 omg they better not have broken up istg
| user10 let’s not spread false information….
user11 THE OUTFITS CHANGES HAHAHA
| ynuser listen…i couldn’t decide
liked by yourmomsuser, vincedunn, _quinnhughes and others
ynuser cats out of the bag!! i wrote an extra 7 songs and created a 2nd version of my album ✨ welcome Midnights (3am Edition) 💜
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#jack hughes#jh86#jack hughes smau#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x y/n#new jersey devils#hockey#ebsedits ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆#ebs writes things!
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wildfire (cs) | 11.5
—spotify playlist | series masterlist
—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.
—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader
—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut
—word count: 0.8k
—chapter content/warnings: not much!! something a lil more tame lol, prob one of the 0.5s that takes place right after the chapter beforehand, i promise there is no ill intention behind what's happening here - they're both equally torn about everything as san's good friends/colleagues
namjoon: you got a minute to meet up today? sorry for the last minute request but it's kinda urgent.
jongho: sure. i'm wrapping up. can meet you in the next 15 mins?
namjoon: i'll come to you.
jongho: alright then, boss.
Jongho continues typing away at his desk, responding to all the emails that came in today while he was off doing interviews for the new open faculty role in the electrical engineering department. He makes a mental note to submit his review sheet for the first round of interviewees and to review the applications for the next round tomorrow. He doesn't realize how quick 15 minutes flies by until Namjoon is swinging his door open mid-email. He continues to type away, but his eyes shift to Namjoon's figure as he fixes his blazer and takes a seat with a loud sigh.
"Long day?" Jongho cracks a small smile, typing up the last few details before sending it off and shifting his attention to Namjoon in front of him.
"Kinda." He nods towards his computer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt or delay you from leaving."
"All good. Didn't really have plans, anyway. What's up? You seem a little flustered."
"Well, catching Yunho, Iseul and San arguing in a conference room wasn't exactly on my agenda for today."
"What?" Jongho cocks his head back a bit in disbelief, brows tightly knitted together as he tries to make sense of what he just heard. San had been giving him a bit of the story here and there and knowing Iseul, he wasn't exactly surprised this is how things were playing out.
He's just not sure why Iseul thinks it's her business to air this all out.
"You tell me."
"As much as I would love to help, I honestly have no idea what's going on.”
"Jongho."
"What? You know how Iseul is. She somehow still thinks she has a grip on San even after they've divorced and gone through all of that. Can't stand her, if you ask me."
"You don't have to tell me twice. But, why? Why is this a thing right now?"
"Beats me." Jongho tries to brush it off even though he can see the look on Namjoon's face, his eyes trying to study him like a damn book. He hates being in the middle because as much as he loves and supports his bestfriend, he also has the utmost respect for Namjoon and knows the guy will always be on their side regardless.
"That's the first in a very long time that I've seen San react that way at the happy hour event."
"Okay, to be fair, the guy was getting super disrespectful. I think any of us would've reacted in one way or another."
"Right, I agree. But, I know there's a story behind it. I know his anger was fueled by something else." Jongho sees the way Namjoon is going about this. He's prying for the answers he already knows, but he needs the confirmation and Jongho can give him that.
It's just a matter of when.
"What if it was just a bad day?"
"Okay, you know what?" Joon leans onto the arm rest of the chair and gives him a look. "I'm just gonna go headfirst with it." Jongho cocks a brow up. "Is there something going on with San and his rotation student? Y/N specifically." He sighs.
"I figured."
"No, you knew." Namjoon chuckles a bit.
"I don't know. I really can't tell you because I don't know anything." Jongho says he knows nothing when he knows everything.
"Jongho." Joon repeats.
"Joon, swear." He says, even though he tries to sit as still as possible. Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.
It started gradually before it took off completely. Jongho knows about the last minute meetings San has had to take, Jongho has seen the subtle glances, the subtle actions, the mood changes when you're around. Jongho remembers seeing you slip out of his hotel room very early that morning during the NAS conference. Jongho remembers seeing the polaroid slightly tip out of the wallet case mid-breakfast and seeing a tiny slip of your face in his peripherals. San quickly adjusted the polaroid and continued on like nothing, wishing for the best with that one.
And he doesn't have to be told to know you've been over multiple times. All the calls that have gone curt and short, the distraction easily laced in San's voice on the other line. He remembers the faint trace of your perfume in his home, the little post-it notes you've left on San's office desk.
Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.
Cause, yes.
"I can hear your thoughts."
Well, shit.
"I don't know what to say."
"I need you to tell me yes or no, that's all. I need to make sure I'm going about this correctly even though I heard a lot today alone." Jongho sighs and sees how torn Namjoon is. They both are. They obviously want what's best for San, and they both want him to be happy. He is deserving of good, genuine love. He is deserving of genuine happiness because he always rides for the people he loves, goes the extra mile for them. He acknowledges and learns from his mistakes, he apologizes when he knows he's at fault.
He's deserving of all good.
So, they both hate that it has to come to this because it's not even you that's the problem. It's the situation, and they both don't know how to approach it with enough sensitivity and care.
Even though it's good to San, it doesn't necessarily mean it could be good for San.
"Yes."
—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated
#san fanfic#san series#choi san series#choi san fanfic#san#ateez#choi san#san x reader#choi san x reader#ateez x reader#kpop imagines#kpop#san x y/n#choi san x y/n#san angst#san fluff#san smut#choi san angst#choi san fluff#choi san smut#ateez smut#ateez angst#ateez fluff#hwaslayer: wildfire
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Wow! Long time since I last did one of these, but this little one-shot deserves SO MUCH love and it's so rare these days that I have the motivation to shriek, I'll be damned if I don't use my full chest 😤 glorious Tswwwit, all hail the mighty drabble!!
It will always piss me off how whimsical and non-serious you make these two, and how much that portrayal has poisoned my VERY sexily melodramatic headcanons; even I can't stand from cracking an unnecessary pun from time to time now 😔 I should figure Dipper introducing the two was well on its way with all the bullshit he had to trudge through just to get them there, and with Mabel being the first safe option to spill the consequential beans with - but I was not expecting the proceeding fallout.
The second she said she'd met The Hottest Guy Ever, I knew where it was headed. There's only ONE hottest guy in the land of Billdip, and he always manages to beat Dipper to the punchline in these particular instances, always at the worst possible moment, always with extra bullshit hidden up his sleeve. I'd say the ensuing chaos was entirely Bill's doing, but let's be completely honest with ourselves here, Mabel was way too cool with The Strange Hot Guy feeling her twin brother up like THAT for as long as he did. Just more proof that Mabel and Bill make for a tornado of trouble; they're disturbingly unfazed by the weird and bizarre.
I mean, really? Putting his hands on Dipper's shoulders was friendly enough, but sliding them down to feel his biceps was downright pornographic! "A Total Stranger" pulling that move on "Their First Meeting?" Might as well shove his tongue down Dipper's throat and wear protection while he's at it - Mabel, how did you not see the signs? At least she's being supportive.
I love how she doesn't knock Dipper down in this story, not even as a light joke. She's super supportive of her nerdy monster hunting brother and prides in his success! Maybe a younger her would take the opportunity to pick fun here and there, but she's old enough and wise enough now to understand the sheer lengths it took Dipper to get where he is now; the blood, sweat and tears of dedication and commitment (likely at the avid disapproval of distant family), following a dream is not for the faint of heart. And when she tells Dipper not to look because he'll only think Bill is out of his league, but he's not. Tears. Actual tears. You go, Mabel! Get your brother laid 😌
You can just tell when Mabel's blind enthusiasm turns to shock, then alarm. Make no mistake, I was absolutely dying when Bill started pushing things. Pulling up that shirt, grabbing Dipper's butt, then his 'little dipper,' it went from Whimsy meet-cute to Sexual Assault with record time to spare 😤
But I'll bet Mabel couldn't help thinking to herself, not again. Dipper's aversion to meeting new people can't be ALL work-related, after all; I'll bet she let her over eagerness get in the way of her better judgement once before and accidentally invited some nasty characters into her brother's life, with much regret. Absolutely jerks who wouldn't know a prostate from a Pringle if it hit them upside the head. Part of why she was SO excited about introducing him to Bill! Because he seemed so much nicer and handsomer and more genuine than the lowlifes only looking for one thing.
There's a moment of disappointment, some lingering guilt, the monumental deja vu of leading yet another asshole to her brother's doorstep - before being smacked in the face by the absolute JOY of being right on the money for once! Makes sense, in a fucked up way, that Dipper would fall for someone as obsessed and crazy about him as he is about the paranormal. Passion is attractive. Passion over things that are weird is attractive to a select few, and Dipper is as weird as it gets. Bill would hollow his own heart out and shrink Dipper to the size of a thumbtack if it meant keeping him close to his chest - and despite it all, he might even be moved beyond his own annoyance. He's powerful, deranged, dangerous, and above all else, absolutely fascinating. Bill likes him, and despite the strangeness, Dipper likes him right back. It makes everything that could be WRONG about Bill just another quirk drawing Dipper deeper into the depths of weirdness. Mabel's gotta give it to her brother on this one - he beat her out for Weirdest Crush Ever, ten-fold. That's a level of freak she'll never reach.
I'll bet you regret playing along now, Dipper. "Oh, alright, I suppose I can feed into my boyfriend's silly whimsies just this once, what's the worse that could happen 🙄" FOOL! IMBECILE! YOU WILL DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS AND FEEL EVERY WOUND! How could that possibly be a good idea? I'll give him a pass since he's clearly being swept off his feet by a sexy hunk of a demon for most of the fic, but that pass is worn and close to expiring.
Dipper, sweety, I get it. He has fangs and a forked tongue. So do most garden snakes. GET A GRIP SOLDIER! I'm starting to think you wanna be conquered and controlled by this totally evil demon guy 🙄 how many times can a man be swayed by sheer attraction and affection before they're labeled a common whore? 3? Certainly no more than that.
Either way, Bill, flawless execution of your petty prank, I have NO idea how you managed to pull it off without getting served a swift kick to the nuts, but I commend you nonetheless. You managed to receive the easiest level of acceptance in Dipper's family, and arguably the most important - just don't try that shit again, or you WILL be exercised.
Here's a stupid meet-the-sibling thing from Portal AU!
Dipper checks his watch for the third time in two minutes, foot tapping nervously against the pavement. Mabel’s usually one to run late, but not this late.
Twenty minutes have passed since they were supposed to meet up at this coffee shop, and between the fact that his twin’s always eager to see him, and the odd magical blips on his radar in the last hour, he’s starting to wonder if she’s gotten herself in trouble. Again.
Driven by worry, he checks his phone again - the regular one. No texts, no missed calls. A second check shows nothing on his other phone either, which is arguably just as worrying but for different reasons.
Dipper slumps back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes.
Great. Exactly what he needed. As if this whole conversation wasn’t going to be weird enough, now he’s got more to stress about. A sister in trouble, maybe, and a magical incident, probably. Not to mention who would obviously get involved with one of those, just to add the cherry on top of a messed up situation.
He’s just about decided to get up and start investigating when he hears the shout.
“Dipper!”
Jerking up from his seat, Dipper turns towards his sister’s voice.
Mabel runs down the sidewalk, arms raised and waving wildly, sending her bracelets banging against each other as her earrings bounce along with her steps. She doesn’t slow down as she approaches, instead throwing herself forward until Dipper has to catch her hug with an ‘oof’ of effort.
He hugs her back in response and gets squeezed so hard it nearly takes the breath out of him, including a brief moment where he’s worried that her earrings will catch on his clothes.
After a moment he pushes her back, smiling. How long has it been since he’s seen her in person? Four months? Five? From the occasional phone call he knew she was doing well, but it’s good to see her looking so happy in person.
“It’s good to see you.” He gives her a big pat on the back, and gets a ‘bwomp bwomp’ in return.
“You too, bro-bro.” Mabel steps away, then blinks in surprise. “You look great! Is that a new look?” She gives him a once over, then beams, patting her cheeks. “Oh my gosh, that’s perfect timing!”
“Well, I-” Dipper plucks at his shirt - it’s not that different from his usual, just better fitted.
So, he may or may not have gotten a lecture on fashion. A very long one. Followed by several insistent recommendations about his outfits, including having a literal pile of clothes dumped on him out of nowhere. He didn’t think it made that big a difference. But maybe it does?
“Okay, okay, I know you had something important you wanted to talk about, but listen.” Mabel rushes to speak, bubbling over with enthusiasm. Dipper lets her take his hands and clasp them tight as she bounces in place. “I just met. The hottest guy.”
“Ugh,” Dipper groans, shoulders slumping. Not another shitty crush. He thought she was over those by now. Still, if it puts his own thing off… “What kind of jerk is it this time?”
“Okay, one? Not a jerk! And two: He’s not for me, you dork!”
“Wait, what?” Dipper holds her at arm’s length, staring.
“So like I said,” Mabel continues, giving him a Look. “I met this guy, and we got to talking, and he’s, like, super fun - but clearly into dudes. So I sorta mentioned a certain brother, and guess what! He likes magic, and monsters, and he even says he has a thing for nerds!” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s perfect. You’ll love him.”
With another groan, Dipper drags a palm down his face.
Damn it. He knows that she worries about him finding someone since he’s always on the move. Between trying to keep up with the jobs, and tracking monsters, and everything else in his life, he rarely has time for a break. Mabel playing matchmaker isn’t new. Only her choice of candidate, which sounds strangely.. On point?
Hell, a while ago - less than two months, at that - he might have welcomed an intro to this guy, whoever it is. It wasn’t like he was meeting a lot of people himself.
But oh god. The timing.
“Look, I’m glad you thought of me, but-” Dipper starts, holding up his hands in defense.
“Oh no. Nope! No more of this ‘too busy’, or ‘probably not my type’ stuf. I vetted him Dipper,” Mabel insists, lower lip pouting out - oh god, the puppy eyes, he has to turn away - “You’re on the road all the time and all alone all the time. So if you aren’t gonna try and meet someone, I gotta have your back.”
Dipper tilts his head back, shuts his eyes, and prays deep down for strength.
He didn’t want to open with this information. It’s a pretty long story, one with a lot of twists and turns, even some bits that she’s going to feel very ‘I knew it!!’ about. But a little sisterly smugness is way, way better than getting dragged into a date with some guy.
Even if Dipper turns it down first thing, it could end… Pretty badly.
He opens his mouth to say so, and gets interrupted by hands clapping on his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“Oh my god, don’t look now.” She whispers, turning him back to look at her when his head instinctively swivels. “But he’s right here. I didn’t think he’d show up this soon!”
“Why shouldn’t I look at the guy you’re trying to hook me up with.” He says, flat. It comes out a bit garbled from the pressure on his cheeks.
“Because you’ll freak out thinking he’s out of your league! And he’s not!” Mabel insists, shaking him urgently. “Just be cool for once, okay?”
Dipper has never, ever been cool for a single instant in his life. He doesn’t know why his twin thinks he’s even capable of it. Add on the multiple reasons he can’t exactly flirt with some random dude that Mabel met on the street, and it’s a recipe for infinite awkwardness.
Before he can explain why this is a bad idea, on so many levels, Mabel straightens up.
“Hey, glad you made it” She beams at a point over Dipper’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to-”
A cheerful laugh interrupts her, high and bright. It lingers longer than it should, seconds past the point where it’d be appropriate - then two firm hands clap onto Dipper’s shoulders, squeezing tight.
“Well, well, well, well, well!” The voice behind him oozes smug pleasure. The grip on his shoulders tightens briefly, then slides down to his biceps in a slow, appreciative stroke. “So this is the famous Dipper Pines, huh?”
The voice, the touch. The smug, amused tone of someone pulling off an amazing joke that nobody’s caught onto yet-
Yeah, that all tracks.
Dipper doesn’t resist when the man whips him around, frowning up into the beaming face of Bill goddamn Cipher.
“Boy, you weren’t kidding! He is cute!” Bill exclaims, expression perfectly surprised and delighted. Like he’s never seen this face before in his life. He turns towards Mabel. “And you say this guy’s single?”
“Yep!” She gives a big double-thumbs up. Another person might mistake the way her eye’s moving as a twitch, but it’s just a million winks at Dipper, packed into too small a space.
Bill lets out a low whistle. “Dang, that’s a shame.” The grins creeps up another fraction. “A smart guy woulda snagged him up the moment they saw him in person!”
Dipper lets out a strangled sound from his throat. Despite the… everything, his face feels hot, turning pink with embarrassment.
He glares at this smug, double-talking jackass. Bill beams back at him with unashamed delight.
From the side, Mabel hisses in annoyance at his reaction. She gestures towards Bill insistently, waving over his body, his arms. She points at his face twice, eyes wide like Dipper hasn’t seen it yet.
But there’s no point in her pointing. Dipper’s well acquainted with every part of his boyfriend.
Including his tendency to not mention important facts.
So there’s the reason she was late. The reasons for the magic pulses - of course his stupid demon wouldn’t give him any heads up that he was already planetside. And the reason why the guy she met was oh-so-conveniently into nerds, especially ones related to Mabel friggin’ Pines.
Why did Dipper think mentioning his family was a good idea? It’s only given Bill more chances for chaos.
Or in this case, a really stupid prank.
“Now let’s see,” Bill says, more contemplative now. His eye roves over Dipper, head to toe. “What else you got going, kid?”
But. Okay, the attention’s nice. It’s never not been nice, even when it’s been creepy and strange and inhuman.
Maybe playing along a little couldn’t hurt?
“I-” Dipper starts rubbing the back of his neck. If he looks his boyfriend in the eye while lying like a rug, he’ll never pull this off. “Well, I-”
“Oh! Like I said, he’s really into magic. Like you!” Mabel interrupts, bouncing in place. Her voice lowers, as if sharing a secret. “He does freelance work, y’know?”
“Is that so!” Bill’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. Dipper half expects him to clap a hand to his cheek in astonishment. “Why, I never! A monster hunter? Right in front of me?”
“You betcha!” Proudly, Mabel sets fists on her hips. All too eager to hype man her brother before he’s said anything himself. “On the track of a dangerous criminal and everything!”
“Wow!” Bill, looking suitably impressed, somehow avoids having his pants set aflame from the sheer force of lying. “I bet he’s a nasty customer, too! A real devilish fellow!”
God, the puns hurt. Dipper can’t help but make a face, which gets another disappointed look from his sister, and a sinister gleam starts building up in Bill’s eye -
Alright, that’s enough.
Lying to Mabel would have been bad enough - but between their discussion and Dipper not getting a word in, Bill’s getting so full of himself that he might just explode. And that needs nipping in the bud, immediately.
Dipper shoves Bill back a pace, brushing off his shirt. He gives this asshole the full narrow-eyed glare and, ignoring the aghast look from his sister, flips his asshole boyfriend off.
“Hey!” Affronted, Mabel takes a step in, taking his arm. “What the heck, Dipper?”
“Mabel, listen,” Dipper starts, only to get shushed by his sister and turned to face Bill by said asshole.
“And you’re feisty as well? Jackpot!” Bill beams, taking his head in his hands. “Now, let’s see about the rest of ya.”
Before Dipper can guess what that means - or even ask - Bill tugs his shirt up. The only reason it doesn’t come completely off is because Dipper recognizes the motion and jerks his arms down in time.
“Hey!” He struggles with Bill’s grip on his shirt, planting a palm on Bill’s face as he leans in for closer inspection. “What the hell, man?”
“Yep, that’s a fighter alright! Real nice view!” Bill says, after lingering too long ogling unwillingly exposed flesh. He lets the shirt drop - Dipper spends a second straightening it out - only to grab onto his butt next in a full-palm fondle. “Aha! Now that’s where it’s at!”
It’s so like Bill to start flinging compliments while completely breaking every polite convention known to man. He can never do anything straightforward. Possibly he’s allergic. With a swear, Dipper grapples with his jackass boyfriend again, trying to retain some semblance of dignity.
Mabel stands off to the side, mouth agape. Silently staring between the two of them, too stunned to react.
Clearly she wasn’t expecting this kind of crap. And honestly? Dipper can’t blame her. Bill’s pretty good at covering his asshole tendencies when he wants.
Dipper can handle it, though. He’s already halfway pried the groping grasp off his butt when Bill’s other hand rotates to the front, taking hold with alarming swiftness. The high-pitched yelp he lets out is, thankfully, only from surprise.
“Hey!” And that gesture must have finally shaken Mabel from her shock, because now she looks offended. “Bill! What are you doing?”
“Cute, smart, decent body - he’s just like you said! The whole package!” Bill gives his handful a friendly jiggle, looking thrilled to have found a part to grab where he can’t get smacked away lest there be collateral damage. He turns towards Mabel with a grin. “How’s twenty bucks sound?”
The alarmed “What the hell!” from her comes out at the same time as Dipper’s offended, “Only twenty?”
“Oh, no no no,” Mabel waves her hands rapidly, the sleeves of her sweater nearly covering them in the rush. “He’s not for sale, what the heck!”
“Oh, of course!” Bill releases Dipper’s crotch to smack himself dramatically on the forehead, shaking his head. “Because he’s his own person! With his own life decisions and everything!” His expression turns serious, nodding as if he actually cared about that fact. “No problem, Shooting Star! I’ll just kidnap him instead.”
A sudden swipe behind Dipper’s knees sends him into a swearing fall. One that’s quickly interrupted as he’s scooped up into Bill’s arms, startled and staring into an excited smile.
Bill gives Mabel a perfunctory half-bow, bounces Dipper in his arms once - then starts sprinting down the street.
To Mabel’s credit, there’s only a half-second pause before she follows.
“Help! Brother-napping in progress! Stop, you creep!” Mabel shouts, almost louder than Bill can manage. With some effort, Dipper peeks over his shoulder to see a flail of color trailing behind after them, one sweater-clad arm shaking in fury. “You better let him go, or you’ll regret this!”
Bill cackles louder, chest shaking - and one thing about being a demon is that he can really book it when he needs to.
Dipper finds himself clinging to his ‘kidnapper’ tight, just to feel more comfortable about not being dropped. Not that he needs to worry about that. Even sprinting full-out and laughing, Bill’s not even breathing hard as he flees the wrath of righteousness.
Dipper thunks his head against his awful, stupid boyfriend’s shoulder, and rolls his eyes.
Welp. He’s not sure what else he expected.
Bill’s always going to be Bill, after all. An evil, bored, antagonising force, bent on finding the funniest thing to do and jerking people around by it at every turn. And a vengeful, chaotic asshole.
It’s hardly surprising that he and he took offense at someone arranging dates with his boyfriend. Whether or not Mabel knew their situation doesn’t matter in his view. It’s the principle of the thing - and, of course, a chance to be a total dick.
But all things considered, it’s hardly the worst case scenario.
Bill could have laid on the charm, gaslighting her into thinking he was a different kind of guy. Something that would make their introduction easier - and have her totally ignoring Dipper’s warnings about what kind of guy he is.
But freaking her out was too funny, and that showed his true colors. And thank fuck for that. The last thing Dipper needs is another handsome guy charming her into a series of Bad Ideas.
As they round a street corner, Dipper uses the momentum to kick a leg free, planting heel against pavement. Bill slows as he tries to both stop him from falling and continue dragging him along.
“Aw, c’mon,” Bill chides, making a valiant attempt to pick Dipper up again. “Let’s ditch the sibling and get moving! As far as she knows, I’m gonna do all kinds of dastardly things to ya. Terrible ones!” His eye glimmers, briefly unfocused - and Dipper takes the moment of distraction to get both feet on the ground. “Aww, hey!”
“Not a chance.” Dipper says, less annoyed than he’d like. He dodges another grab by stepping neatly to the side. “You’ve had your fun. Now at least try to behave for like, five seconds.”
One look at Bill’s face says that he’s not done with the fun, or at least thoroughly annoyed at its interruption - which means Dipper has to sweeten the pot.
“I’m sure she’s panicking as we speak,” He adds, rolling his eyes at Bill’s look of pride. “And it was kinda funny. But at least try to good impression, jackass.” Resting a palm on Bill’s arm, he offers a shy smile. “Please?”
“Hmmm.” Bill hums thoughtfully. A second later, he shrugs. “Eh, sure! Probably wasn’t gonna get much mileage outta dragging it out anyway.”
Yep. Another win for Dipper Pines. He’s getting good at this demon-wrangling stuff.
“Hey!” Mabel rounds the corner, steps clearly flagging. She leans against he building, then glares at Bill. “You can’t just-”
Then she leans over, bracing herself on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Dipper’s surprised she caught up this fast, but it wasn’t without effort - he thinks one of her bracelets is missing, and her hair is a mess.
Dipper offers her a hand, but she waves it off. There’s a thoughtful sound behind him, then arms circle his waist and drag him back into Bill’s grasp.
“So. I see you’ve met Bill.” Dipper says, finally. He glares a bit over his shoulder as Billtugs him closer to settle in, chin tucked on his shoulder. Probably wearing the very smuggest smile he owns.
“Dipper, I’m sorry,” Mabel blurts. She’s still catching her breath, face red as she flails her sleeves in inarticulate protest. “I didn’t know-”
“That he was an asshole? A jerk? A totally weird creep?” Dipper holds up his hands before she can apologize again. “No, it’s fine. I already knew that. He’s… actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She pauses, taking in their position. How Dipper’s not struggling, or swearing, or hexing the shit out of his ‘kidnapper’. The worried frown turns more… contemplative. The lightbulb flickers.
Dipper takes a steadying breath.
Here goes.
“Mabel, this is… Bill Cipher.” He gestures at Bill, then shoves his head away from his neck before he can leave a hickey. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Mabel boggles at him. There’s no other word for it. Eyes wide, mind clearly racing as she ties in what just happened with how Bill looks and what she thought everything was like just five minutes ago.
She takes a second, before finally landing on, “What?”
Yeah, that’s a reasonable reaction.
But if they got along earlier, they’ll… probably get along okay, right? Now that Bill’s got the initial bullshit out of his system, they might even have stuff in common.
Thank hell for that. Romance is kind of her thing, of course she’s interested. Good thing too. Compared to the rest of his family, Mabel is easy mode.
Only a second later she claps her hands to her cheeks, gasping hugely. Dipper can almost see the questions about to burst out.
“Let’s go back, get some coffee, and I’ll tell you everything.” Dipper smiles, but speaks before she can start interrogating them on the street. He shrugs Bill off, getting his hand seized in the process. He squeezes it back. “Trust me, it’s a long story.”
#amazing work as always#i ALWAYS read your work. I've just been having a hard time articulating myself recently#rest assured I am gesturing enthusiastically at everything you make in my head
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President Coriolanus Snow and his First Lady
#i should really start an art tag#the hunger games#coriolanus snow#lucy gray baird#snowbaird#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#guys i put my blood sweat and tears into this#there are so many details#not necessarily easter eggs#but like deliberate artistic choices i made#cant wait to see who notices them!
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pompom play If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking
#guys i only have 1 art style i swear#v experimental but im pretty happy with how this turned out :D#8bitchoco#art#my art#artist on tumblr#digital art#digital illustration#fanart#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail fanart#hsr fanart#firefly#firefly fanart#firefly honkai star rail#firefly hsr#pls dont let this flop i put my blood sweat and tears in this#HHSHHSDHHSHSHSHSHSH
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TEN-FACED: A FANMADE TWST PV
[MINOR FLASH WARNING! PLEASE BE SAFE!]
(ft. cater diamond and trey clover)
heavily inspired by the ten-faced pv made by HannyaG! yes this was the project i was complaining so much about LOL it was a lot of work T_T but it's over... it's done with... and i think it looks good so : )
[REBLOGS APPRECIATED!]
#twst#twisted wonderland#cater diamond#trey clover#treikei#treycater#trey x cater#cater x trey#fanmade pv#heartscribbles#blood sweat and tears were put into this#so funny that my first major project isnt even the main ship on my blog Sorry guys#ive literally never touched capcut before this so any editors. close your eyes and pretend you dont see mistakes#finally i am free from my chains (i brought this on myself)#flash tw#tw flashing
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What r ur thoughts on people who twinkify samuel seabury…like when his only personality is being soft uwu boy who gets bullied by hamilton and king george is his protector!!1!1!1!
I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THIS I HATE IT SO MUCH
okay first of all I’ve said this before but i feel like the only reason people see him like this is because of “chaos and bloodshed is not a solution” which caused people to be like “omg he doesn’t like violence such innocent baby protect him 🥺🥺” WHEN HES A GROWN ASS MAN (45 - 47) AT THE TIME OF FARMER REFUTED ☹️ also about the king george thing there’s lots more to his character than just being a loyalist he was a priest / bishop fcs 😞 how about jesus being his protector!!!!! /j another thing about him is that i feel like people tried babying him to make him seem less of an antagonist maybe…??? like ive seen people say “poor sammy he was trying to express his opinion🥺” ok well we’re not rooting for his opinion in this musical ARE WE?? like idk maybe we should let antagonists be antagonists and be in the wrong 🤗 personally i dont agree with samuel’s opinions AT ALL but that doesn’t make him any less kissable in my eyes!!! can we let characters be pathetic without infantilizing them PLEASE i just see him as this annoying snooty man who sees the revolutionists as childish and immature / sees him + other loyalists as above these “barbaric patriots”. also i recall thayne sayinf something on the hamilcast podcast about seabury trying to “save everyone from the king” (i pray the king shows you his mercy) before its too late and i dont know how this aligns with what im saying but i think it tells us a bit more about him (at least thayne’s version) and i just find it a silly detail 😁 btw you guys im only talking about all this from the musical perspective and this has barely anything to do with actual history or the characters’ historical counterparts 🤗🤗🤗🌈🌈🌈🌸🌸🌸
#jade shut up he was on the stage for almost TWO MINUTES#yeah the fans who did this to my guy in the absolute peak of the hamilton fandom ruined him and im here to fix the damage ❤️#if you interpret him in that way its not too late to change i used to be just like you guys 🤗#if you wanna know more about his character i suggest reading the farmer refuted annotations on genius i love them#next level yapfest#i love spewing out all of my ideas on tumblr i can just rant incoherently and people will eat it up#<- hopefully….this better not flop i put my blood sweat and tears into this#is it obvious i do well in english class ❤️/j#samuel seabury#hamilton#hamilton musical#the mischaracterization crisis of 2017#<- that’s what im calling it now#lin manuel miranda#thayne jasperson#watch this flop so hard
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CABINET MAN AU UPDATE!!1!
ALRIGHT GUYS I'M SO EXCITED TO ANNOUNCE I'VE POSTED PART OF THE AMAZING CABINET MAN AU YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR THE LINK IS RIGHT UNDER THE CUT
oh sorry i was wrong this is just ras at shadow dojo my bad
#I WORKED SOOO HARD ON THIS GUYS I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT#NINJAGO#SPINJITSU SCREAMS#PUT SOOO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT#TOOK MY BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS BABY
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you know what that means! Fish
#ughhhh this looks kinda fuzzy the more i look at it. i feel like their features aren't very clear#oh well. that's probably just my brain. take my weirdly-shaded sons 👍#the art demon has finally possessed me once more and demands that i color old pencil doodles of mine#so if you saw these guys a few weeks ago. uh. yeah you did#i put my blood sweat and tears into these Boys. but i also cranked them out in less than a day which is surprising#cass's creations and conjurations#splatoon#side order#⛺🪲
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red velvet hearts.
pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader
genre: fluff, slight angst
word count: 7.7k
synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.
author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3
warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama
playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift
RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU
“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.”
“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier.
“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”
“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes.
“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely.
You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson.
“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly.
“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.”
“I was handling things just fine on my own.”
“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state.
You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.”
The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention.
By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support.
Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.
Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw.
“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers.
“You don’t look―”
As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.
After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?”
You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck.
And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod.
.
.
.
Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer.
Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip.
When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood.
“That was…delicious,” he breathes.
“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.”
“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs.
“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.”
Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together.
He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw.
Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes.
“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly.
“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks:
“So, you’re hiring?”
You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question.
Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up.
“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”
“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias.
Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.
“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand.
You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say:
“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?”
It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries.
“I’d love nothing more.”
Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu.
He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling.
RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE
“Are you out of your mind?”
You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.”
“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”
“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!”
“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses.
“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?”
Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”
“What?”
“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice.
“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”
“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“So, when do I get to meet him―”
You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup.
You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking.
“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly.
“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.”
Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.”
You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.”
“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows.
You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.”
“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.”
His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in.
But you don’t.
“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.”
And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you.
He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him.
Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday.
“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth.
“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly.
“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand.
“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.”
The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.
“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease.
His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?”
“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.”
It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck.
“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh.
“Pretty lame, right?”
“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.”
Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.”
“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently.
He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”
That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?”
He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.”
There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length.
“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!”
“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.
“Of course. Who else would I go with?”
“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately.
“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain.
“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.”
“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms.
“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile.
“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him.
He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound―”
“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?”
“...Seven.”
.
.
.
Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property.
“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.”
“You got it, Captain.” He salutes.
You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you.
Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along.
“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.”
He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt.
“Oh my God, your face!”
“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.”
“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.”
“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes.
“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice.
Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself.
You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you.
“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression
“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile.
“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod.
“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.”
“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”
“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.”
You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here.
“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh.
“Why?”
You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you.
“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.”
Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction.
“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.”
He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that.
“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.”
Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away.
He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever.
“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.”
You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself?
You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair.
You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway.
.
.
.
“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table.
Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.”
“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice.
Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it.
“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms.
“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.”
“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”
“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.”
“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.”
“I’ll help,” he insists.
“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.”
He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”
“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”
“What? A blueberry pie?”
Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.
“Peace.”
And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too.
RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF
It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t.
You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now.
He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him.
You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay.
“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.
“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee.
She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold.
Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too.
“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?��
Maybe because he has, you want to tell her.
Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.
“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away.
You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself.
However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be.
.
.
.
The cream puffs aren’t rising.
You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise.
But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t.
You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff.
“Y/N, they’re burning.”
Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp.
“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs.
“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.”
He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it.
Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?”
When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?”
His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch.
“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.”
He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.”
“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?”
“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly.
“Do you treat all your friends like that?”
“When I don’t want to see them.”
You wait for him to continue.
“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”
He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him.
But he steps back.
“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.”
“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly.
“I probably should,” he answers shakily.
“What’s stopping you?”
“Just…one reason.”
“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.”
Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.
“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.”
When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back.
“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.”
RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE
When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all.
And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you.
You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself.
However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless.
So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check.
“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.”
You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly.
“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.”
Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first.
When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take.
The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about―
And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way.
“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.”
You stare at him, still not sure how to react.
“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”
Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting.
“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?”
You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―”
Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.
When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath.
“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.”
He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?”
“What?”
Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare.
“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.
You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich.
“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”
“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.
“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up.
“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again.
And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.
Peace.
EXTRA
“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?”
Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone.
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“If I answer, will you let me rest?”
“Depends on how good your answer is.”
“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.”
You smile against the crook of his neck.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.”
#nct imagines#nct scenarios#haechan fluff#haechan angst#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 angst#nct 127 imagines#haechan#nct#choerrypuffs
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Pair : mma fighter jeon jungkook x reader
Fall, everything
fall, everything
fall, everything,
The muffled screams, the ringing in his ears. The blurry vision and he was sure for a good minute that he was losing his eyesight. If it weren’t for the camera’s flickering lights and the spotlight beaming on this octagon, he thought he was blind. The blow from this McGregor guy took him down, left him sprawling on the red tainted mat. Bloods spluttered everywhere, mixed with his and the opponent’s sweat. Sticky liquid dripping from both of their mouths as the referee pounds his fist onto the white mat.
He can see the referee mouthing something, he doesn’t have to focus so hard to know that the referee is counting down the numbers.
“One!” there’s a pause.
“Kook, get up!” from all of the deafening sounds in his head he managed to catch his coach’s muffled voice.
“Two!” the referee slaps the mat even harder,
“You motherfu- Jeon Jungkook! GET YOUR ASS UP!” His coach is frantically trying to wake him.
“Thre-”
“Jungkook? Jungkookie? Kookie.” His bruised eyes widen at the sound. It is the most angelic sound he ever heard.
Am I already in heaven he thought.
It’s his most favorite voice in the whole world, the voice that soothes the raging storm in him, the voice that could calm his sea of confusion, your voice.
She’s here? No. She left. It feels like the time stopped and Jungkook is battling with his inner thought, full of you in it. He slowly raised his upper body before the referee could scream the last number straight at his face.The crowd was a mixture of boos and cheers. In that dramatic moment, his coach managed to ask for a time out. Jungkook was carried by his team members to the corner of the octagon.
Blood was covering most of his body parts, Taehyung wipes them off with cold towels and Jimin was frantically putting balm on his busted lips and on the torn skin above his left brow. Jungkook’s heavily panting for air to fill his lungs and he is still intoxicated with adrenalines. Coach Kim put his hand on both of his cheeks to check if there are any cuts before Jungkook splutters your name over and over again.
“Is s-she here? Is she here? Please, is she here?” He keeps on muttering something along with your name and Taehyung is shushing him because from the look of it, Jungkook is about to lose his mind and now is not the right time to be that.
“Kook, she’s not here, but you gotta keep your head in the game.” Coach Kim speaks in a clear voice as he maintains eye contact with Jungkook. With a badly swollen left eye, there’s nothing much Jungkook can see anyway. “I heard her. She’s here, I can hear her voice, she's calling my name, coach please look for her. I know she’s here” Jungkook pleads at his coach with tears streaming down his face.
“I will look for her, but you gotta finish this fight first” Jimin cups Jungkook’s face. Jimin knows very well that it is borderline impossible to find you at this moment. But if it is what can make Jungkook to keep his head in the game, Jimin wouldn’t hesitate to make up lies.
The crowd erupted again once both fighters were back in the middle of the fighting pit.
The fight continued and ended with Jungkook lost. It was a painful loss, physically and emotionally. All battered and bruised for nothing. He was the boy who is prepared for the battle but never for the lost.
But not lately.
There’s a dreadful silence on the way back to the gym. No one could say a word or even looked at each other. With Jimin patting Jungkook’s shoulder, trying to comfort him, Taehyung can only stare out of the window with Coach Kim gripping tightly on his ipad.
Taehyung peers to look at the blinding lights from the device.
“The highest paid fighter, Golden Boy Jungkook third lost this season: was recruiting him into the biggest MMA club was a big mistake? It’s indeed a total blow.”
Taehyung scoffed at the stupid headline. The media is so fast to spread nonsense. Absentmindedly, he switched off the devices since the email was flooding in. Coach Kim just let him.
Everyone is mad at the situation, not at the losing fighter. But he seems to be blaming himself by the soft sound of the sniffles coming from him.
“Kook-ah, it’s fine. We can practice more. There’s always another competition you can win” Coach Kim looks at the poor boy he trained for years sitting on a single seat at the back. This huge tour bus makes Jungkook look so small and fragile in his eyes.
Jimin squeezed his shoulders, winced as he noticed how stiff he had become.
“You said you will look for her,” came out like a soft defeated whisper from Jungkook. His eyes stared blankly from the tinted bus’s window. It’s almost like a universal joke because somehow it started pouring down. He blames the sky for mockingly crying at him, he hates the night sky for being so gloomy ever since the day you left him.
How could the sky pitied him and yet do nothing when it became his witness on the night he boarded the airplane.
“You know very well she’s not there, Jungkook. You can’t get mad at Jimin, hell, you shouldn’t be mad at anyone especially yourself. You have to stop brooding like this. It happened months ago. Get over it!” Taehyung turns his back to look at Jungkook.
The boy is still staring out. Taehyung is slightly annoyed with Jungkook because he cares about him a lot.
They fight together, they used to fight each other, they’re each other’s sparring partner. The golden boys of Kim’s Gym and now the rising stars of BigHit Mixed Martial Arts gym. Jungkook was the boy who has the highest winning streaks in a season. Knocking down opponents like they’re made of papers.
Keyword; was.
He slowly went into a slump. As an athlete, slump is dangerous, both mentally and physically. Coach Kim couldn’t force him to practice anymore because he wouldn’t dodge punches and kicks. He lets himself bruised and bleed. Coach Kim thought the best way to get him fired up again is through competition.
Coach Kim knows that Jungkook loves the adrenaline rush, the roaring screams from his fans, he loves it when the referee raises up his hand as he won the fight. But Coach Kim is wrong. Today was his third match and he lost all of them.
“Taehyung is right. I hate seeing you like this. And I’m sorry for making you fight out of your will. I thought it was for the best.” Coach Kim spoke up to soothe the tense atmosphere. He knows Taehyung means well but he practically raises these three, like he did with his other fighters.
Since they’re the youngest, he has a soft spot for them. The older fighters have achieved a lot, and more mature in handling their emotions. These three are still kids to him. So the moment Jungkook came back that one night, sobbing and broken, he knows something isn’t right.
And he knows he has to be tough on Jungkook. Otherwise, Jungkook will spiral down. Like right now.
“Jungkook,” Jimin speaks quietly, “Do you wanna look for her again?” Jungkook raised his head to look at Jimin. He gave him a look that Jimin knows so well, his losing hope kind of look.
“I would kill to see her again, but I would die if that ever happened because I broke her, Jimin. How could I see her when I’m the last person she would ever want to see?”
He met you five years ago. In his aunt’s grocery store. You were the new girl in town, the transferred, new teacher at the local elementary school.
The day you walked into his aunt’s store was the day one of his silly hopeless romantic fantasy becoming real. He had this vision of falling in love at the sound of a bell because of an anime movie he watched with Taehyung and Jimin. He rewatched that movie over and over again, imagining finding his true love the way the protagonists in the movie did.
And it happened.
It was a sweet jingle from the bell on the main door of the store, and you walked in wearing a white shirt and faded blue jeans, looking so effortlessly pretty to him. Jungkook thought his eyes were playing tricks with him that day but he swears he can see rays of sunlight following you.
Like a spotlight or it was just him zooming on you. Nevertheless, you were glowing to him. How can he forget that?
He was busy gobbling down his lunch after he helped his aunt unloaded boxes of groceries on the display shelves. With oil from the fried eggs on the corner of his lips, lips swollen from the spiciness of the gochujang. The bibimbap was delicious but the moment your eyes caught his, the lunch just stuck in his throat, causing him to choke.
He was fucked and it was obvious from the way you were taken aback with his loud cough. He banged his chest with his fist, to control his unstoppable coughing before he immediately ran to the back of the store.
Gulping down the water, he wanted to cry because your first impression of him, was him, choking on a piece of fried egg because he decided to inhale instead of chewing.
He thought the best way for this to end, is just sitting at the back of the store until you left. He can hear his aunt conversing with you and he envied that. But he is still embarrassed!
While he was busy kicking himself, he noticed the chirping of his aunt’s voice asking you but he didn’t hear your voice, not clearly enough. So he is focusing now, head tilted so his ears can catch the conversation. He acted like a creep and for a second that thought makes him blushed in more shame.
“If you need anything you can just come here and ask. We’re glad to help. What about your belongings? Did you already move them in?” The voice of his aunt sounds like an echo to him. Jungkook was still chewing the bits of meat from the bibimbap. They were a bit tough and might have stuck in his teeth but he didn’t give a damn. Sulking.
“I only bring the necessary stuff, the one I managed to carry with my car. I have to buy other necessities here though.” Your voice. Holly shit, Jungkook lost it at your voice.
If he is poetic, he’d said your voice is like spring water washing him from head to toe. Refreshing. With no one watching Jungkook grinned like a fool. He doesn’t even know your name. It was literally five seconds ago when he met you.
“Of course, of course. Do you need help? It pains my heart to see a girl like you carrying heavy things, all by yourself,” His aunt sounds concerned and she has always been that kind of person. The woman who cares about everyone, Jungkook respect his aunt so much.
He took a wild guess, his aunt is probably being mindful about the stuff you bought. Maybe you bought too much than what you can handle.
“I guess I do need help,” you chuckle. Jungkook thought he fell deep after hearing your voice and now your chuckles are going to be the reason why he will keep falling. Jungkook is daydreaming of hearing your chuckles and he is already making a list of jokes he can throw at you randomly.
He was so sure he wanted to keep seeing you. As you will be a resident in this neighbourhood, he will make sure to get to know you. Just not today. He shivers at the memory of your wide eyes after hearing his horrendous cough.
Not today, he will make a second first impression to you. In a more gentleman manner.
“Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!"
"This boy. Is he still at the back?” His aunt started shouting for him, shattering his plan and his ears. Oh but he’s definitely thinking of your ears first. His aunt has a habit of shouting since she is the boss, that’s how she makes the men move in this store.
Jungkook just groaned loud enough for her to hear him. Remember when he said his aunt cares about everyone? Well his aunt can be scary too. After he realizes his aunt is tutting at the cashier table, he scrambles his long legs to her.
“Coming, coming. I was eating.” Jungkook whined as he dragged his feet towards his aunt. She knocked his head with a fly swatter.
“Still eating?! You liar! You already ate! You’re sleeping aren’t ya? Here, come here,” she dragged him by his ear. You chuckle at the view as the two of them looked funny.
Jungkook can’t control how his lips are cracking to form the biggest grin ever at that sound. And wow seeing you up close is far more magical than he had envisioned. Jungkook is definitely taller than you seeing from his one set of doe eyes as he was awkwardly bending down because his aunt pulled him by the ear.
“Ow ow ow I’m sorry! Stop!” He whines louder. His brain finally sent him the pain signal because he was a little occupied as he looked at you.
You were gazing at him with your soft eyes, and he remembers that he is not wearing his best hoodie today. Jungkook was in his beige baggy sweater, rolled up to his elbows, and black sweatpants. His thick and messy long hair, his pinkish lips, slight oil by the corner of his mouth. He sighed in his heart.
So much for a gentleman’s first impression. But you didn’t give him a disgusting look. Even there’s almost dry sweat patches on his chest, and around the armpits area. You were still smiling sweetly.
Damn, forget the joke list, if he can keep making you smiling like that, he’ll be the happiest man.
His aunt nudged him and broke him of his own dream.
“You make me look like a fool!” He whispered to his aunt before she laughed out loud.
“Now, now, is our Jungkookie shy??” She pinched his right cheek.
“This adorable boy is my nephew. But don’t let his looks fool you, he is a mischievous kid.”
“My aunt can get quite excited with people sometimes.” Jungkook smile wide enough before his body went rigid. Shit what if there’s meat stuck in between his teeth?!
What he didn’t know was, you think he is so cute.
Because for a moment he was smiling so bright and then suddenly he zoned out like a puppy. You already think he was cute that day.
His aunt shoots him a harmless glare before she pats his butt.
“She’s new here. Can you please go and help her carry the things? Be the strong man, Kook,” she whispered in the last sentence and sent the boy a wink. Jungkook scoffed and as if you haven’t heard or witnessed all of that.
His aunt, whom he’s thankful for with every breath he takes.
The soft knocks on his door bring him back to the present. These days, no, ever since he left for Japan all he think about are you, his aunt, the little town and you, you, you.
“Have you called your aunt yet, Jungkook?” Taehyung peaked his head through the slit of the door. The light breaking into the dark door. Jungkook didn’t even realize he’s been looming in the dark space, he doesn’t even know if it’s day or night.
Taehyung sighs at the tiny hum Jungkook gave him. His little breakdown at Jungkook on the bus last night still makes him guilty. Taehyung knows him better than anyone, and for him to snap at Jungkook like that, he felt guilty. But somebody gotta wake Jungkook up from this state.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung grips harder on the door handle, before he pushes it wide open. Jungkook groaned at the sudden intrusion of light and his friend.
When you’re in the dark for quite some time the lights can be too blinding.
“Dude what the fuck!” Jungkook barks. Hands hastily pulling up the heavy blanket, hiding himself under it. He hates it. Hate it how he knows he looks pathetic but he doesn’t want to do anything about it.
“Get up.” Taehyung’s voice is deep and firm. He is so much like his dad. Growing up watching his dad coach fighters, Jungkook thinks this is where Taehyung gained this scary aura. Taehyung doesn’t even flinch at Jungkook’s growling.
Jungkook refused to get up until Taehyung pulled the blanket off of him in one snatched. Jungkook hates it. He feels like he is disappointing everyone and he hates how he can clearly sense annoyance in Taehyung’s sigh.
Taehyung could never feel annoyed by his friends and Jungkook knows that.
“Kook,” Taehyung softly coaxed him. Taehyung feels like he is suffocating seeing Jungkook all crumpled up, bending his body like a lost little child. Where did his strong friend go?
“Kook, man you gotta get up,” Taehyung sits down at the edge of the bed. Eyes still on Jungkook even though the man is still shutting his eyes tight. “I apologize for last night, kay?” Taehyung continued.
“‘Kay,” was all Jungkook replied. Honestly, he doesn’t remember what happened last night. All he knew was he lost.
“Dad told me your aunt called him. Saying she couldn’t reach you. Give the lady a call, Kook.”
“Later,”
“Kook-”
“Anything else Tae? If not, leave me alone.”
Taehyung lets out another defeated sigh. “Yes,” he stands up with his hands inside his pocket.
“We’re going for a run.” Taehyung moves to grab clean sweats and hoodie for Jungkook before he pulls his friend up with all his might because Jungkook is really heavy.
Taehyung must stay positive for his friend. That’s the least he can do. Trying to get his friend back up from a lost battle was never easy and add heartbreak to that too, it is almost impossible.
Jungkook didn’t disobey him because he loves running. He runs all the time. At dawn, or dusk. He runs playfully with his friends, runs for practice, or just simply running and enjoying the scenery.
Tokyo air is very different from his little hometown. There’s no usual bun stall where he can get two red bean buns for free because he always helped the old lady setting up her stall. There’s no chirping and giggling sounds of the school kids coming back from school.
Laughing at him because 'Jungkook hyung is so funny.'
Tokyo feels so cold and silent. There’s no you in Tokyo. There's no one to share red bean buns with. Once, he bought four buns to eat with you after his running sessions, before he took you home on his scooter.
After the first meeting at the store, Jungkook always bumped into you. Either when you’re on your way to school while he is finishing the last lap of his run, or when he was just riding his scooter around the school - hoping to catch a glimpse of you.
That first time, he gave you all of his favorite red bean buns because he saw you walking home. Like many late afternoons, Jungkook noticed you were waiting at the gate with the boy he knows, Daehwi.
Jungkook was running an errand for his aunt at that time. He has no idea why he keeps messing up every time you’re near him. He unconsciously twisted his hand harsher making his scooter almost jump forward.
Suddenly the slow scooter became the fastest vehicle as he zoomed past the two of you. He can see you flinched before you stand protectively in front of Daehwi, the kid whines as he bumps into your back. Jungkook instantly breaks and he makes a sharp U-turn, to apologize.
Looking at you with his wide eyes and open mouth after he took off his helmet. It wasn’t a big scary and loud motorcycle. It’s the scooter he used when he’s on delivery for his aunt. Jungkook winced apologetically as he can see how you stand in front of your student.
One hand on your hip, you’re biting your inner cheek to suppress a laugh because Jungkook looks like he is about to cry. Perhaps feeling guilty, for driving recklessly.
“Jeon Jungkook-” with a low tone, you tried to intimidate him. Tapping your foot. Jungkook is blaming his guardian ancestors because they never helped him. Does he even have one?! He needs one before you hate him, completely.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he dropped his helmet with carrot stickers all over it into the scooter basket, clasping his hands together.
You hum before you move away to show Jungkook the scared little boy hiding behind you.
Jungkook understand that it’s not you he needs to apologize to,
“I’m sorry little guy,” he pouted.
Daehwi, the loveliest child who can never stand someone else feeling sad, accepted Jungkook’s apology in the most heartwarming way.
“It’s okay Kookie hyung,” coming closer to Jungkook before he taps on his knee. “But you scared Miss ____, hyung.” The little kid looking at Jungkook as firm as he can though his tiny hand on his knee makes Jungkook almost cooed loudly.
Jungkook’s much larger hand is on top of Daehwi’s little hands.
Jungkook dropped his shoulders with puppy eyes looking at you. Mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. Your mouth twitched up and Jungkook knew he’s fine.
You concluded that Jungkook is such a big child. Adorable. Everyone here knows him, he delivers food, vegetables, or anything his aunty tells him to deliver. Diligent and friendly.
The example is here, little Daehwi is so much more comfortable around Jungkook than he is with you. Jungkook is paying attention to Daehwi as he whispers something to him. Eventhough you can catch them very well. Daehwi is just too cute.
“Kookie hyung, can I ride your scooter?”
“Ah, little guy I would love to. But if your mom finds out she’s gonna tell my aunt. And my aunt isn’t really cool. She nags too much.” Jungkook playfully makes a grimace face as if he really can’t stand his aunt. When in reality he loves that old lady like she is his mom.
Daehwi gives a scandalous look at Jungkook, instantly correcting him. “I am not a little guy, I am nine this year, right Miss ___?” He turns to face you for confirmation. “I am big enough,” he mumbles under his breath. Coming closer to him, you fix his backpack that is tilted from him moving so fast to be near Jungkook.
“Yup, but sometimes, big kids can get hurt too. Your mom doesn’t want to see you’re hurting. I would be so sad if something happened to you, too,” you coaxed Daehwi. He hung his head low but perks up at the mention of his mom.
“Then hyung, get down! Don’t make Miss ____ sad,” with his chubby fingers he tried to pull Jungkook to come down from his scooter. Tumbling forward, Jungkook carefully gets off the scooter and lets the nine year old lead him closer to you.
The two of you chuckled at his cute actions before realizing that Daehwi placed Jungkook’s hand onto yours while he held your other hand.
Jungkook feels a gush of warmth on the inside and he can’t think straight. He was holding his breath not knowing how to react with his large hand engulfing yours. ‘Crap, my palms are fucking sweaty’ Jungkook whines in his mind.
Blinking furiously because he wanted to wipe the sweat off but he wants to keep holding your hand. The biggest dilemma in his life.
Neither of you tried to break the holds. Jungkook thought you still didn’t let go of his hand because you don’t wanna be rude but what he didn’t know was you were thinking of how slippery your hands are because of the hand lotion you applied earlier on.
He glanced at you through the corner of his eyes, you were biting your lower lips, trying to focus on Daehwi rambling about his truck toys. Daehwi is telling you and Jungkook that he wanted a scooter toy next time, if his mom allowed him. Like Jungkook’s he says. It was endearing but the two of you are too focused on your hands.
“Mom!” Daehwi shouted as he saw his mom getting down from the car. Immediately you tighten your hold on his pudgy hand so he's not crossing the road mindlessly. You wait until his mom is closer enough before you slowly let him go, he runs towards his mom’s embrace with giggles. His mom picks him up as she bows a little to you.
“Thank you, I’m terribly sorry for being so late.” With an apologetic look on her face.
“It’s okay, please don’t be sorry. I am willing to wait for him.” You’re not letting her keep apologizing to you. Jungkook stares in awe at you, who keeps bowing at the mother.
“Daewhi is a good boy, I had fun waiting with him.” You chuckled at the boy, who was tucked behind his mom’s thighs. Whining at her that he is hungry for curry.
“I better get going. Daehwi, say goodbye to your teacher,” his mom asked him. “And to Jungkook hyung too,” his mom smirks at the hands that are still holding onto each other, with a knowing look she smiles at the two of you.
Like an electric jolt, you and Jungkook let go of each other’s hands. He rubs the back of his neck and you clasped your hands together.
Silently he frowned at the loss of the delicate small hand.
“Kookie hyung is being safe, so Miss ___ won’t be sad if he gets hurt,” explained Daehwi.
“Oh I’m sure he is safe, baby. Now let’s go home. Goodbye you two.” She said as she gave a witty smile to the two of you.
Silence fills the surrounding after Daehwi and his mom drove away. Jungkook feels the urge to say something but for some reason his throat is clogged up.
“Are you on errands, Jungkook?” You break the silence.
“Nope,” answered without a beat. So much of self control Jeon.
“Can you give me a ride home?”
“Wha- why?” his heart is beating wild. You wanna ride his scooter. With him! And his stupid mouth asked ‘why’ ???!
“I’m sorry for the sudden request, it’s just that I have a few things to carry with me. Or maybe my legs are slowly giving up because I’ve been standing up for too long today,” you explained shyly.
If Jungkook can shut down the thrumming of his heart maybe he can hear how you’re nervous around him too.
He was just gazing at his shoes, swaying a little. Waiting for you to finish talking. He thinks you’re gonna hate him for not able to answer immediately but Jungkook was just in the zone, because YOU WANTED TO RIDE HIS UGLY SCOOTER!
It’s not a chick magnet kind of bike like Taehyung’s, it’s an old, beige, boring scooter!
“Only if you don’t mind,” you asked softly, as you thought it might not reach his ears but he snapped his head so fast to you.
“Of course!” His voice sounds a little higher. “I mean, of course I don’t mind,” he mumbles. Hands up, showing you that he is completely okay with your request.
“But I don’t have an extra helmet, never mind, you can just wear mine.” Jungkook mumbles to himself. His hands are busy putting the carrot-stickers helmet on your head when you just stare dumbfounded at him.
Laughing at his action, you hunched over with hands on your stomach. “Oh my god Jungkook. Let me grab my stuff first,” you wheeze.
Jungkook finally realized that he went ahead of himself and you were standing in front of him, with your cute giggles and closed eyes and puffed cheeks, way shorter than him and his hands are still under your chin. Trying to buckle the helmet. His eyes widen at the sound of your laugh.
“You’re silly,” you wipe the corner of your eyes, a bit teary from the laughing.
Jungkook frowned at that, “I’m not silly. I thought you’re ready to go.”
“How can I possibly be ready when my stuff is still inside?” You let yourself go from his hands that were still cupping your chin. Walking inside to get your bag and a small box of arts materials (maybe you don’t actually have a lot of stuff to carry or you just want to spend some time with Jungkook?)
Jungkook saw you and immediately rushed to help you carry the box. You did tell him you’re very capable but Jungkook pretends he didn’t hear that.
“You can hold on to me if you want.” Jungkook pulls the baby hair, at the tip of his sideburn, a habit to distract himself.
“I would like it if you hold on to me, you’d be safe.” He adds. Eyes straight forward, too shy to look at you, wearing his helmet, his favorite helmet! Lightly tapping your box inside the scooter basket with his free hand.
“Okay Jungkook,” you chuckle. Jungkook heard you huffing as you struggled to tighten the helmet and he without a beat, softly tugging the end of the straps. Helping you out and the close proximity allowed him to be so absorbed by staring at your face, your beautiful eyes, your soft jawline, the slope of your cute nose, the slight pouty lips, your eyelashes. Everything about you is so pretty.
Suddenly he heard a gasp and his big eyes staring shockingly at you, mouth gaping and all. “You think I'm pretty?” You whispered.
Fuck!
A curse comes out of his mouth and he wanted, no, dying, for the earth to swallow him because he just blurted his thoughts out loud and now you know he thinks you’re pretty.
Worst case scenario? Probably you threw his helmet and just walked home. But you were giving him the million dollar smile. The smile he is getting used to. And then suddenly you uttered the magical words to him, “I think you’re pretty too.” it was a firework festival inside of him. Jungkook is back to his smug face and smirking at your flustered self.
Giving him a bashful smile, you hop on behind him, arms are shyly snaking around his waist. Jungkook’s heart is soaring high. He is sure you can definitely hear his wild heart beating so loud.
“Here we go,”
“Tae, I need to speak with you,” Jimin whispered to Taehyung as the later man was just finished sparring up with another fighter. Panting while wiping the sweat with an already drenched hand towel.
He jumped down to be close to Jimin. From the look on his face, whatever he is about to say must be very serious.
“Yeah? What’s up?” Taehyung asked. It was a hard practice today and he is still panting.
“I found her,”
There’s a sudden silence after Jimin uttered the words. Except Taehyung’s heavy breathing. Jimin found you. Taehyung’s jaw clenched at the information. He knows Jimin hasn’t told Jungkook yet, because Jimin told him first.
He doesn’t need to think much, honestly, because out of everyone, Taehyung was the first one who knows Jungkook is in love with you even when Jungkook shyly denied that. He knows how important you are to Jungkook.
With his head hung low, Taehyung threw off the boxing gloves onto the fighting mat. The three of them grew up together. Seeing Jungkook in this condition breaks his heart. Out of everyone who found Jungkook whipped in love, it was Taehyung.
Taehyung becomes an acquaintance with you as you’re the new tenant moved a few blocks from his house.
Few years ago, when he found out about you and Jungkook, he was relentless at teasing the younger guy. Jungkook used to be very private about his love life but with you, he’s different. He talks about you all the time. Taehyung is sure that Jungkook’s mind is occupied with you.
He tried to swing a punch pad to Jungkook, just to intimidate him.
It is a known fact that Jungkook never missed a swing, not even from the coach. But Taehyung shouted your name and the punch pad kissed Jungkook on his face. And Taehyung is now 120% sure, Jeon Jungkook is whipped as hell.
“You ass,” Jungkook hissed as Jimin pressed the ice pack on his slightly swollen cheek. Taehyung doubled over with booming laughter and he received a sharp glare from Jimin. He has to halt his training to treat Jungkook. Even though Taehyung is the same age as Jimin, Jimin always acted like the eldest brother. The logic is because he was born a few months earlier than Taehyung.
“I have a match next week and now I have to babysit you. Be serious for once,” Jimin scowl and Taehyung pokes his sides. He knows Jimin will never stay mad. He is the strongest in his weight class, everyone in the city will shiver at the mention of his name.
But Jimin has the softest heart of them all. Every time one of them is injured, Jimin will go all the way to treat them, even if the injury is from a silly prank.
“Take care of your body, you said you wanna join Joon hyung in Japan,” Jimin pressed a little harder on Jungkook’s cheeks. Purposely sting him so he listened.
“I am! Tae cannot stop being an annoying little prick,” Jungkook pointed his hand at the giggling Taehyung. Poking his own tongue on the inside of his cheek. Hissing as he felt a little sore.
Swiping the laughing tear from the corner of his eyes, Taehyung lay down on the floor. All sweaty.
“Oh our dear Jungkookie and my neighbour.” he teases Jungkook while making a kissy face and a loud smooch echoed in the gym. Jungkook just groaned frustratingly.
“I will never stop teasing you,” Taehyung sings songs.
His cheeks are flushed red. Hand grabbing a towel to throw at Taehyung. “Shut up Taehyung!”
Taehyung chuckles bitterly as he remembers those nights Jungkook swooning over you, as they walked home from the gym. He always talks about you. You were Jungkook’s girl, everyone knows that.
He even knows the reason you and him broke apart. He witnessed the night the two hearts of his friends’ shattered into tiny pieces. The night that haunts Jungkook, the night that he carried Jungkook to the gym. Meeting his dad. The night Jungkook decided that he agreed for Japan.
“Tae, do you think we should tell him?” Jimin asked.
“We gotta tell him,” Taehyung said with a determined look on his face. That night shouldn’t have happened, and he shouldn’t just watch you slip away from Jungkook just like that. What kind of friend was he?
Silence never really means anything is doing good. Like right now, Jungkook is sitting on the couch after Coach Kim broke the news to him.
Another match.
After a heated phone call with the McGregor team, Coach Kim called Jungkook to meet him at the gym. Coach Kim told him about the phone call he received just now, the phone call that requested another match with Jungkook.
Coach Kim refused without hesitation, even BigHit agreed with him but McGregor felt like it was an unjust match for him. He claimed Jungkook didn’t give his all and that somehow wounded him.
McGregor said he’s been studying Jungkook over the years, he knows Jungkook won a lot of titles and his skill is the most immaculate.
He has been waiting to fight him and he did. They had their first match and Jungkook fell lower than his expectation. For some reason he felt like Jungkook was fooling him around. This is why he demanded another fight.
Coach Kim is swallowing hard, because he doesn’t want to hurt Jungkook. He wasn’t purposely losing that day. Jungkook never wanted to win anyway.
Not when he stepped into the octagon, not even when he boarded the airplane. It was already over long before McGregor. In fact Coach Kim is still blaming himself for making Jungkook fight in the match that secured him a spot in Japan.
Jungkook said nothing as he kept staring at his own feet. Both Jungkook and Coach Kim seem to be lost in their own memories.
“Kook, I need to prepare you for the next match, in September.” Coach Kim’s voice echoed in the gym as he walked to the boys. The three of them, Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin are sprawling on the fighting mat after a rigorous training.
Jimin was hellbent on making the other two his sparring partner because he was almost lost to the one of the fighters from Lee gym. He was annoyed. When Jimin is annoyed, he is relentless and punched so hard. Sometimes Jungkook wonders what he eats, for someone his size, Jimin is a beast.
Panting on the floor, Jungkook uses one hand to lift the side of his body, searching for his coach. “September? That’s such a short notice. It’s a few months from now.” He whines.
Thinking about the overload of workout he must complete, he needs to maintain the body weight and still burn calories and all. It is such a fuss because it requires mental and physical preparation.
“Yea, Jungkook. It’s a friendly match."
"Come here, check your weight. We have to put on weight this time Jeon. Let’s conquer a different weight class, yeah?” Coach Kim sings songs.
Taehyung is laughing at his friend’s misery. He knows how Jungkook has been on this weird fibre diet because he’s trying to lose weight. Taehyung and Jungkook are in the same weight class even though Jungkook is much more muscular. Taehyung knows his dad, he gotta bulk up Jungkook because Taehyung is already dominating in their weight class.
“Coachhh,” Jungkook stomped his feet. “It’s my first anniversary soon. I wanna go food hunting with ___.” Jimin chuckles as he shakes his head at Jungkook’s childish behaviour.
Being the youngest of the group gets him away with everything. Jimin winced at the thought of having to gain weight because it was such a hell ride.
Gaining weight is much more difficult than losing weight. He knew it firsthand when he had to gain 10kg for a match. It was a torture, but that’s the life of an athlete, especially MMA fighters.
“If you manage to gain weight, you can easily win with your skill. We just need to sharpen a little on the jabs and your kick. This new weight class will secure you a place in a bigger tournament.” Coach Kim explains.
“Stop whining, all of your hyungs have done it before. ____ will understand, she always understands.” Coach Kim sends a strict glare to Jungkook only to be counter attacked with big watery eyes.
Taehyung and Jimin eagerly nod, proving the Coach’s statement. Taehyung chuckles, knowing that if he pulls out his name, Jungkook will do it in a heartbeat. “Even Namjoon hyung had to gain weight that one time,”
Hearing his idol’s name Jungkook instantly standing next to Coach Kim, wiping the dirt on his butt. Eyes are fiery as he stares at the meal plan and workout plan Coach Kim already made for him.
“This time we gotta avoid this, okay?” Jungkook pleaded as he pointed at his face. The last time he took a jab and came home to you with a swollen eye. Jungkook told his coach that he wanted to learn a faster shielding skill. So that no one can touch his face. He said you were crying when you saw him looking like a goey ugly fish.
“Can’t afford to make my girl cry anymore,” Jungkook grinned cheekily. Coach Kim just shakes his head at his action.
“Puppy love,” he muttered but Jungkook gasped dramatically.
“It’s not puppy love! We love each other. She’s the one,” Jungkook claimed. How dare his coach teased him like that. You are the light of his life.
She’s the one
The more the words replaying in his head the more it hurts. It keeps pounding non stop and Jungkook is tired. He misses you. So much. He hates Japan. He hates himself. Why did he go out that night? Why can he just listen to you? Why did he need to go there and beat his opponent to pulp? Why did he let his temper take over him?
“Tell him I gave up,” Jungkook gets up from the couch. He no longer turns around even after Coach Kim keeps calling his name.
“Jungkook boy, you really gonna give up like that? I know you’re a pussy but holy fuck! That kid can’t even punch me!” The boisterous laugh from the tv screen echoed inside Coach Kim’s room.
Taehyung is clenching his jaw and Jimin sends deathly glare at the flat tv screen. The interviews McGregor did live just now shows that he’s been picking Jungkook’s name and calling him out for not wanting to go for a second match.
Jungkook is eating a bowl of ice cream with no care in the world as he sits in the corner of the room. Not minding how many times McGregor has been calling out his name from the tv. McGregor is sitting too proudly with a heavy gold belt slung across his puffed chest. Jungkook just smirks at the image. That used to be his dream.
“You just gonna let him shitting about you like that?” Taehyung said in his deep voice. His eyes sharply glaring at Jungkook. He is mad for his best friend.
But Jungkook doesn’t even budge a muscle, except the one in his mouth, he keeps swallowing a spoonful of ice cream.
“Let him, I lost interest.” Jungkook sighs.
Taehyung scoffs bitterly at his nonchalant reply. Without thinking straight he let his mouth run on it’s own. “What would ___ say to you now, Jungkook?”
Suddenly there’s dead silence in the office. Coach Kim raised his head at his son, eyes wide. Jimin holds his breath but he still glances at Jungkook from his seat, curious to see the younger boy’s reaction at the mention of your name.
Taehyung is still glaring at Jungkook, the tension is thick in the air as Jungkook slams his spoon into the bowl before he roughly puts it on the table.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jungkook’s brows scrunch, he looks so mad, so affected by your name.
“You wanna know something, Kook? ___ once told me she could never come to your match because she didn’t want to see you get beaten up. But look at you now,” Taehyung’s face is unreadable.
Jimin slowly raise his hand to stop Taehyung but the latter man continued, “You got beaten so bad now Jungkook, not physically, but still, do you think she’ll cry seeing you like this,”
“Tae-”
“SHUT UP!” Jungkook launched himself towards Taehyung even before Jimin could grab him, he landed a fistful punch on Taehyung’s cheek. His other hand is grabbing the collar of Taehyung’s shirt.
“____ would be sad, just like that night,” Taehyung scoffed with a broken look on his face. His eyes are watery, feeling the sting on his cheek and his heart.
Taehyung is sad for the two of you. He knows mentioning your name to Jungkook will only rile him up. But Taehyung doesn’t want to lose Jungkook like this.
“Tae, stop.” Jimin pleaded. He is still trying to pull Jungkook off Taehyung with Coach Kim.
“Kook, come on. Let him go.” Coach Kim coaxed him.
“Shut up!” Tears are brimming in Jungkook’s eyes. Of course he remembers that night. He let Taehyung go before he flopped down on the floor. Bringing his knees close to his chest. Covering his face with his hands.
“Japan?”
You raised an eyebrow before you got up from his hold to fetch a bowl of ice cream from the kitchen. He was just mindlessly playing with your hair while the two of you catching up the latest episode of Demon Slayer (his request).
It was an usual weekend night where he stayed with you, cuddling, enjoying each other’s company. As he was getting lost in the smell of your shampoo, sighing happily for having you in his arms, he blurted out about Japan.
“Yea Japan. One of BigHit Mixed Martial Arts Gym is there.” He stares at your delicate figure, wearing his oversized shirt and a short with a bowl of ice cream. Smacking his lips at you, you look so cozy and he is just, in love with you.
It feels like yesterday when he confessed to you and you let him woo you.
“That’s so sudden,” your voice sounds unsure and tiny. Slotting yourself in between his legs, Jungkook immediately wrapped his big arms around you, while covering himself with the blanket.
“I know. It’s not official yet as I haven’t given them any say. I’m not sure if I wanted to go or not. For now,” he mumbles. Another habit of his. He is usually a very outgoing boy but when he is unsure he tends to hide, making himself look smaller by crouching or when he sits he wraps his arms around his bended knees.
Now, having you in between his legs, he settles with hiding behind your neck. He feels a lot calmer feeling your skin close to his chest.
He avoided coming home after a match because he looks terrible but he always found himself nuzzling your chest with his hand under your shirt. Your skin, it’s like a safe warm blanket for him.
“Do you want to go?” You hesitantly asked. Eyes still on the screen but Jungkook cannot be sure where your mind is at.
“I mean, I’ve been aiming for Japan ever since I started taking this seriously. Again, like I said, I’m not sure,” he stressed on the last part. Blinking at you. Why are you not looking at him? Are you upset?
Your hand that isn’t holding the bowl grabbed one of his. Your thumb caressing his skin softly yet your eyes still not looking at him.
“I think it’s best for you to go, right?” You said. Tilting your head and it allowed him to lay his head on your shoulder. He shower you skin with kisses and it makes you let out a breathy laugh.
“Yeah?” His voice sounds tiny as he is still searching for your eyes.
“Yeah Jungkook, chase your dream,” this time your eyes are downcast. Thumb rubbing unknown patterns on his skins. He didn’t say another word. Giving up in making you look at him.
He doesn’t feel right.
Were you upset hearing about Japan? He told you, he, himself is still not sure whether he wanted to go there or not. What he wanted, for now is to be with you. If, let’s say, if he were recruited to Japan, he is thinking of bringing you along.
Truthfully he cannot think of being in a long distance relationship with you. He shudders just thinking about that. He knows long distance relationships are very rare to work out. And he is going to be super busy with matches and practice. Thus which is why he wanted you to come along.
He will try his best to support you, but you're a woman with your own career. He is biting inner cheeks, because he doesn’t know how to break the question to you.
“I feel like I’m a bad influence.” You break the short silence. Jungkook’s mind is still racing with thoughts so he managed to reply to you with a questioned hum.
You tap on the bowl with your fingernails, making clicking sounds with your tongue as well.
“Stop, you always said that yet you still spoon fed me,” he groans. Wiggling his peeking toes from the end of your blanket. Trying to distract his mind for a while.
Spend the night, he thought. And maybe ask you after next week’s match.
“You always ended up eating something sweet. What about your meal plan? Gain weight class plan?” Your toes are cold against his hard calf. Spoon clicking inside the large bowl of ice cream. It’s silly.
Silly, because it was pouring heavily outside, just after the dinner and here you are eating ice cream together. As if it’s not cold enough.
“Kookie,” you called for him realizing he zoned out. That nickname seems to pull him back to you, making him scoff in disbelief.
“Stop calling me that,” he chuckled before pinching your side.
You giggle. Ever since you heard Daehwi called him Kookie hyung, you’ve been calling him the same nickname too.
“Kookie,” you pouted. Jungkook is scrunching his eyes, pretending that your acting cute is doing nothing to him. But oh he can never pretend that he is unaffected by you.
Jungkook playfully clenched his teeth as his legs pulled the blanket away from your legs. You flinch at the sudden feel of cold air.
“Hey!” You screech.
“Serve your right,” he tucked the rest of the blanket securely under his laps, making it impossible for you to have it back.
“I’m cold,” you shudder. That’s all it took for him to give in and pulled your legs across his lap. Running his hands up and down to warm them up before he covers the two of you under the fluffy blanket.
He feels warm and you’re safely in his arms. Yeah, he will properly ask you to come with him to Japan. As soon as possible.
You feel like your breath is taken away after you received the phone call. Your body slumped over the chair. Mind a little fuzzy and fortunately it was recess time, you were in the Teacher's Lounge when your phone vibrates. It was Taehyung. He said JImin got your new number from Daehwi’s mom and Jungkook has no idea about the call.
He asked you simple things people asked, like when they had not seen each other for some time. Polite and precise.
‘How are you?’, ‘I hope I’m not bothering you, is it okay I’m calling you now?’. You know Taehyung, he wouldn’t suddenly call you just because he wanted to know about the weather or what not, whether you have eaten yet or not.
So you went straight at him.
“Is Jungkook okay?” You wanna despise him but you can’t. After all these months of crying and in pain. All of the scripted anger in your head, prepared to be bombarded at Jungkook once he called you, disappears into the thin air.
Instead of replying, he talked about Jungkook’s loss. You knew, of course you’ve been keeping track of him, how can you not? When he is all over the place. The television, social media, the whole nation is talking about him. Your heart aches even more.
Jungkook has always been so hard on himself, especially when he loses a match. You have been thinking how he’s been coping up so far.
And then Taehyung asked you for a favor. That is what puts you in your position right now.
“Can you come to Japan?” Taehyung asked you. He sounded defeated and with the heavy sighs you concluded that Jungkook’s loss is affecting them all.
“For him. I know whatever that had happened was bad. But, he’s not being himself and we don’t know what to do anymore,” Taehyung continued. “He won’t fight, he has been so aloof and won’t respond to us. Please ____. He needs you,”
Shutting your eyes tight as you pinched the bridge of your nose, the tears are welling up in your eyes and you don’t wanna cry anymore. But your heart aches thinking about seeing him again in Japan and when that’s the place that makes everything go down in between you two.
You and Jungkook were in a relationship of one year at that time. Like any normal couples, there’s banter and bickering, fights and also make ups. You and him always make up after a fight.
Jungkook would never rest well knowing the two of you didn’t sit down and talked the frustration out. He is a very level headed guy, though sometimes he seems a little childish but to you that’s what makes him, him. But Jungkook has always been the one who apologizes first. Your soft Jungkook.
But that wasn’t your Jungkook that night.
The night he told you about Japan again, only this time he uttered out his desire of having you there with him. You didn’t know what triggered you at that time but for some reason you chickened out.
The sudden request from Jungkook throws you into the abyss of thought. You’re thinking about your teaching, leaving your parents, friends, building a life in Japan?
These thoughts terrify you. Jungkook said he’d be in Japan for a few years. This is why he needed you there as well. You think that’s selfish. Jungkook will spend his time practicing, and fighting. What about you? You don’t even know Japanese.
So you said no, a hesitated no, because amidst the scary thoughts, of course you wanted to be by his side. Maybe you’re feeling a little tired that day, so you just pushed him away. Or maybe it was the way he asked you. Like he demanded you to be by his side. You told him no, you cannot do that. He got frustrated. And it was the first time he’s frustrated with you.
“You never support my dream,” were the words he spat at you. It feels like venom flowing in your ears to your heart. How could he say that?
What he didn’t know was you went to his match for the first time. He was so blacked out. Didn’t notice a thing while his chest heaving rapidly like a fish being left out on the dry land. You were a crying mess by his side. Trying to call out for him but he was laying there wheezing out his breath like he’s dying. His face was covered in bruises, busted lips and sweats drenching him from head to toe. Till this day, you flinched every time you heard a bell sound. It reminds you of the time they rang the bell in the arena because Jungkook was so fucked. The match had to be stopped. Taehyung pulled you to the side though you refused, still grasping on Jungkook. You were there and you thought he was going to die!
Jungkook was admitted to the hospital. Broken ribs, punctured lungs, fractures on his right elbow, they had to put metal rods in his ankles. His pretty long fingers - the fingers that glided through your thighs, warming you up at night - they’re broken and the some ligaments are torn.
Coach Kim comforted you at the hospital bench, telling you Jungkook will undergo a surgery to reattach the ligaments.
Jungkook hasn’t woken up for two days.
You have been sitting by his side, only switching places with Taehyung and Jimin as the two coaxed you to take a shower and eat something. You remember crying in front of Taehyung as he makes you instant ramen. Taehyung was so worried about you.
Telling you the harsh truth that these kinds of injuries are common. What were you supposed to feel at that time? You were worried sick for Jungkook and you’re gonna push through that everyday and wish he comes home in one piece after a match? This is hard for you.
So you told Taehyung you’d never do this again.
Yet how dare Jungkook said you never want to watch him fight, never support his dream.
After he said those words, he rushed out of the house in anger. He slammed the door and you refused to call him back. He went out and you let him.
It was past three in the morning and you can’t sleep. Because you’re waiting. Waiting for that silly guilty smile apologizing at your door. Waiting for the buffy boy crawling to your chest as he mumbled out how sorry he was and how much he loves you. You were practicing your version of apologize because you realized you were harsh on him too.
You realized you were not being a supportive girlfriend. Jungkook might feel nervous before he asked you and you just pushed him away. Of course he was frustrated. You waited and the bed was cold that night.
You were holding your phone, expecting him to call you or anything but when it was vibrating, it was Taehyung.
He told you that he’s going to bail Jungkook out from the police station. All you can heard was 'Jungkook, got into a fight, he beat the fuck out of a man, someone called the police because they were loud, he got locked up' and he called Taehyung for help.
Your stomach dropped. You rushed to get your hoodie and changed your shorts into some decent pants, your hair was a mess and you rush yourself to the police station.
Jungkook was already outside of the police station the moment you arrived. His head was hanging low and Taehyung just sat on the stairs. Looking lethargic because who the heck looks good at this goddamn hour?
You didn’t say a word as you run to the them, you shoved Jungkook on his shoulder. Pushing him hard because you were so mad at him. Why did he go around and beat people now?
“What the fuck Jungkook?!” You seethed at him. Still pushing him. Jungkook kept his mouth shut tight. He didn’t even budge, not even when you banged your fist on his chest. You know Jungkook is a strong boy and your little fists can do nothing to him, but you wanted to hurt him so bad.
Make him feel what you’re feeling at that time. You heard him sniffed but you didn’t stop pushing him. You didn’t even realize your face was so flushed and wet with tears.
“How fucking worried I am!” You shouted at him with a sobbed and you started panting. Jungkook can sense that you’re about to have a panic attack. Taehyung got up to settle the two of you but he didn’t think it was right for him to intervene.
“Babe,” Jungkook grasped your wrists, wanting to calm you down.
“No!” You pulled your hands from him harshly, pointing a finger at him.
You take a good look at his face before you breathed out. “Go.”
The single word was like a hard punch in his gut. “What do you mean?” he knew but he still asked, there’s no way you’re doing this to him.
“You wanna go to Japan, right? Then, just go,” you wiped your face with the sleeves of your hoodie. Your eyes downcast because you cannot look at him. Not when his face was so broken, the sounds of his pleads and sorry’s.
At that time you think it was the only way.
Taehyung is restless. Jungkook’s second fight with McGregor is in the next hour and he is still at the airport. In the end Jungkook agreed for the second match. Everyone is worried for his state but Jungkook said he just wants to get this over with.
Doesn’t matter if he lost again. He said he wanted a break for a while after this one. That was his only request. Right now Taehyung hopes Jimin can somehow distract Jungkook from noticing that he is gone.
Your flight was delayed for half an hour and Taehyung is agitating in his seat. The moment he saw you walked out the arrival gate, he rushed to help you but stopped himself after seeing you only carrying a backpack.
He didn’t comment on that as he make small talks with you, walking to the car. He briefed you about the match, preparing you for what you were about to see. Taehyung knows you were still traumatized and he selfishly feels happy for Jungkook. Though you’re scared and your legs are bouncing, you are willing to come today.
You cast your eyes to the outside views, the car drove past a hectic pedestrian street. You’ve never been to Japan. You were a little fascinated and for a moment you’re thinking of Jungkook enjoying the city.
You missed Jungkook, so much, but seeing him for the first time since the breakup and seeing him at the fighting pit is so nerve wrecking. You’re not sure how you’re going to react.
“The arena is pretty big. There will be a lot of people. But stay close to me, okay?” Taehyung’s voice breaks your thought.
“Okay,” you anxiously rub your thumbs together.
“It is scary, but he will be fine,” Taehyung softly said.
“I know,”
Taehyung let out a curse as the two of you entered the arena. Your eyes darted to the center of the arena, the octagon. You can see the ring girl is holding up number 4 as she walks like a sly fox around the stage.
You can see why Taehyung cursed because you missed almost half of the fight. The crowds are still pumped up with loud cheers and booed. Some of them stood up and started chanting names. You can catch Jungkook and other names as well.
It’s scary and you can feel your heart beating twice harder than normal the moment you drove out of the airport. You can’t see the octagon clearly as Taehyung pushed through the crowd, holding your hand. He brings you close to the team.
Sitting at the front seat.
Your breath stopped when you heard a grunt and you snapped your head up to see Jungkook swing his left arm at the opponent. Hard. You flinched backward, trying to get away. Your mind is telling you to turn around but your eyes still bore on Jeon Jungkook.
He is already injured with blood stains on his brows. You frown at the view. Suddenly feel your heart clenched. Taehyung left you at the seat as he ran to his dad. You can hear him from where you stand.
You cannot sit down because all the adrenaline rush you’re feeling in your body is making your heart beats wild. This is just like the first time you went to his match.
The loud noise, the lights, the screaming from the commentator. But this time, weirdly enough, you feel relieved. Jungkook is up there, and you’re looking at him in his glory. Despite what Taehyung told you, he looks like he is really trying to win.
And you were glad. This is his dream. He gotta win. Of course he will win.
Another uppercut jab from Jungkook on his opponent’s face.
“How’s the first half?” Taehyung asked his dad and Jimin.
“Hard! Kook beat that guy real hard. Kook is really fighting this time.” Jimin smiles at Taehyung, he lets out a shaky laugh.
“He is fighting, Tae! Does he know ____ will be here? Where is she?” Jimin looks for you in the crowd before Taehyung pointed at you. He is calling you to come even closer. And now you’re literally a few steps away from the octagon.
Jimin noticed how your eyes are wide, watching Jungkook head lock the other man on the mat and the way you’re clasping your hands like you’re praying for Jungkook. The referee pounded his fist on the mat, and the bell indicates that the five minutes of the fourth round is over.
Jungkook spits out his mouth guard as he walks to the corner of the octagon, where everyone is ready to assist him. Coach Kim jumps up to give him a bottle of water for him to gurgle out the blood in his mouth, instantly checking up the injury on his face. Coach Kim frantically explained the next move to Jungkook, guiding him for the last round but Jungkook shakes his head. Mumbling that he is tired. Jimin softly grabs his head so he can sit straight, otherwise Jungkook might collapse. Taehyung wipes the sweat on his chest, avoiding the red spot on his ribs.
You watched the whole scene with a dry mouth and you were blinking away your tears. Like a lost child you stood still by the barriers not knowing what is your purpose to be here.
You heard Jimin and Taehyung calling out Jungkook, lightly tapping his cheeks and you gasp as you can see Jungkook fluttering his eyes rapidly.
Following your instinct you climbed up the octagon standing shakily behind him. With only the tall steel cage separating you and him, you managed to fit a few of your fingers through it. Not even a whole hand but at that point, that is enough to touch him. Your cold fingers against his hot and sweaty temple. It’s crazy how a simple touch can make you so happy.
“Jungkook? Jungkookie? Kookie,” a sob wrecking through your body when you call his name as clearly as you can. You need him to hear you.
Jungkook snaps his head, turning around to look at the source of the voice. It’s you and he swears that everything inside the arena just turned into a blurred backdrop. His focus is on you alone.
“____,” he choked out your name, letting your fingers softly touch his cheeks. His long locks dangle on his forehead, wet with sweat and yet he can see you as clear as the first time you walked into him choking on fried eggs.
“You’re here. You’re really here,” he breathed. Closing his eyes as he leans on your cooling touch.
“I’m here. I’ll wait here, but you gotta promise me. Don’t let that guy beat you up. You got me?” You grew frustrated with the cage. Jungkook notices that and his face seems to show the same feeling as yours. He brings himself closer to you and lets his forehead touch yours.
“I promise, stay okay? I need you. I will end this fight, and we talked okay. I need you,” Jungkook chanted and without knowing, your face is flushed with tears. Jungkook hushed you softly as the ring announcer’s voice booming loud, calling the fighters for the championship round.
Coach Kim, Taehyung and Jimin look at Jungkook. They could see the glint in his eyes and they knew Jungkook would beat the shit out of his opponent.
Each round is five minutes long, give or take. It will end sooner if one of the fighters is completely knocked out, or when they tapped out. A sign of giving in. To some, five minutes is so short, it’s like a length of a song or two. Five minutes is relatively short.
But in UFC or MMA matches, five minutes can feel like an eternity. Jungkook once told you that in that five minutes, imagine yourself running so fast while dragging tons of weight. Plus, you have to be very agile and precise with your attacks so that you won’t be wasting energy on just yielding.
To other eyes, the crowd, the commentators, five minutes pass by as quickly as a lightning. Jabs, round kicks, or overhand are very swift moves. A blink and you might have missed it. But to the eyes of the team, the coaches, and the fighter. It’s a slow-motion moment.
They can calculate the next move, figure out the weak points and you can see that too. As an outsider of the MMA world, you can see Jungkook moves in slow-mo as his legs do a sharp snapping motion.
It’s a powerful strike and the sound, it’s like the other guy is getting hit with a baseball bat. Unlike the first time you watched him fight, this time you can see Jungkook in his beautiful glory. And that makes you wipe your eyes furiously. How can you leave him like that?
The other guy is already weakened but Jungkook didn’t falter. This time he trips the opponent by pushing the upper body while taking one of his legs, making him lose his balance and fall immediately with a loud thud.
“Watch carefully, ____. This is Jungkook’s signature move!” Jimin shouted excitedly to you because the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers as Jungkook executed his moves and the commentators shouted at each other. Telling everyone what Jungkook had done.
Jimin has been eyeing you since the first second Jungkook got up. He can see the awe in your teary wide eyes. Jimin shakes his head, chuckling at you who only turned your body at him but your face is zeroed on Jungkook. He’s not sure you heard him or not but he thinks you did. So he keeps explaining Jungkook’s next move to you.
“This is what we called Jungkook’s Overhead Slams. See how Kook is closing the gap on that guy with his arms hooked tightly under his knees and look! Look! Kook lifted him up!” You watched with your breath stuck in your throat. Jungkook was so fast and it happens so quick! Jimin is already jumping with his fist in the air.
Shouting “Slam! Slam! Slam!” with Taehyung and Coach Kim. Everyone in his team is already cheering.
“This is when he will slam his opponent! McGregor won’t stand a chance! And he slams!” Jimin screamed with you as the loud fall on the mat echoed and in a milliseconds the crowd turned quiet and suddenly the arena was shaking with how loud everyone was screaming.
The referee runs to stop Jungkook from punching the guy who was laid motionless on the mat. The referee announced that it is a total knockout because the guy is completely incapable of standing up.
Jungkook won!
He fell on his knees, gasping for air but he turned his head to look for a certain someone in the crowd. The frantic coach and his team members are calling for him and yet all he can see is your small figure in the sea of people. Your glowing features amongst the flashlight. He got up and jumped over the tall cage to you. Landed on his sore feet but it’s you that’s waiting down there. He doesn’t care about the feet.
You wanna say something. Something like congratulations or good job or whatever but can seem to find your voice. Bet you looked like a clown with a gaping mouth and blurry eyes because of the tears. He beats you first by engulfing you in a hug. Landing his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. Jungkook was over the moon when you hugged him back.
“You won,” it comes out like a whisper to him.
Jungkook can’t even reply because he feels so overwhelmed. To him it was the first time you saw him fight and won (and wide awake unlike that time when he blacked out). With a frowning lips he lets himself cry. Be damned to all the journalists taking photos of him crying.
The two of you become the centre of attention as the cameras are showing you on the big screen and the photographers swarm up making a circle, taking photos. All you can feel, see and hear is Jeon Jungkook.
“Oh no,” you pouted at his frowning look, wiping his tears away. He will always be your baby. “I’m sorry,”
He shakes his head, cupping your cheeks and he kisses you. All of those days away from him makes the kiss more emotional, it was soft like and gentle. You are aware of his split lips but Jungkook dives in and he didn’t even flinch. Soon the kiss turns needy as he licks your lower lips and the ring announcer laughs. His voice abruptly pulls you apart. You were a blushing mess but Jungkook just groaned annoyingly.
“The winner, come claim your winning belt first. Let me announce you and then go back to your girl,” the ring announcer teased.
“Stay, stay. Okay.” He said and you knew it wasn’t just staying in the arena after he got his belt. It sounds like he wanted you to stay for a long time. This time you’re not freaking out, you nod.
Giving him a reassuring smile. Ushering him back to the octagon and you can see he bounces with happiness as the referee raises up his hand and the ring announcer screams his name. The two of you will work it out, everything will get better again but for this moment, you’ll stay.
“I need you,” Jungkook mouthed at you.
“I’ll stay,” you blew him an air kiss.
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lyney the type of guy to 'recharge' his magic by kissing you
lyney the type of guy who'd send one of his hat pigeons to deliver you a love letter (it turned into confetti after being read)
lyney the type of guy to let you carry him on your back because he's 'tired' (blud wants to be as close to you as possible)
lyney the type of guy who'd apologize to you by making a bouquet of flowers appear out of nowhere
lyney also the type of guy who'd value what you both have a lot, he'll get real serious if he senses any type of resentment after an argument
lyney the type of guy to teach you a magic trick or two, like how to steal someone's heart maybe?
lyney the type of guy who'd be so good at pick up lines that it's almost frustrating how he can make you feel like jelly in a split second
lyney the type of guy who'd never, ever let you come to his house in hopes of avoiding a certain harbinger (blud doesnt want you to get put in a meat grinder)
lyney the type of guy to massage your shoulders frequently because seeing you all satisfied makes him feel like he can take care of you
lyney the type of guy who'd jokingly bite you one time because you just look too cute (it will become more than one time)
lyney the type of guy who'd beg you to become his assistant in one of his magic tricks involving a box and a saw because lynette refused
lyney the type of guy who'd trace shapes on your hands whenever you feel upset and just want to sit in silence
lyney the type of guy who'd get real sad if he doesn't find you in the audience when he's having a magic show, might fumble over his words and accidentally make a snake appear rather than a cat
lyney the type of guy who'd tell you to throw tomatoes at him like he's a medieval criminal if he ever fails a magic trick
lyney the type of guy who uses the thought of you as a way to cope with his past
lyney the type of guy who'd show off his magic to you whenever you compliment someone else just for you to go wowowoww lyney!!
lyney the type of guy who conveniently always chooses you as guest of the magic show
lyney the type of guy to get you a matching hat just like his one, just a different colour
lyney the type of guy to have a diary<33 every page involves your name at least 1-2 times
lyney the type of guy to slide notes with angry faces drawn on them under your door whenever you forget to give him his goodmorning/afternoon/night/literally-every-part-of-the-day kiss
lyney is that guy
A/N: my sincerest apologies @strawberrylabs if you look closely you can see the blood, sweat and tears i shedded writing this😓🙏 i secretly wanted to switch it to the most gut wrenching angst mid way but im soooo nice
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin#genshin lyney x reader#lyney x reader#genshin impact lyney#genshin lyney#lyney#genshin impact headcanons#genshin imagines#genshin impact fluff#genshin fluff
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"SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE" -- GOJO. S
c.w: angst, hurt/no comfort, heavy manga spoilers (jjk 236), grief.
note: check on your gojo stan friends. they're not doing okay.
You've never seen Satoru look so beautiful. You knew the man was attractive, but he was glowing--almost like an angel. He steps closer to you and you reach your hands towards him.
“I’m tired,” Satoru breathes out and deflates, his head rests on your shoulder and your heart sinks when his arms don’t move from either side. He simply nuzzles his nose in your neck and whispers again, this time a bit more broken.
“I’m… so tired.”
“Satoru-“
“Hold me.” He begs and you feel your neck getting wet with hot tears, Gojo’s weak hands trembling as he made a weak attempt to hold your hips. “Please.”
Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you pull him close to you. You’re puzzled by his attitude, but your eyes fill up with tears and you find yourself holding back a sob as a hand caresses his back over and over again. You feel his breath relax under your touch and his hands let go of your hips and he lazily wraps his arms around your middle.
"It felt good, being the strongest." He says in a small voice. "I felt loved."
“You’ll be okay,” you start, voice betraying you and showing the sadness, doubt and fear from seeing him like this. “Right?”
And Satoru chuckles against your skin but soon it turns into a cough, one that has him pulling away from you and holding onto his mouth. You stare at him in shock, the blood covering his mouth putting you in a state of panic.
“Are you- we should go to the hospital! Shoko, let me call Shoko-!” You feel the man grab onto your shoulders and you only pause for a moment to look at him.
“You need to let me go.”
“Huh?” You tilt your head to the side, and a nervous laugh bubbles up in the back of your throat. “Sato- Satoru, what do you mean let you go? You’re here, you’re still…” Your voice trails off as Gojo takes a few steps back from you and you gasp when you are met with a scene straight out of a horror movie as his upper body falls to the ground and a pool of blood forms below your feet.
“Satoru! Satoru—come back!”
You wake up in cold sweat, the gasp that leaves your lips is loud enough to make the guy sitting on the chair next to your bed jolt up and hand you water almost immediately.
“Here, have this—you’ll be okay…I’m here, nasty dream, huh?” Your eyes look up from the hands serving you the cup of water and your stomach caves in when you see the familiar face of the white haired male in your dreams.
“Satoru—I thought you were-“
“Dead?” He chuckles and helps you sit up. “Yeaaah, that’s not me. Is it?” His hand pats your head and ruffle your hair affectionately.
“I would never leave. I made a promise, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” your eyes fill up with tears. “You’d never break it, right?” but instead of being met with an answer, the man is quiet and your heart sinks at the realization that this wasn’t real. Again.
“Goodbye Satoru,” you whisper to the fading image of the man on the chair and wait for yourself to slowly gain consciousness again. When you do and find Shoko waiting for you on the opposite bed, you silently turn to your side and hold onto your wet pillow.
“He was in my dreams again.” You say very quietly and hear Shoko play with her lighter.
“Yeah, I know.”
2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
#moon's works#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo angst#jjk angst#gojo satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jjk gojo satoru#angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst
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PLAY
pairing : matt sturniolo x f!reader
warnings : sexual content - the usual 😊 fuck off if u ain’t fuckin!!! (subish matt?)
an: hi sexies💖 take this as my apology for taking so long of a break. i’m back and y’all bout to be real sick of me and my dumb ass ALL OVER AGAIN!🤗🤗🤗 i love you guys! send me some new reqs!! also PLEASE recognize i fist fought my fuckin demons and wrote some matt instead of babygirlchris because all y’all fuckin matt girls.. IM PUTTIN YALL FIRST!😔
his room is dim, though bright enough to illuminate him perfectly - hair wild and messy beneath his headset, hips sunk low in his chair, fingers fidgeting wildly with his controller.
it’s been two hours since he’d sat down and begun to play - your patience dwindling rapidly. from your spot on his bed, he looked sinful : so focused, so tantalizing..
his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. the veins that danced throughout his arms and hands. his lips and their taunting tone of pink. the small pepper of color across his cheeks-
temptation wins and you’re padding over to him without much thought. his eyes don’t leave the screen, though, even with your new sudden placement - standing alongside his chair, clad in his shirt and a thong.
“you okay?” he questions without looking at you, his voice dripping with rasp and honey. you don’t respond - only lowering onto your knees in front of him, in between his legs. he looks down at that- eyes widening, blood traveling to rest in his cheeks.
“i- what are y-?” he stammers, hands fidgeting against the controller aimlessly with sudden nerve. you look up, meeting his gaze, taking note of the intense pink of his cheeks.
“nothing. keep playing,” you reply blandly, peering up from your spot below him. he swallows, evidently flustered. reluctantly, he nods- hesitantly tearing his eyes away from you to look back at the screen.
watching in amusement as his hands shake slightly with his controller, you bring a slow hand up and place it on his thigh : dragging your palm up the surface of his sweatpants slowly.
his eyes shoot down to you once again, focused on your hand inching farther up his thigh. he attempts to put his controller down; intending to direct his full attention to you, but- he’s interrupted by your voice below him :
“keep playing or i’ll stop.” you spit, voice unrelenting. he shudders, scanning your features for a moment, inhaling shakily before nodding.
he forces his eyes to dart to the screen in front of him, the light emanating a soft blue light onto his features. he swallows, adams apple bopping beneath the skin in his throat.
you continue the slow hike of your hand, suddenly reaching to palm him over his sweats. you watch as his face contorts in pleasure - eyes fluttering closed, eyebrows gently crinkling. he does his best to recover quickly, thumbing at a few buttons on his controller.
sliding your hand up some more, you play your fingertips at the waistband of his boxers, dipping a finger beneath the fabric and tracing a single, slow line against his skin. his breathing has become more erratic, his fingers fumbling against the controller.
“please- don’t tease- ” he whispers, eyes trained onto your hand at his waistband. his voice is small and raspy, laced with need.
“doesn’t look like you’re playing, baby..” you reply, retracting your hand from its spot, “i’m gonna have to stop.” you pout, voice teasing and low. you watch amused as he begins to frantically shake his head “no” -
“no-no, i’ll play, i-i’m playing, swear, i’m playing. keep going, please?” he chokes, small cracks in his tone. after a few seconds of no touch or reaction from you, he speaks again -
“please, i’ll b-be so good, so good for you. promise-“
he’s cut off by your hand returning to its previous spot, only now reaching further underneath the fabric, swiping your thumb against his tip and collecting his precum. a shaky exhale escapes his lips. you take note of his eyes staying attached to the screen - he’s listening.
“gonna stay quiet?” you question, watching as he nods his head in desperation. stroking him slowly, you tug off his boxers and sweats in a swift motion.
he looks down at you, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed, his breathing sporadic and wild. your eyes flicker to the screen, cocking your head towards it, signaling for him to focus.
“sorry, sorr-“ he whines, a whimper catching in his throat. he directs his attention to the screen again, pleasure etched into his features. you watch his hands struggle with the controller, pressing your tongue flat against him and licking a long stripe up his length.
he swallows, closing his eyes. you watch him fight to keep his composure, trying his hardest to concentrate on the screen, to listen to you- struggling wildly.
his eyes open again and on the screen, you slip his tip into your mouth - pushing yourself farther to take him the whole way down your throat, and back up. quiet whines whines escape his lips, fighting to stay quiet. you repeat the slow action a few times, pulling off with a pop.
“fuck-“ he stutters, mouth falling agape and eyes closing when you take him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks.
his fingertips are suddenly in your hair, grabbing a fistful - in need of something to grab on to. pulling off, you’re quick to remind him -
“play,” you whisper, a trail of saliva connected from his tip to your lips. he throws his head back in frustration, a sinful whine escaping his throat.
“can’t,” he whispers, voice cracking. he retracts his hand from your hair and rests it aimlessly on the controller - only to not entirely disobey your wishes. his game has already been lost, though - his eyes tightly shut and head rested on the back of his chair.
“thought you were going to be good?” you question, but only to hear him plead his case - the game has been pushed from your mind. you want his hands in your hair, his begs and cries to release into your mouth.
“look at me,” you coo, tongue swirling around his tip, stroking him quickly with your hand. he’s slick with your saliva. his eyes dart down to you, quickly tossing the controller onto the desk in front of him.
his eyes are dark, his pupils blown out - lips a dark, wet pink. blood dances underneath his cheeks, his breathing heavy and erratic. he looks perfect- deliciously desperate and absolutely ruined.
“want it all over my face,” you tell him, sliding your tongue over his slit. a sinful moan slips from his throat, his eyes falling shut.
“i’m- im so close, so cl-“ he fights to speak, cut off by you taking him entirely into your mouth again, bopping your head at quickly.
his fingertips tangle into your hair once again, a large handful beneath his palm - he tightens his grip, a few more whimpers and cries escaping his lips before letting go:
“i’m cumming, i’m-“
the words spill from his mouth so sweet, tone quiet and cracking, entirely at your mercy. you pull off of him quickly, stroking him with your hand as his release shoots out in hot, white spurts : covering your cheeks, lips, and chin.
you watch as he catches his breath, chest heaving and mouth agape. after a few moments, he gains a bit of composure, and looks down at you.
you smile at him, wiping your face clean with your fingers and popping them into your mouth. he watches with his lip between his teeth, cheeks impossibly redder.
you stand up, giving him a few small, soft kisses on the lips.
“come to bed?”
#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo head canons#matthew sturniolo x you#matt sturniolos#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x fem reader#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris x you#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#stursweet#sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x fem reader
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Minor spoilers for Book 6
This is where Leona won me over.
Leona's a guy that knows where he stands in this world. He knows how strong he is and more importantly WHO he is. There's no need for him to go on a journey of self-discovery, because he knows himself. He's arrogant, lazy, and by all rights an utter bastard. But he can back up this attitude, which I'm suspecting is another facet of why he's so respected.
I'm half wondering if this entire section in Tartarus was Leona seeing himself in Jamil. Jamil never took responsibility for himself, in that he hasn't accepted what he's done and been through and moved forward. Rather he's wallowing in self-righteousness, thinking he's better when in fact he hasn't tried. Unlike Jamil, Leona has put in the work. He has tried, and he has strived, only to fall second to his elder brother.
Jamil hasn't yet. Going off the Japanese version I'd hazard a guess to say perhaps it scares him. Because if he does try, if he puts in the blood, sweat, and tears, then being better than Kalim would have serious consequences. I gather Leona would be more sympathetic to that, in his asshole lion way.
So, Leona's telling Jamil here, "I'm not babying your ass. If you know your worth, then show it." Basically a big brother with super tough love. (Which I get is far from how to interpret Leona here, but it's the closest I got atm.)
Leona's tried and failed, but finds comfort in that he tried at all. Jamil hasn't even started, but has counted himself a winner with nothing to show for it.
It's almost midnight so my thoughts aren't together yet. But please, someone tell me they see my point-
#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#twst#leona kingscholar#jamil viper#savanaclaw#disney twisted wonderland
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I love you, I'm sorry
part 1 , part 2
Synopsis: Diagnosed with a terminal illness, your husband decides to live his remaining days crossing off items from a bucket list with you.
pairings: Jungkook x black reader
warnings: Mentions of grief and acceptance, domestic fluff, (fingering f receiving), oral ( m receiving), implied shower sex, rough sex, medical terminology, and medication names. (black implied oc)
Word count: 10.5k
Author’s note: Gosh, put my blood, sweat, and tears. I hope you guys like it!! I adore this couple so much and I’m sooo attached to the 'I'm sorry, I love you' verse. that I’m making an entire series despite college being right around the corner (sighs) I also didn't wanna cram their whole emotional roller coaster in one work :’)
He placed his decaying heart so tenderly between your palms.
The day the warm artery caressed the soft flesh of your palms, the day his lips sealed your own in tender vows under the Guryong Falls. Your lungs filled with crisp spring air, wildflowers stirring beneath the warm rays of gold. You relished the cool breeze caressing your skin, kissing at the exposed seams of your back. Your gaze lifted from the cascading shards of blue crashing over the bottomless stream, to your handsome fiance.
“You good Koo?” Your hand gently pressed to his cheek, a thumb stroking the flawless skin.
He blinked twice before that unmistakable bunny smile stretched wide across his face. His bright eyes sparkled with billions of burning galaxies; a mixture of mischief and nervousness, a look you had hopelessly fallen in love with years before.
“Yeah.”
Your brows rose with unmistakable suspicion, a small smile creeping along your lips. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me Jeon,” You hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his nose.
“C’mon tell me–”
Silence. All was silent when he fell to his knee, scuffling into his pocket and cradling a cedar box between his palms.
“You talk too much,” he interrupted, his grin never faltering. “I’ve loved you since our high school days, and I wanna keep loving you, even when you’re old and grumpy, and probably still clumsy, and still messing up your sentences in Korean.”
You stared at him with parted lips, trembling hands slowly clasped over your mouth, sputtering a sound you could only believe was a laugh.
“Please be my wife? And please don’t say no my knee kinda hurt.” he softly chuckles, holding up the small box with a ring that gleamed like the sunlit waters behind you.
You could hardly swallow, so much as exhale a yes. Frantically nodding your head, you dropped to your knees, forcing the muffled sobs down your throat.
“Yes, god yes, Jungkook,”
“Wait—no backing out—”
Your lips captured every word he tried to say, silencing him with soft kisses against the delicate pink of his mouth until both of you were laughing like giddy children. “Aish–” he managed to chuckle before your lips found his again, cutting him off mid-breath. His fingers moved with a quiet certainty, slipping the ring onto your finger. The sunlight danced against your radiant brown skin, at that moment he truly felt blessed by an actual goddess. His bunny smile stretched wider than ever, his arms pulling you into an all-encompassing embrace. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into the crisp fabric of his shirt, but neither of you cared.
“Hey, don’t crying…” His voice wavered, barely holding steady as his arms tightened protectively around your waist.
“I love you so, so, much…” you murmured, your fingers tangling in the silky strands of his dark hair, holding on as if letting go might make him vanish.
“I love you most beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing softly against the crook of your neck. His eyes fell shut, breathing in your fragrance, finding solace in the familiar, comforting scent of your skin.
At that moment, he was showered in golden rain just as his mother dreamt. The world at that moment, was theirs alone.
Months turned to years, winter unfolded to spring, and the hour hand turned every day for 3 years blissful years.
“Hey,” He softly hummed, nuzzling his face into your coils. You felt his chest vibrate beneath your forehead, “You up?” He whispers against your hair, his fingers tracing small shapes along your bare back.
“Yeah,” You mumble, curling deeper into his frame, seeking more of the warmth he unyieldingly provided. A soft brush of his fingers against your outer thigh, a slow kiss against the hollow of your collarbone, down to the plump curve of your breasts; and you’re arching into him, craving more of his touch, more of his lips, more of him.
And of course, he offered with no hesitation.
The soft fleece is cast aside, forgotten, as his hand blindly finds its way to the tender heat between your thighs. His nimble fingers glide through your soppy folds, gathering the warmth of your slick between his fingers before finding your perked clit, drawing tight, slow, circles. His gaze flickers upward, catching the way your lips part in quiet ecstasy, your eyes struggle to stay open, fingers lost between his silky dark strands. His doe-like gaze lowered, focus unwavering. With a soft graze of his teeth over the metal rings on his lip, his fingers tracing the gushy warmth of your slit, humming.
“Baby–”
His lips are quick to silence you, drinking in your soft whimpers, savoring the intoxicating sweetness of your mouth. Jungkook’s fingers prod deeper inside your walls, a low groan escapes him when your slick heat greedily sucks them in. He curls his wrist stretching you out slowly, each movement drawing a higher-pitched mewl from your lips, threatening to snap the coil in your stomach.
“M’close—”
"I know," he murmurs, the words vibrating softly against your lips as his other hand trails up your stomach, cupping your breast with a firm, knowing touch. His palm kneads the tender flesh, moving at an excruciatingly slow pace, pale digits tweaking at your nipple, soothing the sting with his warm lips around the swollen brown peak, before alternating to the other.
His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, each calculated stroke of his fingers drawing lewd, wet sounds that echo between you, nearly obscene. His thumb presses frantically against your messy clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Your ragged breaths hitch, teeth catching the swollen flesh as waves of pleasure roll over you.
His fingers work like magic, targetting your spongey depth. A small, knowing smile fills his lips when your trembling hand reaches out, clutching his colorful arm.
“Jungkook—” You whine urgently.
“Almost there, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, his hand rocking steadily.
A familiar tremor begins to rake through your legs, and just as your guard drops, his fingers quicken their rhythm. Each flick of his wrist pulls sweet, high-pitched mewls from your parted lips. His mouth finds yours again, capturing your soft cries with plush, insistent kisses as his slender fingers rock you through the waves of your pleasure.
With a deliberate pull, his fingers withdraw with a wet squelch, his eyes fall shut, pulling a low hum from him as he sucks off your slick. Your body tightens at the sight—his soft, gaze meets yours, framed by his disheveled, fluffy hair that still bears traces of sleep and your touch.
“Good morning,” He grins, resting his elbows on either side of you, his nose pumping slightly against your own. “Morning,” A lazy smile curves at your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. You softly hum when you feel his thick erection pressing against your thigh. “Need me to help down there,” You tease.
“You don’t have to—” “I’m your wife, and I want to.” You insist, poking a finger against his ribs. “Roll over, lemme help…”
“Baby–”
“Jungkook,” You press, hovering over him. Your knee lightly brushes over the hardened length, electing a soft hiss.
“Kiss me,” He whispers, eyes round. His hand presses to your cheek and your lips are melded to his own, tongue darting over the silver hoops, he groans, arms pulling you closer, pressing your body against his, melting at the warmth of your breasts pressed to his firm chest. Your kisses wander downward, along the curve of his neck, tasting the smoothness of his skin, the solid lines of his abdomen. Your palms running along the sharp angles of his hips. He exhales a shaky breath, his fingers threading through your hair, tugging you closer.
“So pretty,” You whisper, soft breaths falling into pants, as your face nears his aching cock.
“God, baby please–” He swallows, folding an arm beneath his head, fingers remaining still in your coils, watching your every move.
Your fingers carefully wrap around him, feeling the subtle twitch of the warm, sensitive flesh, before pressing a reverent kiss to his tip, peering up at him through your lashes. There’s a soft flush of pink dusting over his cheeks and the tops of his ears. You can taste the salty pre-coating your lips before slowly taking him into your mouth, relaxing your throat, easing his grith.
“Just like that—” His voice cracks, strained by the tightness that bunches in his throat. His eyes roll back, hips moving slowly as a low groan spills past his lips.
Your mouth slips down, wrapping around his flushed tip with a soft, sweet suction, your tongue tracing circles over his sensitive slit. Jungkook's fingers tighten in your hair, a series of low grunts and gasps escaping him as you take him deeper, humming softly around his length.
“Ja–Jagi,” he groans, tossing his head back between ragged breaths. “Don’t stop—fuck, keep going—” His hips jump involuntarily, driving himself deeper in your warm mouth. You can taste the saltiness of his arousal gathering on your tongue. Your hand grips his tense thigh, and your lips part slightly, fingers working along his shaft. Jungkook’s body tenses before warmth spills into your mouth, filling you with his release. You slowly pull back, letting your lips trace back to his tip, swallowing thickly as you pump his softening length with gentle strokes.
“Shit, you’re so perfect.” He groans, dark strands slick to his forehead, his chest heaving at the sight of your slicked mouth and chin. “C’mere we have all day…gonna fuck you so good…”
You softly chuckle, pressing a quick kiss to his flushed, leaking tip before running the back of your hand over your face. Slowly crawling over his body, and resting your head against him. “I’m surprised you still have energy,” You whisper, lifting your head up.
“You bring it out of me I guess,” That adorable smile settles on his features once again, and your heart melts all over again.
“I gotta keep my man fed first,”
“Then let me go down on you then–”
“Jeon Jungkook.” You sten, playfully glaring up at him. You both needed some breakfast, and you knew once your poor cunt was fucked into oblivion there was no way you’d be able to use your legs to the fullest, which much to Jungkook’s satisfaction, would result in a whole day of him whipping up a bunch of recipes and pampering you rotten.
“I wanna spoil you too,” You mumble, tracing small shapes over his chest. “You’re always doing all the work, it makes me feel like I’m not giving enough.”
“Hey,” His inked knuckles gently lift your chin, round eyes focused into your own. “I spoil you because it makes me feel happy, I don’t expect anything in return. You eating what I cook, or giving me back rubs after the gym is more than enough. I won’t list everything you do for me because we’ll rot here all day.” He softly chuckles, resting his head over your frizzy strands.
You shake your head, opening your mouth to speak up only to yelp when his hand audaciously swats your ass.
“Don’t argue or we’ll just go back to you being all ‘Ooooh Kooo-oppa mmmm fastttterrrr’ on me again.”
You scoff, “I never call you oppa, be so forrea—.”
“Yes, you have, anyways let’s take a quick shower and make some fluffy pancakes, then watch Bratz.”
“Why Bratz?”
“Because Bratz are iconic, hello?” He rolls his eyes, lightly flicking your forehead.
“Can we just watch the Magic School Bus—”
“Absolutely not.”
“The Magic school bus is great! What the heck Jungkook–”
“Worst American show on earth,” he grumbles in disgust before getting up and stretching. “Makes me wanna move back to Busan.” You’re about to fire back with another retort, before your words close up, watching the smooth lines of his back ripple with thick muscles, your eyes smooth down the curve of his spine, dipping to his sculpted ass–
“You can check me out in the shower, get up.” He turns around to face you, extending his arm.
“Yeah, yeah whatever.” You muse, taking his hand, and getting up on your legs. His eyes are no better than your own, focusing on the marks that bruised deeper on your skin from last night, watching your full chest recoil with the slightest movement. “Shower sex?” His eyes flicker up to your own, pearly whites tugging slightly on the metal piercings.
Shower sex.” You nod, laughing at his dazed expression before blinking several times, collecting himself.
After various rounds of pumping you full, your husband’s legs grew so weak he almost slipped and cracked a bone. The two of you could hardly contain your laughter, joking about how terrible the water bill was going to be, and how close he was to shattering every bone on his ass.
You watched him carefully adjust his contact lenses in, before shrugging on a fresh shirt, running a hand through his damp hair. “We’re fucked,” He teases, grateful that in reality, a bill was the least of his worries, before spraying on some of that sweet cologne that always made your mouth water. “Pretty much,” You hum, closing up your bottle of shea butter and coconut lotion before getting dressed.
“Wait, you got your back?” He turns to face you, his eyes wide, lips forming a slight pout.
“What do you mean? I always get my back,” you grin, slipping on a pair of velvety shorts, watching his sulk deepen with immense satisfaction.
“No, you promised I could do your back…” he mumbles, turning around to finish moisturizing his face and neck.
“There’s always next time, Koo,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his back and pressing a soft kiss. “I’ll make you the best protein shake ever…” you bargain, slipping your hands beneath his shirt, tracing comforting lines across his stomach.
“Yeah?” His head tilts to the side, his gaze soft as he looks down at you, “Fine,” he gives in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.
The dishes are washed and dried, neatly lined on the rack. You circle the island, your eyes scanning the sleek, solid black of the villa. Everything in your home is draped in shades of black—from the leather couches to the floor tiles. You don’t mind it much; your bedroom and personal office have more of a minimalist aesthetic, a contrast to the darker tones of the main living space.
Your brow furrows as you watch Jungkook reach for a beer from the fridge.
“Not at 10 in the morning,” you walk over, taking the drink from his hand. “You need food in your system. We’ve been over this,” you warn, shooting him a pointed glare. “And the cigarettes, don’t think I won’t be on your case about that, either.”
He rolls his eyes, the gesture is endearing but frustrating. “Baby, I’m fine,” he sighs, not wanting to bicker with you over his habits. “We’ll have breakfast, yeah?” He chuckles, reaching for the electric mixing bowl and a few ingredients.
A soft sigh escapes your lips as you grab everything you need to make his promise shake. You start cutting up a block of organic 98% dark chocolate, adding a few scoops of protein powder. You never understood how he could stand the taste of all that protein junk, but it made him happy, so you didn’t mind.
You glance up as his armrests casually over the top of the stove, your eyes tracing the curve of his inked bicep as he pours batter into a Hello Kitty-shaped mold. A smile tugs at your lips as you watch the small furrow in his brows, completely focused on the task at hand. How could someone be so adorable and insanely sexy at the same time? His duality still surprised you.
Finishing the shake, you pour it into a large glass, dropping a few fresh blackberries in, and adding a swirl of sugar-free whipped cream. Reaching into the fridge, you pull out some fresh lemonade and pour yourself a glass.
Breakfast was always something the two of you took very seriously on the weekends since you were both off. Weekdays were awful, considering your work schedules were quite polar. Jungkook spent most of his early mornings and late evenings cooped up in his company managing international affairs and stocks, as well as ensuring the security acts of record productions and labels. Jeon Entertainment was his passion, and you would never let yourself get in the way of that. He always made more than enough time for you and never made you feel neglected. If he was coming home late or working over the weekends he always let you know.
“Thanks, Koo,” You smile, admiring the plate of stacked Hello Kitty Pancakes, a boyish grin decorates his rosy lips, before taking a sip of his shake.
“This is amazing,” His eyes brighten, flicking up to you.
“Really?” You softly chuckle, taking a bite of your food, “Nah bro this is amazing,” You gesture to the plate. “Bro?” He shot up a brow, taking a slow sip of the drink.
“If I recall that’s what you called me last night,” You roll your eyes.
“Because we are married-bros!” He exclaims, taking another bite of his breakfast.
“First of all, in bed? Second of all, to your wife?” You scoff, shaking your head.
“I’m sorry?” He lightly kicks your leg under the table, which only results in a very competitive game of footsie.
You cherished every moment of pure domestic bliss with him—the arguments, the endless rounds of Mario Kart, and even the comfortable silence. Jungkook was your universe, and you were his infinity. Your friendship blossomed beautifully from your early high school years. He was the new transfer student from Korea, arriving in your freshman year. You remembered Namjoon, a close family friend and a senior at the time, introducing him to you with a simple request: “Stick with him.”
At first, breaking the ice with your shy, awkward classmate was difficult. He spoke with a formality that felt foreign, and the two of you had little in common. But you stuck by him—he didn’t seem to know anyone else, and his shy nature made it hard for him to connect with his other peers. Jungkook was always an introvert.
As months passed, you spent more time together after school. You’d invite him over, teaching him everything from slang to cuss words and casual expressions, laughing as he stumbled through it all. In return, he taught you a few Korean swear words, which always sent you into fits of giggles. Before you knew it, the two of you were seniors—and happily dating. There wasn’t a family cookout you didn’t invite him to, or a cheesy comedy you didn’t marathon together, drowning yourselves in Rush Hour references for a good year or so. Likewise, you never missed a game night with his family or watching cheesy K-dramas with his Eomma, who always admired your braids and asked how long they took, flustering you with her compliments.
When graduation came around, both of you enrolled at the same university. Jungkook decided on a double major in business and music, while you, always passionate about library sciences, pursued that path. After graduation, he focused on advancing his higher education while also laying the foundation for his own company. The two of you had gone through thick and thin together, and there wasn’t a thing in the world you wouldn’t overcome.
Until he started feeling chest irregular pains.
You were quick to give him some aspirin, rubbing soothing circles over his back. At that moment, you didn’t let your mind drift to the worst possible scenario. It was probably just heartburn—he did have a habit of eating too quickly. You wanted to believe that was the issue, or maybe it was just soreness from his intense workouts, but his chest pains persisted and his increasing need for extra pillows to prop up his head and chest while he slept became impossible to overlook. The worry that had been building inside you grew with each passing day. Without hesitation, you scheduled an appointment for him, your fingers trembling slightly as you filled out the necessary forms.
With the appointment set for the following week, you stayed close by his side, curling against him on the couch, your eyes blankly fixed on the TV when he laughed about something one of the Bratz said, you weren’t following.
The next week rolled in, and you waited anxiously occupying your mind with chores around the house and folding the fresh laundry. Your eyes darted up to the digital clock hanging on the laundry room wall, it was already 6:33 pm. Jungkook still wasn’t back, despite leaving around 2:00.
That evening, he walked through the front door, and you knew something was wrong. His shoulders were slumped, and his usual easy gait was replaced with something heavier. His smile was there, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were darker, weighed down by an unspoken truth.
“Everything okay baby, what did the doctors say?” you asked, your voice careful and soft, setting down the mug you had anxiously been nursing, hoping that green tea would calm your nerves. After all, he had been in the hospital for hours, running through what you could only assume were scans and examinations.
He hesitated, and in that pause, you saw everything. Your hand gripped onto the edge of the countertop, your throat running dry.
“Jungkook, what is it?” You pleaded.
“It’s not good,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. He stepped closer, pulling you into his arms. “It’s terminal.”
You didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, as the words sunk in, each one a dagger to the life you had planned together.
“What’s terminal…?” You spoke in denial, confusion painting your features despite the knowledge that stabbed deeper into your gut. “Jungkook what’s terminal?” Your hands clasped over his arms, as you desperately searched his face for something, anything to quell the worst of your fears.
He sighed, gently setting the brown pharmacy paper bag on the countertop, before resting his palms over your shoulders. “Baby, you know how my chest has been hurting?” He softly spoke, sitting you down on the bar stool. You slowly nodded, trying to calm your breathing.
“It’s…heart failure.” He slowly exhaled the words, running a hand through his hair. He bit down on his lip, tugging anxiously at the silver hoops. “Early stages. They’re trying to be optimistic, but… It doesn’t look too good...” He slowly exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
You didn’t want to ask about the cause, didn’t want to accept the harsh reality that crumbled over your heads, crushing everything you ever built, everything you looked forward to. Seeing him so crestfallen, someone so full of joy and hope utterly distraught, killed you.
Your shoulders sunk, eyes wide with unushered tears.“It’s gonna be okay? Right, I mean—”
“[________],” He exhaled, shaking his head.
“No Jungkook! Just…Just listen okay…?” Your voice wobbled, you felt so fucking nauseous.
His hands gently cupped your face, and your gaze lifted to meet his. At that moment, your heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. His soft doe-eyes, brimming with unshed tears, betrayed the heavy truth that weighed on him. He was the strongest person you knew, yet it crushed you to see how he believed he could bear the entire world’s weight on his shoulders without it breaking him.
He pulled you close, arms tightening around you. "I need to make every minute count,” His chuckle was hollow, a bitter sound that seemed to burrow deep into the ache in your chest.
You couldn’t find the words—what could you possibly say? You were still so young. Jungkook was only 27; things like this happened to people in their sixties, not to him. He worked out, and ate healthy, sure, he drank sometimes, but it wasn’t excessive, and his other habits kept him balanced.
"What about a transplant?" you whispered, your voice trembling, the world around you fading into a blur as tears filled your eyes. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him—how could you let go of him? That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true.
“I spoke to the doctor about that; there’s lots of complications with organ compatibility and blood type, plus I don’t wanna die in the hospital. I don’t wanna spend what time I have left in that awful place—”
“Stop saying you’re gonna die–Can you just stop?!” You cry out, feeling your throat constrict.
Jungkook fell into a heavy silence, exhaling slowly as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. He perched himself on the bar stool, the soft rattle of his medication bottles filling the space between you. His fingers carefully twisted the cap off one, and you read the label on the orange bottle: Losartan, with the note Angiotensin-Converting Enzyme Inhibitors beneath it. "Take once daily," it instructed.
Your hand instinctively reached for the paper bag sitting on the counter, pulling out an array of bottles and small boxes. He had never been one to take medicine, aside from the occasional headache or cold remedy. Seeing the collection of prescribed medications for Jeon Jungkook laid out before you was a cruel confirmation of your worst fears, each label a quiet echo of the reality you didn’t want to face.
“Wanna know the worst part,” He quietly murmured, popping a pill into his mouth and swallowing it down with a swing of water. "Doctor said to cut out all my drinks—no more cold beers, not even one," a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "And I can't work out like I used to. He said I need to take it easy." A small tremor ran through his shoulders, his grip on the glass bottle tightening until it seemed ready to crack under the pressure. “Then there’s all the medications I have to take, I can’t even pronounce half of their names…”His voice fell to a small hush, the weight of it all sinking in.
His head fell between the folded gap of his arms, a small sob escaping his lips. His shoulders shook with quiet sniffles, the silence between you stretching. The thought of leaving you all alone with crushed hopes and dreams, that you would be forced to care for him every single day, and watch your lives fade to ashes was sickening.
"Jungkook... baby..." Your voice wavered, the words barely escaping as you struggled to hold back your own sobs. You could feel the weight of his despair settling over you like a heavy, suffocating fog, but you knew you couldn’t let him fall into it alone. Not now. Not ever.
His breath hitched with each sob, his body trembling in your arms, and the devastation in his heart seemed so vast, so overwhelming. It broke you, shattering something deep inside you, seeing the man you loved so much reduced to this. His whole world had just tilted on its axis, and you had to be the steady force for him now, even if your own heart ached with the thought of the impending storm that would tear everything apart.
"Jungkook," you whispered again, your hand running through his hair, soothing him as best as you could, even as the tears filled your eyes. "You’re not alone in this. We’ll get through it…"
You felt him flinch against you, his body stiffening as if the words were too much to bear, but you held him tighter, refusing to let go. You wouldn’t sit back and watch the darkness swallow him whole. You wouldn’t let him believe he was a burden.
"Listen to me," you said softly, "We’re in this together, every step of the way.”
His sobs slowed, but the weight of his fear didn’t lift. He had just been handed a diagnosis, a truth that threatened to steal his future, but you refused to let it steal everything the two of you worked for, you wouldn’t let it rip him apart, and you wouldn’t let it take away the hopes and dreams that wavered at a calamity. You would have a family, you would adopt another dog after your beloved Gurem passed. You would carry the weight, you would hold him up because that’s what it always had meant. Every vow since the moment you stood at the altar, every whispered promise in the quiet of the night after making love, even the silver promise ring that’s hung around your neck on a delicate chain since your junior year of high school, after that first official "us"—all of it echoed in your heart now.
"We’ll get through this, together," you murmured, your lips brushing his temple in a tender kiss.
With a slight nod of his head, he reached for a few tissues, whipping away the tears that stained his flushed cheeks and nose. His chest slightly heaving, the sight of him so overwhelmingly broken, carved endless gashes in your heart.
A fleeting thought crossed your mind, only to be ripped away almost immediately, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake. You would have given him your heart in an instant, not that it wasn’t already his, in every sense, but at that moment, you found yourself wishing, with all the depth of your being, that your own heart could be transplanted into his chest. If only you could bear the burden of his pain if only you could take it all away.
You wanted to rip away the sorrow that clung to him, to take away every ounce of pain he was carrying. It hurt to see him like this, to feel the weight of his despair pressing down on both of you. All you wanted was to see that bright, toothy grin—the one that made everything else in the world seem weightless. In that moment, you knew you couldn’t, not when everything seemed to crumble and fall apart.
Your fingers gently cupped his face, your thumbs sweeping softly across his cheeks, wiping away the remnants of tears. You let your touch linger, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, grounding yourself in these small moments.
“I loaded the freezer with Boong-uh Samanco,” you whispered, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tried to offer him something to hold onto.
His lips twitched into a hesitant smile, the faintest sign of recognition flickering in his eyes.
“Where did you find it?” he murmured, his hands covering yours, his touch a quiet reassurance.
“At a Korean marketplace,” you replied, your voice soft with a hint of pride, “20-minute drive from here.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt his arms slip around your waist, gently pulling you into his lap. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. His quiet breath against your hair was a comforting rhythm, and the weight of his body against yours gave you a sense of peace.
“Remember that pizza place you wanted to visit…” You begin, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, “The one in NYC we didn’t get a chance to eat at because you were so busy with all the work stuff?”
A soft hum stirs his chest, his fingers wrapping around a stray coil. “I added it to our bucket list, we can head over there next week if you want to…” Your voice is soft, your fingers gently messing with his black Pink Floyd tee.
“I have to let my executives know…” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. “Get a few things out of the way, then we can fly wherever you wanna go.”
You wrap your arms tighter around him, burrowing your body against his chest. You knew you’d cry in the living room later that night, when he was fast asleep, maybe down a couple glasses of wine just to keep your mind off of it, whatever it took to keep yourself from crying till you were numb. You needed to stay strong for him just as he always has been for you.
“Great, and then we can visit the Sanrio theme park in Japan!” You took his hand in your own, tracing the tattoos over his knuckles. “I know how much you love Hello Kitty,” Your eyes flickered over to the various Hello Kitty plushies on the black leather couch. “We’ve been cooped up at home for too long, seriously need a good adventure in our systems,” You hummed, pressing a kiss to his hand.
Jungkook nods a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and dance across his lips. “I’d love that,” He whispers, brushing his lips over your fingertips. “I’ll wear a pretty red bow just for you, be your Kookie Kitty.” A small smile curled at his lips, he was trying his best not to let it hold him back.
“Kookie Kitty? Okay, I like that,” You laugh, your fingers gliding over his silver wedding band, “You still carry that Hello Kitty keychain on your briefcase?”
He shoots you a playful glare, rolling his eyes at the question, “Of course I do, it’s a fundamental part of me.”
“Ah, of course it is.” You tsk, shaking your head. “Very Very Koo of you,”
“Pretty damn Koo,” He grabs the water bottle, taking a long sip of the cool liquid before laying out your plan. “So first we head to NYC, spend a couple of days there, and then we can head to Tokyo for a week or so, I was also thinking we can visit Guryong Falls,” He suggests, his eyes flickering up to your own.
“That sounds perfect, but didn’t we agree that we’ll wait till we take our kids there?” You softly chuckle, the smile dies on your lips when you catch his expression, the way his eyes focus on the dark granite of the counter top, “I’m not opposed to it,” You begin, speaking carefully, “Not at all, I’d actually love to visit our little spot again, right at the bridge by the waterfall.”
His eyes dart up to your own, “I’m glad.” His words hung thick in the air between you, they linger with a weight of thoughts left unsaid. The prospect of having children and living to see them grow died with the terrible news that swept over like an unkempt current. He always dreamt of having a small family with you, of raising your beautiful children and giving them all the love in the world.
Everyone always joked about how big his heart was, and how capable he was of loving so deeply. Maybe his heart loved so strongly that it began to deteriorate from within.
He had no plans of telling his family about the diagnosis any time soon. There was no haste in worrying his mother and father sick about their youngest son, he didn’t want his older brother to know either, deciding to keep the news nestled between the two of you.
He considered telling Namjoon-hyung, since he had known you both since your early days. The man had always been an older brother figure to him, someone he would ask for advice and vent to when things got rough. Namjoon was always there to listen and offer meaningful advice and mentorship. He was far more experienced in the life train-wreck than Jungkook, already a father of two precious girls, and the Founder of one of the biggest international Hip-Hop studio chains alongside two of his closest friends, Suga and J-Hope.
He decided otherwise, not wanting to burden the man, he was probably stressed with his family life and career.
The digital clock signaled a bright 2:25 am, Jungkook’s eyes were open with exhaustion, his head propped up on several fluffy pillows you had laid out for him, sleep never came easy, not when his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. He’d nap for a little bit, only to wake up again.
When he turned over to reach for you, his hand met only cool, empty sheets. The other side of the bed was vacant. Slowly, he sat up, the soft click of the table lamp breaking the silence as warm light flooded the room. His tired eyes scanned the space, searching for any sign of you. There was no glow slipping out from beneath the bedroom door, no sound to hint at your presence.
“Jagi…” he murmured, his voice raspy from sleep. Running a hand over his face, he slipped on his glasses and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The cool marble floor met his feet as he tread lightly down the hallway, the stillness of the house magnifying the soft echo of his steps.
As he rounded the corridor into the living room, he spotted you. There you were, slouched on the couch, a half-empty glass of wine dangling loosely from your fingers. Your head lolled to the side, dim shadows dancing over your illegible expression. He couldn’t help but wonder how long you’d been sitting there, the weariness in your posture hinting at restless thoughts that had drawn you away from the warmth of the bed.
“[_______],” He moved toward you slowly, his thumb gently brushing away the tears trailing down your damp cheek. "Hey..." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he eased down beside you and pulled you into his arms.
“I don’t want… Koo… to…” you mumbled, your words slurring, each sentence dragging into a heavy pause before you continued. “Be sad… I don’t like it when he’s sad… I want him… to be okay…” Your voice wavered as you clumsily brought the glass to your lips, but his hand intervened, gently taking it away. A frustrated whimper escaped you, but you pressed on, your words spilling out in a drunken haze.
“He’s my everything… I can’t live without…Jungkook…” Your voice broke as your eyes fluttered, weighed down by exhaustion and emotion. Tears streamed down your cheeks, hot and relentless, soaking into his skin as he held you tighter.
"I'm not going anywhere, yeppeo," He murmured, his voice laced with tenderness as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. His gaze flicked to the nearly empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, its glass glinting in the dim light. A soft sigh escaped him, the corners of his lips twitching in faint amusement as he crouched to scoop you into his arms.
"Let me go… I want my Jungkook," you slurred, your words barely coherent, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned against his chest.
"I'm right here, sweetheart," he reassured with a quiet chuckle, his warmth seeping into you as he carried you effortlessly. Shaking his head with a mix of affection and exasperation, he laid you on the bed, pulling the duvet snugly over your frame, and crawling next to you.
The days blur together, a monotonous cycle spinning ceaselessly through the week. You wake to find his eyes meeting yours, a quiet exchange that soon melts into soft, tender kisses. “Don’t forget your Beta Blockers and ARB pills,” you murmur, tenderly raking your fingers through his tousled hair. Your lips brush against the cool metal of his lip rings, a soft smile stiring your sleep roused features.
Rising from the bed, you quickly reach his side, offering your support as he sits up, his face pale with the usual wave of nausea and dizziness. Steadying him, you guide him into the rhythm of the morning, ensuring he finds his footing.
He shuffles to get ready for his day, and you move to the kitchen. The scent of sizzling eggs and tangy kimchi filling the air as you prepare breakfast for the two of you—a heavy reminder hangs densely over your heads, a constant reminder that your lives would never be the same, and you would be forced to wake up everyday living with the inevitable that was to come.
A small smile graces your features when he finally emerges, his hair swept to the side a sharp black suit intact, you carefully adjust his tie, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just felt a little dizzy,” he replies, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s clearly trying not to let it weigh too heavily. “Breakfast smells amazing.” He sets his leather bag down with a soft thud.
You hum in acknowledgment, scooping up a bite of scrambled eggs paired with a crisp sheet of kimchi. Carefully, you bring it to his lips.
“Too much seasoning, or...?” you tease, quickly reaching to wipe a stray bit from the corner of his mouth.
“Just perfect,” he murmurs, his tone warm, and for a fleeting second, the heaviness lifts, leaving behind the usual easiness of your morning routine.
“You got your meds and everything?” You set your plates down on the table.
“Everything, all good.” He nods taking his seat across from you.
“I’m being annoying with it, huh?” You softly chuckle, taking a bite of your breakfast.
“It’s cute,” He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee.
You both eat in peaceful silence, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. When he's finished, he stands, carefully placing his plate in the sink. "I’ll be home a little late," he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, "Need to get all the work out of the way before our mini-vacay."
"Don’t miss me too much," he teases, his grin widening as he blows a playful kiss your way. "I love you."
A soft smile curls at the corners of your mouth as you return the gesture, "Love you most. Don’t overwork yourself, and make sure you eat all your meals on time."
“Got it,” He chuckles softly before turning toward the door, leaving you alone with your breakfast.
You heard the mechanical whir of the garage door, followed by the smooth purr of his Lamboas it glided out of the driveway. You sat at the kitchen counter, finishing the last bites of your breakfast in contemplative silence. After rinsing the dishes and tidying up, you shifted your focus to getting ready for your shift.
Your thoughts wandered back to his upcoming appointment, a cloud of worry lingering over your mind. Jungkook had been so dismissive about it, even urging you to book flights and make hotel reservations for anywhere you wanted. But you couldn’t bring yourself to plan beyond that day. Not until you heard it from the doctor. You needed assurance, a definitive confirmation that everything was okay—something more concrete than his off-handed words. The doctor had mentioned it was still early to implant a cardiac monitor, but you wanted to hear it again, to be absolutely sure.
Straightening your blouse, you carefully smoothed the edges of your hair before applying a final swipe of gloss to your lips. Satisfied with your reflection, you grabbed your Coach purse, wallet, and car keys, double-checking the house one last time before stepping through the garage door. The faint beep of the security system confirmed it was set.
A glance at your phone told you there were 30 minutes until your shift started. You slipped on your black flats, adjusting the hem of your flowy white skirt before heading to your sleek silver Porsche. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you ran your fingers over the steering wheel as the engine purred to life. With a quick check of your mirrors, you eased out of the driveway, the warm morning sunlight spilling over the neighborhood as you made your way to the library.
You arrived at work just in time, quickly clocking in and heading straight to the children’s section. The day unfolded in its usual rhythm—storytime sessions filled with little giggles, the soft beep of book checkouts, and the quiet focus of organizing returned books. The soothing routine had its own kind of magic, a welcome balm for a busy mind. Even the occasional bursts of chaos—an overturned shelf or a particularly stubborn tantrum—couldn’t dim the gentle joy of your work.
As the evening crept closer and the library's closing time approached, you gathered your things, bid your coworkers a cheerful goodnight, and clocked out.
When you got home, the soft click of the back door echoed in the quiet space. You adjusted the dim lighting with the remote, the warm glow filling the room. “Jungkook?” you called out, setting your purse on the granite counter. The silence that followed told you he wasn’t home yet.
Slipping into a comfortable baby-pink slip, you tied your braids into a loose knot and went through your nighttime routine. Dinner was simple but thoughtful: creamy Alfredo pasta, warm garlic knots with a sprinkle of parsley, and a fresh salad. You set the table with care, replacing your usual wine with a chilled bottle of Italian soda and two glasses.
As you adjusted the last plate, the sound of the front door opening filled the house. A smile spread across your face as Jungkook stepped inside, his keys jingling as he hung them up. His hair was slightly tousled, and his blazer hung loosely on his frame, betraying the long day he’d had.
“Hey, baby. Sorry, am I too late?” he asked with a tired chuckle, his voice softening when he saw you.
“Never,” you replied, wrapping your arms around him. His warmth seeped into you as you helped him shrug off his blazer, your hands lingering just a moment longer.
“No, you’re just on time,” you murmured, his hands settling at your waist, fingers spreading over the silky fabric. His gaze roamed over you, dark and wide.
“Damn,” he exhaled a soft chuckle. “Is there an occasion? Food looks great, but you’re looking even better.” He lowered his head to trail slow kisses along the span of your neck, hands drifting to the curve of your hips.
“No occasion,” you giggled, squirming playfully from his grasp. “Just wanted to spoil you.”
“Fuck,” he sighed, his eyes locking with yours as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.
Your fingers nimbly worked at his tie, loosening it before undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. “Eat something, okay? You took all your meds today, right?” you asked, pressing a light kiss to his jaw.
“Yeah, I did,” he nodded. “All the beta blockers and inhibitors, the whole bullshit.””
“Good,” Your eyes flicker up to his own, slipping down to his lips before grabbing his hand and guiding him to the dinner table.
“You’re on birth control… right?” he murmurs, his voice laced with restraint. His gaze drifts, betraying the to not bend you over the counter and forget about dinner entirely.
“I’ll let you know after you eat and take your ARBs,” you hum, catching the subtle tick of his jaw. He’s not pleased.
“But I need you,” he whines—actually whines—and you can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes. Your grown husband crosses his arms and pouts, digging his heels in.
“Jeon Jungkook, we’re way too old for this.” You gesture toward his childish demeanor, earning an exaggerated huff in response.
“Can I please fuck you senseless?” he begs, trailing behind you like a lovesick puppy. The sight amuses you; it’s a privilege only you get to witness—this soft, unguarded side of him.
Once seated at the table, you fall into your usual routine: asking about his day, how work went, and whether the projects turned out okay. But Jungkook’s attention is far from your words. His eyes linger on the delicate curve of your cleavage, his teeth worrying his piercings as his thoughts clearly stray elsewhere.
“Jungkook,” you chide, waving a hand in front of his face. His eyes snap up guiltily.
“Oh, my day was good,” he starts hastily. “We went over future plans. The mergers and executives will handle upcoming projects until I’m back.” He takes a distracted bite of pasta before asking, “What about you? What’d you do today?”
“Just the usual—library stuff. Check-ins, check-outs, re-shelving,” you reply. Your tone falters slightly as you add, “I haven’t booked our tickets or made hotel reservations yet.”
His chewing slows, sensing the shift in the conversation. He already knows where this is heading. “Baby, if this is about the heart monitor thing, I already told you—it’s too early.”
You sigh, swinging your legs beneath the table. “I know, I just think we should get a quick checkup before traveling. I want to make sure everything’s okay and see if there are any precautions we need to take.”
Setting down his fork, he exhales heavily. “[________], you’re stressing about this again.”
His words sting, but you try not to let it show. “I just care, okay? I want to make sure you’re alright before we go—”
“I know you care,” he interrupts, his tone sharper than intended. “But can we not talk about it all the time? Can we just pretend everything’s normal for once? It’s always medicine this, heart that—it’s fucking exhausting.”
His outburst leaves you speechless, tears stinging the corners of your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. His expression softens instantly, guilt flickering across his features.
“[________], I—”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off, reaching for your drink. The soda fizzes down your throat, quelling the dryness threatening to choke you. “You said what you needed to say. I’m glad you got it off your chest.”
“No, it’s not okay,” he protests, reaching for your hand. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Jungkook, it’s fine.” You force a smile, but it feels hollow. “I didn’t mean to pile on. I’m sorry.”
“Baby…” His grip tightens, desperate for you to look at him. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Your voice wavers, tears spilling over despite your best efforts. “I know I bring it up too much. I just worry. I can’t ignore it—not when it’s you.”
He presses your knuckles to his lips, his breath shaky. “I know you care. It means the world to me. We’re both stressed about this. I just…Let’s not talk about it all the time.”
The rest of the meal passes in silence, both of you too weighed down by unspoken emotions to fill the void with idle chatter. After dinner, you clear the table while Jungkook washes the dishes, his sleeves rolled up, the tension still palpable between you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his back.
“I’m on birth control, by the way,” you whisper, feeling his body tense beneath your touch.
He finishes drying the last dish before turning to face you, his brows raised. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Before another word can pass between you, he lifts you over the countertop, carefully rolling up the soft satin, groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, before his eyes flicker up to your own. “Wanna tell me that this entire time, you weren’t wearing any panties?” His voice falls in a low whisper, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of your thighs and spreading them apart.
“You gonna answer or not?” He raises a pierced brow, landing a sharp slap to your sensitive flesh, digging his fingertips into your soft brown cheeks.
“M’m sorry, I-I wasn’t…” You whimper in response. His fingers deliver a few more sharp spanks to your dripping cunt, holding your hip in place. “Mmph—s-sorry!” You whine, gripping onto his exposed forearms, your poor clit sore and puffy from the impact.
He softly chuckles, his eyes trained on the needy clench of your tiny hole, before thumbing slow circles.
Your hips jerk, and all you can do is stuff your face against his dark dress shirt. “Mphh…k-koo…”
“Yeah? Is that how you like it? Gonna fit my thumb into your pussy…” He murmurs, against your ear, before pushing in the digit with a slow deep pop. A satisfied smirk tugs at his features when you’re clenching around it, small moans escaping your lips with every push and pull.
“So fucking wet, taking it so well…” He pushes two digits into your mouth, his eyes fixated on your low, wet lashes.
“Cute…” He tilts his head, matching the slow push and pull of his thumb with his fingers. “Sucking off my fingers so good baby, keep going.”
All you can do is whine and drool,“Guh-Gonna cum…” You keen, your mouth full, feeling his thumb curl slowly and the telltale tingling in your legs.
He pulls away suddenly, leaving you whining in frustration. His thumb glides through your slick, teasing before it returns to rub slow, deliberate circles over your sensitive clit. A sharp tap on your cheek makes your eyes snap open.
“Eyes up,” he spits, before he flips you over onto the counter, pressing your upper body against the cool granite
His hands fumble at the leather belt. His trousers and boxers are pushed down in one smooth motion, revealing him in all his glory. Your breath hitches as he grips your waist.
“It’s cold…” you whimper, the chill of the surface seeping into your skin, your exposed breasts and cheek pressed to the surface. Before you can adjust, a sharp slap lands on your ass, harsh and firm.
“Ow… K-Koo—” Another smack follows, cutting off your protest. The heat spreads across your skin, stinging the corners of your eyes with tears.
“Do I need to put that mouth to use, or are you gonna keep it shut?” he grumbles, his hand wrapping around his thick cock, lazily stroking himself.
“Gonna shut up…” you mumble, your voice trembling. His warm palm presses firmly against your lower back, keeping you in place. The blunt head of his cock taps against your dripping entrance.
“If it gets uncomfortable, we can move to the couch,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, hands smoothing over your ass before delivering another sharp smack, the sound of his palm against your sore cheek echoing through the kitchen.
“J-Jungkook…” You whimper, squirming your hips from his grasp.
Slowly, he pushes himself into you, stretching you inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed, groaning lowly. “So fucking tight…shit, gimme a color?” He’s panting, before raking a hand through his tousled hair.
“Green…” you wince, trying to adjust to his girth.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hands steadying your hips as he starts to move, his pace starts slow and easy, watching your tiny hole swallow his cock before dragging out, humming at the sloppy coating. “Taking it so good, hm?” He coos, roughly grabbing your braids and tugging your head back.
A small whine hardly rips past your throat before his tounge is fervidly tasting the heat of your mouth, picking up his pace and swallowing every pitiful sound. “B-Baby—” You sob against his lips, feeling his hand roughly kneed at your breast, messily snapping into you.
“Keep taking it baby, know how bad you wanna cum,” He pants, slipping his hand down your stomach, rubbing messy circles over your puffy nub. “Gonna come on Koo’s cock hm?” He grits, stuffing himself deeper into you with every thrust. “Feel how deep it is? Yeah?” His voice breaks off, panting against your neck like he’s been running a marathon.
All you can do is feel your warm saliva coat your cheek and chin, too numb to think when his tip is brushing so good against that spongey spot, his palm tightly bruising your hip.
“You’re so close hm? Cleaning around me so tight, give it to me, c’mon.” His hips curve slower into your own dragging out every thurst so you could feel how good he was fucking into you, how good he was filling you up.
“wah..wanna come… please..” Your eyes flicker white with every slow drag of his cock.
“I know baby, been so good, let go for me.” He guides you through it, groaning into your neck as you let go. He takes no time, spilling deep inside of you, wincing as he thrusts his seed deeper into you.
He doesn’t pull out for a few moments, relishing the feelings of your warmth wrapped around him, gently wrapping his arms around your hips. Slowly, and carefully he drags himself out of your messy cunt, before grabbing a few tissues from the roll, wiping the mess dripping down your legs. “Lemme run you a bath,” He whispers, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, before gathering you in his arms. “I just took a bath…” You whined, feeling him wipe away the remnants of drool from your cheek and chin.
“I know Jagi but we gotta make sure you’re nice and clean,” He whispers.
He takes his time lathering the warm loofah over your skin, hands gentle as they move across your body. Sweet kisses land on your cheeks, his lips brushing against you like a quiet promise. Your head lazily dips, lulled by the comfort of his solid chest against your back and the warm soapy water enveloping you both.
When you're dry, he carefully smooths lotion over your skin, planting soft kisses on every inch of exposed flesh he can reach before tucking you beneath the soft, warm covers. Sleep tries to claim you, but you stay awake just enough to watch him grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, handing it to you.
"Get some rest, okay?" he whispers, "You don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I’ll send the email, book the appointment, and handle all the travel stuff. Just focus on feeling better."
You nod sleepily, taking a sip of the water before setting it on the nightstand and curling up against his side.
“Did you like the pasta?” you ask, your voice a murmur against his chest.
“I loved it,” he says, his finger tracing the curve of your jaw. “I love everything you make.”
A soft smile graces your lips, and his heart melts at the sight of you nestled so trustingly against him. He wraps his arm tighter around you, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
“I love you so much,” you whisper, hardly coherent to the words that fell from his lips beyond your vows.
The week flies by in a whirlwind of packing for your trip to New York—booking flights, making reservations, organizing everything for your month-long getaway. There are a few tense arguments, followed by bouts of stubborn silence, but they always end with soft kisses and heartfelt apologies knowing deep down you could both loose it all in flashes.
Jungkook’s follow-up appointment is scheduled for the day before your flight. Everything seems in order as you step into the hospital, the sharp scent of antiseptic hitting your nose. The waiting room is sterile and quiet, save for the occasional cough or the sound of a pen scratching against a clipboard.
Jungkook cracks a few jokes about being the youngest person there by decades, earning a playful glare from you.
“You’re young, healthy, and very annoying,” you mutter.
“Don’t forget hot as hell,” he teases, squeezing your hand.
“Fine. And hot as hell,” you sigh, clutching his hand tightly as you both wait.
When the nurse calls his name, he stands, flashing you a confident grin. “My time to shine.”
The appointment feels routine. The doctor reviews Jungkook’s scans, confirms his condition is manageable, and discusses the next steps. Jungkook listens calmly, even when told to reduce his workouts further, though you notice the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers clench slightly.
The ride home is quiet. His hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, his focus sharp.
“Jungkook?” you ask softly.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
But you know he isn’t.
At home, he packs silently, his movements stiff and frustrated. When you finally approach him, his shoulders sag under the weight of your words. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
He exhales harshly, pressing his palm against the mirror. “I’m pissed off. I mean... I can’t do anything. I hate this, I hate feeling like this.”
You step closer, resting a hand on his arm. “You’re doing so much already. We’ll get through this, Jungkook. Together.”
The morning of your trip, he seems lighter, the tension of the previous day gone. Bags packed, tickets in hand, you head to the airport, your excitement tempered by the reality of his condition but hopeful nonetheless.
But hope is a fragile thing.
Hours before your flight, as you stand together in line for coffee, Jungkook suddenly winces, his hand flying to his chest. His face twists in agony, his usual confidence replaced by something raw and frightening. Before you can process what’s happening, his knees give out, and he crumples to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.
“Jungkook!” you cry out, your voice trembling and sharp, cutting through the bustling noise of the terminal. Panic seizes your chest, your worst fear clawing its way to life, suffocating you.
You drop to your knees beside him, hands shaking as you reach for him. "No, no, no," you plead, your voice breaking. Tears blur your vision as you desperately try to shake him awake, his name tumbling from your lips in frantic whispers.
The world around you dissolves into chaos—a hellish blur of gasps, shouts, and rushing footsteps. It’s a scene pulled straight from your nightmares, unfolding before your helpless eyes. You cradle his face, his skin far too pale, his breaths shallow and uneven.
"Someone help!" you scream, choking on the words. A part of you hopes this is just a bad dream, but the cold, unyielding floor beneath your knees reminds you it’s real. It’s all too real.
Moments later, paramedics arrive, their voices urgent and hurried. They load him onto a stretcher, their words a blur as they mention something about immediate surgery.
You chase, heart pounding, tears streaming down your face. “Please,” you whisper to no one in particular. “Please let him be okay.”
As the hospital doors swing shut behind you. New York is the furthest thing from your mind now.
You don’t know if he will be okay, you don’t know if his promises amount to anything.
The doors close, and you’re left standing there, praying the world would encompass you and your misery whole.
#jungkook x black reader#bts x black reader#bts x reader#jeon jungkook x you#bts angst#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#bangtan fic
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