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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Crisis

Pairing: hockeyplayer!jungkook x pickpocket!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | sports!au | christmas!au | yyy... action?

Word count: 12k

Summary: During a casual meeting with friends at a local ice rink, a handsome boy bumps into me. Though it was just a small accident, a series of extraordinary adventures follow, helping me realize I should really change some of my life choices.

A/N if you get uncomfortable during this story, just stop reading. it gets weird later on. Also, sorry for posting it so late, it’s still Christmas somewhere!

4 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kibum asked for the tenth time as he nearly slipped, even though his hands were glued to the railing. “None of us can skate for fuck’s sake,” he remarked, not being careful enough to watch his tongue, letting children hear his foul language. “We should’ve gone drinking mulled vine instead of this nonsense.”

“Speak for yourself. I am a decent skater,” I argued, though it was maybe my third time on the ice rink. The surface was slippery, yet I was brave enough to try my luck without sticking to the railing at all times.

Whoosh!

Kibum and I turned our heads around to see a few men racing on the rink like lunatics going probably at least two thousand miles per hour. They were skating so fast we barely could get a blurry image of their backs – fucking show-offs.

“Can you believe it? Fucking road hogs wanting to kill us all,” Kibum complained, searching for an exit with his eyes, desperate to get the hell away from the ice rink. “I’ve seen enough TV to know how this ends. Someone is going to leave this paddock with a blade in their neck,” he added, and I cursed in disgust, trying to erase the vivid picture my mind conjured.

“You really can ruin everything, can’t you?”

“Isn’t why you brought me here in the first place?” Kibum challenged, readjusting his woolen scarf around his neck in a fabulous diva manner. “Come on, go get Yeri. I’ll wait on the bench,” he ordered, clumsily escaping that icy trap.

“I think your cousin wouldn’t appreciate me going over there,” I stated, spotting her on the other side of the rink, flirting with a cute guy. “Now, that would be so cruel,” I added, leaning over the railing, staring at Kibum ineptly wobbling to the bench.

“What?” Kibum barked in an over-protecting manner, looking for the unworthy punk wasting Yeri’s time. “Just bring her here, please. I’m gonna treat you to lunch.”

“You should’ve said that earlier. I’m on it,” I said, content with how much I stalled the conversation to get a free meal from Kibum for completing such an easy task.

Having pushed myself off the railing, I made my way towards Yeri. She was basically at the opposite end of the ice rink, so I was forced to skate around lovely-dovey couples in the rhythm of overhyped Christmas songs.

Halfway there, the DJ ordered changing directions, so with a loud groan, I obediently turned around. Unfortunately, one of the speeding men didn’t halt quick enough and smashed right into me, ungracefully knocking me into the ice.

Crash!

It was a painful fall for both of us. If it wasn’t for the beanie with a big fluffy faux ball at the top of it, I’d most likely end up in hospital with a third-degree concussion and possible skull fraction.

Though I was in a mild shock, I could feel a nearing headache and blood dripping down my chin after his forehead collided against my nose. With his knee sharply boring into my thigh, I whined, trying to push him off of me.

At this point, I didn’t care about his injuries. He was the one who bumped into me in the first place; he deserved all the pain he was experiencing. Hopefully, it was similar to mine. According to Newton’s third law of motion, he ought to feel the same amount of pain, and if he sensed it any less, I was about to become livid about the lie I had been told at school.

“Get off of me!” I yelled, once again trying to shove him to the side. Huffing in defeat, I accepted my death by freezing my ass off due to a motionless pile of muscles lying on top of me. “Dude, move,” I tried again, and the man winced, sliding to the side.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, whimpering in ache. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” I remarked, trying to sit up. However, as soon as I was in a sitting position, I started to feel dizzy – the surroundings just kept spinning in front of my eyes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Two men and Yeri scared in unison as they made their way towards us. “It was quite a fall,” one of them added, making me roll my eyes. His friend literally smashed me off the ice like a bulldozer – I wouldn’t call it a fall.

“She’s bleeding,” Yeri mentioned, looking for a bag of single-use handkerchiefs to give me one to aid my problem.

“How many fingers do you see?” the other man leaned over, showing me his palm, and I swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. “You’ve hit her bad, Jungkook. Good luck apologizing to her,” he commented, making it really difficult for me not to kick him in the shin with the blade.

“Is this a joke to you?” Yeri challenged the man, not particularly enjoying his comment. Attagirl! “You better make yourself useful and carry them off the rink,” she ordered sternly, her voice laced with concern.

“Hold on, beautiful,” the shorter one said before he bent to pick me up and wrap his arms around my shoulders to carefully escort me out of the ice rink. Slowly, we staggered to the benches where the man helped me sit down. “I’m Jimin, and you are?”

“In a tremendous amount of pain,” I replied, massaging my head, trying to ease the throbbing. I was about to get a headache of a century, and they kept asking me these stupid questions.

“I’m fine, Hoseok, put me down,” the man, who had smashed into me, complained as his friends dropped him at the bench beside me. “I’ve been through worse,” he groaned, and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my instinct to cause another scene.

Thankfully, I’ve got Kibum, who would channel his inner Karen to argue for me.

“You stupid fucks, look what you’ve done!” Kibum yelled, hitting Jungkook in the back of his head, making everyone gasp in shock. “What were you thinking, skating this fast? You’re lucky she didn’t end up with a blade stuck in her throat, or else, I’d have to murder you!”

“Guys, stop shouting,” I whispered, barely withstanding the pain. “Can we please go somewhere quiet?”

On cue, Kibum and Yeri went to get my stuff. At the same time, Jungkook’s friends walked away from us to get their belongings, leaving me alone with the villain himself.

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook apologized once again, being considerate enough to volume down his words. “Come on. Let me help you,” he stood up, offering his hand to escort me out of the tent. Unwillingly, I grabbed his palm, allowing him to save me from random shouts of joy and repetitive Christmas hits.

Once outside, I felt a little bit better, but it was still far from perfect.

“How are you feeling? Should I take you to a hospital?” Jungkook inquired as he looked into my eyes, trying to detect any lie.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll just walk it off,” I shook my head, trying to stand up to demonstrate my current state. Unfortunately, I was still a little bit shaken after the fall, almost collapsing onto the ground. “On a second thought, I’m gonna sit here for a while,” I added, sheepishly, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness.

In silence, Jungkook and I started at each other, unsure what to do or say next. We were just two strangers who participated in an accident. Our friends were nowhere to be found, giving zero fucks about the uncomfortable moment between us.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Jungkook suddenly asked, making me crease my eyebrow in confusion. What did he need my phone number for? “When there’s a car accident, both parties exchange contact info to work out a settlement,” Jungkook explained, and I sighed, trying to digest what he just said. Apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Please, don’t sue me,” he added with a light-hearted giggle to his tone as he sat down on the bench.

“I didn’t plan on doing that, but since you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about it,” I teased, reaching into my coat’s pocket to get my phone. “Give me your number, I’ll ring you,” I muttered, carefully typing Jungkook’s digits into my device. After a few seconds, Jungkook’s phone vibrated, flashing my number.

“Under what name did you save me?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, looking over my shoulder, cackling when he read totally suing this guy on the screen. “Well… at least you didn’t save me under do not pick up the phone, so that’s a relief,” he added, laughing at his joke.

Though I was a little bit curious how Jungkook saved my number, ultimately, I decided not to entertain this impulse. After all, the chances of him actually calling me were slim, if not none.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked, but before I managed to give him a proper reply, Kibum shouted it loud and clear from afar. “Duly noted,” he added with a tiny grin.

Along with Yeri and Jungkook’s friends, he made his way toward us, having the guys carry all our stuff like indebted servants.

“You’ll never guess,” Kibum stated, plopping on the bench beside me. At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for charades, so I just rolled my eyes, failing to accordingly react to Kibum’s attempted suspense.

Thankfully, Yuri chimed in, revealing the big plan. “We’ve talked to the guys, and they proposed to treat all of us to dinner. The race was their idea, so they figured it’s one way to make it up to you for you know what,” Yuri explained, and I sighed.

Hooray!

That’s exactly what I needed, to spend more time with the asshole that slammed into me with the force of a hundred horses.

Perfectly splendid.

“Sure, that sounds amazing,” I replied through gritted teeth, staring at that cheap bastard Kibum. He owed me dinner, so he used his sly manipulation to guilt-trip these naïve boys into treating all of us for a meal.

“See? I told you guys she doesn’t hold grudges against people who provide her with food,” Kibum answered, not surprising me all that much. I was accustomed to his ways. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, on the other hand, were about to get exploited to Kibum’s heart’s content.

But hey, free food, there’s no way I’d say no to that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the alley, looking for a restaurant or a diner that was able to provide a table for six. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side.

It was a long stroll. All establishments were either packed with people, or they simply weren’t capable of catering for such a large group like ours.

We didn’t give up, though. In pairs, we walked further, our stomachs growling louder and louder. Hoseok and Jimin were leading the way, chatting about some hockey game somewhat this week. Right behind, Kibum was giving a lecture on relationships to Yeri, being the highly unnecessary third parent to her. And lastly, there was Jungkook and me, awkwardly trailing behind all of them, talking about nothing in particular, unable to find a ground topic for a proper conversation.

At some point, a man in an expensive black coat bumped into me, smashing his shoulder against mine. It was quite a powerful collision on the sidewalk, resulting in me falling right into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going,” I yelled, massaging my limb to ease the soreness, while the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to my angry shout.

“Hey, you should really apologize,” Jungkook hollered at the man, standing up for me. Unfortunately, the man didn’t reflect his misbehavior even after Jungkook stepped in. He barely turned his head around to check what that was about, dismissing it a few seconds later.

“Let it go; he’s not worth it,” I wrapped my hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, stopping him from confronting the rude asshat. “Karma is gonna get him,” I added with a smirk upon my face as I imagined how much cash he had in his wallet – which, in fact, was at the bottom of my pocket right now.

It ought to teach him a lesson.

“It’s your unlucky day,” Jungkook admitted, feeling sorry for my misfortune.

“Well… it’s not that bad,” I assured Jungkook with a happy beam, realizing my mistake the second the words left my mouth. Fantastic, I was just enthusiastic about the cash I found lying all over the ground. However, now, Jungkook must’ve thought I was into him.

Dear Lord, save me from this misunderstanding.

Before Jungkook managed to question my ambiguous comment, Jimin and Hoseok shouted. Apparently, they found a restaurant with a large enough table to fit us all.

At last!

Once inside, we quickly sat down, ready to skim through the menus. Honestly, we were all hungry way past the I-need-my-food-tasty stage, so we decided to order two giant pizzas and six pints of Christmas Ale beer.

“I think we should play a game before our food arrives,” Jimin proposed as he looked at the people by the table, not appreciating the awkwardness. Within Jimin were two wolves – one was a social butterfly, and the other was a people pleaser. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence irked him immensely. “How about a little integration, anybody?”

“You have to excuse him,” Hoseok interjected, trying to calm the angry crowd of grownups. “Jimin’s going to be a counselor on a hockey camp during the winter break, and sometimes, he forgets he’s not talking with middle-school pupils.”

“You’re never too old for some good old bonding,” Jimin fought his case, really keen on getting to know us better. “Especially over some beer,” he added when the waitress walked up to our table with our beverages.

Though none of us wanted to participate in Jimin’s fun activities, we eventually gave in, realizing his persistence was even more energy-draining than the bonding games themselves.

The rules were simple, you had to name three finds you love and three things you hate. Jimin went first, and it was actually quite funny to see the contrast between him and Kibum, who was the second to speak up.

“I love Mexican food, horror movies, and money,” I confessed when it was my turn, having no regrets. After all, we would never meet again. “I hate banana milk, wireless earphones, and doing laundry,” I added, completing the horrid task, making everyone at the table grow silent. Cocking my brow upward, I asked, “what?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s just unbelievable.”

With each syllable that rolled off Hoseok’s tongue, I knew less and less. What the hell was going on? Could somebody explain to me what the fuss was all about?

“Basically, Jungkook loves all the things you hate,” Jimin finally explained, making Kibum cackle in entertainment.

“Ooh-la-la, the plot thickens,” Kibum snickered, laughing loudly, kicking his head backward.

“Ignore him. He’s just being a drama queen for no reason,” I interjected, ignoring Kibum’s ridiculous reaction.

“Guys, look, the food is ready,” Yeri said in excitement upon seeing our waitress walking toward us with delicious pizza in her hands. “I am so hungry,” she added, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips with appetite.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. After the beer and the food, the conversation sailed without any disturbance, everybody chiming in once in a while. A friendly atmosphere surrounded us, but we all felt it was the first and final meeting. Our groups had completely different vibes, and though we had somewhat fun, there was no point in forcing this friendship any further.

In an amicable mood, we parted ways.

Having dropped Yeri at her dorm, Kibum and I took an Uber to our shared apartment.

“I am dying,” I complained, stretching my arms as soon as I walked through the threshold of our comfy place. Having hung the coat, I fished out the stolen wallet. “I deserved a long bath,” I added, plopping down onto the couch, looking through the content of my newest possession.

“You really have to stop doing that. You’re gonna get caught one time,” Kibum mentioned as he sat down beside me, tearing the wallet out of my hands, browsing through the loyalty cards, looking for a bargain. “When did you even steal it? I was by your side the whole time,” Kibum wondered as he found a coupon for a free coffee amongst the plastic cards.

“You know what they say,” I started, counting the cash in my hands – almost two hundred bucks, not bad. “The first million is the hardest and is meant to be stolen,” I finished my thought, putting the cash into my purse.

“First of all, nobody has ever said that,” Kibum argued, groaning. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation; at this point, we had this pep talk rehearsed to perfection. “You’re pushing your luck here. One day you’ll pick the wrong pocket.”

“What do you want me to say? I can’t stop now,” sighing, I replied. Maybe in the future, once I land a stable job with an adequate wage, I’ll quit. In this economy, it may be quite challenging, but that’s the goal. Right now, I was as poor as a church mouse, barely getting by each month on my level of living.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if the police catch you,” Kibum complained, giving up on his daily lecture. Trying to convince me was a vicious circle. Kibum felt as if he was trapped in some lame remake of Groundhog Day, only failing at knocking some common sense into his friend’s stubborn head.

“Take it easy. They won’t,” I mused with a light-hearted smile. “If you’re forgotten, you’re like super old. You’ll get bald if you keep worrying so much.”

“That’s a low blow,” Kibum mentioned, frowning in annoyance. Ever since he reached the dreadful thirty mark, it was his biggest insecurity. “Alright then,” he carried on, ready to attack me with just as strong jab. “What about Jungkook?”

“What about him?”

“You’ve had a moment.”

“What moment?” I inquired, pretending to be way clueless than I really was. “If, by moment, you mean that he basically nailed me into the ice, then yes.”

“You should’ve given him your phone number,” Kibum commented casually, and I turned my head around, avoiding his gaze. “Oh my, you actually gave it, I knew it,” he realized, looking right through me. “Finally, you need some. Later on, maybe he’ll talk you out of your bad habits,” Kibum carried on, blabbering nonsense.

“Don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest. “I guess Jungkook’s a good guy, but he ain’t gonna call me.”

“You never know,” Kibum reasoned, and I sighed, walking away to the bathroom to run myself a relaxing bath, which was all that I needed.

3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It was a terrible day.

First of all, I was still a bit sore after the ice rink accident. Then, I tried strolling along the bustling alleys, picking a few pockets. Unfortunately, people didn’t carry that much cash.

Having stolen three wallets, I only collected fifty bucks.

That was pathetic.

Sighing, I decided to call it a day.

Kibum would be so proud of me, I thought as I made my way to a random coffee shop, wanting to accidentally lose one of the wallets. That way, the rightful owner would have a chance of actually finding it if he decided to trace back his steps.

On my walk of shame back home, my phone randomly stopped playing music. Instantly, I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to fish it out of my pocket, knowing there was an incoming call waiting to be answered.

Normally, I’d either ignore it because I knew it was a spam call or just ignore it because I preferred texts to calls. Whoever opted to dial must’ve been devil’s spawn. No doubt.

Totally suing this guy.

Hmm… what does he want? I wondered as my thumb hovered over the answer icon on the screen. I wasn’t serious about suing him; it was just me teasing the poor guy. I didn’t actually mean it, and I thought it was obvious.

Before I managed to make up my mind about picking up the phone, Jungkook must’ve given up and hung up. Unfortunately, right when I was about to put it back in my pocket, I received another incoming call.

Totally suing this guy.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up the phone. Hopefully, he would check up on me and end the conversation. It was weird and uncomfortable, so it better be the last time.

“Hi, it’s Jungkook,” he said, sounding somewhat shy and timid. “From the ice rink, how are you feeling?” Jungkook inquired, and I sighed, getting mentally prepared for my reply.

“I’m better,” I answered shortly, not giving him any details on my condition. It was just a few bruises; I wasn’t dying. “Your knee left a bruise, but in a few days, I’m gonna feel all good,” I added, remembering the large mark on my thigh. It looked like a big ass hickey, but that’s the comment I was about to keep to myself.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he spoke through a tumult on his side of the call. He must’ve been in a crowded place, like a locker room packed with fellow hockey players or something. A second later, I heard a noise of shutting the doors close, assuming Jungkook must’ve left the room, wanting to continue this talk without any further disturbance.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I reassured that he cared so him. It was adorable much about my condition, but it was starting to feel a little bit excessive. A regular amount of repentance would be understandable, but he was quite over the top.

“Actually, it’s not why I’m calling,” Jungkook admitted, taking me aback. Why else would he call then? “It was just an excuse,” he added, and I genuinely started to wonder what was going on inside his head. He didn’t want to ask me out, did he?

Nah, it didn’t make any sense.

Get a grip, woman.

“Oh, why are you calling me then?” I challenged him as I couldn’t wait any longer for the big reveal. “What is so important that couldn’t be a simple text?”

“Well…,” Jungkook started, and I smiled, hearing in his tone that he was beaming. “To be completely honest, I really suck at texting. One time, I texted back my friend after a few months, so yeah, I’d rather call,” he explained, and though that’s not my preferred way of communicating, I found it adorable.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out,” Jungkook asked, and I became speechless.

“Really? Why?” I questioned as I couldn’t find any reason why Jungkook would like to meet up with me. Yesterday, I had been grumpy as fuck – it was hard to believe he wanted to see my face ever again.

“What do you mean why?”

“I wasn’t particularly nice to you yesterday,” I admitted, looking down at my feet.

“You were just angry, it happens,” Jungkook claimed, once again surprising me – he wasn’t just good-looking. Besides his gorgeous looks, he, most importantly, was a kind, soft-spoken person with a heart of gold.

“Yeah, but still, I was an asshole.”

“No, it must’ve been that spur-of-the-moment kind of attitude,” Jungkook brushed it off without my thought, and I sighed in relief. Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a complete bitch. “I would be pissed too if someone tackled me down at a public ice rink.”

“Could we please stop talk about it?” I proposed, willing to put it all behind us.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, and I giggled, shaking my head, unable to process how adorable he was. “So, back to the topic, I was wondering if you’d like to come to that charity hockey game tomorrow,” he trailed off, a little bit insecure about my answer. “And after that, we could grab some coffee. I mean, if you don’t have any plans, I’d really like to meet up,” Jungkook added, sounding like a ball of a blabbering mess.

“Hmm… tomorrow, I am busy in the morning and early afternoon. What time does the game begin?” I questioned, buying myself more time to think over Jungkook’s proposition. He was a good guy, and I’d love to hang out, but I still had doubts.

“At three o’clock!” Jungkook exclaimed in excitement, probably hoping I was available to attend this charity event. “We’re raising money for a winter camp for kids from St. Paul’s orphanage. That’s the one Jimin’s gonna volunteer at.”

Now, there was no way I could say no.

“I should be free by then,” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision later on.

“Fantastic, see you tomorrow,” Jungkook exclaimed happily, and I giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Ayo, Jeon, what are you giggling at?” Someone in the background hollered, teasing Jungkook. Though I thought it was cute and playful, Jungkook must’ve felt so embarrassed that he hung up before I managed to say my farewell.

2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

According to Jungkook’s instructions, the charity game out to start around 3 in the afternoon. A bit too early if you ask me, but who am I to judge the authorities who organized it? Nonetheless, I put on a nice outfit (effortless though chic) and made my way to the university’s stadium, ready to sit through the entirety of the game, already suspecting it wouldn’t appeal to my preferences. It was far too brutal to be enjoyable.

I had no interest in hockey, nor even knew the basics; however, Jungkook wanted me out of all people to support him. Normally, I’d skip, but there was just something about him that made it really difficult to say no to him. There I was – on university grounds during the holiday break, heading to the sports department where I had never stepped my foot willingly.

It was a charity event our university annually hosted. To be completely honest, it was the first time I heard of it. Moreover, there was a high chance I wasn’t the only one. Right in front of the entrance, there was no queue – I was the only one, and it was suspicious as fuck.

Unless I had first-hand info about the beginning of the game, I would just turn around and leave. However, Jungkook had specifically said 3 p.m., so I walked up to the entrance, seeing a man distributing tickets. He must’ve been one of the volunteering students. Admirable.

With a deep sigh, I pushed the doors open and entered the building. “One ticket, please,” I spoke, pulling out my wallet to pay for the entry fee. It was all for charity, so I gladly paid up the round sum. These kids really deserved a treat, and I’d love to contribute.

“You’re the first one to arrive; you must be a hardcore fan of our hockey team,” the friendly man said, and I just giggled at this obvious misconception.

Me? A fan? A hardcore one at that? Wow.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m here to support a friend,” I answered, denying the accusations with a casual response. “Where should I go?”

“Right this way, the first doors on the left,” the man answered with a happy beam. “Seats are not assigned, so be free to sit anywhere you like,” he added, and I bowed, thanking him for the directions. Though I was near graduation, I had no idea how to move around the building.

Having pushed the heavy doors open, I made my way to the bleachers.

A few players were skating across the ice rink, while the area for spectators was empty. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, all the players looked at me, whistling like a bunch of starved wolves. What the hell was that all about?

Ooh! Ooh!

“Wow, Jungkook, this girl really came,” one of the boys, probably Hoseok, shouted loud enough for me to hear. What? Did Jungkook talk about me with his teammates? What for? Or did they listen to us chat on the phone the other day? Even so, what’s with the reaction?

At first, I wanted to turn around and run away. I didn’t like the way they looked at me. It resembled a combination of concern for their younger teammate and playful support for whatever was about to stem between us. Ridiculous!

Then, I considered sitting in the last row, ignoring their curious glances. I’d probably pull a book out of my bag and devote myself to the plot for the duration of the game.

Unfortunately, none of my ideas seemed to be possible – especially not when one of the players with number 1 written on the sports uniform skated toward the railing. It must’ve been Jungkook. I mean… who else would that be?

Once he took off his helmet, I realized that my suspicion was right. It was indeed Jungkook with his messy, sweaty hair and a goofy smile upon his face. He was waving at me, enticing me closer to the ice rink.

“You really came,” Jungkook whispered when I walked up to him. “I really doubted you did,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“If I didn’t, you would keep calling me,” I answered playfully, still unable to comprehend how, on earth, he preferred calling to texting. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t be that bad at replying as he had claimed. “And also, why am I here this soon? Where is everybody? Care to explain?” I asked, my tone slightly laced with anger.

“Did I really say 3 o’clock?” Jungkook inquired innocently, staring at the big clock on the scoreboard. “My bad, I fucked it up, sorry,” Jungkook apologized, but I suspected his words weren’t entirely genuine. Apparently, he wanted me to come this soon, and I had to figure out why.

“Also, care to explain why your teammates stare at me like that,” I questioned, cocking my eyebrow, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder. The hockey team really seemed to be invested in what was going on between Jungkook and me, and I didn’t like the way they were gawking at me as if I had two heads growing out on my shoulders.

“Oh, I might’ve got caught talking to you yesterday,” he mentioned as if I didn’t already suspect that. “Apparently, I looked like an embodiment of teenage crush, and they keep teasing me about it. I am sorry if they creep you out,” Jungkook explained, and I beamed, thinking it was actually pretty cute.

“They’re your friends; that’s what friends do.”

“Hey, Jeon, quit flirting and get your ass on the rink. We’ve all gotta warm-up,” the coach hollered, urging Jungkook to return to his teammates. Though it was just an out of the season game, their coach didn’t want to lose anyway.

“Good luck, Jeon,” I whispered, shooing him away from me, really trying to give him a chance for a proper warm-up before the match. “Don’t let anyone tackle you down. It’s not that pleasant,” I added with an encouraging smile.

“I got it,” Jungkook spoke, sending me a cute wink.

Just as I asked him to, Jungkook skated away, only to come back around ten seconds later.

“By the way, you’ve got any plans after the game?” Jungkook asked, waiting for my answer with utter impatience. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“Well… that depends,” I replied, and Jungkook cocked up his eyebrow.

“Depends on what?”

“Ask me again after you win the game,” I teased, giving him some extra motivation to try his best on the rink. “Go, they’re waiting.”

And with that, Jungkook finally got his head in the game.

The coach shouts tips and occasionally scolds players that aren’t on their best performance. In the meantime, people fill up the seats on the bleachers, excited to see the match and open their wallets for the laudable cause.

By the time the match finally begins, I am bored out of my mind. I gave hockey a fair shot, but it didn’t raise my interest in the tiniest bit. It just wasn’t my thing.

Thankfully, I had a newly purchased book in my bag to pass the time. It was just a Christmas themed erotica with a half-naked Santa with a six-pack on the cover. It wasn’t anything promising, but the holidays were around the corner, so maybe it’d put me in the right mood.

Though I didn’t have high hopes for the novel, it felt disappointing. The plot was cliché, and the pace was too rushed, but nonetheless, I’d still choose it over a hockey game. Contact sports weren’t really my thing, especially when it was giving me PTSD.

From time to time, my eyes would locate Jungkook on the rink. He was really out there, showing off his talents, making people gawk in admiration. He was one of the best players in his team, scoring goal after goal. Or whatever they score in hockey.

It was an even match, but ultimately, our team won by two points.

“On children’s behalf, I’d like to thank everybody for coming,” a woman in smart clothing spoke through the microphone. It must’ve been the orphanage director showing her gratitude for all the money they had managed through the ticket sale. “My heart really melts when I see how many people decided to help our children, especially in this difficult time of the year,” she recited, putting the microphone away from her mouth before a grateful tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you so much!”

Shortly after, she handed the microphone to Jungkook’s coach.

“Hi, everybody, I’m coach Min,” he introduced himself, and the spectators clapped their hands in gratitude for leading the team towards victory. “I’d like to thank everybody for donating the money. I hope the kids will enjoy their winter break,” he added, looking at the crowd, proud of so many people gathered to support the cause. “However, if you’d like to contribute, even more, my team will wait outside with boxes. With this extra money, we would like to buy Christmas gifts for these amazing kids. I wish you all – Merry Christmas.”

Another round of applause echoed among the walls before people slowly started to head towards the exit. Taking my time, I followed the crowd, looking for Jungkook. It was difficult; people were feeling generous today.

“Over here,” I heard somebody call my name, so I turned around, recognized Jimin. He was standing a few meters away with a heavy box stuffed with cash. “Would you like to make some children happy?” Jimin asked, placing the box right under my nose, wanting me to contribute some more. “What do you say?”

Although I had already paid the entry fee, I still wanted to give more. All the goodness I had witnessed at the stadium pulled my heartstrings; it was impossible to say no now. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

With a genuine smile, I pulled out my wallet. I had plenty of cash in it. Everything I had stolen during this week. It was about four hundred bucks. Without a slimmer of doubt, the team would spend it wisely. Better than I ever could.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money,” Jimin asked, wondering if I was in the right state of mind donating so much.

“Yes, I am sure,” I confirmed, giving all of the money away. The feeling was deliberating, and it was really nice. “Oh my God, Jimin! What are you doing?” I asked in panic when Jimin put the box on the ground and picked me up, spinning around.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat before continuing, “am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice asked, making Jimin drop me down. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble. Somehow I found my balance before I hit my face against the pavement.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, smiling awkwardly, almost as if we were caught cheating. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. Literally, it was the worst phrasing he could choose, especially given the reputation this line holds. “I was just showing my gratitude after her generous donation.”

“Let’s just go,” I interjected before Jimin managed to embarrass me even more. With a smile upon my face, I grabbed Jungkook’s box and handed it over to Jimin. “Take care of that, okay?” I said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, pulling him away from the campus ground.

Since it was quite chilly outside, Jungkook and I decided to grab drinks at the campus café. Having taken seats by the window in the back, we looked through menus to choose something delicious for our little informal date.

“Order anything you like; it’s my treat,” Jungkook mentioned before he proceeded to look through the menu. “You were my lucky charm today.”

“Well… of course, it’s your treat. I gave all my money away to charity,” I spoke, looking through the tea section for something I haven’t had before. “I’d like vanilla cinnamon tea,” I read out loud the position off the menu that really caught my attention.

“On it,” he added before he walked up to the counter to order. In a minute, he was back at the table, sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. “So… you and Jimin, huh?”

“Speaking of which, what kind of jealousy scene was that?” I inquired, teasing him for completely misunderstanding this situation.

“Sorry for that,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, looking away. “It’s just it was so unexpected. I mean… you don’t know Jimin that well, and acting like that was quite strange,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded, trying to understand his reaction.

“Jimin’s cute. Is he single?” I asked, and Jungkook frowned upon my question, visibly upset with my wording. “What I meant is that I have a friend. I have a feeling they would click, you know,” I clarified, giggling when I saw relief wash through Jungkook.

“In that case, he’s very single,” Jungkook gladly answered, smiling brightly like an idiot. “After the last girl he was seeing dumped him a few months ago, he didn’t date. Maybe it’s about time he gets back to it,” he added, and I nodded, scribbling down my friend’s number on a piece of paper, sliding it over to Jungkook, believing he would pass it to Jimin.

“So… what are your plans for Christmas Eve?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table. Apparently, Jungkook is quite a sweet-tooth. Beside my tea, he ordered a large cup of hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows on top along with four beautifully decorated cupcakes. I got cavities just by looking at it.

“I’m going Christmas shopping,” Jungkook answered, licking off some whipped cream off the pink cupcake. “I gotta buy gifts for the kids,” he added, and I smiled at the boy in front of me. Although I knew him only for two days, he kept surprising me.

In a good way, of course.

“Do you have any idea what I can get them?” Jungkook inquired, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, enjoying his sweet treat. “There’s like thirty-five of them. I am clueless.”

“I don’t know… board games? Art supplies? Lego blocks? I’m sure you’ll figure this out,” I replied, suspecting I wasn’t much of a help.

“You could always come and join me,” Jungkook proposed, reaching for another cupcake. “I could use some help,” he added, pushing the tray with sugary treats towards me.

“I’d love to, but I will be at work, sorry,” I answered truthfully, now kind of regretting replying to that ad on Craigslist. “I’m babysitting tomorrow. Parents of three go on some business trip, and I have to watch them until their grandparents take over,” I explained, and Jungkook nodded, sipping his hot cocoa.

“Any plans after that?”

“I’ll just come back home and watch some Christmas movies on Netflix. This year, I don’t have time to go to my hometown. I gotta go to work as soon as Christmas is over,” I explained with a deep sigh. Although I wasn’t exceptionally family-oriented, it still felt a little bit odd to spend Christmas alone. “What about you?”

“My parents finally saved up enough money for the second honeymoon they always wanted to go, so there’s no real celebration this year,” Jungkook mentioned, showing real support for his parents. If that’s what they really wanted, he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’m really happy for them. Raising me and my brother wasn’t easy, so that’s the least we can do.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I commented, wondering about Jungkook, his family, and their customs. “We could hang out tomorrow evening if you want to,” I proposed, and Jungkook beamed in utter joy, almost as if he waited for my offer.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jungkook admitted, grinning like a child. “Come on, have some cupcake. I bought them for us.”

“I’m fine with my tea,” I replied, raising the cup to my mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I’m full just by looking at you eat,” I added, encouraging Jungkook to devour the rest of the goodies.

As if I didn’t know already, Jungkook proved to me one more time how charming he was. Though we had different opinions on some topics, we also had a lot in common.

This date was really informative. For example, I had no idea that Jungkook only plays in the hockey team for the scholarship. His true passion is photography and directing, and it’s actually his major. Moreover, he shared how much he likes to sings in the shower, for which he often gets teased by fellow teammates.

Maybe our first meeting was a tragedy, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize that it was actually worth it to take this fall.

CHRISTMAS EVE

“My parents should arrive around seven,” the mother of three boys announced when she finally found a second to talk to me. “Jin is ten, Namjoon is eight, and Taehyung is five,” she added when the boys ran across the corridor, chasing one another.

“They’re adorable,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. I had no idea how the kids would behave when their parents would walk out the door.

“My sweet little angels,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling a bit sad that she had to leave her children alone on Christmas day. Unfortunately, whatever they had to tend to at work was way more important than spending holidays with their children. “How much money do I owe you?” She asked, being unaware of the amount her husband put on the advertisement.

“Five hundred,” I answered, and she nodded her head, giving me the correct amount.

Thankfully, the kids weren’t all that troublesome.

After their parents left for the airport, the children were a loud mess playing some console games. As long as they didn’t want me to participate in their fun activities, I didn’t mind the noise. I’d just simply wait for the grandparents to arrive.

Just two more hours; I can handle that.

“Can I have some candy?” Taehyung asked cutely, holding a bag of jelly beans in his hands. Usually, I’d say no. Kids tend to be hyperactive on the sugar rush. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but then, I was quite impressed that he even bothered to ask for permission.

“Of course, sweetie, it’s Christmas,” I replied, tearing the packaging for him.

After the boys got bored, they wanted to play some board games with me. I wasn’t particularly interested in interacting with them but ultimately decided to join in. It’s been a while since I destroyed someone at Monopoly, so I might as well do it now.

Just one more hour; it’s almost over.

The boys had a particularly short attention span. The average game of Monopoly should take at least two hours – Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung returned to their previous shenanigans, running around and screaming at one another maybe twenty minutes into the game.

Just when I was about to yell at them to keep quiet, I heard my phone ring. Under these circumstances, it was a blessing. At this point, I’d diligently answer all the questions the spam caller wanted to ask me. I was desperate for some interaction with an adult.

Having locked myself inside the bathroom, I answered the call, enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet. “Hello?” I asked, waiting for Jungkook to brighten my day.

“Hi, there,” he spoke cheerfully, “all gifts are bought and wrapped,” he added, proud of his today’s achievements. “What time do you finish up?”

“In an hour or maybe earlier,” I answered, looking at the wristwatch.

“Do you want me to pick you up? We could take a walk, and then just go with the flow,” Jungkook proposed, and I immediately said yes as I couldn’t wait for him to show up and rescue me from these children.

“I’d actually love that. I’ll text you the address,” I spoke, biting my bottom lip in excitement. One more hour and I’d walk away with five hundred bucks in my wallet.

When the clock struck seven o’clock, the grandparents were nowhere to be seen. They were running late, and I was growing impatient. Jungkook would be here any minute, and I wanted to leave. I tried calling their parents but to no avail. They must’ve already boarded the plane.

This situation was helpless – they were just little boys, I couldn’t leave them alone.

Thirty minutes later, I heard the bell. In a hurry, I opened the doors, wishing to see the grandparents on the other side. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, it was just Jungkook.

“Shall we go now?” Jungkook asked, eyeing me from head to toe, biting his lip. “Wow, you look amazing,” he added, and I stared down at my outfit consisting of a cute tight purple turtleneck, a short black skirt, and a pair of warm tights.

“I can’t go yet. Their grandparents aren’t here, and I don’t have a way of calling them,” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, taking off his shoes, willing to help me babysit.

“What is he doing here,” Jin asked, as he folded his arms around his chest, judging me for inviting someone to their household.

“He’s my friend who was supposed to pick me up after I’m done here, and since your grandparents are getting late, he’s staying, so be nice to him.”

“Whatever,” he grumped before running to the living room, joining his brothers on the couch.

We tried watching a movie. However, once again, the boys couldn't focus enough to last to the end of it. Then, I realized I royally fucked up by giving them sugar earlier. They wanted to play hide and seek, and I agreed with a tired sigh.

Unwillingly, I turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes and began counting, giving them more than enough time to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Three, two, one,” I hollered, making sure they heard me.

The apartment was suspiciously silent and pretty dark. I could definitely feel that weird vibe often present in horror movies. First of all, I checked all the hiding spots in the living room. Then, when I was about to enter the corridor, I felt a presence behind me. Before I managed to react, a hand snaked around my body, covering my mouth, muffling my unexpected screams.

In a second, the person turned me around. I should’ve figured it out it was Jungkook. With a goofy smile, he mentioned me to remain quiet.

“What are you doing? This is not how you play this game,” I whispered, giving him a lecture, but Jungkook only laughed at my reaction.

“Look, they’re finally quiet. You should take your time finding the kids,” Jungkook suggested, and I hummed in agreement. He was right – I should cherish the silence. He was a genius. “Shh…,” he added, pressing his forefinger against his perfect lips.

Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but I just couldn’t help myself. We were standing there in the dark, completely still. I couldn’t fight this temptation.

Acting out of my urge, I took a step forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was a delicate brush of my lips against his, but it was just perfect. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this innocent form of affection.

The moment I pulled away, Jungkook grinned, placing his hands on my hips. Staring down at me, he yanked me against his firm body, leaning forward for another kiss. Tenderly, his mouth moved, feeling my lips.

Within seconds, the kiss became even more passionate. Smiling, Jungkook began to nibble on the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hummed in pleasure. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” Jungkook loudly cursed as he bit my bottom lip, making me shriek in pain. At first, I thought he was just getting turned on, but then I realized what happened. It was Taehyung. He was standing right beside Jungkook, smiling as if he did something inappropriate. “He bit me!” Jungkook exclaimed, massaging his thigh, trying to ease the pain.

“He bit you?” I asked, being confused as ever. “Is that true, Taehyung?” I questioned the boy, but instead of answering me, he ran away to another room, chuckling like a maniac. Now, that was odd. “What is going on?”

The grandparents were supposed to arrive over an hour ago; I was losing my patience here.

“This kid bit me,” Jungkook carried on, unable to comprehend this entire situation. Well… he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wrap his head around this. What the fuck was wrong with them? “What is this?” Jungkook asked as he felt something on this thigh. “Ew, it’s his tooth!”

That was enough.

It was about time I set up some rules.

“Let’s find them, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” I ordered before we split up to search more ground. The boys were getting out of hand, and they had to be stopped. For the love of God, Taehyung bit Jungkook!

“Have you found them?” Jungkook hollered, and I shook my head.

They vanished.

“I know it’s very irresponsible, but how about ditching this place?” I offered, even though I already knew the answer. They were just kids; we couldn’t just walk out, leaving them alone.

“It’s tempting, but we shouldn’t do that,” Jungkook spoke, regretting making the adult decision. “Isn’t that Namjoon?” He asked, and I turned to look where he was pointing at.

“Wait there, young man!” I yelled, storming out of the room, following Namjoon. The second I turned to the left, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. It was weird; he must’ve run into one of the rooms. Unfortunately, before I managed to make up my mind, which room I should check first, someone pushed me onto the ground. It made me fall on my knees, painfully bruising them. “What the fuck?” I looked behind my shoulder, seeing Jin bolt off to the living room.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked in concern as he approached me, helping me stand up. “What is wrong with them?”

“I have no idea. The boys seemed fine earlier,” I spoke, seeing Taehyung run towards us. In a matter of seconds, he jumped at Jungkook, wrapping his hands around his neck, dangling off his back. “Hold still,” I ordered, but Jungkook was in panic, afraid of earning another wound.

I wanted to peel the kid off Jungkook’s back, but there was something wrong with Taehyung. Though he was a good boy, right now, there was something inhuman about him. He behaved like a wild animal with rabies, and it crept me out as fuck.

Jungkook smashed his back against the wall, hoping Taehyung would loosen the grip around his neck. At this moment, Jungkook felt as if the little boy was strangling him.

Unfortunately, the impact didn’t do much help.

Then I saw it. There must’ve been something really wrong with them. Taehyung’s eyes were all black with a few black veins around them, making him look extra creepy.

“Fuck this shit, let’s go,” I yanked Jungkook’s arm, wanting to get the hell away from this apartment. There was something wrong with them, and it wasn’t a part of my job to find out what. I was about to babysit them until seven o’clock and leave.

It wasn’t a part of the deal.

“We can’t leave,” Jungkook argued, but I didn’t want to listen.

“We’ll call the police,” I spoke, desperately trying to convince Jungkook to escape this trap. “They’ll send someone here to check up on them,” I added, running to the living room to get my bag. “Let’s go before I drag you out of here.” Maybe my words sounded like a threat, but it successfully made Jungkook move.

“It’s locked,” Jungkook said when he tried to pull the doors open. Though I didn’t lock it after Jungkook’s entrance, the doors wouldn’t budge now. “Do you have a key?”

Trapped inside the apartment, we looked at each other. None of us knew what to do next.

Then, the lights went out.

As if we weren’t already crept out.

“What is the plan?” Jungkook inquired, searching for my hand to hold onto something.

“Stay calm,” I answered, not realizing that quoting the office wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “You try everything to open the doors. Kungfu the shit out of them if you have to,” I ordered, and Jungkook hummed in understanding. “I’ll distract the kids.”

It wasn’t the wisest decision to make, but somebody had to do it. I wasn’t exceptionally proud of myself, but what could a bunch of weird kids do to me?

“Be careful,” Jungkook whispered before I turned on the torch on my phone, looking for the kids around the apartment.

They had to be hiding in one of the rooms. Having taken a confident sigh, I pushed one of the doors open, stepping into Namjoon’s bedroom. The space was spotless, and it was hard to believe it was one of the children’s rooms.

“Game over, Namjoon,” I spoke, urging him to show himself. “You won,” I added, as I kneeled on the carpet to check if he was hiding under the bed. He wasn’t there. “It’s not funny,” I exclaimed, marching towards the closet, anxious about opening it.

It had to be done, though.

Abruptly, I opened the closet, hoping I’d be the first to react if it was indeed Namjoon’s hiding spot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Before I managed to prepare myself, Namjoon pushed me, making me painfully fall on my back.

“You little fucker,” I yelled, groaning in pain, earning probably another big ass bruise. “You’re gonna regret that,” I added, unable to control my anger any longer. I was getting easy on them, but it was enough. Now, I’d punch them in the face if I had to.

Namjoon was staring down at me with these creepy black eyes of a demon. His eyes studied my movement, almost as if he was a predator, waiting for the best moment to strike its prey. Then he screeched, jumping right at me in an attempt to bite me.

This time around, however, my reflexes were quicker. Before Namjoon landed on top of me, I rolled to the side, kicking him in his stomach, sending him flying across the room. I couldn’t believe I just did that, but when Namjoon stood up as if nothing happened, I understood I had to go all the way if I wanted to make it out alive.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet, determined to Bruce Lee kick the devil’s spawn into another dimension with my close-to-none self-defense skills. Women in stress could pick up cars, and I had to beat up an eight-year-old.

I could handle it.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Bouncing on my legs like on the ready mode in a fighting game, I stared at my opponent. Namjoon was the first to attack, and I just jumped at the side, not wanting to get bitten. Unfortunately, Namjoon still managed to scratch my arm, drawing blood.

“You’re dead,” I threatened when I saw that he tore the sleeve of my favorite turtleneck. With anger in my eyes, I approached him, throwing punches left and right. My fists collided against Namjoon’s jaw, but no matter how much force I used, it didn’t seem to have any impact on him. He didn’t feel any pain, and it pissed me off.

With a hiss, Namjoon jumped at me, wrapping his hands and arms around my torso. His mouth was dangerously close to my throat, so in a state of complete panic, I started to spin around, trying to shake him off of me.

Now, Namjoon’s room was a complete mess – especially when I walked into a mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Namjoon and I were rolling in the broken glass, earning plenty of tiny cuts across our bodies.

“That’s enough,” I warned him as I spat blood on the carpet. “Say hello to Satan for me, will you?” I added before I pushed him out of the window without any regrets. Namjoon kept screaming, but when his tiny body smashed against the pavement, the peculiar screeching finally stopped. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” I whispered, unable to control myself.

I just killed a kid, and the first thing that came to my mind was quoting Die Hard.

It wasn’t the time for celebration. There were still two children running around the apartment.

Looking around Namjoon’s room, I found a baseball bat. That’ll do, I thought to myself as I stared at my new-found weapon.

“Jungkook!” I shouted.

Once I was in the corridor, I saw the doors. They were open, but Jungkook was out of sight. Did he seriously ditch me here alone? No, it wasn’t possible. Jungkook would never do that.

The boys must’ve done something to him.

One by one, I checked all the rooms, but I found nothing. It almost felt as if I was alone in this creepy apartment.

“Cut the crap, boys,” I hollered, ready to smack anybody in the face with my baseball bat. I was done playing games. I just wanted to go home and wrap myself in blankets in front of a television. “Come out! I don’t have the whole day,” I added, looking around.

I was on high alert. Adrenaline and other hormones were running through my veins, enhancing my senses. Then I heard it – the sound was coming from the staircase. Quickly, I ran out of the apartment, checking the reason behind this commotion.

It was a yellow ball. Somebody must’ve thrown it. Leaning over the railing, I looked up, trying to spot the villain behind this prank. Then I heard giggles. It must’ve been Taehyung.

“Get down here, right now,” I ordered, but the boy didn’t listen. “You’re going to be so dead when I get up there,” I warned, skipping two steps at a time, climbing the stairs.

On the top of the stairs, Taehyung was sitting comfortably, playing with a yo-yo. His face was stretched into a creepy smile, and in all honesty, it gave me chills.

“Get down here,” I repeated myself, but Taehyung didn’t even budge. “Where is Jungkook? What did you do to him?” I asked and received no answer.

Angrily, I walked upstairs, swinging my baseball bat around. Taehyung tried to mess with me with his yo-yo, but I managed to catch the toy and pull it out of his hands.

Like a maniac, I swung the bat, repeatedly hitting Taehyung’s head until it turned into a pulp. Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I turned around, studying the area. There was one more child out there, and I couldn’t lose my focus just yet.

“Where are you, Jin?” I shouted, waiting for a sign from the boy.

“Here,” Jin whispered, as he emerged from the shadows, pushing me off the stairs.

It was a painful fall, but thankfully, I didn’t break my neck. I felt a pulsating sensation in my left ankle, but besides that, I was fine.

Groaning in pain, I watched Jin slowly descend the stairs. His weird-ass demon eyes were drilling holes in my face, his lips turning into a devilish sneer. Step by step, he made his way downstairs, enjoying the way I tried to crawl away from him. The anticipation was draining me of energy; he was going to murder me, and I could just watch him do it.

“Help!” I shouted though I doubted anyone could hear me. “Somebody call the police!” I carried on but to no avail.

Jin was maybe thirty centimeters away from me, savoring my misery. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, showing me his teeth, ready to tear me apart.

I had maybe a minute of life left, and I was going to spend it looking into my killer’s eyes.

That was sick.

When Jin was about to jump at me, I heard a noise coming from the apartment.

The scene unfolded in front of my eyes so soon, I couldn’t properly react to it. Right before Jin took a final leap towards me, Jungkook emerged out of the apartment with a fireplace poker, piercing it through Jin’s neck.

Jin’s blood, like a fountain, squirted on me. With my eyes closed, I waited for this moment to end. A few seconds later, I could hear Jin’s dead body collapse to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jungkook, who dropped onto the floor beside me in shock.

“I just killed a kid,” Jungkook whispered, still unable to process what just happened. “When you walked away to look for the kids, I heard a noise in the kitchen. It was Jin, and when I entered, he began throwing shit at me. That motherfucker cut my face,” he added, showing me his fresh wound on his beautiful cheek. “Then, he stabbed my side with the knife and locked me in the closet,” he added, squeezing his side, trying to numb the pain.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” I spoke, trying to stand up. It was difficult with all my wounds, but I couldn’t stand being inside this building.

CHRISTMAS DAY

We just killed three children.

At first, we had no clue what to do next, but then, I listened to my voice of reason – Jungkook. No matter how bad it looked, we had to go to the police.

Hand in hand, we slowly walked to the nearest police station. People were turning their heads when we were passing by them. I couldn’t blame them. I looked like Carrie with better clothing, while Jungkook seemed to have survived a zombie apocalypse.

When we entered the police station, everybody stared at us. Wobbling, we approached the front desk. “We killed three children,” I admitted, realizing how bad it sounded without the context.

The policeman was shocked. He didn’t witness this kind of thing regularly.

A few minutes later, we were escorted to a questioning room, where we could describe everything in great detail. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to buy our story, thinking we were trying to pull some kind of a prank.

Taking all precautions, they called in an ambulance. We were seriously injured, and we needed some medical care. Though the doctor did a great job, I’d kill to get some better painkillers.

Once our wounds were dressed, the police locked us in custody. We had to wait until a pair of policemen checked the apartment and secure the evidence.

“Merry Christmas, Jungkook,” I whispered as I looked at my wristwatch, realizing it was already past one o’clock. “I know we had different plans, but out of all people, I am glad I was stuck there with you. You saved my life,” I carried on, looking at Jungkook fondly.

“We killed three children,” he replied, still shaken after what had happened. Perhaps, he didn’t need me now, but I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright. Too bad that we were locked in two different cells.

“In self-defense,” I added since Jungkook often seemed to forget that part.

After ten minutes of painful silence, one of the guards walked up to the custody, unlocking our cells. What else did they want to know? We already said everything we knew.

“You’re free to go,” the guard announced, surprising us immensely. “It was an elaborate prank, but don’t ever do that again, or else, we’re going to seriously put you in jail,” he warned, urging us to leave.

“I don’t understand,” I wondered out loud, unable to process what was going on. “I thought you sent your men to check out the crime scene.”

“We did, and the apartment you wanted us to check out was empty. We talked with the landlord, and he said this flat has been vacant for the last year,” the guard explained, making me and Jungkook gasp in shock.

What the fuck was going on?

In complete silence, with our heads hanging low, we exited the police station.

“What now?”

“Let’s just go home and watch Die Hard,” Jungkook whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened inside the apartment. We almost died in there. However, when the police checked it, it was like we had never been there.

My apartment was closer, so we both headed there. Our moves were robotic, our heads were empty. At this point, we just wanted to sit down and keep our minds busy, so we wouldn’t try to analyze what happened back there.

It wasn’t a figment of our imagination. Our wounds were concrete evidence that we were telling the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t want to believe us. However, as the saying goes – no body, no crime.

In light of the law, we were innocent.

As soon as we entered my apartment, we sat down on the floor, resting our back against the sofa. Mindlessly, I grabbed the remote and turned Die Hard on Netflix.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered as I interlaced my fingers with Jungkook’s, resting my head on his shoulder. “Or we can just pretend it never happened. Let’s just say we watched a really weird movie or went to a hardcore escape room,” I added, studying Jungkook’s arm tattoos, getting lost in his skin art.

“I’ve known you a few days,” Jungkook started, staring into my eyes. “But I’ve experienced more stress than in my entire life altogether,” he added with a sigh, placing a delicate peck against my neck.

“Actually, my life is pretty boring,” I admitted, though I knew where Jungkook’s words were coming from. I wouldn’t believe myself, either. “It took a 180 on that ice rink,” I reasoned, trying to find a connection.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook confessed genuinely, staring at my face with his big sparkly eyes. He was bullshitting me, but I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him. How could I be beautiful? My hair was all sticky due to all the blood which the doctor hadn’t washed off. My skin was covered with cuts and bruises. Even my clothes were ripped. I was certain Jungkook didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’re beautiful, too,” I beamed, teasing him. “Even after what we’ve been through today, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” I added, and Jungkook looked away, trying to hide his red cheeks. Carefully, I cupped his face, pressing another delicate kiss against his lips.

Just like feathers, our lips moved against each other. No rush, no hastiness, just pure delight.

Though we were both sore and exhausted, we took our time. Maybe it was past three o’clock now, but we didn’t care. I could stay up all night, kissing him like that.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands found purchase on my hips, carefully pulling me closer on top of his thighs. Gently, I began rubbing my sex against his muscular legs, trying not to make him hiss. His beautiful thighs had already suffered enough damage when Taehyung had bitten him – I didn’t want to inflict any more pain.

“I wish I could fuck you the way I want to,” Jungkook confessed, taking me aback with his filthy words. He was a good soft boy with a heart of gold; how could he talk dirty to me like that? It was out of his calm and collected character, but I absolutely loved it.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m gonna stick around at least until you’re fully recovered,” I answered with a teasing tone as I reached down to his zipper, freeing his semi-hard cock. “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? Or Valentine’s Day?” I questioned, but Jungkook was too busy to answer right away, ripping my tights apart.

“Actually, I do,” Jungkook mentioned with a lopsided smirk upon his face. “I’m gonna be sitting here between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. How do you like that?” He asked mischievously, biting my bottom lip before I managed to reply.

“I hope you’re not all talk,” I answered, staring down at his dick. Carefully, I pulled it out of his pants, giving it a few strokes before I raised my hips, slowly sinking down on his length. “Mmm…” I purred, feeling a pleasant stretch.

“I should’ve prepped you,” Jungkook whispered as he felt my walls slowly adjust to his girth.

“Nah, it’s all fine,” I spoke, getting all comfortable on his dick. “There’s always a next time.”

With a languid, stable pace, I rocked my hips back and forth, riding him. Going this slow allowed me to properly feel every inch of him. It was intimate, and I enjoyed it much more than any mindless pounding, which didn’t always get me off. With Jungkook under me, I was in complete control. He was obedient and responsive to my movements, really making it look easy to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, feeling the approaching orgasm. Jungkook, instead of messing with my tempo, grabbed my hips, helping me maintain my current pace. “Fuck, Jungkook,” I hissed when he gently pushed his cock deeper inside of me, being seconds away from his own release.

“Come around my cock,” Jungkook ordered, and I obeyed his order, falling into a million pieces on top of him, screaming his name. Thankfully, Jungkook’s hands held me in place. Otherwise, I’d once again collapse onto the floor. “Argh,” Jungkook grunted, shooting his load inside of me. “I want to go again,” he added as soon as he calmed down after the powerful orgasm.

“I think it’ll have to wait,” I answered, though I’d love to go another round. “We can try in the morning. Right now, I need a shower,” I added, and Jungkook nodded his head, resting it between my boobs, too lazy to let me go.

He was still balls deep inside of me, and his cum was slowly oozing out of my pussy, but none of us wanted to move. It felt as pleasant as it was nasty, but we didn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jungkook asked innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to woo me. “That would save lots of water,” he added, and I didn’t want to argue with his reasoning.

“Why the hell not? Let’s go before I change my mind,” I spoke, giving him a hand, helping him stand up. “But,” I added, sternly staring at the boy beside me. “Until we’re fully recovered, it’s just a shower.”

“Sure thing.”

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #christmas smut #bts christmas #bts #bangtan smut

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alia-turin-fanfiction · 3 years ago

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This is for the amazing @mentoskova hopefully that satisfies at least some of your Sauron/Galadriel needs

Fic tile: A Gift for a Favor Warning: Explicit (nudity, some sexual themes, mention of violence) Fandoms: The Silmarillion Relationship: Sauron/Galadriel AO3 Link

She watched the water running down from the cliff and hitting the ground with loud noise. The mist building around the waterfall almost covered the faint sunlight that already had hard time reaching the ground because of the thick tree crowns. The place was the same from her dream, it felt so real then as it was now, vivid, colours bright and mysterious. One thing her dreams were not clear about was why she was supposed to be here. She dreamt of this place for weeks now and every night the images became clearer and clearer.

Galadriel looked around, wanting to find a sign, what was special about this place, what was the significance of this location? What was so unusual about it in order to bring her here and not give her rest for such a long time.

“You came.” Galadriel turned around, to follow the voice, the man who spoke, she knew him, she had seen him with Celebrimbor. The smith, yes. Long gold hairs fell freely down his black and silver robes, sharp eyes stared at her intensely. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Artano.” she spoke his name, coming closer to him, watching every move, why was he here, what was he doing here? She never trusted the man and she knew neither did her nephew recently. She had her suspicion of who the man was, but she could not prove it. Only sensing, guessing. “Why are you here?”

“I had a dream.” His voice was honey, soft, sweet, could melt iron if he wanted it to, but there was strength to it, power that could bend wills, but not hers, she admired him, but did not fear him. “I saw this place in my dreams and I dreamt that I would meet you and I needed to find it. I looked for weeks until I did...here you are, mistress Galadriel.”

He bowed his head slightly, submission? No, his body was submitting, but not his eyes, there was fire in them, nothing humble about that gaze.

“Here I am.” she said coming closer to him, placing a finger under his chin and lifting his head up. No submission in his gaze, power, so much power. She tilted her head, those were not the eyes of an elf. “What do you want, smith?”

“A favour, and I will pay with a gift.'' He grabbed her hand, so gently, his touch so warm, he moved it closer to his lips, kissing her fingers. Galadriel could not pull away, was that magic or? No, it wasn’t. She felt enchanted but not by him, she was attracted to the mystery and potentially danger. She could sense the power, greater than hers, probably greater than anyone who currently walked Middle Earth.

Mairon reached for his pocket with his other hand slowly taking out what he had. He did not fail to notice the ring on the hand he was holding, made of mithril and white stone embedded in it. It had power, no greater than his, but could challenge him nonetheless. He smiled, trying to hide his disappointment. Not in her, but Celebrimbor...the little bastard would pay for it over and over again. He would peel the skin off his flesh for his audacity.

“A powerful gift, for a powerful favour.” He showed her the ring he was holding and then placed it in her palm. All he needed was for her to put it on her finger, even for a moment she would be his, forever, despite the power of her will. He didn’t even need the rest of them, her strength would be enough to turn them all into the slaves they were always meant to be.

“What is the favour, Annatar?” her eyes pinned on his, as if she was trying to see in his soul. He had no doubt sooner or later she would figure out who he was, but he did not care now. As long as he could get what he wanted, it didn’t matter.

“A lock of your hair.” he smiled and reached for her head, his finger hooking a strand of her golden locks and curling it around his digit.

“Better men than you have asked for that and been refused.” the elfess lips curved into an alluring smile, she was challenging him, but he was yet to discover what the challenge was.

“I wouldn’t go as far to call Feanor better than me.” he challenged her back, if that was the game they were playing he would be more than happy to accommodate. “Besides, the Spirit of Fire wanted to create beauty for his eyes only. I’m not that selfish, whatever my hands create, will be yours as well.” Mairon released her hair and ran his finger through her porcelain skin. There was power in this woman, strength that he admired and hated at the same time. He needed to possess and subjugate. Her kin was manice, but for her...he had a special place for her. “I can make you a Queen, more powerful and beloved than any King history has ever seen.”

He watched her carefully, her eyes shining at his words, strong willed was Finwe’s kin, but they all could break, one way or another. Same way he broke her brother, he was going to find a way to break her will. He knew curiosity when he saw it, and he knew how to attract. The elves were cursed like that, a blessing for him.

Galadriel looked at the ring that had been offered to her. Beautiful creation and even if it had just been placed in her hand she could feel the power. Celebrimbor had created the elven rings, but that was different. Strength that she wanted and was attracted to. For years now she had suspected that the nightmare was back. She had seen it in her dreams, less vivid than this one, more cryptic. Could it be that her nephew worked with the one creature on earth that he should have avoided. Galadierl looked in the elf’s eyes, so different. The color was deep and bright but somehow it felt like it sucked the light out of everything. Could it be?

“You speak of power and you promise power in return, but all you claim to be is a simple smith working with Celebrimor. Tell me, Gorthaur, did you offer him power as well? Knowledge? Or you just played on his unresolved family issues?” Galadriel watched his expression, but nothing changed there. However, he did not deny his name either, was it too late? Was it now the time he was going to reveal himself and she was just the first of many to fall. One thing she knew for sure, if he was after her, she would not make it easy for him.

“You see further than I thought.” he offered a reassuring smile, she wondered if that was hesitation or he was just pretending. Was that his plan all along? “You are beautiful and smart my lady.” He moved his finger from her cheek down to her neck. “But what I said is the truth and nothing else. Celebrimbor is weak like his father and grandfather. You might be an elf, but you are equal to me.” what happened next she did not expect, he fell on his knees, his black and grey robes touching the grass as his head was reaching now just to her belly. “I will rule this place and you could be my Queen.”

She placed a hand on his face, her fingers brushing against the soft golden hair. What if there was truth to his words? He would try to entrap her, she knew it, but what if her own power could be stronger than his? After all he had been hiding for years, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, needed to build his strength. Was he as strong as he was supposed to be or he was still weak, that was why he needed her. Her eyes moved from him to the river behind them, the sun had already set, but there was still some light coming through the thick leaves. There was one place where her power would be stronger than his.

“Why don’t you prove yourself to me?” Galadriel made a step back, her eyes not leaving his. “You speak of making me a queen, prove that you are willing to submit, the way you say you are.”

Mairon watched as the elfess stepped away from him and then turned her back. She walked toward the water as her fingers worked on the ivory dress she was wearing, the fabric peeling from her body as she moved further. His jaw clenched realizing what trick she was playing to him. He got up, trying to think through his options. He could turn around and walk away, he needed her power, he needed to understand the ring that insolent whelp had given her, but it wasn’t that imperative.

He decided he would play. He cleared the grass that had been stuck to his robes, but his eyes were not leaving her shape. One thing he could say without lying to himself was that her beauty was unparalleled. Even just an elf, she was worthy of being a queen, too bad he did not like sharing. Maybe after he was done with the insolent Celebrimbor, Celeborn would be next and he would claim his queen for real.

The cold water caressed Galadriel’s skin as she walked in the river, step by step, until the coolness reached her collarbones. She turned around, almost sure Sauron would have walked away by now, deciding the risk was not worth it, but he was still there. His eyes fixed on her and he probably had observed every step she made. Neither of them spoke, she waited.

He made a step forward, his elegant fingers started working on his coat, he wasn’t in a hurry, she wondered if it was the water that was making this less enticing or it was all part of his plan. The top fell and all that was left was his shirt and pants. He untied his belt, letting it fall behind him as he did another step. His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and took it off revealing the toned body underneath. Then he untied the laces of his pants and took them off as he walked, just before he stepped in the river and moved toward her. Galdriel knew that whatever body she was seeing in front of herself was not his own. Not really, he had picked a shape and form that was attractive and he had done well. It was all a trick, and she knew that very well, but her eyes could not move away from the strength of his biceps and the firmness of his chest as he slowly sank into the water.

“Here I am.” he said as he came just inches away from her. “We are almost equal now.”

“Almost.” One thing she did not plan for was him following her. She was stronger here, but not strong enough to defeat him alone. Galadriel was not even sure at that point if she wanted to defeat him. What he offered was tempering. Wrong and sinful, but she could use it for good…

Mairon had to use all his power to keep his face from showing the pain he was feeling. The water was burning him, the form he had created was strong, but he wondered how strong before he was forced to walk out. He knew that wouldn’t kill him, or hurt him for real, but his power was weaker and he had to be careful.

He reached again for Galadrield’s face, this time with his palm cupping it almost gently. Affection was not something he understood but he had seen humans and elves give it to each other and he could imitate. He did enjoy the way her skin felt against his touch, the softness and the warmth. It did nothing to calm the pain he was feeling, but there was something additicing to it. She suddenly grabbed his wrist, her palm warm despite the coldness of the water and moved even closer to him, her lips pressing against his and kissed him.

Galadriel was not sure what possessed her to do that, it was like playing with fire, literally, and she enjoyed it. It was just a kiss, innocent but also forbidden. She wanted to taste the power he had and she did. There was strength in his touch, not just physical, but knowledge he could give her. Power he could reward her with. What if she could have him? What if she could really be equal to him, or better. Her hand reached for his face, caressing the long strands of hair so soft, like silk, she had never felt anything like it, never seen a color like this…

...because it wasn’t real. She took a step back. His beauty, his words, nothing was real.

“You give everyone what they want, don’t you?” her hand still on his face, so beautiful. “You tricked Celebrimbor with your gift in smiting, more dwarf this one than an elf. You will trick me with power and strength and then I will end up in chains at your feet.”

“Cruel.” a smile curved on his lips as he burned his head and kissed the hand that was holding his face. “If I chain you at my feet, that will just ruin your beauty.” He moved the hand that was holding her face to her neck and slid it down to her collarbones. “I have held many of your kin on a chain, they all break. Even poor brave Finrod.”

Galadriel suddenly snapped from what had taken over her. Her brother’s death was in the past and his own oath and actions brought him to Sauron’s door, but that was a reminder for her. This was the enemy and she was not ready, not yet. Curiosity brought her here and she knew everything she needed to know. She took another step back, somehow disappointed as his touch left her skin. Then another one as she started whispering the words, the water raised, the sound from the waterfall became louder, another step back and she could see the confusion on Sauron’s face just before a wave crashed into him and carried him down the stream.

Mairon managed to get out of the water a few miles down, he crawled into the dirt and rolled on the grass, the relief from the terrible burning sensation feeling better than anything else. He had been so close to get her, she was going to give herself up, but she was not as stupid as the rest of her kin. It was not all loss. The power in Celebrimbor’s rings was great, now he knew that and all he needed was to find a way to create greater power.

“Until next time, my radiant lady.” he whispered to the forest as he knew there was going to be next time.

#sauron #galadriel #annatar #Sauron/galadriel #the silmarillion #lotr #my writing

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zayneternal · 5 years ago

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《 thantophobia (n.) 》

summary ↠ thantophobia (n.) the fear of losing someone you love. the fear you’ve preparing to accept as reality the longer Jungkook has been away. the tour you never thought would end has come to a close and Jungkook is coming home, but months and miles apart have left you both wondering what he’s coming back to.

genre ↠ angssst | idolverse member ↠ jeon jungkook warnings ↠ emotional taxation, yo. word count ↠ 5.3k

moodboard by @jiminspjm || I think this is some of your best work yet, my friend ;) || requested by anon. This is essentially a sequel to a previous Jungkook blurb, lacuna (n.) so get ready for some heightened angst, my dudes.

Just landed. Be home soon. [6:36 pm]

You stare so hard and so long at the boxy text bubbled in grey that your eyes start to lose focus, weighing your sore gaze to where your subdued reply rests. The hours-old read receipt, however, still hanging lifeless underneath your words, only reinforces the weak ache in two thumbs still hovering over digital keys.

Ok. Be safe. [6:40 pm]

Forcing intentional breaths into the bottom of your lungs, you cast your eyes towards the foyer from where you sit fidgeting on the sofa, ears straining to pick up any evidence of the door jostling to open, but none comes in the deep and agonizing quiet you’ve been subjected to for the past couple of hours.

[9:57 pm] You squint against the stark light of your phone screen when your eyes subconsciously travel back to check how many minutes have passed since the last time you looked. The dim glow humming from the standing lamp nearby that shrouds the rest of the living room makes the curt conversation glaring up at you seem too-bright, it’s luminescence only amplifying the minuscule exchange of words and the tightness of your chest.

He should be home. The airport is hardly a half hour drive from your apartment, and even with the staff most likely dropping the rest of the boys off at the dorms, it still shouldn’t be taking Jungkook this long to get here. Your throat burns upon the next attempt at swallowing, the action, in tandem, a measly effort to rid the ill thoughts that try to pinch and poke the back of your mind. Biting the inside of your cheek, you quickly lock your phone, tossing it to the side of you in favor of the TV remote, the diluted sounds of nighttime television that spill out into the suffocating silence washing you with a momentary relief. Momentary. The more you flip through the various options of distraction, the more you can’t help but recognize how uncanny the scene around you is becoming, looking and feeling more familiar by the second.

The couch, the blanket, the non-realistic happy endings flashing across the screen before you, and that bruised sensation creeping just under the surface of your skin; it’s all nearly identical to the combination you’d found yourself wound into almost 6 months ago, face raw and blotchy and pressed into these couch cushions with the emotion of Jungkook leaving for tour the next morning. Back then, though, the prospect of him walking through the front door had you on edge for very different reasons. It almost hurts to acknowledge the pocket of anxiety rolling around like a bowling ball in the pit of your stomach, but you’d be kidding yourself to try and ignore the incessant feeling like you tried to ignore your feelings the weeks leading up to your collapse. You know it only makes things worse.

The noise of the television drowns out into the background of your loudening thoughts, little help in distracting you once more as you’re hazily drawn back into the memory of that morning. Images and scenes living half-blurred now sharpen to the most minute detail in a gross effort to reassure you of what you know has already changed.

“Hey, JK! Let’s go, we’re gonna miss the boarding call!” Namjoon had urged, his (fourth) prompt the only thing that seemed to finally stir Jungkook’s arms away from where they wound around you. “We’ll be back before you even know we’re gone, Y/N!” your towering friend attempted to console, taking the time to allow a reassuring and genuine smile to sculpt into the curve of his lips for which you were grateful. You weakly returned the gesture from over Jungkook’s shoulder, unable, though, to force the grin to curl around your sadly drawn eyes. “Give her a kiss for me, Kook, and move your junk!”

The picture becomes more vivid as you recall Namjoon turning to make his way through security, becoming the sixth to a group of huddled boys who stood awaiting their final member on the other side. You remember the way they were all attempting to avoid eye contact with you as their way of allowing you and Jungkook the most “privacy” possible in your goodbye, though you caught their gazes eyeing over you sympathetically more than once before it was all said and done.

Jungkook had pulled his face from where it’d been hiding in your neck, pulling back as his arms loosened from their ensnarement around your waist by what would be an almost inconceivable fraction on any other day, but on that day it was enough for the distance to be felt in an instant. You ponder a while on the memory of Jungkook’s face when he finally titled his drooped gaze to you, eyes visibly red through the curtain of his inky locks. Despite whatever confident monologues Jungkook had extemporized with comforting whispers and steady hands the night before, the morning of his departure proved to be a role reversal granting you the task to keep some semblance of composure for both your sanities sakes. Surprisingly, however, whether it was ignorant denial or just the dry bed your eyes had become, you found yourself doing a pretty good job of keeping your emotions from going full Super Saiyan on him.

“Don’t say it.” Jungkook’s dulcet voice laced with a strained timbre echos as clear as if he were right in front of you now. You close your eyes, your breaths feeling heavy as you try desperately to latch onto this moment, longing to remember the crystalline boy with glassy eyes standing in your memory and the way he looked when he longed for you too.

“Say what? I-”

“Don’t say goodbye. Don’t make me say it back.” His eyes close, hiding the bloodshot worry that clouds the cotton outskirts of the deep toffee center. The hands that knot together at the small of your back give a squeeze, pulling you forward that fraction of a breath as his head dips once more to hide against you. You hear the troubled rhythm of his inhale and know he’s started crying again which makes your heart agonize in tandem with him.

“Jungkook...” you try, not trusting your voice to come out right but pushing it past weak lips anyway.

A soft, stifled sob wets the juncture of your neck and shoulder where the bridge of his nose is pressed, his body stuttering in time to the beat of his emotion. You raise feeble hands from the plane of his back to fit the curve of his head and the round of his shoulders, simply cradling him to you in the last of these fleeting moments you know you won’t be able to savor for a long time.

“I love you,” you whisper into his hair, fingers treading through the fields of the soft tendrils. You feel him ease against you at the combination of touch and admission, muffled plaining quieting into the fabric of your sweater. “That’s what I was going to say. I love you.”

His breathing calms to a manageable rate, filling his lungs in time to the rake of your fingers. “That’s all?” he hiccups, murmur of a voice like that of a child, laced with traces of hopeful and wide-eyed disbelief.

“That’s all. No goodbye today,” you affirm, attempting to put some smile in your tone. “Sorry to ruin the drama.”

The small success of laughter that puffs from Jungkook’s lungs is short lived as he crushes you against him, his arms fully circling the round of your shoulders and head, pressing your face into the comfort of his sanctuary as he draws every last ounce of you into him that he can. “I love you. I love you. I love you so so much.”

You breathe deeply his scent, spending a generous amount of energy on stowing away the smell in the pocket of your memory for when it’s not right under your nose anymore, skin-tinglingly warm and all authentically Jungkook. “I know,” you assure him, a hand wandering off down his spine. “You love me so well.” A knot begins to lump in your throat that you aptly swallow away, pacing carefully through the rest of the words that are getting harder and harder to speak with a placid heart. “Which is why I’m so happy that you get to go and share that, now, with everyone that supports you so so much. I’m so excited that they get to hold some the love that you give me every day, even if it’s only a glimpse of everything I’ve seen in here.”

You pressure your lips overtop the place where Jungkook’s heart beats rapidly, feeling the impact through the layers of clothing and skin.

“I’m so proud of you, Jungkook. Now I want you to go see just many other’s you’ve made proud.” Finally pulling your head from the divot of his chest, you steel your expression with softened eyes and the most stable smile you can manage, every word you utter like nails on the chalkboard of the selfish and anxiety ridden parts of yourself. But no matter how badly your arms ache to begin dropping from his frame, you push yourself back a small step, the chasmic space almost dropping your stomach from your body.

You rise to your tip-toes, placing a warm palm on Jungkook’s dampened cheek, fingers brushing gently as your lips slot tenderly against his own and press. He leans into you, but you’re gone before the sear in your throat worsens, balling your emotions one last time to squeeze at his palm, if nothing else placated by the mollifying expression Jungkook is relaxing into, though still bleary and worn on the surface.

“Besides, you heard Namjoon,” you press his hand, fingers kneading over the back, trying to memorize the texture of his silken skin as you shut your mind off and let your mouth run. “You’ll be back before I even know you’re gone.”

But you’re in tears the moment he turns away.

Your eyes snap back open, a feeling you weren’t expecting to be present resting in the center of your chest: anger. The phone sleeping silently to the left of you makes you angry; how long he’s kept you waiting here without so much as an explanation makes you angry; the man confessing his love too loudly on screen makes you angry; but most of all, the lack of Jungkook makes you angry.

Gritting your teeth with a newfound resolve, you breathe out a copious amount of the stress riddled air from your lungs in one blow, straightening your bent posture and running your fingers through neatly curled locks until they’re falling haphazardly around your face, but who’s to care anymore? It’s obvious no one that you need to impress is coming home tonight.

You flick the television off with a satisfying click, sighing relievedly into the silence that previously had you at wits end before rising from your perch, muscles straining as they seek the stretch of relief they’ve so desired. Giving it to them, you turn and pluck the string on the standing lamp, washing the room in a new kind of quiet that somehow sets you more at ease--like the room isn’t in anticipation of anything anymore.

Your bed calls sweet and low upon your approach down the short hallway past the small kitchen, and you realize for the first time in a while that your mind isn’t burdened with flashes of blurry memories, taunting you from the haze in various rooms as you pass.

Your apartment is small, but you and Jungkook spent a lot of time here when your relationship began and since. The past 6 months have been random nights of heartache and sadness springing up when you least expect it; the pass of the kitchen always paints the shape of Jungkook throwing a dusting of flour into your face during the cake baking competition he’d wanted to start as a tradition for you two--it ended in a mess that took hours to clean and no cakes; the sweep of the spare room tends to have your mind conjuring illusions of the time Jungkook brought home a stray puppy he’d found wandering a parking lot on the way over and tried to hide it from you for a surprise under the bed in there--you were the one who had to answer the door the next day to a frazzled owner inquiring about said puppy and break the devastating news to Jungkook that he had just run away from him during his walk. You remember often thinking of those days and wondering how things got so far from where they were.

None of these memories surface now though. Your mind is clearer than it’s been in ages, and it feels freeing yet strange at the same time.

The sheets are crisp and cool against your body as it slides in between, fresh from when you had washed them and remade the bed earlier in the day in preparation of another body sharing it with you, but you still feel grateful for the sensation against hot skin as your head collides with the pillow, flipping to your side and curling under the comforter. No thoughts come. No inner mantra coaxing you to sleep after an hour of repetition. No tears. It’s just silence and a blank plane stretching for as far as your mind can manage. Sleep comes easily to your weary limbs tonight, eyes falling shut into a dreamless slumber that brings real rest from months of trying to keep it together for him.

You’re so far into the absent bliss that the sound you’d been waiting all day to hear doesn’t rouse you. The front door slowly jostles open, a stumbling Jungkook, half-falling through the frame in his attempt to be discrete, only creating more noise as he collides with the entry bench that seats your purse and jacket.

A curse slurs from his lips as he catches himself, the duffle bag hanging on his shoulder dropping to the floor next to your shoes as he manages to kick his own off, hands steadying his lopsided stature against the wall. The sight of your belongings stalls him for a moment, bloodshot eyes staring entranced at the disorganized display in the foyer: your bag, the same one you’ve always carried, worn and tearing in a few places, but you refuse to buy a new one; your scarf, the one Jungkook purchased for you at the start of last winter, just before the two of you began dating. He’d made the excuse while you were both out shopping that you’d catch a cold in just a jacket, but really, the sight of your exposed neck curving down into softly edged collarbones was more than a distraction from what was supposed to be a friendship at the time.

His gaze halts along the wall on the framed photo of the two of you from New Years, you slung across Jungkook’s lap, arms hooked around his neck with your eyes squeezed shut, laughing at something happening behind the camera, your grin bared wide and raw for the world to see--that grin. He stares at his face in the photo, eyes beaming down at your unaware laughter, lips pressed in a smile against your temple, his own arms cradling you so casually to himself.

For a moment, the dizziness in Jungkook’s head subsides and it’s just you. It’s you struggling to surface at the tips of his fingers again, fighting to recreate the feeling of you in his hands, but just like every other time he’s attempted, he can only imagine it, never feel. Remembering the feeling of you became an elusive memory he started desperately chasing only a month after he’d left--the month you started pulling away, texting less, cutting FaceTimes short, and working more with a plethora of excuses trailing behind; it was the torture of a fraying string without the snap.

He still isn’t sure what happened with you both, but he’ll be damned to be the one to let you go. He kept reassuring himself that if he could just make it home...things would get better. You’d come back to him, things would be the way they used to be, and it would all be okay, but the closer he got to coming home, the less he knew how to navigate your distant ocean--the less he knew how to function.

She’s doing fine without you.

It became the devil on his shoulder: more and more time spent away, less and less communication, and all feeding the monster. Every text he received from you was a whirlwind of fresh air in his hectic schedule allowing him a moment of respite and solace, but they became moments he wasn’t sure if you shared. And he became hesitant to ask the longer you went on behaving as if the miles of distance and time zones of separation didn’t make a difference to you. Should he have been feeling the same confidence in your relationship that you seemed to have? He wasn’t insecure in being away from you, but the shorter exchanges and the less you seemed to have to say about the happenings back home...would confidence be what he would call it? It was all that was on his mind after every show, in between every practice, and before every interview, but all he could do was reflect the reciprocity being delivered and pray he was doing the right thing by not burdening you with it.

Jungkook tears his eyes away from the photo, squinting against the rest of the darkened living room as the swirly feeling in his head creeps back in, shadowed objects warping at odd angles. Whatever was on his mind when he got to the bar with Namjoon and Jimin became a little jumbled on his way out, the only thing he could really hone in on being the image of your face and the familiar route to your apartment, stumbling his way onwards determined to give you a piece of his drunk mind for what happened between you both and also maybe kiss you.

His body trips around trying to find the unlit hallway that leads to you until he walks into the corner of it, cursing once more while he nurses the knock on his kneecap. Jungkook collides with at least three hung frames along the wall on his way down the hall, hushed expletives aiding blind hands in correcting them which instead just tilts them too far the other direction. Shuffling feet stutter into the wrong room twice before he makes it to the last door on the left, entrance cracked enough for his eyes to catch the edge of the bed and part of a still, sleeping lump stuffed under the covers.

He pauses, hand hovering against the wood, feeling unsure now that he’s finally standing here. He wonders guiltily how long you’ve been asleep, knowing he kept you waiting all evening, and knowing you, guesses you probably stayed up to wait until the last of your hope for him had vanished. Maybe that was the last straw? If he left now, would there be a text waiting for him in the morning saying it was over? The snap. The thought of it being too close for comfort is what has his hand shoving forward, though, a little harder than he intended, the swing of the door wide until it thuds against the wall.

He cringes, quickly attempting to reach forward and right the noise when he spots you beginning to stir in your sleep, but his efforts only help his feet get tangled in a stray pile of clothing you never bother to put away (“why put them away when I’m just gonna take them out to wear again?”) and send him falling with a heavy clonk onto the hard wood.

He knows he’s done it when he hears those soft mewls rousing from the sheets.

“...Kook?”

His already racing heart pounds at the sound of your voice, ridden with sleep, shaping the endearment that lets him know he hasn’t totally fucked up. He quickly shoves himself out of your clothes, feeling more idiotic and impossibly nervous than on his way here. Your presence only feet from him makes everything he came here to say and do all fuzzy...except the kissing you part. He still really wants to do that.

Especially now that his eyes are focusing on your hazy image, curled up on his side of the bed, your bright eyes squinting with sleep and soft locks loosely waved and tossed by the pillow. Your skin is golden in the low light, almost shiny reflected against the moon beams filtering in the parted window nearby, and Jungkook swallows hard, fingertips aching to reach out and feel you despite the better judgement, no matter how small right now, working against him.

“I see you still leave your clothes out,” is the first thing that slurs slightly from between his stalled lips, gaze raptured and body yearning for you.

Your expression doesn’t change, slightly sleepy but glazed with unreadable caution as you fully acknowledge that he is standing in your room, present and whole and real. “Why put them away when I’m just--”

“--gonna take them out to wear again?” he quietly finishes for you, mouth twitching in a familiar smile that disappears just as quickly as he reads the thin ice coating the surface of the conversation.

“...yeah,” you breathe, lungs having a hard time getting enough air to say anything else. Your hands are clenched around the fitted sheet, wrinkling the fresh make in place of where you’d rather have them, but the sting of anger, though diluted, is still swimming in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be addressed.

Jungkook’s eyes are locked on you, widened as if he’s looking at some hallucination; it’s then that you notice the worn hue under his irises and a clouded red hue around them, your own eyes adjusting to the scene. You watch as his hand slowly lifts, almost like he’s not fully aware of the action, and his body lurches slightly in your direction, but even the small attempt at motion has him leaning too far the side, losing his balance momentarily before he catches himself on the edge of the mattress, hand coming dangerously close to where your feet slide under the comforter.

“You’re drunk,” you observe without opinion to your voice. The shamed look in his eyes when his head rises to meet you before looking away makes your heart jolt in empathy, the wear and tear he sports almost like a physical manifestation of the emotional wear and tear you’ve suppressed.

There’s a breath of silence while you look at the boy before you, somehow a different form of the same broken Jungkook you’d let go of 6 months ago, the one you promised yourself you wouldn’t burden while he was away, taking it upon yourself to be your own emotional support while he was living the dream, but it seems the past few months have done their own burdening on him. Your expression softens, the anger in your stomach giving way to the hurt that you’ve longed to let go of since he started pulling away from you only three months before his return.

“Why?” you find your voice filtering into the silence, a hoarseness drawing among your confusion. Jungkook’s face flits up to meet your gaze again, his lost manner seeking clarity amidst your initiation.

His eyebrows scrunch. “I went with Namjoon and Jimin to the bar downtown when we landed...I know I should’ve just come straight--”

“No,” you cut him off, honestly uncaring for how he’s spent his evening. You’re more concerned with how he’s spent a much larger gap of time. “Why did you stop?”

“Stop?”

“Why did we stop?” You continue on, the pulse in your chest quickening. “Why did we stop trying for each other? Why are you here if you don’t care anymore?”

His face morphs into one of offense, as if you’ve just deeply insulted him. “Don’t...don’t care anymore? Why am I here?” Jungkook doesn’t feel so inebriated the more that you speak. “Who said I didn’t care anymore, Y/N?”

The sound of your name pouring from between his lips trips you up, a gasp of air inhaling between yours, but you clench your jaw, determined to hear something from him before you fall apart. “You...you stopped, Jungkook. You stopped talking to me like you used to...you stopped saying ‘I love you’.” Your gaze falls to the edge of the sheets in insecurity as you speak, everything you’ve been wondering for a long while now surfacing at the mercy of your newfound resolution. All the things you couldn’t seem to ask when he was an ocean away all seem so necessary now that he’s back home--now that he’s yours again. You don’t want him to not be yours.

Your fallen eyes fail to see Jungkook moving from his leant place at the end of the bed, stifling a yelp of surprise when his body falls before you, seating himself on the same edge of the mattress and leaning his weight on the muscled arm he tents over your legs. When your stare shoots back up to his face, your unwavering purpose now wavering, you find his face to have a new sheen of intention, his brow furrowed with thought as he processes your words and his own musing.

You keep quiet, busying yourself with your anxiously fiddling hands resting in your lap lest you reach out to touch him so close to you as he forms a response. “Y/N, look at me,” he requests, his voice steadier and gentle, sweet like you remember, so you look. His eyes are searching your face, making sure your attentions are his before his lips part again, slow and clear. “I love you.”

Your heart nearly explodes on the spot, killing you both. It feels like a lifetime since you’ve been reassured of his affections, and to hear it now almost tears you open with relief.

“I love you,” he repeats once more, leaning forward slightly. “I never stopped loving you. I never stopped trying. I was...confused.”

“What?” You’re aching for him to keep talking. You’re desperate for utter clarity, no matter the conditions. You just want to touch him. You want him to be yours.

He drops his head for a moment, shaking it like he isn’t sure what to think anymore before rejoining your gaze. “I...you--it’s just that this whole time...” He’s at a loss for words, and you can see him mentally struggling to piece together both sides. Without thinking, your hand slides forward over his larder one, fingers beginning to trace along the veins that protrude just under his supple skin. The feeling of just that is euphoric, lighting up your nerves with a warmth they’ve been deprived of for much too long. You want more.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m listening. I’m here,” you comfort, not able to look him in the eye just yet and instead just continuing to stroke shapes into his hand until he’s shifting, palm moving to engulf yours like a gentle blanket, fingers slowly--agonizingly so--intertwining as his body slides forward a little more. You can almost smell the full weight of his natural scent, the memory of it long faded and long overdue for a renewal.

“I thought you didn’t care anymore...or at least didn’t need me anymore,” he speaks softly again, explaining more calmly and collected this time, though his words still surprise you, eyes darting up to him in confusion.

“You thought I didn’t need you?”

“It’s just...you were so sad about me leaving, but it seemed like right after I was gone you--you just weren’t leaning on me for anything.” His words begin to blend together into a cohesive picture, the more he elaborates from his perspective, the more you begin to understand how things started to turn so sour, your hand wanting to pry from Jungkook’s just so you can face-palm yourself with all the regret readily available.

“You didn’t text me nearly as much or about nearly as much. You cut our FaceTime’s short for whatever reason...I felt like I was missing out on your life and that that was okay--that you were doing fine without me here.”

It clicks.

“Oh my--I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you heave, your heart heavy and mind reeling as you realize your grave mistake. You toss yourself forward throwing inhibition to the wind as your arms ensnare his neck, pulling him tight against you and reveling the opportunity to reconcile that him being here presents.

His arms don’t hesitate for even a second to respond, wrapping in their entirety around the breadth of your waist, his face dipping away into your shoulder and making you feel as you did when you were in the airport so long ago, though the dread you felt then is replaced with fervent relief.

“What are you sorry for, baby?” he wonders breathily against your skin, his lips brushing agonizingly sweet lines down your neck.

“It was all a misunderstanding,” you reveal, feeling like an idiot just saying it. “All of it, everything, and it’s my fault. I’m so sorry. I made this so much harder on you than it was supposed to be.”

“What are you talking about? Slow down, Y/N,” he soothes, brushing hands down your spine. “Just breathe.”

You comply. “I thought that you would be burdened, you know, having to focus on me so much while you were away. So I-I tried to handle things on my own as much as possible...god, it all sounds so dumb when I say it now. I don’t know what I was thinking.” You press your head into his hair, hiding your embarrassment and guilt from him, but he only breathes a heavy puff of repose.

“That was it?”

“Well yeah--but then it got you thinking I was done with us, and you started pulling away too, and I’m sure it was a huge distraction that you didn’t need to focus on at all, and things could’ve been so much smoother so much sooner if I had just talked to you about it, and I--”

The pressure of his cupid’s lips pressing a line up your neck, along your jaw, and finally to the stalled part of your own shuts you up pretty quick. You melt into his hold, nothing more than the simple connection needed to have you falling apart. He seems so calm and relaxed despite what you’ve just told him, and you’re not sure why, but if it means more of this, then you don’t really know if you care.

“I love you,” he says again, and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of hearing it. “I never stopped loving you.” His reminder from earlier sits differently with you now. “And I’ll continue to love you. It’s exactly like you said--a misunderstanding.” He pecks your lips lethargically once more, savoring your taste. “And now that I understand, I just want to love you.”

His words set a pounding heart to rest, your eyes sighing closed as he pulls you into his lap and shifts along the mattress, cradling you over him and allowing you to inhale his presence for all its worth. You’re uncaring of every shitty moment you had to endure for whatever shitty reason leading up to this one because, for some reason, you presume your reunion wouldn’t have been the same--still happy, yes--but you’ve realized a newfound level of affection you have for Jungkook that you don’t think you realized before. A deeper kind of love. The kind that endures.

aaaaand scene. i seriously can’t write breakup!au’s so here’s this cliche ending. cool? cool.

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higuchimon · 4 years ago

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[fanfic] Meaning of Choices: Chapter 2

Ken floated somewhere. He wasn’t certain of where, but he knew that it wasn’t a place he wanted to be. He wanted to be with Daisuke and Wormmon. But here he floated all alone, and wherever Daisuke and Wormmon were, it wasn’t with him.

They should have been. He wasn’t sure why they weren’t. Had someone taken them away? Or – he thought this made more sense - he was the one who'd been taken. He didn’t know why anyone would want him.

Well, there was one reason he could think of. It wasn’t a reason he especially enjoyed considering, but it was a reason all the same. If someone decided that he should pay for his crimes as the Kaiser – well, he couldn’t blame them. He tried so hard to move on, to not blame himself for his action in those days, to eternally strive for a future that at times seemed as if it would never arrive.

But not all of the Digimon wanted to believe that he’d changed. More than once he’d seen a young Digimon, a Child level or younger, spy him somewhere and whimper, refusing to go near him. Usually Daisuke or Wormmon or V-mon or any of the others could help, explaining how he’d changed since then. Sometimes the Digimon would calm down and listen and let him help if there was anything that he could do.

Sometimes the Digimon simply left, refusing to have anything to do with him. Ken never blamed them. There were moments when he didn’t want to have anything to do with himself either. Daisuke kept on telling him that he didn’t need to feel that way.

If only it were that easy. All the good intentions in the world didn’t help in the dark of the night when he woke from the most vivid of dreams, of ideas he’d had and never brought to fruition,, of plans that hadn’t panned out and ways that they still could.

Sometimes he would call Daisuke and let his partner calm him down. Sometimes he just stayed there in the dark and waited for the morning light – especially when the dreams had involved Daisuke himself. He didn’t need to hear Daisuke’s voice then, not when it called to a deeper, darker part of himself that whispered how Daisuke belonged to him, how Daisuke existed to be a possession, a toy, a plaything, and for him to be all of those things to Ken.

On those nights he wrapped his arms around Wormmon and told himself over and over that the Kaiser was no more, that he fought now to save the Digital World and to protect it. He refused to listen to that honey-sweet voice in the back of his mind, so like and yet so unlike the Kaiser.

But I’m not the Kaiser. I’m you. Only better.

If Ken had seen his reflection, he might well have turned as pale as a ghost just then. The voice rang clear as crystal and he wished that he had Wormmon to hold right now.

“Who are you?” He wasn’t ever going to believe that voice was his. No matter ho much like him it sounded like.

I told you. I’m you – and yet I’m not you. I’m the part of you that you don’t want to admit exists.

Ken wasn’t sure of where he was but he knew enough to guess that he shouldn’t have heard booted footsteps coming towards him. In between one breath and the next, he found himself in an endless plain of shades of blue and violet. In front of him there stood an image, one that he’d seen in mirrors and in nightmares.

The other stood his exact height and had his same build. There were tiny differences, however – his eyes weren’t violet, but scarlet, and instead of one of his school uniforms or his preferred casual clothes, he wore a strange outfit of black and blue. On his back there hung twin swords, and his lips were twisted into a cold sneer.

“Who are you?” Ken demanded again, and his dark reflection laughed, the sound terrifying.

“Don’t you know? Didn’t they tell you?” He licked his lips, staring at Ken hungrily.

“Kaiser…” Ken murmured, but the doppelganger shook his head.

“No. The Kaiser is a weak copy of me – the least of what I am capable of.” He raised his head up, and Ken could see a king’s pride in this person's every line. “I am Akogimon – the son of Piemon.” His lips curved for a single breath. “As are you.”

Ken shook his head without hesitation. “No!” He remembered now – he remembered quite vividly how Koushiro-san explained it all to them. He’d not wanted to listen but he had no choice.

How some of them – seven of the twelve original Chosen – carried Digimon blood to some extent or other. The first four knew themselves, knew what they could do. It took time spent in the Digital World before one of those of crossed blood could awaken to their power, and it grew closer to their time. So Koushiro decided to tell them.

“You can deny it all you want. That just makes it easier for me to take over, eventually.” Akogimon strolled around Ken. “You could ask Anbumon – Ishida – about that if you like. If you ever wake up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought it would be obvious. Perhaps not.” Akogimon shrugged. “But right now, you’re not very connected to your body. This is your soul, your essence. I am the other half of you – the part of you that is a true Virus Digimon. Either one of us could go back. I think it’s going to be me.”

Ice clamped around Ken’s heart and spine. He refused to take a step back. He wasn’t going to give ground here.

“No. This is my body and my life and you can’t have it..”

“It’s mine too. I just haven’t had the chance to live it yet.” Akogimon kept on circling Ken. “But I do want to. There’s so much that I long to taste. Those Rings and Spirals were a decent idea but I can do so much better – I should rule the Digital World by right, not because someone forces everyone to bow down to me.”

Ken thought if he shook his head any harder, then it might well fall off of his neck. Akogimon lost not a drop of his amusement.

“Do you think you can stop me?” With a flick of one hand, he drew one of his blades. “I might not be as skilled as Anbumon, but you can’t even do as much as I can.” he held the blade horizontally before meeting Ken’s gaze with his own. “But I won’t kill you. We’re too connected. To kill one is to kill both of us.”

“Then what do you think you’re going to do?” Ken snapped. He didn’t want Wormmon to be here – he didn’t want Daisuke here either. If this monstrosity was a part of him, which wasn’t something Ken felt ready to admit either, then he needed to be the one to contain him.

“You’re going to stay here, out of the way. You won’t see or hear anything. I’ll put you to sleep.” Akogimon’s smile glinted like diamonds. “It’s better that way. There will always be those who refuse to forgive. You’ll never see them again. Never have to worry about them. Never wake up to realize the help you could give, they don’t want. You’ll never have another nightmare, either. You’ll sleep dreamlessly. You wont’ even get a hint of what I’m doing.”

Ken pressed his lip together, clenching his fists. He didn’t want to admit how tempting that was. To just go to sleep and never have to worry about any of this ever again. So very tempting – and that was the problem in and of itself. He’d seen temptation before and he knew to avoid it.

“And what are you going to be doing?” He wanted more than what Akogimon told him. He wanted what this twisted image of himself refused to say.

“Oh, nothing that you’ll want. After all, you don’t want him kneeling at your feet, do you?” Akogimon smiled a slow and lazy smile. “You don’t the Digital World held firmly in your grip. You don’t want those things – but I do.”

He didn’t have to say who he talked about. Ken knew. There was only one person that it could be.

“You’re not going to hurt Daisuke. Or anyone else.” Ken drew himself up and his nails dug into his palms. Here in this inner world of visions, it shouldn’t have hurt. It did regardless. “I won’t allow it.”

Akogimon tilted his head. “Really. And how do you think you won’t allow it? You’re far too weak to resist me.”

Ken drew a breath that he didn’t need and wasn't sure existed in the first place. He flexed his hands and in the space of time it took to think, a familiar weight rested there. He didn’t look down. He thought Akogimon would know what he had there regardless.

“I can do what I need to do to keep you away from my friends.” Ken set himself. “So if you want a fight, bring it on!” And he drew his right hand back, a long silken whip trailing on the ground.

There had to be an answer. Something that would get Sorcerimon to come help Ken. If only Daisuke could figure out what it was!

But he couldn’t think o it. Sorcerimon’s resistance didn’t so much as waver. He’d made his statement – that if Ken were truly Piemon’s son, then he wouldn’t die, and if he weren’t, then he should die anyway.

Daisuke pressed his lips together as Sorcerimon regarded him with infinite icy calm. The mage Digimon hadn’t exactly expressed trust in him either. A tiny part of him wasn’t very happy about that. He’d never done anything to him. He was being mistrusted because of what he was – something that he hadn’t even known for a solid week yet.

“Ken deserves to live,” he said at last, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why are you so set on making sure that he doesn’t?”

“You know nothing of Piemon and what he did to this world,” Sorcerimon told him. “Nor do you know of your own creator.”

“I don’t care.” Daisuke snapped. “I’m not him. I don’t know about him and I don’t want to know. Whatever I do, it’s because I want to do it and because I can do it, not because of anything else.”

Sorcerimon looked as if he were about to say something else, but now Wormmon moved forward.

“It’s the same thing for Ken-chan. He’s not Piemon. He’ll never be Piemon – and if he dies, then I die too.” Wormmon ducked his head low. “Is that what you want?”

Sorcerimon shrugged. “You Digimon who are bound to the Chosen – that is your fate. What I want or don’t want has no meaning here. Though if I could shatter that bond, I would.”

“Don’t you dare!” Wormmon raised himself up onto his back pods. “I’ll always be Ken-chan's partner! No matter what!”

“Of course you will.” Sorcerimon’s lips couldn’t be seen but Daisuke got the impression they curled in contempt regardless. “That is what you partner Digimon are like. If he chose to once again conquer the Digital World, then you’d stand by his side.”

Wormmon shook his head. “He won’t do that.”

“Wormmon tried to stop him,” Daisuke pointed out, “and he wasn’t the only one. But he’s not going to do that.”

“And what makes you so certain of that? The blood of one of the most powerful virus Digimon runs in his veins. It is his nature to desire rule over others – as it is your nature to destroy and ruin, Akigaramon.”

Again hearing that name sent shards of dulled fury racing through Daisuke – though not quite as dulled as it had been once before. Tiny sparks of energy coursed through him, sparking thoughts that Daisuke knew he’d never thought before.

If Sorcerimon wanted to blame him for destruction that hadn’t even happened yet, then why shouldn’t it happen? He could destroy everything. It wouldn’t even be that hard. What had Oushimon – Koushiro – said? He was a Perfect level by nature, but with the potential for evolution. Daisuke wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it felt right.

I could destroy Sorcerimon right now. It really wouldn’t be that hard. The Digimon was only an Adult level. It would hardly even be a fight.

So easy. So easy.

“Daisuke’s not like that!” Wormmon stood before him now, in between him and Sorcerimon. Daisuke shook his head, trying to clear it from the miasma of rage that danced along his skin and flowed through his veins. Part of it felt as if it didn’t belong there at all. Another part that ran far, far deeper purred in pleasure and knew that it was as much a part of him as his skin or his hair or his eyes.

Of course I am. He wasn’t thinking. It was a voice, a voice like his own – no one that was his own, but with a different edge to it. A sound that he’d never heard before. Get out of my way. He wants to kill what’s mine. Or let it die.

Ken. That voice, whoever it was, meant Ken. Daisuke shook his head again.

“No,” he murmured. “No, I won’t let you.” He knew what the other wanted. All those thoughts of destroying Sorcerimon made it clear.

I wasn’t asking. You want him to be safe, don’t you? If this idiot won’t do it, then Akogimon will have to do it himself. A sense of pride, a sense of desire that bubbled up under his skin, and choked in Daisuke’s throat.

Sorcerimon regarded him, ignoring Wormmon. “Were you warned? Those who carry viral Digimon blood have two sides to their heart – one side of sanity and sense, another side of cruelty and power. Given the correct impetuous those two sides can speak to one another.”

Daisuke’s breath sped up. The voice he’d heard chuckled. He’s right. I’m you – your other half. Apocalymon’s spawn, his creation. You can call me Akigaramon.

“I don’t care,” Daisuke strained to get each word out, feeling as if he fought for control of his own vocal cords. “I don’t care. You’re not going to hurt Ken.”

Truth to tell, he didn’t know if he were talking to Akigaramon or to Sorcerimon. Perhaps it didn’t matter. One enemy within, one enemy without. And he didn’t know how to fight either of them.

To Be Continued

Notes: And here we go again! Once again, weekly updates until it’s done.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #digimon adventure 02 #motomiya daisuke #ichijouji ken #ken x daisuke #daisuke x ken #au: breeds #chapters: meaning of choices

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tenthspeedwriter · 5 years ago

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Recon Three (A draft of a short story about a space orc)

“Recon three, approaching target. Going comms-quiet.”

“Understood, Three Preeminent. Good hunting.”

Captain Sallys slid the communicator back into its pocket in her armor, folded seamlessly against her serpentine body. Behind her, Bo checked her mag rifle with a nervous tic.

Yualith rebellions were nothing new in the cosmos--the fractious insectoid folk had dealt with internal struggles since well before their starfaring days--but humans in the Orion Peacekeeping Alliance were an entirely novel matter.

Bo, for her part, felt absolutely out of place. Back in the Solar Defense Force, she’d been a highly decorated marine: a master marksman, a dauntless survivalist, and an uncanny tactical wit. It was why she was chosen among the first five hundred to take part in her home arm’s united security front.

For her part, though, she might as well have been fresh out of boot.

This world, for starters, was nothing like home. She’d rooted out contraband enclaves on the cold canyons of Pluto, led formations on the dusty plains of Mars, and run dozens of drills under the hellish heat and pressure of Venus.

Gios, though? It was surreal to her.

Monolithic vegetation akin to fungus dominated the landscape, undergrown by lichens so rigid they scraped the paint from her shin plates. Sporeclouds stirred each time the wind blew and cut visibility to a few tens of meters. Even her life support system, for all it could do to filter out a wisp of breathable oxygen, left an acrid taste of ammonia in her throat.

She had no idea what tactical superiority even looked like in a place like this. After five years as a fire team leader and three as a platoon commander, it felt bizarre to her to be entirely beholden to the combat sense of another. Sallys had proven a reliable leader in training and a’ship, but this would be the first time Bo had ever followed her into a combat zone.

She trusted, as much as someone one knows only through their records can, her team leader. Regardless, she couldn’t shake the feeling of fighting blind.

Then there was the unit in which she found herself.

Captain Sallys, foremost, was of a serpent-like people called the Ixori. Their agility and marksmanship were unparalleled in the cosmos, and she’d seen twice as much combat in the last few years than Bo had in a lifetime.

Second in command was Warden Iommo. He stood barely a meter tall, yet had the aspect of a chameleon: incredible situational awareness, and skin that melded into the vivid colors of the landscape. He wore no camouflage--just a translucent ballistic vest and the kit on his back.

On point was Peacekeeper Abrox--a Gorolai whose resilience in battle was without peer. They were bipedal, manually dexterous, and of a meter and a half’s height, much like a human; yet, they could see and hear well past the spectra of homo sapiens. They further differed in their amber exoskeleton, upon which they nailed their battle plate like an old-age shoe upon a horse. Bo asked them once if it hurt; in return Abrox asked, “have you ever gotten a tattoo?”

Just behind him marched Peacekeeper Ojore, a Taelic. An tripedal fellow with leathery skin of a dozen brilliant hues, he carried an enormous recoilless rifle--not to mention the team’s allotment of explosive charges. His hands were as large as Bo’s head, yet when priming a detonator, they moved with a surgeon’s grace. For this mission he had daubed himself in deep fungal-brown pigment, giving him the image of an alpha predator in the shadows. (Bo, of course, knew him to volunteer in children’s creches and sing in the OPA All-Faiths Choir whenever ashore--but the foe didn’t need to know that.)

Then there was Mender Hali--a Kastarine. Bo had never cared for cockroaches, and though she was hardly proud of her prejudice, it didn’t sit well with her that a being who so resembles one was her medic. If he cared to stretch his limbs and lean upright, he would stand near to her chest--yet like most of his kind he scurried along the ground, his rigid digits quite comfortable on the unwelcoming terrain.

And last, there was Bo. Peacekeeper Lashawna Boudicca. A mere human in a galaxy of fantastic creatures. She stood near two meters tall, a hundred kilos of muscle and grit, yet in the company she now kept she felt as feeble and clumsy as a suckling child. For all two decades of training did for her, Abrox could still lift her with gear and all single-handedly. Hali could outrun her with a sprained pedipalp--she’d seen him do it. Iommo could scale a ten meter climb before she’d so much as made her second step.

But here she was, marching into a fungal grove the likes of which she’d never seen, their designated marksman. These five put their faith in her covering fire, their lives in her aim.

She might have lost herself in her doubts, but the team’s march was cut short. Sallys raised a spindly hand and signaled them down low.

In the clearing ahead stood a blood-brood of Yualithi--a dozen razor-clawed beings each clad in the colors of the Gios rebellion. Most bore gas-actuated assault weapons with cruel-looking bayonets.

If the wind were to turn, or the sporeclouds dissipate for even a few moments, team three would be exposed and assailed in an instant. Mercifully, however, whatever orders the brood were waiting on came; they filed out in bored succession.

“Remember,” said Iommo in a hushed breath, “we’re not here for a firefight. We find that depot from the orbital scans, we drop a multiwave beacon for the artillery battalion, and we get the hell out.”

“I don’t think anyone has forgotten, Warden” said Sallys. He shot her a glance which she met immediately, and after a few stern moments, she signaled the team to carry on.

“I hope we don’t find a fight” said Ojore as they marched. “It would be so nice to have a peaceful operation for once.” He shrugged his weapon further back against its strap, apprehensive of it even still.

“Peaceful,” said Abrox with their best impression of human “air quotes.” “We have an objective. Anything between it and us is as good as forfeit.”

“Still,” added Hali, “it would be nice not to return covered in viscera. You lot have an awful way of staining my good uniforms.” He gave a chittering laugh, and Abrox along with him. The grimace on Ojore’s face was rather like Bo’s.

“Quiet, all of you” said Iommo with a hiss. “Our orders are to engage responsively, and that is all to say on the matter.” As soon as he turned his eyes back to the horizon, Bo saw Sallys’ tail-tip twitch in a circle--a gesture she’d learned was much like rolling one’s eyes.

Kilometers of alien vegetation passed beneath foot, tail, and claw, led with certainty by Abrox’s keen senses. They could see further through the sporish haze by naked eye than any targeting sensor--and they seemed just the slightest bit perturbed that the rest of the team fought to match their pace.

At last, silhouetted against the glow of the sky, their target came into view. Iommo leapt to the top of one a towering fungal spires to train an omniscope on the target. “It’s a match to the gamma signature from the scans,” he said. “Enough ammunition and fuel rods to supply this rebellion for weeks longer. Captain, shall we being our app--”

Without warning, Iommo’s perch burst out from underneath him. A hail of mass-reactive shells rained from the flank, and he plummeted toward the ground. “INCOMING FIRE!” cried Ojore as he reached out to catch his Warden. Sallys slapped Abrox’s shoulder as she advanced ahead. “Weapons hot, get to that hill line! Defilade, now!”

Iommo locked eyes with Ojore for a moment: first in bewilderment, then quickly-swallowed fear, then in burning displeasure. He laid his superior down on his feet with an awkward gentleness, and refrained from the urge to pat him on the head. Another volley pulped the vegetation that concealed them, and they put aside their differences to dive for cover.

Bo brought up her targeting sensors, following the tracers from Abrox’s assault-mag. Her first shot went wild into the alien flora. “No, dammit” she said to herself, “fire discipline.” She choked down the surge of adrenaline that followed the break of battle. Hali could smell it on her--he gave her a sideyed glare as he drew his sidearm.

An absurdity of humanity. One of the most dangerous combat drugs known to science--and humans simply dripped with the stuff when you so much as startled them. How they managed to form a single coherent thought in the throes of it was beyond him. Bo raised her head up again and, this time, ventured a longer look at her target. Three Yualithi on an emplaced weapon at four hundred meters; another nine barreling down upon them fifty meters closer. “They spent their surprise too early!” she said. “Targets at three-fifty and closing.”

“Then deal with them!” answered Iommo as he hunkered into cover, his carbine quite useless at such range. Bo’s training flashed through her mind. Prioritize: their heavy weapons were too far out to be accurate, but held them under suppression. Objectivize: clear the air for her allies before the foes closed on them. Actualize: …” She squeezed the trigger and sent a mag-driven bolt directly into the field gun’s frame. Its crew ducked for cover for a moment before resuming their barrage, and the stream of fire edged its way toward her. “Damn it all!” she swore, chambering the next cartridge. She’d only have time for one more shot, and there were three of the clackers to take down. “Mark that… whatever it is!” said Ojore as he drew his weapon. “Give me a bead, if you please!” “Trusting you here, Ojie!” she answered as she trained her sensors. She didn’t love the thought of shooting an enemy pointing high explosive armaments at her with an infrared dot instead of a mag-cartridge, but she knew he had the right idea. The gentle Taelic broke into a song of war as he hoisted his launcher high. “He’s really going to fire this one blind?” Bo thought as she steadied her barrel.

“Blood upon stone and ash upon coals…”

“I swear if you nip the canopy and frag us, I’m going to come back from the grave just to kick your a--”

Ojore’s weapon screamed and scorched the earth behind him to glass, his payload rockering skyward.

“Fear within hearts as the fire-wind blows…”

Bo held the lock as long as she could. Not until splinters of woody fungus rained onto her did she at last roll back into the cover of the hillside.

“Onward we march; to glory we rise…”

Ojore ducked beneath the fire that Bo drew and emerged just in time to guide his rocket himself to its destination.

“Our lives we will gamble; our enemies die.”

The micro-atomic impact was nearly as deafening as the launch. Mass-reactive shells cooked off like the rolling of thunder, drowning out the screams of the weapon’s operators. “Good damn shot!” Bo said as she rolled over pat her comrade on the back.

“No time to celebrate,” Sallys interjected. “Troops closing fast; small arms, go!”

As Bo drew her sidearm and caught her breath, shame gutted her. She’d missed. She’d put her comrade in harm’s way because she’d been too panicked to make a single shot against a stationary target. She could almost hear her former sergeant scolding her from beyond the grave for her mistake. A rookie’s mistake. A fool’s mista--”

“Head in the battle, damn your glands!” cried Iommo, not content to let her sulk with foes bearing down.

He and Abrox, freed of their biggest threat, laid a fierce volley against the storming insectoids. Their entire exchange would bring down only a couple of foes, but it forced them into a covered approach and gave the fire team a valuable moment to prepare.

Ojore raced to load another rocket; by the time he could prime it, however, the target had drawn too close. Its safety sensors squacked at him in anger, and with a sigh, he shouldered it again. “So much for hoping, I suppose…” he said, as he reached instead for the enormous charges belted to his waist.

Bo had to admire his willingness to stick himself in harm’s way. The enemy’s scattered fire whizzed about him as he lobbed charge after charge over the crest of the hill. At last Sarrys flicked the safety on her own assault-mag. “Foe closing to ideal range; make your shots count!”

She wasted no time in leveling her fire. Two hard bursts--”That’s one for me,” she said proudly. “Two for me,” laughed Abrox as they swapped their magazine.

Regardless, recon three was still outnumbered. Their enemy was in full assault--they strode through the oncoming fire at a bloodthirsty sprint. Her foe at last close enough to target, Bo leapt up with pistol in hand.

One shot, two, three. Miss after miss. The Yualith rebels danced like mad hornets, and their aimless shots became concerningly effective as the distance diminished. For the first time since she’d joined this fire team, Bo caught a glimpse of fear in her captain’s eyes.

“Brace for close quarters!”

#humanity fuck yeah #hfy #space orcs #humans are space orcs #scifi story

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kenkamishiro · 6 years ago

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zakki:re translations Part 2, Vol. 3-5

Part 2 took a bit longer than usual because I had to finish the Ishida x TK interview (which you can read here). On to volumes 3-5, and hopefully I can start on Ishida’s Q&A’s simultaneously in the next couple days!

If you would like to start from the beginning, please click here.

Takizawa.

I was happy when I could finally show him like this since I've always wanted him in this form ever since OG. But I fumbled the timing of his entrance, plus I also had the idea of putting Amon first in the auction hall. Next to him are two Dobermans. I hope I’ll be able to draw animals better.

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Issue no. 17, Opening colour page

Little Kaneki.

I think this colour illustration was drawn well, considering my abilities back then. The thing he's carrying in his arms, is it a birdcage? Or possibly an urn?

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Issue no. 28, Opening colour page

[T/N: HQ scans provided by TG_Hub, thank you!]

The cover of :re volume 3 features Takizawa and Hinami. I like it because of how disturbing it looks. I drew this Takizawa nibbling on his fingers by underlying the drawing of him from the last page of :re volume 2. (...if I remember right!)

Auction x Audition The various squad members who appeared in the Auction Raid were recruited through a “Recruiting investigators!” type of project that the general public could apply for via collaboration with the part-time job magazine “an”. Originally I wanted to pick one person and have them appear for a bit before killing them off in the end. What ended up happening was that about six thousand-ish applied, though I looked at everyone and picked from there. Hairdressers seemed to have a high acceptance rate, might be because they’re good at styling themselves and taking pictures? Also Numa Jun-kun, who’s aiming to be a comedian, is being called onto T.V. every once in a while. He’s contacted me and asked me to watch his skits, though every time I see it I feel he’ll do just fine...yup, do your best.

Operation status (at the time of magazine publication) ...anyways, every week the squad members would get injured, and with Owl showing up the situation changed, creating a very hectic environment to develop the plot. At any rate I had to somehow make the 20 investigators from “an” appear in the story...now that I think about it I have no clue why I tried to do that. I was asked to write down a status report of the dead, injured, etc. I created a draft of the design every week, thought of what content to include...I thought making something like that would be interesting, so readers could look at it while reading the manga. But when the volume was being edited, rather than being omitted from the page it was relevant to, it appeared halfway through the chapter, and as a result it became even more confusing to follow. (As an aside, I tried to request that it be brought back in the digital version as the original, but I don’t know if it will?)

Side story JOKER At the end of volume 3 of :re there is a one-shot about Juuzou, who’s become an associate special class investigator, investigating together with Hanbee. This was published while I was drawing OG volumes 13 and 14, and oh! It was published by Shounen Jump. They asked if I could draw a one-shot for Jump. One Punch Man also did something similar and the survey results turned out well, so they thought it would be good for my series. “Makes sense,” I thought, but at the time I was very busy and had absolutely no interest in it since the one-shot would force me to not include any spoilers. If spoilers were allowed I would’ve agreed to draw it. But when I was talking to my editor a light bulb went off in my head and I came to the revelation: “What if I write about Juuzou in the future?” I was still in the stages of drawing OG, and I thought if Tokyo Ghoul readers read it they would think,” What’s this supposed to mean?” and Juuzou would be able to pique the interest of even first-time readers. I drew more than 30 pages of manuscripts while running a weekly series at the same time, wondering if I should’ve just called it quits even though I was the one who came up with the idea. Though the survey results didn’t turn out well at all.

2015, Volume 3, Cover

[T/N: Numa Jun is based off of Hiranuma Junya, whose Twitter you can visit here. He is also featured on the dust cover slip of volume 3, and funny enough Ishida apologized to Numa on his Twitter after killing him off.]

The cover of :re volume 4. Tsukiyama and Kanae. I also really like the illustration of these two. I was addicted to putting vivid pink on deathly pale skin. However, the characters’ complexions seem to slowly be getting worse and worse.

2015, Volume 4, Cover

Kanae vomiting roses. She looks deathly pale, doesn’t she?

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Issue no. 43, Opening colour page

The colour page found at the end of :re volume 5. There is no clean version of this illustration since it was combined with the text layer.

2015, Volume 5, End frontispiece

[T/N: The translation for the text, which is an excerpt from Takatsuki Sen’s “The Black Goat’s Egg”, can be found here.]

Kanae as a woman. An image of her ideal appearance.

2015, Volume 5, End frontispiece

Hairu. She had already been slaughtered at the time of drawing this illustration. And then, my unfulfilled love for Hairu began to simmer and boil over... Is this...the type of girl I like...?

2015, Volume 5, End frontispiece

The cover of :re volume 5. Haise with Eto by his side. Their complexions are deathly pale here too. I forget what I was trying to do here, but I was so busy those days that I couldn’t finish this illustration. I remember I had a difficult time drawing because I wasn’t in good condition. (Was that when I was working on JAIL by any chance?) Kijima’s death is depicted in this volume. I was eating cheese when I was drawing the “I want to eat cheese” panel. After hearing the amazing “I want to eat cheese” moment in the anime, it makes me glad I drew it. You can tell Furuta was drawn to look like a good person at first before his true character was revealed. There were a lot of panels I liked art-wise, such as the scene where Noro obliterated the investigators, and the two-page spread of Kanae playing the violin.

2015, Volume 5, Cover

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#Tokyo Ghoul #zakki:re #Ishida Sui #Translations #my translations #zr translations #ishida's type is hairu scream it to the clouds #and lol still can't get over the cheese comment

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jincherie · 6 years ago

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Tape III: Starlight Tryst [M] | 1/2

pairing: jungkook x reader x seokjin genre: smut, superhero!au, supervillain!au, superpower!au words: 12.2k+ rating: nsfw warnings: smut: oral (receiving), pegging, fem dom?, anal, m x m, dom!jin, sub!jungkook notes: Happy birthday steph!!! i died about twenty three times writing this gfkj I’ve split this into two parts since it’s going to be long!! Second part coming very soon!! @gimmesumsuga the rest is coming soon!!!!

In which the tape has gotten you into even more trouble, and despite the storm brewing on the horizon you find yourself having much more fun than you should be.

↼masterlist || tape i • tape ii • tape iii - 1/2 • 2/2

“You’re so wound up,” he observed, increasing the pressure of his fingers and coaxing a sharp whine from behind gritted teeth. “It won’t take much at all to make you cum the first time.”

You hardly had time to question his words before there was a sudden ripping sound and cool air suddenly greeted your soaked core. You yelped, eyes flying to the smug face of the male before you. He’d just ripped your fucking suit open—

The crimson-haired villain turned his gaze to your folds, admiring how they glistened as he released one of your nipples and brought the fingers to brush over your clit, the touch causing your hips to buck beseechingly against him.

“Oh, baby, you’re soaked,” the words left his mouth without him even seeming to realise, his thumb coming to caress your throbbing clit as his fingers traced your slit, playing around your entrance. You hardly noticed as the camera tilted and followed for the best angle, as though it had a mind of its own.

You couldn’t help the sharp whines slipping past your lips, eyelids fluttering as you struggled to stay grounded. You couldn’t give in, you knew you couldn’t— but why? It felt so good, and god knows you’d been wanting to fuck him for months. You were rapidly losing the battle within you, hips twitching wantonly as the male began to move his thumb. You cried out loudly, chest heaving and sweat beginning to gather across your skin.

You knew Tempest, knew he probably wanted to play with you more before he gave you any real satisfaction, and so you were surprised when he dipped his finger into your entrance suddenly, sliding in knuckle-deep with ease and eliciting a loud keen as your back arched and your eyes wrenched shut. You’d been dying for something inside you ever since this morning and now that you had it, provided literally by the man of your dreams, it was almost too good to be true. Pleasure curled and roiled in your abdomen, sharp gasps tearing from your throat as he slipped another finger in with ease, more of your juices gushing forth and coating his knuckles at the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your abdomen tensed and shifted, hips rolling shamelessly as you tried fucking yourself on his fingers. He caught onto your attempts quickly, however, and with a low, dangerous chuckle halted your movements with a strategic curl of his fingers straight into your g-spot. Your mouth fell open, a shocked whimper all you could manage as he took control from that point on, taking advantage of the fact you were too consumed by the hot, scorching pleasure melting the flesh off your bones to stop him.

The male retracted his fingers, more of your juices gushing forth before he returned them to your seeking heat with the addition of one more, your hole taking his three digits with the slightest burn that tingled along the entirety of your spine. You had all of one moment to adjust before he was moving and suddenly his fingers were fucking into you at such a brutal, consistent pace that you swore you were beginning to see stars behind your eyes.

“Ah fuck!” you cried, back arching as with each push of his fingers into your welcoming heat they curled to touch your g-spot, his thumb working your clit each time it came close enough. “Fuck, fuck, d-don’t stop!”

He positively cooed at your cries, unoccupied hand pinching and tugging your nipple as he spoke, “You’re so tight, little firefly. If you’re this tight around my fingers, I can only imagine how tight you’ll be around my cock.”

You whined sharply, the sound hiccupping as you rapidly grew closer and closer to your high. He was right when he’d said you wouldn’t last long— you were so close you could almost taste it as you teetered precariously on the edge, so, so, so close, the closest you’d been all day.

“F-fuck, oh my god,” a sharp moan tore from your throat as you whimpered, fingers flexing behind you and arms tugging against the linked cuffs. Your breath came hurried and short, chest heaving and breasts shifting with each thrust of the villain’s fingers within you. “T-Tem—”

“Call me Jay, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick and eyes blown as they drank in every single reaction you so generously provided. He couldn’t deny the throbbing bulge straining against his own suit. “Lord knows you’re going to be needing a name to scream later.”

Your eyes fluttered open on a whim and upon meeting his own your heart halted in your chest, skipping several beats before kickstarting once more and your breath was caught in your lungs, your head swimming in the slick sounds that came as Tempest— Jay— thrust his fingers into you without mercy.

You couldn’t tear your gaze from his as his teeth found his lower lip before a dark grin slipped over his face. “What are you waiting for, little firefly—?”

You, asshole. I’m waiting for you. Startled at the words that had suddenly entered your mind, you were brought to a sudden awareness, a vivid sense of coherency that felt extremely out of place in the scene you were experiencing. Right, you were waiting for him. That asshole had said he’d contact you. But had he?

You jerked awake, annoyance already curling in your abdomen as you rode the coattails of awareness out of your dream and into the waking world. It was odd for you to dream of a memory instead of something new and foreign as you usually did, but you didn’t mind up until the last bits. You groaned. So it wasn’t enough that he hadn’t contacted you at all in the three weeks since he’d been gone, stringing you along like a fool and leaving you to stew in your own sexually frustrated juices, now he was ruining dreams for you too? Unbelievable, unbelievable.

Your hand came to rub your eye but with a certain sense of uncoordination that only blessed the recently awoken, you ended up almost slapping yourself in the face. Another groan crawled its way from your throat and you gave up, allowing your arm to drop back against your mattress and your sleepy eyes to close once more as you wallowed in your own thoughts and the chilly breeze drifting through your window.

Three weeks, three whole weeks of opportunity for that masked jerk to contact you like he said he would, and he hadn’t. It annoyed you, more than anything. What the hell could he have possibly been doing that was more important than you? You paused for a moment, pondering the wording of that thought before ultimately deciding to have a little giggle and move on. So yes, you were annoyed that he hadn’t followed through, and this was aided by your frustration at the fact that he’d even disappeared to god knows where in the first place, leaving you alone and regrettably hung up in his absence. You didn’t like that he’d put you in this position so easily, that he had you feeling things you’d tried so hard not to feel and were currently still attempting to deny the existence of.

You’d done some reflecting in the past two weeks or so since your little… rendezvous with the other two villains in your city, and had realised you were acting out— not unlike a child that had been told no by their parents and was now throwing their weight around. Even so, a part of you—a startlingly large part of you that really had you realising how petty you were—couldn’t bring itself to care, on the grounds that he’d left you here alone after all and you were a free, consenting adult. He’d never expressed direct wishes for you to keep it in your pants while he was away, it was more of an implied and assumed thing, and so you’d seized that little loophole with both grubby hands.

So yes, you were acting out, and you’d decided not to feel guilty about it because you didn’t have to. Tempest was just going to have to suffer in his jocks, you’d assured yourself. And if you were in trouble when he returned… then so be it. Perhaps you’d finally get laid like you’d been longing for weeks now. If you were lucky, he might get even more creative than usual in his anger. You fought a delighted shiver. Ah, the idea of that almost made your stupid toeing of the line worth it.

A particularly sharp avian cry from the other side of the wall pierced your thoughts, and you were, once more, embracing annoyance with open arms like a long-lost friend. Unlike your cute neighbour Hoseok, who was still visiting his cousins by the way, the apartment on the other side of you was home to a reasonable lady named Hyuna and her very unreasonable cockatoo aptly named Crush. Why was the bird named Crush, one might wonder? Well, as Hyuna had once informed you, it was because the feathery little asshole enjoyed crushing things to a miserable pulp with its massive demon beak. You shuddered at the image. You didn’t mind birds, but you were at least ninety-three percent sure that avian fiend had spawned straight from the hottest pits of hell and flown straight here to torment you. Hyuna hadn’t been living in your building for long, but in the short time she’d been your neighbour you’d learned that her asshole bird truly enjoyed nothing more than waking up half the complex at the ass crack of dawn. How did he know it was even daybreak through the blanket over his cage? You didn’t know; he was a demon.

With a sigh, you accepted that this meant you weren’t going to be able to sleep in any more—that dumb bird was just going to keep squawking from here on out, and it was easier to just accept the role he’d taken up in ruining your life. With a throaty groan, you hauled yourself from the bed, stumbling on weak legs for a moment. Between your thighs was heat and slick, and with a resigned sigh you made your way to the bathroom. God, Tempest wasn’t even here and he was still causing problems for you. You fought a shiver as you stepped onto the cool tile of the bathroom, deciding as you shut the door that tactically it would be better for you to rub one out now while you were still rearing to go. Yes, tactically. A wank a day keeps the unreasonable anger away.

Clothes stripped from your form and discarded somewhere in the room, you were quick to hop into the shower and even quicker to twist the knobs. The scorching warmth of the water as it beat down on your shivering form couldn’t be described as anything but delicious as it warmed your freezing limbs. Your bathroom tended to accumulate cold like the brothel beside the bar at the end of the block accumulated customers.

Going through the motions, you washed up a little before assuming your preferred position and allowing your hand to wander. Usually memories of your exploits with Tempest served as excellent fodder for your sexually depraved appetite, but you were still too annoyed at him to entertain the thought of getting off to him right now. He didn’t deserve to be the reason you came this fine, holy Sunday morning. Determined now to wank to literally anybody else, you allowed your mind to wonder and waited to see who would serve as your muse today. Unsurprisingly, the next runner up was usually Hoseok, your ridiculously cute and endearing neighbour, but to your disbelief that was not who flooded the back of your eyelids with their image.

Never in your life had you thought you’d be getting off to RM or Suga, let alone both of them at once. Perturbed as to why exactly your mind had classified them as acceptable wank material and summoned them to the forefront of your consciousness, you tried to find the reasoning behind it. Well, admittedly, both of them were incredibly attractive. You usually tried to refrain from thoughts like that, but here in the safety of your bathroom you figured it couldn’t hurt anyone. The more you pondered it, the less you found yourself resisting the idea. Hey, maybe your subconscious was on the right track. You easily found yourself getting lost in their low baritones, mesmerised as you watched their tone form move beneath their suits. Ah, yes. You know, both of them could get it. Truly, your subconscious knew you better than anyone else.

Now accepting of your mind’s decision, you threw your remaining reservations to the wind and allowed your hand to move. It wasn’t weird— it would only be weird if you made it weird. You’d just have to not think about what you were currently doing next time you saw them. Right, shouldn’t be too hard. Your finger trailed over your sensitive nub and you let out a pleased sigh. You’d deal with that later; for now, you were otherwise occupied.

x x x x x x x x

The next day found you in Starlight City, an aptly named plethora of tall, glittering skyscrapers and gleaming buildings that lit up the night sky like the burning remnants of a firework that emphasised the smattering of stars in the sky. This was where today’s league meeting was taking place, in a tall, looming building that you could almost describe as glamorous, the room you were currently in being only four floors from the very top. You were curious about what lay at the head of the establishment— it was a hub, a makeshift base of sorts for the heroes that were assigned to this city, and you were incredibly curious as to what it was actually like up there. Did they get endless refreshments? Fast wifi? You wanted in on whatever was going on up there, but despite how many times you’d come to help out in this city they refused to let you enter. Stupid, stubborn bouncers.

With the slightest flush of embarrassment you caught your eyes from where they had been wondering while you mentally cursed out the too-good security at this place. Contrary to what you’d assured yourself, what you did in the shower yesterday morning was still fresh in your mind, and now to top it off your gaze kept wandering to the two people it absolutely shouldn’t be and prompting a swift recollection of all that you’d fantasised yesterday. It won’t be weird if you don’t make it weird, you’d said yesterday. Well, it was weird, and your errant thoughts may or may not have been to blame for that but you weren’t really in a position to be pointing fingers, especially when your current dilemma was essentially your own fault.

As if on cue, you registered the path your eyes had taken once more and cursed as you found yourself staring at the smooth, angular planes of Suga’s face from across the room. Honestly, you thought he had a really nice bone structure. Prominent cheekbones, a strong jaw, and the cutest nose and eyes. Adorable, and completely undeserving of the perverse way your mind was currently conjuring vivid images of him. You sighed, tired of trying to fight it. The meeting was almost over, anyway, and maybe if you got some good daydreaming going then you could store those fantasies for the next time Tempest pissed you off.

Idly, as RM spoke at the front of the room about the Anual Superhero Alliance Gala taking place in this very city in a week’s time, you reflected on just how nice his voice was. Actually, now that you thought about it, Suga had a nice voice too. You groaned, allowing your head to drop quietly to the desk. You were almost worried you’d been too loud, but at the sound of RM’s continuing spiel you relaxed and allowed yourself to really wallow in the mental mess you’d gone and made. You really had no one to blame but yourself for your current, intrusive thoughts, so you’d just have to sit and bear it.

Removing your eyes and their ability to wander from the equation was meant to help you shirk those pesky images that kept filtering into the forefront of your mind, yet even now you couldn’t escape vivid visions of what either of the two heroes might look like beneath the suit, how enticing they’d look shirtless with sweat glistening over their toned forms and trailing down their abdomen as they— oh my god you needed to stop.

You whipped your head up, propping your chin on your palm and blinking eyes that were bleary from being clenched shut. When they came into focus, they fell upon there other hero across from you, seated right beside Suga. Not even a second after your eyes met his, JK’s own tore away, averting at the speed of light as he shifted his head to face another direction. You blinked. What? You couldn’t tell if he was blushing or if it was just the red from his suit casting a glare against his skin, but something was up. If you were being honest, something had been up for a while.

It had been a couple of weeks now and for some reason the way JK interacted with you had completely shifted. You couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually made fun of you, and if you were being honest it was kind of concerning. Now, instead of shooting off some smart-assed remark, whenever he so much as looked your way or caught your eyes he was quick to avert his gaze, cheeks pink. You had hardly spoken to him because every time you came near him he turned tail and fled as fast as his crimson boot-clad feet would let him. He was pretty good at avoiding you, admittedly. If you didn’t know his power was ice-based then you might have thought it was his incredible aptitude for quick, clean escapes. You didn’t doubt that as soon as the meeting was over, the raven-haired hero would dart from his seat and straight out the door in a bid to avoid you.

You wanted to know what the hell was up with him, but the thing was you couldn’t pin him down to ask. It was frustrating— as annoying as the male might have been sometimes he was still your friend and you thrived off the banter you shared between you, him and Jin. Actually, speaking of the other male, something had changed with him as well. It began around the same time as JK’s odd behaviour, except Jin wasn’t doing his very best to avoid you and fleeing at just a mere glimpse of your head in a crowd.

Your eyes subconsciously followed the cue of your thoughts and fell upon the male in question. You were startled to find he was already looking at you, dark eyes burning into yours with a peculiar glimmer in their depths. It surprised you, the intensity of his stare, and a shiver rolled across your shoulders before the male turned away with the slightest upturn of his plush lips, and you were freed once more. While Jungkook had blushed and run away the second your eyes fell upon him, Jin was almost the opposite— for the past few weeks you’d caught him looking at you differently. He still talked to you, interacted not too differently from usual, but the tone of his playful flirting had changed. Instead of annoyance curling in your chest at some random pick up line he would fire off, he would say something less cheesy and to your complete and utter surprise the words falling from his lips in combination with the heavy weight of his eyes as they met yours more often than not had the barest traces of desire curling in your abdomen. It was strange, all of it was strange, and you wanted answers as to why things had changed but they were both being difficult and refusing to give them to you.

You let out a sigh, deciding to just tune in to the remainder of the meeting and hope for the best that your brain didn’t conjure any more risqué images of RM and Suga. The aforementioned grape-haired leader was still talking as you began listening once more, writing something on the whiteboard to his right. You squinted, letting out a huff when you managed to decipher his wild handwriting.

“—as you all no doubt know, the Annual Superhero Alliance Gala is this weekend, here in Starlight City,” the male spoke, voice muffled slightly against the whiteboard as he scribbled relevant details like the venue, time and dresscode in blue marker— apparently thongs and miniskirts were frowned upon this year. “I expect to see you all there, since this gala is to celebrate union between the superhero leagues of each region and attendance is, in fact, compulsory, BB, Gyeom.”

The males in questioned laughed sheepishly, shrinking into their seats slightly. RM’s dark gaze remained on them a moment longer before he turned to the rest of the room, grinning so brightly it caused his dimples to pop. How could he have features that were simultaneously so endearing yet so dangerous? You refused to allow filthy fantasies to invade your mind again.

The male crossed his arms, lean frame tilting as he shifted his weight and cocked his hip. “I mean it, and no turning up inebriated—not only is it frowned upon, but it’s also not allowed. I refuse to have our region humiliated by outrageous drunken behaviour before six o’clock, like last year, BB, Gyeom.”

The two heroes shrunk further into their seats and RM maintained his smile, although it carried a certain edge that told the room any slip ups would be dealt with accordingly. He’d probably sit you all down for a five hour lecture on etiquette and decorum. You couldn’t speak for how many would survive a direct attack like that, honestly, you didn’t even know if you’d be able to make it through alive yourself.

“No drinking before reaching the venue,” RM reiterated, pinning the two culprits with another stare before moving on. “It’s a gala, I trust you can all dress accordingly. And no, BB you can not wear a miniskirt and thongs like last year. I don’t care that you were dared to do it, if you pull something like that this year I will procure an old pair of league-administered handcuffs and cuff you to a pole outside the venue, so help me.”

BB gulped, nodding feverously. Gyeom snickered beside him, but stopped abruptly when RM sent another glare his way. You snickered softly, thoroughly amused, and RM went back to filling you all in on the final details of the gala. You managed to listen right up until the very end, something you were incredibly proud of. You suspected that your amusement at the whole BB and Gyeom thing was what finally pulled your mind from its cosy place in the gutter. Finally, RM dismissed the meeting, and at once the superheroes sat around the table rose to their feet, ready to depart.

On a whim, you gaze whipped over to the raven-haired male that had been avoiding your eyes for the entirety of the meeting. Just like you expected, the second he was free he shot from his chair, darting into the throng of people making their way to the door and disappearing into the waddling mass. Disgruntled, you remained where you were, stood in your place at the table, and pondered for a moment why exactly JK was acting that way with you. He seemed to be normal with everyone else, as far as you could tell. He was just avoiding you like the plague, for no apparent reason. It perplexed you, and idly you wondered if you’d done something to piss him off or offend him… no, if that was the case, wouldn’t it be more likely that he would approach you and tell you what was wrong?

Your train of deep thought was interrupted by a low voice to your side. “You alright there, Spark?”

You blinked, coming back to the present moment and realising with a slight sense of shock that the room was almost completely empty. How long had you been standing there, looking like a fool? You weren’t sure you wanted to know. You turned to RM with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I’m good. I was just… lost in thought.”

RM hummed, strands of grape hair falling over his forehead from their pushed back style and contrasting nicely against his black mask. “That’s fair. I have noticed too that JK has been acting weird lately, but only around you. Did something happen?”

A heavy sigh left you, shoulders lowering from the sudden tired feeling that washed over you. “Not that I know of, actually. He just started acting like this out of nowhere and I have no idea why.”

RM nodded, allowing a moment of silence to float between you before continuing, amusement tinging his tone. “So, how much of that meeting were you actually present for?”

A wry grin tugged your lips, a chuckle escaping you at the fact you’d been caught. “Was it that obvious? I swear I was listening for most of it.”

The male returned your grin, eyes glimmering in amusement. “Sure you were. So you were listening to the part where I mentioned having a date was compulsory this year?”

You blanched, grimacing slightly. No, you hadn’t been listening for that. A compulsory date…inconvenient. You couldn’t sneak off halfway into the night with someone attached to your hip. “Ugh, they really did that this year?”

He hummed. “Yeah, it’s part of the whole union and partnership theme.”

You made a face that elicited a loud laugh from the male and you couldn’t fight the smile that came as a result of it. “Gross. I don’t know, I’ll probably take… Uh… Magna?”

RM grinned at you. “Magna is going with Yin.”

“Fuck,” you cursed, wondering who was left that probably wouldn’t be taken yet. RM smiled, nudging your side.

“I didn’t think you’d have a date yet,” he snickered, and you sent him a light glare. “We can go together, if you want.”

You were quick to seize the opportunity. “That is an excellent idea!” you burst, grasping his arm. “God, I am going to get you so drunk.”

The male snorted, rolling his eyes with a hint of amusement. “You can try. My liver is unfailing.”

You laughed at that, beginning to walk towards the door with him. “We’ll see about that.”

x x x x x x x x

In a humorous but not unwelcome turn of events, it wasn’t RM that you found getting inebriated the next day, but yourself. It wasn’t a habit of yours to start drinking before six o’clock in the evening, but that was what had ended up happening anyway. You sat alongside Suga at the bar in the basement of the Starlight City Superhero League building, a few sugary drinks in. You’d taken a momentary break from the alcohol and were now sipping on orange juice, as it happened. You’d had two shots and a row and didn’t fancy the immediate intoxicated sensation that resulted and so had decided to slow down a bit. Suga was still going strong next to you though.

He downed his vodka shot, sipping mineral water right after, and you frowned. The way he drank alcohol was almost insulting— mineral water? Gross. Mineral water could choke for all you cared. Suga seemed to be enjoying it though, so perhaps you’d wait a while before destroying the bar’s stores.

“So why have you been such a mess lately?” Suga queried after licking the traces of spilt mineral water from his lips. You froze for a second before remembering he couldn’t read minds and didn’t know about your recent dumb fantasies. You latched onto the first other thing that came to your mind.

“JK has been acting weird,” you pouted, sipping more at your orange juice. It was beginning to leave a weird taste in your mouth— you’d have to switch to coke soon.

Suga hummed, taking his straw and poking the ice in his mineral water. He didn’t seem to notice as you glared at the cup with disgust, and spoke anyway with the slightest slur. “Ah, right. I have noticed he’s been awkward around you lately—which is weird since he’s usually awkward around every girl but you.”

You nodded, hair whipping into your face slightly from the force of it. “I don’t know why he’s like that— did I do something? Did I offend him or hurt his feelings somehow? I don’t know.”

Suga pinned you with a look that managed to disarm you momentarily, his dark eyes staring shrewdly into your own for several long moments before he shrugged and sipped some more of his drink. “Well, how would I know? Why don’t you just ask him?”

A loud huff escaped you as you set your glass down, crossing your arms like a child. “I’ve tried! But he always manages to get away before I can talk to him—or even corner him.”

Suga blinked, staring at you like he was wondering exactly how many brain cells were left rattling around in your head. “You know… it’s 2018. You have a phone. You can text him.”

You went to defend yourself before pausing for a moment and realising that for some reason, you actually hadn’t thought of doing that. Maybe he was right to look concerned for the state of your brain and its poor cells. “Oh. Oh yeah.”

The male rolled his eyes, visibly fighting a smile, and you scrambled to pull your phone out. “Good point, I’ll text him now.”

He snickered. “You’re gonna ask him what has his knickers in such a knot?”

“Yes. Shut up,” you murmured as you fumbled with the phone you used for superhero business. You hardly used it, but it was pretty nifty—it had a whole list of important contacts and other superheroes in the region. You didn’t really use it, but you should.

Thumbs slightly errant as they flew across the screen and typed out a message, you tried to tune Suga out as he laughed at you. Sure, you could text JK, but that didn’t mean he had to reply— and if the way the past few weeks had gone by meant anything then you doubted he was going to. Still, you may as well try. You were worried you’d actually done something without knowing, and that burned you a little inside.

To: JK (Starlight City) Hey, I don’t waht’s up but u’ve been acting kind of weird lately and I don’t rlly know why, but if it was something I said or did I’d like to apologise. It’d be good to takl to you again.

True to the slightly intoxicated haze dampening your inhibitions, you sent it without even checking it for mistakes. It hit you a second later and you peered over the message, relieved to only find minor errors. Oh well, you could excuse a few typos. You made those even when you weren’t drinking.

You sighed, placing the phone on the bar and reaching for your drink. “He probably won’t even respond. He’s been avoiding me pretty diligently lately—”

Just as the words finished leaving your mouth there was a harsh vibration against the bar, the screen of your phone lighting up with a notification. The two of you looked on in surprise as the man of the hour responded to your text not even a whole minute after you’d sent it.

“Oh shit,” Suga murmured, “That was fast.”

You nodded absently in agreement, grasping the device and unlocking it with your thumb. Since the messaging app was the last thing you had open, the message from JK popped up immediately.

From: JK (Starlight City) Not your fault. I’m sorry. If you want to know why, meet me at 11PM on the top floor of the SCSLA building.

Perplexed, you showed the message to Suga. He simply shrugged, and you glared at him for being so unhelpful.

“You want to know why he’s been acting funny, don’t you?” Suga asked, rolling his eyes when you nodded in response. “Then go meet him, fool.”

You let out a huff, placing your phone down and replacing it in your hand with your orange juice, taking a petulant sip. You were kind of nervous, actually. What if it turns out you had done something without even knowing? You hated having people close to you mad at you.

In the midst of convincing yourself how irrational it was to not want to go after you asked to talk to him, your eyes flickered over to the superhero beside you. He was onto his next shot, lifting the glass and downing it in one fell swoop. Your eyes were drawn to the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the pronounced curve of his jaw as he shifted his mouth and licked his lips. The spell that had been momentarily cast upon you was broken by the sight of him bringing mineral water to his mouth once more and you let out a noise of disgust.

“God, how can you even drink that?” you asked, sipping on your orange juice imperiously.

Suga shot you a half-hearted glare. “It’s because I’m not uncultured, like you,” he retorted, taking an obnoxious slurp of the beverage. You shuddered in an exaggerated fashion and he rolled his eyes. “Whatever, don’t you have a lil’ meeting to prepare for? Get going before you drink anything more and end up stumbling the way there.”

It was only eight-thirty, but he had a point. If you stayed you were inevitably going to end up drinking your irrational nerves away, and that would probably not bode well for your little rendezvous with JK in a few hours time. With a sigh, you finished the rest of your juice and set the glass down. You nodded to the bartender, a lovely lad named Keith, and turned to poke your tongue out at Suga.

“Fine, whatever. I was going to bounce soon anyway, you stinky old man,” you grinned, revelling in the sheer exasperation the male seemed to exude at your words. “See you later, Salty.”

Suga glared at you, throwing one of his remaining ice cubes your way as you made a hasty escape. You nearly tripped at the beginning of the stairs, but still managed to dodge the projectile and start on your way up. Off to the hotel you were currently staying in it was.

x x x x x x x

At the tender hour of eleven you found yourself walking down the hallway on the top floor of the Starlight City Superhero League building, directly towards the room you’d wondered so much about every other time you’d come to visit. You couldn’t help but ponder what lay on the other side of the large, polished obsidian door. Was it a special bar? A lounge? Maybe it was just one big luxurious rest room. Predictably, your mind took that and darted way off course—did they use it for orgies?

Shaking your head in an effort to rid yourself of those thoughts and prepare for the meeting about to take place, you halted in front of the door, hand outstretched but yet to touch the gleaming, silver handle. They spared no expenses in Starlight City, it would seem. A shuddering breath escaped you, and you willed your nerves to leave with it. Okay, this was fine. You were just going to go in there, and JK was going to be there, and he was going to tell you why he’d been acting so strange and playing the avoidance game lately. You tried not to think of exactly why, so your nerves didn’t have another chance to work themselves up. Right, in you went.

Grasping the cool metal in your hand, you turned the handle and after hearing he tell-tale click, allowed yourself into the room. You blinked as you stepped in and the door shut behind you, the lighting dimmer in here than it had been in the hallway and requiring your eyes to adjust slightly. Your stomach flopped in surprise when they did, however, as your eyes caught sight of not only the superhero you were expecting to meet, but Jin too. Your mouth dropped open, a question on the tip of your tongue, but the male caught sight of you and grinned before you could utter a word.

“Spark!” he cheered, straightening from where he’d been leaning against a rich, navy chaise pushed to the left of the large, almost cavernous room. “Glad you could make it!”

You nodded slowly, mind racing as you tried to connect why on Earth Jin would possibly be there and your meeting with JK. Did he ask the blonde to come for support? God, you wished you knew something at least. You didn’t like being in the dark, at all.

“So am I,” you said, gaze flicking to JK where he sat upon a large, plush bed to the right, hidden behind a band of somewhat sheer curtains that had been pushed to the side. Just as he had done for the past few weeks, the male blushed and averted his eyes, although this time you noticed a slight struggle to continue looking at you. Did that mean he was trying? You didn’t know. You continued speaking as you stared at the raven-haired male, “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss a three-person party.”

Jin grinned, dark eyes meeting yours and causing your stomach to do a dangerous flip. This felt… unusual. Something was different in the air now, between the three of you, and while it wasn’t something particularly bad, it set your hairs on edge in a thrilling way nonetheless. You took a hesitant step forward as he opened his mouth to speak once more, pushing from the chaise and moving towards you. To your utter surprise, he walked past you and towards the door, pressing it securely shut and locking it. Your eyebrows rose in curiosity.

“You see, Spark, a while ago you left a little something in the meeting room,” his voice dipped and rose as he spoke, growing deliciously deep as he drew closer to you. Your heart quickened at his words. “And ever since we happened upon it, and what it contained, our little JK here hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Confusion drew your eyebrows together, your gaze flicking to JK once more as your thoughts raced. You’d left something? You honestly didn’t remember a time when you’d gotten home after a meeting and realised you’d forgotten something. Your gaze focused on the heated colour flushing JK’s cheeks and you idly wondered what you could have possibly left behind that would elicit a reaction such as that from a male usually so cocky around you. All you’d been bringing to meetings was your bag and the required paperwork or reports. Actually, you’d brought two different bags over time because the first one suddenly went missing—

A peculiar, warped sense of horror began to creep into your chest, eyes widening as you connected your missing bag with the only other thing that had been near them that could make JK act the way he had around you. Jin had observed the changes in your facial expression, tongue slipping to wet his lips as they were drawn into a smirk that was somewhere between smug and salacious.

“Your moans, your screams, the beautiful expression on your face as you came undone— at the hands of your worst nemesis, no less! We were both more than a little mesmerised,” the tall male hummed as he moved towards the younger hero starring in his recount, “But JK here… hasn’t been able to forget the things he saw, the thoughts that tape inspired.”

Shame and embarrassment flushed hotly through your system all at once, cheeks burning from the intensity of it. God, how many people were going to happen upon that god damn tape? You couldn’t even blame Tempest this time, and that annoyed you more than anything. You hated it when these things were your own dumb fault.

Despite the embarrassment currently swallowing you whole, a meagre tendril of curiosity managed to peak through and grasp your thoughts. Your gaze flew to JK and the words were slipping from your mouth before you even realised they’d entered your mind.

“What thoughts?” your voice wasn’t soft, but it was low, and JK visibly shivered for a moment, wide eyes flying to your own.

The curve of Jin’s lips was accentuated with pleasant surprise, teeth flashing as he placed a hand on JK’s shoulder. The male jerked, chest beginning to display how his breathing quickened slightly. Something rose within you, a confidence of sorts, a curiosity enticed from hiding by the completely different image of JK you were currently witness to.

“Oh he hasn’t said anything yet, but ive noticed the change in his gaze, the distraction and what he mumbles in his sleep,” he paused, eyes burning into the raven haired male beside him, before flicking to you and making your heart skip a beat at the sheer, burning desire within them. “He wants you to fuck him.”

Like a spell, a sudden air washed over the room. Your stomach flipped, a thrill shooting down your spine and the back of your legs. Immediately, you gaze moved to JK, drinking in the sharp inhale and dark blush colouring his cheeks as he stared wide-eyed from you to Jin.

Your brows rose, that strange cocktail of unusual confidence and intrigue caressing your nerves and urging you to step closer. One foot, the other— you caught it as JK swallowed thickly, eyes locked on your approaching form. Your mind was racing, a flurry of questions and vivid imagery, and you found that you didn’t quite mind the idea of fucking Jungkook the way Jin had implied at all. Quite the contrary, if the sudden throb your pussy gave was any indication.

You halted in front of the superhero, a surprisingly large part of you relishing in the way he looked up at you now. You hadn’t felt quite so… powerful, before. It was exhilarating.

“Is that what you want, JK?” you asked, voice slightly raspier than usual as it escaped your throat. “Is that what you’ve been imagining all these weeks, every time you look at me then look away blushing? You want me to fuck you?”

The male seemed like he couldn’t quite believe the words slipping so easily from your lips, and to be honest you hardly could either but you were rolling with it. When he didn’t speak immediately, you stepped closer still, allowing the toe of one boot to just barely brush the bottom of the large bed he was seated on. Your hand lifted, fingers brushing softly against his jaw. He shivered visibly.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” your voice was lower this time, catching against your throat. His eyes were locked onto yours, and with a heavy swallow his head tilted, just barely a tentative nod. Your hand cupped his strong jaw, marvelling how cool his skin was against the heated flesh of your palm. You kept his gaze in yours as you murmured, “How?”

All the breath in JK’s lungs left in a whoosh of air that was cool against your suited torso. He swallowed, voice thick and quivering slightly in need, “I—…”

Jin cooed, hand moving from the male’s shoulder to card through the silky raven locks atop his head.

“He wants a cock stretching his pretty little hole open,” Jin sighed fondly, fingers gripping the strands as they moved through them. Your breath hitched at the words, heat flooding your core and making your pussy throb deeply with desire. Your gaze went to the blonde, questioning, and he lifted a hand to brush your cheek. A shock sparked where his skin met yours, shooting down your spine and tearing a soft gasp from your throat. “And I have everything we need to make that happen here. But first, wasn’t there something else you wanted, JK? Something you’ve been dying to do for the longest time?”

You didn’t think it was possible but JK’s cheeks burned brighter, eyes averting from yours at Jin’s words. The tall male was having none of it, though, and his hand moved to gently embrace the strong curve of the younger’s neck in an unspoken promise, thumb pressing against caramel flesh. His tone was firm and dripping with a command, voice cutting through the air low and deep. “Eyes up, baby boy.”

Immediately, JK’s eyes returned to yours, and you didn’t miss the way his strong thighs rubbed together needily, your own yearning to do the same at the words that had fallen from the blonde’s lips. God, you were getting so much more worked up than you ever thought you would at the prospect of something like this.

Jin spoke again, voice honeyed as it caressed your ears and eliciting a shiver across your shoulders despite the fact he wasn’t even speaking directly to you. “Now, use your words and tell Spark just what you’ve been daydreaming about every time you see her walk before you in that tight little suit.”

The raven-haired male let out a shuddering breath, holding your gaze despite how much you could see he wanted to avert it. Large bunny teeth found his plush bottom lip and he tugged it into his mouth for a second before finally gathering the will to voice his thoughts. You weren’t sure what kind of response you’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the one you got. You nearly fell over as his voice reached your ears with an almost pleading undertone, thick with desire and need.

“I want to eat you out,” he managed, words blunt and contrasting greatly with the soft flush to his cheeks. Your stomach flipped and dropped, breath quickening slightly as you continued to hold his dark, doe-like gaze. “I want to taste you, to bury my face between your thighs. I want to feel you, hear you come undone on my tongue. I want to make you cum and scream my name.”

Your own tongue darted to wet your lips as your pussy throbbed even more, the two males watching the slick muscle as it swept across the plump flesh. It was a struggle to regulate your breath, attempts at controlling your racing heartbeat proving futile. Jin hummed.

“What do you say, Spark?” he queried, dark eyes meeting yours and almost swallowing them whole with the intensity of his desire. His voice was thick as he coaxed an answer from you. “Will you help our dear JK here out? He’s wanted you for so very long…”

You could hardly muster control of your vocal folds to speak, desire and arousal driving your words and actions. A sly smile slipped onto your face as you looked to JK once more, watching as his breath hitched in his throat. Your fingers slipped from the side of his face to caress the firm edge of his jaw.

“Who would I be to say no?” you said, voice low. “Will you make me feel good, JK?”

The male nodded fervently, his accomplice smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “Excellent,” Jin said, eyes flicking from you to JK. “Get on the bed, Spark. Against the headboard. JK, why don’t you help her undress.”

It wasn’t a request so much as an order and with a thrill that shot down your spine at the realisation that while you held power over JK, Jin had power over you both, you were quick to comply. Your back met the headboard and, breathless, you watched as JK shifted where he sat and climbed towards you. Anticipation curled in your abdomen, legs parting slightly as the male knelt between your knees and reached for your suit. You watched his expression as he undid the clip by your neck, grasping the zipper that was hidden behind a fold of material and beginning to tug it down.

You could hear Jin moving in the background, rifling through a chest on the floor, but your attention was fixed on JK. Raven locks shifted over his face as his head tilted, eyes following the path of your zipper as he undid your suit and bit by bit more of your skin was revealed beneath it. You could hear his breath quicken, see the heat colouring his cheeks as the zip reached the edge of your panties and he pulled back. Strong hands trailed down your legs and your boots were quick to go, landing on the floor with a heavy thud as the hero threw them behind him.

You leant forward slipping your arms from your suit and allowing the material to fall to your hips. JK froze, breath catching in his throat as your upper half was revealed to him, your nipples stiffening to peaks in the cool air. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your form, pupils blown wide in lust as he took you in. You hoped he couldn’t hear how your heart was thundering against your rib cage, let alone see how your chest was beginning to heave with the exhilarating thrill of this situation you’d found yourself in. He blinked, doe-eyes finding yours for a moment before his hands moved to your hips, palms cool against your flushed skin and eliciting a shiver that rolled down your spine. You allowed your back to meet the headboard once more and lifted your hips to help as he grasped your suit and tugged it the rest of the way down your body, leaving you almost bare before the two males in the room.

“My, my, Spark,” Jin purred as he returned to where the two of you were, his tongue darting to drag over his lips as he took your almost naked form in. You could feel arousal flushing over you from the heat of his gaze, panties no doubt damp and on their way to drenched if the way your pussy ached for touch was any indication. “I know that tight little suit didn’t really leave much to the imagination, but my, don’t you look like a treat out of it too.”

You had enough sense remaining to blush at that, stomach fluttering at the compliment. JK’s hands were resting against your thighs, and Jin nodded to the raven-haired male. “Get started, baby boy. Give her a kiss.”

Obediently, eagerly, the younger male leant forward, hands dragging along your sides as he went to rest tentatively against your ribs, below your breasts. His breath was cool as it brushed your face lightly, and your eyes met his for a moment before he closed the gap between you and his lips were moving softly against your own. A quiet noise, almost a moan, slipped from your throat, and your hands rose to trail up his neck and bury into his hair. JK whined slightly against you when you tugged the strands accidentally, and you did it again only to receive a similar action. A peculiar taste lingered on your tastebuds as your tongue swept across his bottom lip, sucking it lightly as you went, but you didn’t mind the sweet edge.

Contrary to what you ever thought JK might have been like in bed, the male was complete putty in your hands. Soft moans and whines slipped past lips that were so soft against your own, tongue sliding against yours eagerly as he kissed you. You were almost lost in the feeling, the sensation of it all before he pulled back, breath quickened and lips swollen from your playful nips and sucks. Eyes glazed with lust, he was quick to dive back down, however this time he moved past your mouth to your jaw. A soft gasp tumbled from your lips, tummy flipping as he suckled and kissed along the sensitive skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts.

“Touch her, baby boy. Don’t you want to make her feel good?” Jin’s voice rung out, vibrating lowly against your eardrums, and your eyes fluttered open to see him kneeling slightly behind JK, hand kneading his back as he observed the scene before him. The male in question moaned slightly against your neck, hands finally shifting from your ribs to glide over your breasts. His thumbs grazed your nipples, causing you to shiver and whine as your back arched slightly. Gradually, his mouth moved down over your collarbones, leaving a trail of wetness and flushing splotches in his wake, and his soft lips were replacing one of his hands.

Jin’s lips parted slightly at the loud whine you suddenly let out as JK’s tongue laved around your areola before he enveloped your nipple into the velvety heat of his mouth, his other hand taking its twin between fingers to pinch and roll it. With dark eyes he watched your hips shift and roll against nothing, lips curling slightly. He brought his hand to the back of JK’s neck, fingers nimbly grasping the small zipper that was hidden there and beginning to drag it down the younger’s back.

The raven-haired hero shivered, teeth grazing your sensitive bud and eliciting another soft moan from you as his fingers tugged harder, his free hand resting against your hip.

“Ah, JK…” your teeth found your lip as he released your nipple with a soft, barely audible pop and pressed his mouth lower. Over your ribs and the swell of your tummy, lips skirting the edge of your panties. Your breath was coming quicker now, anticipation sending thrills down your spine.

His hands began to grow cooler against the heat of your skin, fingertips almost icy as they pinched and rolled your pebbled nipple. With the little sense of mind you had left, you quickly realised it must have been his powers peeking through.

Your eyelids had lowered at JK’s ministrations, but you still caught it as Jin finished unzipping the suit and tapped JK’s ass with a light smack.

“Off,” he directed simply, JK eagerly complying as he pulled back and slipped his arms from the suit. Jin made quick work of ridding the material from his body completely and you flushed at the sight of the male before you. Smooth, toned skin, littered with a number of scars as one would expect of a superhero who fought villains for a living, and an incredible form. You had to admire the way his slim waist tapered in to his hips, and the curve of his toned thighs as they tensed and shifted. Holy shit, you’d seen JK in his suit before— and that thing was tight— but even that didn’t prepare you for this.

JK quickly returned to his previous position, placing his hands either side of your hips while he adjusted, but Jin clicked his tongue. His hands found the younger’s hips and grasped tight, yanking him back into the position he wanted and murmuring, “How were you going to eat her pussy from up there, baby boy?”

With a hand placed on his upper back, the younger hero was lowered to the bed, hands working to rid you of your panties before he was laying down completely and his arms were winding around your thighs. His cool breath brushed your soaked core, sending a shiver down your spine, and you lifted a hand to gently brush the stray, raven locks from his face. He shot you a small bunny smile.

And then he lowered his face and you were letting out a sharp cry as his tongue licked a thick strip along your folds, flicking against your clit firmly. The hand by his face scrambled for something to grasp as he got to work lapping up the copious amount of slick leaking from your core, fingers winding tightly into his hair and eliciting a soft moan that sent a delicious wave of vibrations against your sensitive nub, pleasure flushing through your form hotly and curling up your spine.

Your eyes had been focused on JK where he was between your thighs, but your attention was suddenly taken by the other male in the room as he dragged his hand down the younger’s toned back. You didn’t know whether JK had gone commando beneath the suit or if Jin had slipped everything off at once when he was undressing him before, but you now had a prime view as Jin’s fingertips trailed over the caramel skin of JK’s lower back and the firm curve of his ass. The younger shivered in response, burying his face into your folds and drinking in your pleased whine.

Tension was beginning to gather in your abdomen from JK’s actions alone, and coupled with the sight before you the pleasure and arousal was beginning to make your head swim. Hazy eyes watched as Jin’s free hand retrieved a bottle you hadn’t even noticed was laying to the side, popping the cap with ease and bringing it towards his other hand. He squeezed and a generous amount of lube quickly coated his fingers, some excess dropping onto JK’s lower back. The raven-haired male whined softly in response, hips shifting against the bed, and you realised he must have been hard too and just as aching for touch as you had been before.

“Ah!” you gasped sharply, moaning as JK’s lips wrapped around your clit and he began to suckle. “F-fuck��!”

“Good boy,” Jin cooed, grasping JK’s hips and lifting them from the bed slightly so that his back curved and his ass was higher in the air. JK moaned against your core as the elder scooped the lube from his lower back and lathered it between his cheeks, fingers moving over his hole. A shudder rolled down his spine, teeth grazing your clit as he lost focus momentarily and you whined once more as pleasure sparked white hot in your abdomen. “You’re doing such a good job at eating her out, making her feel good. Can you hear her pretty moans?”

You could tell the moment Jin stopped teasing around the younger male’s entrance and began to push a slick, slim finger in, because he stiffened, grip on your thighs and hips tightening and lips giving an extra hard suck to the throbbing bundle of nerves between your thighs. At the sudden wash of pleasure a loud moan escaped your throat, your back arching slightly and hips twitching in his grasp. Jin hummed, pleased at the reactions he’d received, and continued to work his finger in and out of the younger’s hole.

It didn’t take long to prepare him, and in that time you’d rapidly grown closer to your own high, egged on by the erotic sight before you. Never in your life would you have thought you’d find yourself in a situation like this, let alone with these two. Yet somehow, that fact made it all the more exhilarating. Your thighs were trembling as your abdomen tensed, coil drawing tighter and tighter within you at each suck and lick JK delivered to your throbbing core. Your pussy ached for something inside, but you were willing to ignore it for the sheer fact that the young hero was giving you almost the best head you’d ever had in your life.

JK’s body was beginning to tremble, from both the strain of holding his hips in the air so long and the effort of holding himself back while Jin’s fingers were fucking him open for you.

“S-so good, fuck, so good,” you managed to gasp, voice curling into a sharp moan at the end. The hand that wasn’t buried in JK’s hair shifted to brush the remaining strands out of his face. “You’re doing so g—ah!”

Just as you began to praise him, the male shifted tactics, wrapping his lips around your clit once more and laving his tongue over it at the same time. It was enough to push you over the edge and you were cumming hard, head flying back to meet the cushioned headboard as pleasure flooded your form completely. White glared behind your eyelids for a moment before you managed to come back to the present moment, letting out a squeak as JK released your abused clit with a wet pop and began to pull back. He didn’t manage to do much more before there was a sharp smack and he let out a long, keening whine, his front collapsing and his face burying into your stomach.

You looked up in question, an alarming amount of arousal shooting through you as you caught sight of JK’s heaving back and Jin, three fingers inside his hole and grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Mmm, you certainly did do a good job,” Jin purred, voice thick. He withdrew his fingers, trailing his other hand down the male’s back and receiving a shiver in response. “I think you’re ready now, baby boy. Roll onto your back for us.”

Obediently, the raven-haired male rose on shaky limbs and shifted onto his back, legs spreading with you between them. Jin retrieved a pillow to go under his head, but you were caught on the sight of the male spread before you and felt the air whoosh out of your lungs. His skin was flushed slightly and glistening with sweat, the toned, sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen almost glowing in the low light. Your gaze followed the line of his torso, heat rushing to your face at the sight of his cock, swollen and flushed, impossibly hard against his stomach as it leaked slightly onto the taut, trembling skin.

Jin shifted once more, handing you both the bottle you’d seen previously and what took you a second to recognise as a strap-on. A thrill shot down your spine as it truly sunk in what you were about to do, and you rose to your knees. You still shook slightly from the aftermath of your orgasm as you did your best to navigate the device and slip it on, thick, red silicone dildo hitting your thigh heavily as you went. Even you would have felt trepidation at the sheer length and width of it, but JK didn’t even blink at the sight of it, which caused your mind to wonder what exactly it was he was used to. Your eyes almost strayed to Jin’s crotch subconsciously before you stopped them and focused on securing the contraption around your hips. The straps dug in slightly, enough to secure it but not enough to be uncomfortable, and excitement began to flutter in your belly.

Your eyes fell upon the male once more to find he was already watching you, breath quick and eyes dark with need. His tongue darted to wet his lips as he held your gaze, and something shifted in your chest, that same confidence from before rising to the surface once more. You shifted, moving closer and placing your hands slowly on each of his thighs. He visibly fought a shiver at your touch, bunny teeth digging into the soft flesh of his lower lip.

You couldn’t help but smile slightly, paying it no mind when you felt Jin moving up closer to JK’s head. Your fingers trailed softly over the firm, taut muscle of his thighs, relishing the slight shivers of anticipation your touch elicited from him. The strap-on was somewhat heavy, and you felt your back curving and hips tilting slightly to accommodate it, causing the dildo to nudge lightly against JK’s taint. He whined, and you looked to Jin, having never done this and unsure where exactly to go from here.

The blonde simply nodded at you, sanctioning a go-ahead, and brought his hand to caress JK’s jaw as you moved. A heavy breath escaped you, and you steeled your nerves— you were just going to go for it. You shuffled the tiniest bit closer, bringing your fingers to brush against the space between the male’s testes and his fluttering hole. JK let out a sharp whine, and you caught his gaze as your hand moved once more, gathering some of the lube from the bottle before returning to his body. The loud gasp you received as your fingers wrapped around his throbbing length sent a sharp spark of arousal straight to your core, stomach flipping. God, he was so…

His hips shifted slightly as you dragged your hand slowly up his cock, thumb massaging as you went. Your eyes zeroed in on the movements he made; you’d have to take care of that in a moment, but for now… you were eager to just get started. While your other hand worked his length leisurely, gathering the precum leaking from the tip with each flick of your wrist upwards, your other began to lube up the strap-on hanging from your hips. You lathered it generously, wanting to make the experience as discomfort-free as possible for him.

“Stay still, baby boy,” your voice was soft as you concentrated, bringing your hips closer and the tip of the dildo to press lightly against JK’s hole. His breath hitched, fingers clutching the covers beneath him, and you watched his face for any sign of discomfort as you began to slowly press the length of the strap-on into him.

A high-pitched keen tore from his throat as his hole stretched around the thick intrusion. Jin had prepped him, but you didn’t doubt the stretch would still burn. Shuddering breaths escaped him as bit by bit you eased into him, watching with a certain sense of entrancement as his hole greedily sucked in more and more of the crimson, silicone length. He was panting softly, whines escaping his throat, and his head was thrown back, eyes clenched shut. Jin cooed, one hand cupping the younger’s strong jaw as the other moved to pinch and roll his nipple between two fingers. The resulting whine and the way it tapered into a breathy moan almost had your hips stuttering in their movement. Fuck.

It wasn’t much longer before the entirety of the strap-on was seated deep inside JK, his thighs trembling against your waist as you gave him a few moments to adjust. Your hand around his length began to move once more and he moaned, hips shifting against you. You guessed he was ready, and so with a hand pressing his hips to the bed you began to move. The noises that began to spill from the male’s lips were almost your undoing, loud and needy and so utterly sinful they had arousal swimming hazily in your abdomen once more. Your core throbbed as you drew your hips back, silicone cock squelching slightly as it dragged against JK’s walls, before you rolled them forward experimentally.

“F-fuck!” JK yelped, moaning breathily as he scrambled for something to grasp and anchor himself, back arching. One hand clutched the bed and the other found purchase on Jin’s thigh. You rolled your hips once more and he moaned.

“What a good boy you are,” Jin cooed, tugging the younger’s nipple as he spoke, a choked whine escaping in response. “Taking that cock so well. Does it feel good? Does it feel good to have Spark fucking you like this?”

“Yes,” JK gasped out, back arching as you gave another thrust and the dildo parted his walls once more. “Yes, fuck, feels s-so good.”

The hand you’d placed on his hip shifted, tracing over the defined muscles of his abdomen as it clenched and unclenched with each thrust you gave into him. JK had a beautiful form, you couldn’t help but admire it.

Jin hummed, pleased with the younger’s answer. JK’s hand shifted from clutching the older’s thigh to grasping at the material of the suit around his hips, whining needily.

“You’re already being fucked so good and you still want my cock that badly?” Jin queried, unable to hide the slight hitch in his breath as JK nodded feverously. The shamelessness he currently oozed was both admirable and incredibly hot; you found yourself giving his cock a particularly potent stroke without even realising until he moaned in response.

Jin’s hands shifted to the belt of his suit, beginning to undo it as he looked over to you. His tongue peeked out to swipe across his plush lips at the sight of you and JK joined at the hips, voice thick as he spoke, “Fuck him harder, Spark. Make him scream.”

Your breath hitched at his words but you couldn’t deny the shot of desire that flooded your veins at the idea. Obediently you pulled your hips back, dragging the silicone cock from the younger’s depths before snapping them back and relishing in the sharp, lilting moan that tore from his throat. Eager to hear more of those noises, you began to move faster, fucking into the male harder, watching as his body jolted from the force of your thrusts. The straps dug into your flesh slightly but you couldn’t care less when you were faced with the sight before you and knew you were giving JK a lot of pleasure right now.

A continuous stream of moans and whines tumbled from JK’s lips, muffled only when Jin’s cock was finally freed from his suit and the younger eagerly took it into his mouth. A breathless noise escaped the blonde at the way the younger greedily sucked his length, tongue moving along the underside and lips wrapping around the head. One of his hands found its way to JK’s head, fingers entwining with the raven locks. The messy, wet noises from your own hips pounding the dildo into JK’s hole and the loud, shameless slurping from him sucking the older off were more than enough to rekindle the flame of desire within you that had been sparking to dangerously before. You squashed a moan of your own at the lewd sight before you, wondering idly how you’d gotten into this situation in the first place; it wasn’t something you would ever have envisioned happening, and you had a pretty potent imagination. Actually, now that you thought about it, this was happening because they’d seen the tape, so really—

This was Tempest’s fault. Again.

You gave a particularly hard thrust into JK at that and he keened, moaning loudly around Jin’s length. Soft moans were now tumbling from the blonde’s lips as well, his eyes hazy and lidded as he gazed down at the younger; you could see his abdomen rippling from the pleasure of JK’s mouth around him.

Gradually JK’s whines grew louder, his movements messier, and his thighs began to quake against your sides. You realised he was growing close and decided to just go all out, speeding up your own movements and slamming the dildo strapped to your hips into him harder, hand around his cock beginning to move once more. You gathered the precum that had begun leaking generously from his flushed tip and used it to ease the stroking of your hand against him. A sound you hadn’t heard from him before tore into the air as you angled your hips slightly different than before, and you watched as his entire body tensed and tears budded in the corner of his eyes. You had a split second to admire the sight before he slipped his mouth from Jin’s length, throwing his head back as he cried out in pleasure and he came hard, ropes of cum spurting from his member and falling across his abdomen and hips, chest heaving as he panted and whined, back arched.

The expression on his face was one you could only describe as fucked out, cum smeared across his form and dripping from his cock as it twitched lightly in your grasp, the creamy colour of his release contrasting nicely a

gainst his skin tone. You couldn’t help but admire him as you slowed your hips and rode him through his high, stopping when his member began to soften and he whimpered in oversensitivity. Gently, you allowed him a moment to breathe before you slipped the silicone length from his hole, almost blushing at the lewd sound it made as it left. You ran your hands along his thighs, cooing softly despite how your gaze was captured by the way his hole fluttered and clenched around nothing, stretched open from yours and Jin’s ministrations.

“You did so well,” your fingers traced patterns onto thighs that still shook slightly. “You were such a good boy.”

“He was,” Jin affirmed, low tone catching your attention. You looked up to find his gaze already on you. “You did well too, Spark. Come here.”

Your breath caught in your lungs as he beckoned you closer with two fingers, core throbbing as your gaze dropped and you glanced upon the thick, swollen length standing proud at his hips, glistening with the remnants of JK’s saliva. Obediently, you began to shuffle over, heart starting to race in anticipation.

It would seem as thought your evening wasn’t over yet.

↼masterlist || tape i • tape ii • tape iii - 1/2 • 2/2

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jackblankhsh · 6 years ago

Text

Why I Quit -- Santa’s Elf

"In my Mom's rendition, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer eventually goes on a rampage, beating elves to death with his hooves, and disemboweling reindeer with his antlers. As for Santa, well, lemme just say ho-ho-holy shit. Thing is I can't help thinking she taught me the right & wrong lesson with her variation.

"Allow me to elaborate.

"Nothing motivates a person to grasp at any job like a looming eviction that'll cast one out into Chicago winter. It is a wicked season. Polar bears stalk the streets. Great glacial mounds dot the city wherever the homeless, huddled together for warmth, have frozen into human icebergs. And always there those driven mad by cabin fever who turn into winter banshees, their screams echoing down the icy streets.

"Call me a coward, but I've lived here long enough to know better than risk Winter on the streets. So, following the word of a grape vine bird, I went to the Brick House Diner. There I found Chari chowing down on a burrito.

"Chari is a queen in the skin grift game commonly known as stripping, though she prefers the term gash flasher. Folks often misperceive Chari, given that she spells 'Cherry' C-H-A-R-I; however, she's certainly innovative. Consider how she alters her act for holidays. Around Easter she dances as Bunny, near the Fourth of July she's Booty Ross, and close to Giftmas she's Mary Christmas -- 'merry' spelled M-A-R-Y.

"We met at a bachelor party. When the groom asked if Chari might be inclined to acts other than sexy dancing she rewarded those hooker implications by performing an act of surra de bunda so severe it broke his nose and gave him a concussion. Always respect a woman who can use her butt as a wrecking ball.

"After the usual chit-chat kindling we fired up the real conversation.

'I heard you know about a job.'

"She nodded, 'You know I pick up all kindsa stuff. Guys think they're impressing me, or some shit. Can't complain though. My stock portfolio is crazy good.'

"Fishing in her purse she produced a pamphlet. Passing it across she said, 'I think the guy who gave me this was thinking like save the stripper, or whatever.'

"I chuckled, 'The ol' respectable job angle.'

"She smirked, 'Like I'll be so grateful I'ma just have to suck his dick.'

"I said, 'Well, as a man, I can say we're raised with the grateful BJ delusion.'

"She rolled her eyes, 'Oh please, you believe it because you want it to be true. Ain't no different than Jesus saves.'

"Glancing over the pamphlet I said, 'Speaking of grateful oral...'

"She said, 'Don't be getting ideas. This is me paying you back. That bachelor party was gonna kill me. Besides.' She smirked, 'I think you'll be an adorable elf.'

"The next day I found myself in the beige office of a mall manager in Niles. After introducing myself we stared at each other in silence for well over a minute. I think he kept expecting to pull off my face, revealing Chari beneath a mask, and his pornographic fantasies of gratitude would come to life.

"Finally, playing off that note, I said, 'So about this job, Chari said I'd be a good fit.'

"He nodded, 'It's not hard. Tricky part is whether you like kids. You like kids?'

"A few years back I attended a family gathering. The three year old crotch fruit I'm supposed to call my nephew got to its feet. The whole family cheering it on my brother's rat child started baby-staggering towards me. Arms spread wide it giggled. Leaping off the couch I shouted, 'Not today Satan!' and punted it across the room. (I may've been drinking.)

"As such, I informed the manager, 'I know how to handle kids.'

'Okay. Let's get your costume.'

"I shuddered. Though aware of this aspect of the job I didn't look forward to it. I've often had vivid nightmares about a sweaty Walt Disney furiously masturbating to forlorn actors sadly donning the mouse costume.

"The manager said, 'Follow me.'

"He led the way through a network of halls behind the shops taking us to a locker room. While he searched for a box containing my costume I waved to a maintenance worker in overalls.

"The maintenance guy said, 'What they rope you into doin'?'

'Elf.'

"He grimaced, 'You let me know when you wanna die. I'll kill ya. Did it for the last guy. Least I can do, ya poor bastard.'

"Right away, I liked him.

"The manager returned carrying a battered cardboard box. Handing it over he said, 'Put this on then go to the middle of the mall. Santa's there. You can't miss it.'

"Opening the box I sighed heavily. Inside I found red tights, a green short sleeved shirt, and a red and white striped long sleeve shirt as well as a pointy green cap, and a set of fake points for my ears. Everything smelled like diseased feet, and the points felt like uncooked chicken. Yet, I soon found myself transformed into an elf.

"Walking the mall is like roaming the belly of a beached whale. The labored breathes of certain patrons even helps conjure a vivid image of the leviathan struggling to breath as its own weight crushes it out of existence. Meanwhile, despite everything in a state of slow decay, creeping towards death, delusions of survival abound like the leather store believing yalmukes will save the dying retailer, or the lingerie shop's unsettling new line of preteen thongs. Like dynamiting a beached whale it would be merciful to burn this place down.

"I spotted the ersatz Santa village long before I reached it. It appeared to be constructed on a budget of zero fucks, and discarded pizza boxes. Buildings, particularly Santa's workshop, stood so crooked they must've been constructed by a German expressionist. In front of it all sat Santa, enthroned on a thrift store recliner spray painted gold.

"Next to him stood a perky albino asparagus who introduced himself as, 'Todd.'

"Santa introduced himself as Santa.

"I said, 'I see we're going method.'

Todd beamed, 'If it makes the kiddies happy that's cool.' If he smiled any wider his head would've come out his mouth.

Slapping a nicotine patch on Santa said, 'Lez do dis.'

"And so it began... a job that made me want to smoke heroin out of a shotgun, get a nice double barrel overdose going.

"Later, unprompted, Santa said, 'Been doin' this job fer-fuckin'-ever. Started when my bitch wife took off with the kids, and I was missing children, which is something never thought I'd say. So I was like, "Mall Santa!"'

'Why'd she leave?' I asked.

"He shrugged, 'I's fucking our neighbor, and that asshole got it in his head I wanted him to kill her. So there was this whole misunderstanding. Oh, hold up.'

"Todd lifted an approaching child into Santa's lap. The kid stared in wide eyed wonder.

"'Hello little boy!' Santa said, 'What do you want for Christmas?'

'I wanna thister.'

'Then send us your mom,' I said.

"Santa choked down a laugh. He told the kid he'd see what he could do, but if there was anything else, say a toy of some kind... but the boy insisted on a sister.

"Todd snapped the kid's photo with a digital camera. Then I helped the boy down. Delivering him back to his parents I asked if they wanted to buy the photo. Like most they declined having already snapped pics with smart phones like the cheap bastards they are. The same way they used Santa as a scapegoat, blaming him when they couldn't afford gifts for their kids.

"So it went, eight hours a day for the next twelve days.

"Occasionally packs of mallrats tried to storm Santa's village. This usually involved Goth kids screaming about Krampus. We kept giant fake candy canes at the ready, and though bludgeoning teenagers is always a perk, it made the job feel worse afterward. Those battles sent me to such dizzying heights the drop back to reality felt like orbital skydiving -- too much time to fully consider the fall.

"Todd, on the other hand, possessed a mystifying ability to always smile. After one fight he said, 'That young fella had some skills. Good for him.'

I said, 'Maybe next time he'll kill you.'

'Then he'll be a winner!' Todd said. Watching him bandage himself with wrapping paper and gauze, I considered stealing a pinch; suspecting I could get a cheery high sucking on Todd's bloody gauze.

"But most days belonged to managing the slow procession of beaming children accompanied by bored adults lobotomized by parenthood.

"In the locker room one night a gruff voice asked, 'You wanna die?'

"Startled I leapt forward bouncing hard off my locker. Spinning around I found the maintenance guy standing directly behind me.

"I said, 'Not yet. Things are okay... I guess.'

"He nodded, 'When you're ready, say the word. You won't even know I'm coming. Just.' He snapped his fingers, 'Lights outs.'

'I don't doubt it,' I replied, 'Hey, I'm just here until I've got enough to buy a gun. Then I can rob a bank like someone who still has their dignity.'

'Like Todd,' he said.

"Todd having dignity proved hard for me to swallow. For instance, his frog eyed crotch stared down kids all day, and despite even the most direct statements he never did a thing about his huge man-el toe. Yet, it does take a stalwart individual to be so... Todd. Like physics, and voluntary celibacy, optimists have never made sense to me. Despite whatever obvious negativity I sent his way Todd remained a prince of the bright side. Some days my only motivation for work orbited some contrived scheme to break Todd's smile, yet I slowly began enjoying his immutable nature -- the seemingly eternal persistence of his mood.

"The maintenance guy's words echoing in mind, I started seeing Todd in a new light. Instead of a silver lining seeking lunatic I started seeing a young man impervious to the world's woes. Of course, I harbored doubts. Perhaps in private he metamorphosed into a snarling bitter dick, a speculation I held on to until one fateful day.

"Close to the end of work we let our guard down. We each wanted to go home for our own reasons. Santa had been peed on four times; it being payday meant I was anxious to get my drink on; and Todd wanted to hurry home to make a gingerbread house for his grandma. We didn't notice the circling, growing Krampus kult clad in black... until it was too late.

"A wiry teen jumped atop the phone case kiosk.

"Holding high an ornate, impractical dagger he bellowed, 'Death to the red lie!'

"And then the stygian tsunami came from all directions. Surrounded, we didn't stand a chance. Still, we fought the good fight. At one point I frantically threw children at the legion of incoming Goths, bowling them over. Santa put on a pair of reindeer antlers, and charged into the swarm head first. Anytime I saw a piercing I grabbed it, and pulled hard as I could.

"About to be overwhelmed I shouted, 'Robert Smith is dead.' As the swarm paused to check their phones I used that as our chance to flee.

"Grabbing Santa I said, 'We gotta go!'

'Ho-ho-hold up,' he stammered, 'Where's Todd?'

"I saw him lying face down. Shoving Santa to kick start his exodus, I hurried over. Scooping up Todd I fireman carried him back to the locker room where I dropped him unceremoniously on the ground.

"Gasping, I declared for the millionth time in my life, 'I gotta quit smoking.'

"Then I noticed a pool of blood spreading from Todd. Rolling him over revealed a set of pentagram themed shuriken stuck in his back. It didn't look good. Also, it's entirely possible when I dropped him I may have inadvertently driven them deeper into Todd.

"Kneeling beside him I lied, 'You're going to be okay.'

"Todd said, 'As long as the kids are happy.'

"Then he died. Smiling. Later I watched the maintenance guy mop up his blood, erasing what was left of Todd, save for a vague stain on the locker room floor. The next day I arrived to find a doughy guy in the locker room struggling into the elf costume. It'd been washed, but there were still holes in the back.

"Wrestling with the tights the guy said, 'This fuckin' shit better be worth it.'

"Seeing that sourness, I told the new guy, 'When you the manager come around, tell him I quit.'

"Chicago winter isn't the worst thing in the world... like Rudolph, Todd was born with a gift people didn't appreciate until they needed it. To see him replaced so easily, well, frankly your honor, that's why I burned down the mall."

#writing #fiction #shortstory #short story #surreal #weird #whyiquit #honestyisnotcontagious #elf #santa #holiday #christmas #giftmas #writer

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olio16 · 4 years ago

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Olio+ ‘3am Thoughts’

At first I wasn’t too convinced with this part of the module. It wasn’t really a form of content I’ve focused on in the past, so the element of not having much experience with Riso printing put the mindset of being on the backfoot somewhat. This ultimately became quite an issue over the spring break as I took the initial idea I had submitted, ‘What if the Planets were alive?’ and get it down on paper (digital paper.)

One major issue I was struggling with was the limited colour palette of pink, yellow and black. Limited colour palettes, as cliche sounding as it is, can limit my imagination to a degree. Where with a broad spectrum of colours, I have a sense of freedom and ability to create exactly what is in my head. However, with these three colours (technically four as pink and yellow overlapping would create an orange colour) I felt a sense of needing to follow the path instead of deviating. An odd statement, but knowing I have creative freedom can heavily impact the final piece for me.

That being said, the final outcomes for Olio+ came out a lot better than initially expected. The idea of 3am Thoughts is not an uncommon one for me, as someone who daydreams a fair amount, as well as having the pleasure of vivid dreams when asleep, I had a plethora of dreams/nightmares that could be the focal point for this project. I wanted to pull on that eerie, spooky side of dreams/nightmares, as well as using the psychological ‘Rorschach test’ as a major theme. In the cover design (1st Image, top) you can see the Rorschach inkblot imagery breaking through with the butterfly type creature in the yellow section.

A fellow illustrator friend of mine introduced me to a brushpack that they use for their work, and I couldn’t help but test them out. In doing so I found one brush that gave me this scratchy, inky looking effect, something that I considered hard to create naturally at the time. This one brush enabled me to push out more dark and eerie looking content just because it could give this scratchy effect. I stated in my Olio 16 cover that you can’t have doom and gloom all the time, sometimes you need the weird and wonderful. Here I did something opposite to show that I can adapt and create work in different styles. The Olio 16 and Olio+ pieces are polar opposites to each other and that’s fantastic because it proves I have the ability to branch out and tell stories in through different avenues of style, colour and composition.

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language-rxgers · 7 years ago

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Best Boyfriend You’ve Never Had (Bucky x Reader)- Part 5

Summary: Bucky meets your father, your sister and her fiancé. A private moment between the two of you doesn’t result the way you’d hoped at first.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Reader, OFC Catherine, OFC Trish, OMC Bill, OMC Thomas

Warnings: none, fluff, very frustrating ending… (but it’s all g)

Word Count: 2491

A/N: Ah, okay I wrote like 200 words on Bucky’s beautiful features’ description alone… is it legal to be so good looking and barely even know it?

Masterlist

Part 4 (Previous) / Part 6

You could hear an overlap of voices booming in the kitchen as you and Bucky made your way downstairs. As you walked down the hall to the doorway of the kitchen, Bucky reached down, taking your hand in his. He shrugged when you looked up in question, silently telling you to go with it.

You walked through the doorway to see a small group of bodies crowded around the island. Your dad was laughing heartily, one hand in his pocket and a bottle of beer held comfortably in the other. You smiled wide when all eyes turned to you.

“Hey! There she is!” Your dad nodded to you.

You nodded in greeting. “Hey, dad.” There was no question that your aversion to touch came from your dad. Growing up, neither of you were very talkative people, but you’d always seemed to have your own silent language that said everything that needed to be. “Uh, this is Bucky. My boyfriend. Buck, this is Bill, my dad.”

Bucky extended his right hand out to your dad, keeping his sleeve-covered metal arm around your waist. This did not escape your attention, but you pushed the thought away for private discussion later. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Your dad raised an eyebrow.

“Bucky, huh? That’s the name you go by?” You palmed your forehead.

“God, dad, please.”

Bucky chuckled nervously. “My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, sir, but yes, I go by Bucky. Have since I was a kid.” You glared at your dad, noticing Bucky’s hand was still resting in the air between him and your father. Your dad’s serious facade finally cracked, and he grasped the dark haired soldier’s hand, the two shaking firmly.

“I’m just messin’ with ya, kid. It’s good to meet you. From what Trish here’s told me about you so far, (Y/N) seems to have found a keeper.” Bucky’s face relaxed. But then your father leaned in, still clutching his hand. “But I’ll be the judge of that.” The soldier gulped, eyes not leaving your father’s gaze.

“Yes sir,” he replied. You peered out from between your fingers, mortified at your parents’ first impressions to Bucky.

You sighed, finally taking into account who else was there. The kitchen consisted of you, Bucky, your mother, your father, your sister and who you recognized as her fiancé Thomas. “Catie!” You shifted the attention to your sister, who giggled. In a second she was out of her seat on the stool at the island and her arms were around your neck. She squeezed tight before letting go.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself, it’s been so long!” You smiled in excitement.

“I know, congratulations! I’m so happy for you,” you expressed sincerely. You looked over her shoulder at the tall, dirty blonde man behind her. He had kind green eyes and a sweet smile. “Hi, I’m (Y/N), Catie’s sister. You must be Thomas. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Thomas gave you a small wave. “It’s great to meet you too, Cate’s told me so much about you. And you,” his gaze shifted to meet Bucky’s. “It’s kind of awesome to meet you, man. I’m Thomas.” He extended his hand, and Bucky shook it as well, a little taken aback by your sister’s fiancé’s enthusiasm to meeting him. Thomas’s eyes trailed down to the metal digits curled around your waist, a sort of giddy fascination twinkling in his eyes. Catherine smacked his arm.

“Forgive him, Bucky. Thomas is a mechanical engineer.”

Thomas grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I kinda flipped when Cate told me her sister was bringing the Winter Soldier as her plus one. I- uh, I completely understand if it makes you uncomfortable and you’d rather not, but if it’s okay with you, I’d love to maybe have the chance to check your arm out some time while you guys are here?”

If Bucky was taken aback before, he was blown back twenty feet and flat on his ass now. You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips at Thomas’s fanboying of your best friend at the moment. However, you also knew Bucky had been trying so hard lately to shed his image as the Winter Soldier, but Thomas wasn’t afraid. He was fascinated and in awe of the strong, blue eyed man at the moment, and the little voice in your head prodded at you to encourage the soldier to agree.

You nudged Bucky’s side, giving him a look of approval. He shrugged, nodding hesitantly. “Uh, yeah, maybe sometime this week, I guess you can take a look. If you know what you’re doing,” he chuckled. Thomas grinned. He had the kind of smile that made you want to smile. You had only met him five minutes ago, but for someone who had made a career out of reading people’s faces and seeing past their facades, you had a good feeling about this guy. You were happy your sister had found her ‘the one’.

“Great, man! Cool. Really nice to meet you, by the way. Did I already say that? Whatever, I’m gonna say it again.” Thomas shook Bucky’s hand again gleefully, then looked to your sister with excitement glowing in his eyes. You suddenly had a vivid flashback to Scott Lang’s first time meeting Steve when he’d been recruited during the events of the Sokovia Accords. Cate smiled fondly, patting her fiancé’s chest.

“Well that was fun,” Bucky collapsed on your bed, arms thrown above his head across the soft light blue comforter. “Your sister’s fella seems nice. A real brainiac,” he gave you a goofy grin, and you rolled your eyes. “He reminds me of Tony whenever Helen Cho visits with new technology from Seoul.”

“Don’t tease him, he seems like a nice guy.” You scold him. Bucky simply shook his head.

“Not teasing, doll. It was nice having someone look at me and actually want to be around my arm rather than shy away from it. He does seem like a good guy. A real chap,” he nodded affirmatively. You snorted.

“’Chap’? Okay, you are now and officially my grandfather.” Bucky sat up onto his elbows. He splayed a hand across his chest, wincing.

“Oh, doll, you hurt me. I think I’m having chest pains. Call the doctor, I’m dyin’…” You snickered, kicking his foot.

“You’re so dramatic, you dork.”

“You’re right. I’m not dying. But I am in pain.” You put your hands on your hips, tilting your head inquisitively. He curled his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. You rolled your eyes, crawling onto the bed on your hands and knees before settling down beside the burly soldier. He waved you even closer, and you grinned at how adorable he looked with that cheeky smile adorning his lips.

“Where’s the pain, soldier?” You played along. He pouted, tapping a finger on his tempting lips, barely a hair’s breadth away.

“I think it moved here, (Y/N)…” he whispered. You blushed. Not sure what to do and entirely convinced he was simply teasing you, you smacked his chest lightly and threw a pillow at his head, pulling back.

“You big flirt,” you joked half-heartedly. “You’re trouble, you know that?” Bucky caught the pillow, and though he laughed, you thought you saw the light in his eyes falter for a split second. Maybe just a trick of the light. He cast his gaze down to the pillow in his lap, playing with the corner.

“Well, now that you think about it, I am technically your boyfriend,” he started, looking back up to you almost hesitantly. “So at some point we’re probably going to have to do something more than hold hands in front of your family- to be convincing, of course.” He rubbed the back of his neck almost nervously. “It might be easier to have practiced, y’know?” He added quietly. Your heart raced relentlessly, and you knew your face was completely red. You stuttered along, not a clue as to what to do with your hands.

“Uh- y-yeah, I guess so- that does make sense…” You took in a breath, regaining your composure. “Yeah, why not? I mean, it shouldn’t be awkward, right? We’re both adults, and best friends, so… yeah. Sure. Okay.” You slowly sank back down and Bucky adjusted himself to be sitting upright beside you.

“So, um, how do you wanna do this?” He muttered, eyes glued to your lips. You licked them self-consciously, letting out a breathy laugh.

“I don’t know, Buck, you’re the one who suggested this,” you gave him an awkward lopsided smile.

“Right, sorry.” The blue-eyed brunette lifted his hands before resting his flesh one on your hip and his metal one on the bed beside you. You frowned, placing your hand over it, running your thumb over the cool vibranium digits. Bucky let out a shaky breath as he met your eyes. “Is it a bad time to say I haven’t dated, let alone kissed a gal since 1945?” You let out surprised laugh, trying to cover some of the relief. With the flirtatious and suave persona Bucky had around you and the few others he was comfortable with, you’d assumed he’d have no problem with the ladies. But in retrospect, you realized that around others with whom he wasn’t as comfortable, he was quite closed off and quiet. Perhaps he wasn’t as confident with women as Steve recalled him being from the forties anymore.

“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t so much as flirted with a guy since the Cretaceous period.” Bucky let a soft chuckle rumble up from his chest. You looked up into his eyes, those kind, crystal blue eyes, clear as ice but warm like the sun. Even in the poor lighting of your room, they twinkled, his long, dark eyelashes casting shadows deep in his glassy irises. Your gaze lowered, taking into account for the first time the tiny freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose, the slight scoop of his nose and the way it rounded at the tip like a button. You smiled a little at this. You’d always though he had a cute nose. You could hardly help yourself as your eyes tugged themselves down to the feature they were most keen to admire up close. His light pink lips were almost always in a slight pout, the cupid’s bow of his upper lip spreading down and meeting the corners of his full bottom lip in a slight quirk upwards. You loved seeing the slow-motion tug of his lips when he smiled fully, pulling back to reveal a dazzling smile you’d have never expected was waiting just behind that pout. That pout. God, those lips. Ugh, stop it, (Y/N), before you-

“Baby steps,” he muttered, leaning in slowly. He stopped after a second, pulling back ever so slightly to give you the chance to call it off if you so wished, but your chest fluttered at how close he was. You felt the urge to touch him, and though any rational-thinking version of yourself would never be so forward, your heart just wasn’t allowing your brain to function at the moment. You reached your hand up, barely resting against the side of his neck. Your thumb lightly dusted his jawline, and he took in a sharp breath, continuing to shorten the distance between the two of you. Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed and his jaw tilted up just a fraction of an inch; he was so close, you could feel the ghost of his lips over your own. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you could feel it pounding in your ears. Your mind was racing at a thousand miles a second and yet it was at the same time completely blank. Your breath caught in your throat

(oh, my God, this is really happening)

and you suddenly knew exactly what they

(who’s they?)

(you know, them)

all meant by that perfect moment, the drumroll, that happened right before the actual kiss.

(holy shit, the drumroll’s almost over, get ready for the grand finale, you lucky son of a bitch (y/n), you’re about to kiss your-)

“(Y/N)? Sweetheart?” A crude knock at your door shattered your perfect drumroll finale, and you’d never felt so much frustration for such a kind voice. “Can I come in for a moment?” Bucky froze, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched tight in restrained annoyance. You wanted to whimper or shout or scream or cry right now at your unsuspecting mother. You sighed, forcing yourself to pull back. You reluctantly removed your hand from Bucky’s cheek, but not before giving him a look that meant that this was not over. You stood up and headed to the door.

“Yeah, mom, what is it?” You opened it to see your mother holding some folded towels in her hands. She smiled faintly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, hon, was I interrupting something?”

(Um, yes?)

“No…” you responded unconvincingly. Bucky appeared beside you, casting his arm around your waist.

“Okay, well I brought you some towels for the bathroom. I also wanted to let you know we’re all going to brunch tomorrow morning with Thomas’s parents and some of his groomsmen. Give you all an opportunity to get to know each other.” You nodded, taking the towels ruefully.

“Okay, thanks,” plastered on a smile, gripping the door handle. Your mother seemed to get the idea.

“Oh! I��ll get out of your hair,” she gave you an apologetic look. “Goodnight!” She called over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall.

“Night, mom,” you returned before closing the door firmly. You rested your head against the white-painted wood for a moment before turning back to Bucky. You dropped the towels on the desk by the door and smiled sheepishly at him.

He pulled you into a hug, placing his chin on your head. He leaned down to place a kiss on your hair, resting his cheek against it after. It was quiet for a few seconds. You wanted to ask to resume where you had been before your interruption, but feared the moment was passed or Bucky had maybe changed his mind.

“Wanna try again?” he muttered hesitantly, as if he had read your mind. You grinned into his chest, nodding your head. He squeezed your shoulders before pulling back. His clear eyes- soft for no one else but you- gripped your gaze in a firm hold. He gently brushed your hair back before trailing his hand down to cup the side of your neck and trace his thumb along your jaw, as you had previously done to him. His vibranium arm hovered lightly over your hip, still hesitant. You slid your hand up his cool metal forearm, wrapping it gently it around his bicep. The other lifted to rest on his broad chest, and you tilted your chin up. Bucky’s minty breath fanned across your lips, growing warmer with the growing proximity.

You once again closed your eyes, trying to hold back the smile as the deep silence in your room settled into a low buzz.

Drumroll.

Part 4 (Previous) / Part 6

A/N: Okay, idk why, but I really liked writing this one! Although I was literally frustrated with myself as I wrote it, I hope you enjoy! More to come soon!

Tags- if I’ve missed anyone or if anyone would like to be added, let me know!:

@chaosinacoffeecup @satans-knitting-club @starkxpotts @bexboo616 @learisa @socialheartbreak @la-meneur-louve @burningbiatch @agentsinstorybrooke @colonel–sarge @farfromjustordinary @yo-yo-bro-bro @the-instrumental-mortal @crazy4thewinbros @palaiasaurus64

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fluff #fluff #angst to come #ah bucky is so cute #cute bucky #marvel #avengers #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader cute #bucky barnes x reader cute #bucky barnes wedding au

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artpastmidnight · 7 years ago

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30 questions for Artists

I was tagged by the wonderful @dmsilvisart . Thank you for tagging me!

There’s no tagging requirements, so I’m going to leave it for all of you. Please tag me if you decide to do it so I can read your answers :D

Do you prefer traditional drawing, or digital? I’m getting more used to digital, and I’ve been neglecting my traditional supplies a little too long for my liking… but digital is easier to fix things.

How long have you been drawing? I’ve been doodling on the corners of papers and placemats at restaurants since I could remember, but I only started really getting into art as a cathartic release three years ago when my mental health just shattered.

How many classes have you taken? None.

Do you have a DeviantArt, personal website, or art blog? Out of those three, I only have this blog.

What’s your favorite thing to draw? Subtle facial expressions that only last a millisecond onscreen.

What’s your least favorite thing to draw? Backgrounds and detailed objects like weapons.

How often do you use references? MOST of the time. Once I draw something enough times and can draw it from memory, sometimes it’s better for me to not get caught up in details because irl, I’m an obsessively detailed person, and doodling is supposed to be a catharsis for me.

Do you draw professionally, or just for fun? Just for fun, although it would be nice to get commissioned work :)

How much time do you spend drawing on an average day? 2-4 hours??? If I’m working on something, more than that, if I can’t find any inspiration, I sometimes don’t pick up a pencil for the day.

Are you confident about your art? NO. “I am always doing what I cannot do yet, in order to learn how to do it.” - Vincent van Gogh

How many art-related blogs do you follow? About 2/3 of the blogs I follow are Art blogs.

Is it okay for people to ask you about your process? Of course, although I’m not sure if I’d be of any help???

Do you prefer to keep your art personal, or do you like drawing things for other people? Both. Some of my pieces are more personal, some are more towards other people. However, I find that whenever I “try” to draw for people, they never do well. It’s always the ones that I drew more for a personal release that get better feedback XD

Do you ever collaborate with others? Like an Art Trade? Sure. I also LOVE throwing around ideas with people. That’s why I do Request-A-Thons, because I might have a vague idea in my head, but when someone else sends in some prompts, it sometimes CLICKS and surprises even me.

How long does an average piece take you to complete? This REALLY depends on how vivid the piece I have in my head is. If I’m seeing where a starting idea takes me, it could take as long as two weeks, if it’s just an issue of “let’s see if my hands can recreate this image”, a few hours to a day?

Do you draw more today than you did in the past, or do you draw less? Definitely more now.

Do you think you’re justified in giving other people art advice? i HELL NO. I am the last person to ask for “constructive criticism” on a piece. It makes me really uncomfortable. Like, general things, such as “don’t worry about drawing the other eye, humans are asymmetrical creatures, the other eye is SUPPOSED TO look different” and things like that, yeah, but for me to say “I think this needs more…” is difficult because I don’t feel I am at a level to give it. I also hate receiving advice I DIDN’T ASK FOR.

What are you currently trying to improve on? Speed. Not being afraid to take risks.

What is the most difficult thing for you to draw? Backgrounds

What is the easiest thing for you to draw? Animals. I’ve been drawing animals longer than I’ve been drawing humans.

Do you like to challenge yourself? I see it as the only way to get better, but it doesn’t have to apply for every piece.

Are you confident that you’re improving steadily? I guess. I had an idea that popped in my head last night that would’ve taken days if it were to ever come to life at all maybe a year ago, but I was able to sketch the basic idea out in an hour or so last night. That was surprising.

Do you draw more fanart, or more original art? Fan art. My original things are more personal.

Do you feel jealous when you see other people’s art, or inspired? (Be honest!) I don’t really get jealous, but I do like some people’s art to the point that it makes me want to punch a wall? Screaming “I 👊🏼 LOVE 👊🏼 THIS! 👊🏼” I mean, every artist has their own struggle, and the people I admire have put in years of practice to get where they are now, so I see them as people to learn from. I do, however, get jealous about notes because I love reading tags on reblogs XD

Do you like to draw in silence, or with music? MUSIC! Sometimes catered to the feel of the piece.

For digital artists: what program(s) do you use? Procreate. Still learning how to use it.

For digital artists: how many layers does a typical piece require? I’m guessing this is for colored pieces? My max is around 30 but usually less than that. I use them more to try things and see if it works XD

For traditional artists: what medium do you like most? (Pencil, charcoals, etc) I only work with my Copic Markers. I’ve had them for almost two decades.

For traditional artists: How do you usually start on a big piece? (Light sketch, colored lead, sketchpaper, etc) Sketch, Ink, erase, color. Sometimes trace and move to good paper before lining and coloring, but if it’s a personal drawing, I just keep it on that piece of paper from start to finish.

What inspires you to not just make art, but to be a better artist? Curiousity of the limits of my abilities and Feedback. Personally, since I’m a shut-in with almost no human interaction, REBLOGS AND TAGS are basically why I keep myself focused on Tumblr. Getting feedback from people from around the world that saw my art and felt something because of it is inspiring and uplifting.

#thanks for tagging me #Art: the Struggle is REAL

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littlemisskookie · 7 years ago

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I’m Not Him

I’m Not Him Ship: Hoseok | Reader Description: You have a bad dream of Hoseok cheating on you. Warnings: Intercourse, Spanking, Slight Humiliation, Petting, Dirty Talk, Punishment Word Count: 2,305

Her legs were wrapped around his head, her fingers intertwined in his locks as she chanted his name instead of you. It was horrifying, and you felt your heart stop, your breathing quicken, and your world spin.

You could make out every detail. Her nails were painted dark blue. His head bobbed up and down as he ravaged her core. Your boyfriend's arms were hooked underneath her thighs, keeping her in place. Her lips were painted red and parted open to let out long, drawled out moans that echoed in your mind.

You were gripping onto your hair, yanking on it, your nails digging into your scalp to tug on fistfuls of hair, cold tears running down your cheeks. It was too real. It felt too real. Her moans were too clear, the detail was too precise, and the pain tingling in your scalp felt as though it was too real.

It was too real.

And then you were shooting out of the bed, your heart thundering, and cold sweat was running over your temples and torso, making your clothes stick to your skin, and a shriek leaving your lips.

Your boyfriend jumped up from your sudden outburst, his eyes wide and his hands coming to wrap around you. "Baby, what is it, did you have another bad-"

"Don't touch me!" you screamed, scrambling up to a sitting position, your arms touching. You always had a hard time deciphering reality from the dream world, your dreams often too lucid or too real to seem as though they were fake. You were tortured with them endlessly, unable to perceive what was real or what was fake right after waking up, and more often than not they were nightmares.

This wouldn't be the first nightmare you had about your boyfriend. Hoseok could be manipulative and evil in the crevices of your mind, which twisted him in ways that had him killing your family, kidnapping you, and other atrocities. While this one was slightly tamer, it was horrifying, to say the least.

And in your mind at that moment, that dream was what just happened. And he was a cheater.

"Calm down, Y/N, please-" He tried to reach out to you, and you grabbed a pillow, trying to hit him so that he'd get away from you.

"Get away from me, y-you cheater!" you shrieked, your eyes wide with both anger and fear. Tears were already streaming down your cheeks. "I hate you!"

"Y/N," he spoke, roughly grabbing the pillow from you and tossing it to the side. He was mad now, his eyes narrowing at your last words. You never said that to him. Ever. Even the thought of you hating him made his blood boil, and right now you were staring at him as though you meant every word. He knew that you'd have these hellish nightmares of him, ones where he'd calm you down in a second, but this? This was new. But showing you the difference between real him and dream him was always difficult. And he had the odd sense acting soft and gentle wouldn't do this time, not with you acting frantic and like a lunatic, trying to throw pillows at him and screaming words you would never really mean.

"I'm not him," he spoke, his voice soft as he tried to put his hand on your knee to bring you back to reality.

"Don't fucking touch me!" you screamed, shoving his hand off and glaring at him. "I hate you! I hate you I hate you I hate you! You can go fuck yourself, I swear to God, I hate you! I HATE YOU!" You were in hysterics, your breathing heavy as you shrieked at the top of your lungs.

Hoseok's eyes narrowed.

"Take that back," he said, his voice low.

Your eyes narrowed as well. "No," you spat. "I hate you."

In a moment, he reached over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down on the bed. He rolled over you, careful not to crush you since his hands and legs were on either side of you, but his face was so close, you felt his breath on your lips, his nostrils flaring slightly as he glared at you.

"I'll give you one more chance to take that back since I know you're not in the right mindset," Hoseok spoke, his tone even and voice firm, a warning lacing his words. "But I'm don't want to hear that the woman I love hates me, am I clear? Take it back."

You narrowed your eyes, anger rising in your chest, but you couldn't deny that the image of his face hovering over your own, (barely seen using only the dim light from the mini-lamp you kept to illuminate the room in case you needed to wander into the restroom) was slowly starting to bring you to your senses. His glare was intense, and you gulped beneath him, though the burning sensation of betrayal still fizzled in your chest, despite how enticing he seemed at the moment.

"I. Hate. You."

A low growl elicited from the man's throat, and his brows furrowed. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't even think about saying that again," Hoseok sneered, crashing his lips against yours. It felt as though he was devouring you, like a starving man who hadn't eaten in days, and your mind began to clear ever so slowly as his lips began to dance against yours.

Your eyes were wide as he broke away. "H-Hoseok, I didn't mean-"

He brought his finger to your lips, shushing you with a menacing smirk on his face. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you remember next time. Now, why don't you put your ass up, face down, and- oh, yes, remember to count, would you love?"

You gulped, watching as he slid off of you, his eyes hooded and face devoid of emotion as he stared at you expectantly. You hesitantly rolled over on your stomach, propping your ass up and supporting yourself by your elbows, your arms shaking with anticipation for the punishment you were sure to receive.

You felt Hoseok's long, slender digits hook around the waistband of your pajama bottoms and underwear, and he slowly slid them down, exposing your ass to the cold air. Without warning, his hand slapped against the tender skin, causing you to yelp and jolt forwards, sputtering out. "O-One."

Another sharp sting. "Two," you spoke, your shaking voice a bit more stable than last time.

The sound of his palm smacking your ass rang throughout the room. "Three," you hissed out, gritting your teeth as you started to plummet further into reality, becoming more and more aware of exactly what you had done wrong. But you deserved the punishment, you knew it.

Both of his hands came crashing down on either cheek at once, and you yelped. "Four, f-five," you yelped. Hoseok's hands were now massaging the skin, rubbing soothing circles to calm the fiery sensation of his sting.

"Do you think you've gotten enough, baby?"

"Y-Yes..."

"Do you really?"

This was a test. You knew it. But you'd take your chances regardless. "Yes," you said again, your voice firm.

His hand slapped against your ass once again, and you yelped out a feeble, "Six!"

He tsked behind you, "Liar. I think you know more than that."

"Y-Yes," you murmured. "I do."

"Why did you lie then?" he asked you, his voice authoritative.

"Because I didn't want any more spanks," you replied.

"Even though you deserve them?"

"Yes."

"And you agree that you do in fact deserve more?"

"Yes," you repeated, nodding your head.

Hoseok's tongue clicked. "Then spank yourself how many more times you think you deserve."

Hesitantly, you got out your palm, holding it behind you and bringing it down on your ass. You continued, repeating the motion as you felt the stinging sensation on your skin, and you bit down on your lower lip to muffle any yelps.

"Keep going baby, I want to see that ass red," Hoseok murmured.

You continued, doing it so many times until it felt as though your ass was on fire, and tears were prickling your eyes. Hoseok's soothing hands were on your own, and he shushed you, quietly massaging the skin to help you feel better. "You did so well, baby," Hoseok cooed. "Do you want to be fucked now?"

You nodded eagerly, a small whimper escaping your lips. You were tired, horny, and wanted something to numb the pain in your rear. Hoseok chuckled behind you, his hand creeping to your heat, cupping your sex. "Didn't expect you to be dripping already," Hoseok says quietly. "I think I'll slip right in, actually..."

His fingers move along your slit, coating the digits in your arousal. You shudder at how cold his fingers are against your heat, whining as one begins to rub against your sensitive clit, having you shiver with anticipation. He continues to do so, twirling around the small nub, feeling how your juices seemed to drip onto his palm. "I want to fuck you," Hoseok admits. "But you wouldn't fuck a cheater, would you?"

"Hoseok, I'm sorry, I wasn't in the right state of mind-"

"More so, you wouldn't fuck someone you hated, right?" he sighed.

"I take it back Hoseok," you whined. "Please, please fuck me."

"Do you really take it back?" he murmured, adding more pressure in the way that had your toes curled. "It doesn't sound like you do."

"Yes, yes, please! Fuck me until I learn my lesson, let me forget such an awful thought, I don't care! Just shove your cock in me already Hoseok, okay?" you blab, desperate for him to finally have his way with you. It was ridiculous how he could make your mind spin to the point where you were yearning for his touch, hot, bothered, and needy. "I love you Hoseok, and whatever dumbass dreams I have won't change that deep down, okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it, but I could never hate you even if I tried. I love you. I do. Okay?"

There was a moment of silence from Hoseok, and you wondered whether or not you said the right things. But from the feeling of his hands firmly on your hips and the head of his cock at your entrance, you assumed you said the right thing. Before he could plunge into your warmth, however, he did say one thing.

"I don't want you to say those things again though, do you hear me? I know you don't have any control over your dreams, and I know that they can get vivid and dream-me does so many things to hurt you, but I'm not him. I love you, but it kills me when you look at me as though I were a monster," he says quietly.

"I love you too," you remind him softly. Without any hesitation, he dives in, and you wince at how quickly he goes in, but he lets you accommodate his length, giving you a few seconds to get used to the feeling before he pulls his hips back, dragging them out until only the head remained, and snapping them back forward, causing you to jolt as you gripped onto the top of the headboard, trying to stay balanced.

The action was repeated, low grunts and hip rolls as he slowly snapped his hips to yours, hands firmly placed on your hips to keep you stable. The slowness of his pace steadily increased, and you felt as though you were jolting back and forth, struggling to stay in position as Hoseok's hips moved in a blur behind you.

Hoseok's hands left your hips to fly up to the headboard beside your own, and his pace increases roughly, his chest practically pressed to your back and his low grunts directly in your ear. You let one of your hands slip from the headboard to travel down your body, snaking all the way to your bare clit, furiously rubbing the small nub as your sex rocked into your fingers.

How this man seemed to get you so close already. His brutal thrusts were a reminder of your mistake, and you were sure you'd find some way to keep true to the lesson learned, freakish nightmares or not. You loved this man, you had no doubt about that, and he wasn't a cheater. He wasn't someone who'd commit the ghastly crimes that were performed in your dreams. He was a ray of sunshine who became domineering in bed, who was always there to hold you in his arms and remind you that it was just a dream.

Your orgasm washed over you, and you whined and moaned out, letting both of your hands fall to the mattress as you crumbled beneath him, letting him use your body as you kept your ass high in the air for him to keep ambushing. His hands left the headboard to go to your hips once again, ramming his hips into yours as he chased his high. You let him, jerking forward and backward as your face rubbed into the sheets, finally feeling his hot seed fill you up.

You were both panting, breathing hard as he let go of you, rolling over to the side and bringing you into his arms, holding you tightly as he cooed sweet nothings into your ear, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers combing through your hair. You hummed happily, settling in his arms as you let his warmth envelop you completely.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, smiling fondly towards you.

"I love you too," you laughed, craning your neck up to peck his nose. You moved his arms off of you as you slipped out of bed to clean yourself. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to pee."

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled the covers over his sweaty and tired form.

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok scenarios #bts #bts scenarios #bts smut #jhope #jhope smut #jhope scenarios #j-hope #j-hope scenarios #j-hope smut #smut

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sciencespies · 5 years ago

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What We Can Learn From 1918 Influenza Diaries

https://sciencespies.com/nature/what-we-can-learn-from-1918-influenza-diaries/

What We Can Learn From 1918 Influenza Diaries

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | April 13, 2020, 8 a.m.

When Dorman B.E. Kent, a historian and businessman from Montpelier, Vermont, contracted influenza in fall 1918, he chronicled his symptoms in vivid detail. Writing in his journal, the 42-year-old described waking up with a “high fever,” “an awful headache” and a stomach bug.

“Tried to get Dr. Watson in the morning but he couldn’t come,” Kent added. Instead, the physician advised his patient to place greased cloths and a hot water bottle around his throat and chest.

“Took a seidlitz powder”—similar to Alka-Seltzer—“about 10:00 and threw it up soon so then took two tablespoons of castor oil,” Kent wrote. “Then the movements began and I spent a good part of the time at the seat.”

The Vermont historian’s account, housed at the state’s historical society, is one of countless diaries and letters penned during the 1918 influenza pandemic, which killed an estimated 50 to 100 million people in just 15 months. With historians and organizations urging members of the public to keep journals of their own amid the COVID-19 pandemic, these century-old musings represent not only invaluable historical resources, but sources of inspiration or even diversion.

“History may often appear to our students as something that happens to other people,” writes Civil War historian and high school educator Kevin M. Levin on his blog, “but the present moment offers a unique opportunity for them to create their own historical record.”

Members of the Red Cross Motor Corps, all wearing masks to prevent the further spread of the influenza epidemic, carry a patient on a stretcher into their ambulance, Saint Louis, Missouri, October 1918.

(Photo by PhotoQuest / Getty Images)

The work of a historian often involves poring through pages upon pages of primary source documents like diaries—a fact that puts these researchers in a position to offer helpful advice on how prospective pandemic journalers might want to get started.

First and foremost, suggests Lora Vogt of the National WWI Museum and Memorial, “Just write,” giving yourself the freedom to describe “what you’re actually interested in, whether that’s your emotions, [the] media or whatever it is that you’re watching on Netflix.”

Nancy Bristow, author of American Pandemic: The Lost Worlds Of The 1918 Influenza Epidemic, advises writers to include specific details that demonstrate how “they fit into the world and … the pandemic itself,” from demographic information to assessment of the virus’ impact in both the public and personal spheres. Examples of relevant topics include the economy; political messaging; level of trust in the government and media; and discussion of “what’s happening in terms of relationships with family and friends, neighbors and colleagues.”

Other considerations include choosing a medium that will ensure the journal’s longevity (try printing out entries written via an electronic journaling app like Day One, Penzu or Journey rather than counting on Facebook, Twitter and other social media platforms’ staying power, says Vogt) and defying the sense of pressure associated with the need to document life during a “historic moment” by simply writing what comes naturally.

Journaling “shouldn’t be forced,” says Levin. “There are no rules. It’s really a matter of what you take to be important.”

Seattle police officers wearing masks in 1918

(Public domain via Wikimedia Commons)

If all else fails, look to the past: specifically, the nine century-old missives featured below. Though much has changed since 1918, the sentiments shared in writings from this earlier pandemic are likely to resonate with modern readers—and, in doing so, perhaps offer a jumping-off point for those navigating similar situations today.

Many of these journalers opted to dedicate space to seemingly mundane musings: descriptions of the weather, for instance, or gossip shared by friends. That these quotidian topics still manage to hold our attention 100 years later is a testament to the value of writing organically.

State historical societies are among the most prominent record-keepers of everyday people’s journals and correspondence, often undertaking the painstaking tasks of transcribing and digitizing handwritten documents. The quotes featured here—drawn in large part from local organizations’ collections—are reproduced faithfully, with no adjustments for misspelling or modern usage.

Edith Coffin (Colby) Mahoney

From the Massachusetts Historical Society

Between 1906 and 1920, Edith Coffin (Colby) Mahoney of Salem, Massachusetts, kept “three line-a-day diaries” featuring snippets from her busy schedule of socializing, shopping and managing the household. Most entries are fairly repetitive, offering a simple record of what Mahoney did and when, but, on September 22, 1918, she shifted focus to reflect the pandemic sweeping across the United States.

Fair & cold. Pa and Frank here to dinner just back from Jefferson Highlands. Rob played golf with Dr. Ferguson and Mr. Warren. Eugene F. went to the hospital Fri. with Spanish influenza. 1500 cases in Salem. Bradstreet Parker died of it yesterday. 21 yrs old.

September 24, 1918, diary entry

(Collection of the Massachusetts Historical Society)

Four days later, Mahoney reported that Eugene had succumbed to influenza. “Several thousand cases in the city with a great shortage of nurses and doctors,” she added. “Theatres, churches, gatherings of everykind stopped.”

Mahoney’s husband, Rob, was scheduled to serve as a pallbearer at Eugene’s September 28 funeral, but came down with the flu himself and landed “in bed all day with high fever, bound up head and aching eye balls.”

By September 29—a “beautiful, mild day,” according to Mahoney—Rob was “very much better,” complaining only of a “husky throat.” The broader picture, however, remained bleak. Another acquaintance, 37-year-old James Tierney, had also died of the flu, and as the journal’s author noted, “Dr says there is no sign of epidemic abating.”

Franklin Martin

From the National Library of Medicine, via research by Nancy Bristow

Patients at a U.S. Army ward in France

In January 1919, physician Franklin Martin fell ill while traveling home from a postwar tour of Europe. His record of this experience, written in a journal he kept for his wife, Isabelle, offers a colorful portrait of influenza’s physical toll.

Soon after feeling “chilly all day,” Martin developed a 105-degree fever.

About 12 o’clock I began to feel hot. I was so feverish I was afraid I would ignite the clothing. I had a cough that tore my very innards out when I could not suppress it. It was dark; I surely had pneumonia and I never was so forlorn and uncomfortable in my life. … Then I found that I was breaking into a deluge of perspiration and while I should have been more comfortable I was more miserable than ever.

Added the doctor, “When the light did finally come I was some specimen of misery—couldn’t breathe without an excruciating cough and there was no hope in me.”

Martin’s writing differs from that of many men, says Bristow, in its expression of vulnerability. Typically, the historian explains, men exchanging correspondence with each other are “really making this effort to be very brave, … always apologizing for being sick and finding out how quickly they’ll be back at work, or [saying] that they’re never going to get sick, that they’re not going to be a victim of this.”

The physician’s journal, with its “blow-by-blow [treatment] of what it was like to actually get sick,” represents a “really unusually profound” and “visceral” point of view, according to Bristow.

Violet Harris

Violet Harris was 15 years old when the influenza epidemic struck her hometown of Seattle. Her high school diaries, recounted by grandniece Elizabeth Weise in a recent USA Today article, initially reflect a childlike naivete. On October 15, 1918, for example, Harris gleefully reported:

It was announced in the papers tonight that all churches, shows and schools would be closed until further notice, to prevent Spanish influenza from spreading. Good idea? I’ll say it is! So will every other school kid, I calculate. … The only cloud in my sky is that the [School] Board will add the missed days on to the end of the term.

A Seattle streetcar conductor refuses entry to a commuter who is not wearing a mask in December 1918.

(Photo by PhotoQuest / Getty Images)

Before long, however, the enormity of the situation sank in. The teenager’s best friend, Rena, became so sick she “could hardly walk.” When Rena recovered, Harris asked her “what it felt like to have the influenza, and she said, ‘Don’t get it.’”

Six weeks after Seattle banned all public gatherings, authorities lifted restrictions, and life returned to a semblance of normal. So, too, did Harris’ tone of witty irreverence. Writing on November 12, she said:

The ban was lifted to-day. No more …. masks. Everything open too. ‘The Romance of Tarzan’ is on at the Coliseum [movie theater] as it was about 6 weeks ago. I’d like to see it awfully. …. School opens this week—Thursday! Did you ever? As if they couldn’t have waited till Monday!

N. Roy Grist

Panoramic view of Fort Devens in 1918

(Courtesy of the Fort Devens Museum)

Fort Devens, a military camp about 40 miles from Boston, was among the sites hardest hit by the 1918 influenza epidemic. On September 1, some 45,000 soldiers waiting to be deployed to France were stationed at the fort; by September 23, according to the New England Historical Society, 10,500 cases of the flu had broken out among this group of military men.

Physician N. Roy Grist described the devastation to his friend Burt in a graphic September 29 letter sent from Devens’ “Surgical Ward No. 16.”

These men start with what appears to be an attack of la grippe or influenza, and when brought to the hospital they very rapidly develop the most viscous type of pneumonia that has ever been seen. Two hours after admission they have the mahogany spots over the cheek bones, and a few hours later you can begin to see the cyanosis extending from their ears and spreading all over the face, until it is hard to distinguish the coloured men from the white. It is only a matter of a few hours then until death comes, and it is simply a struggle for air until they suffocate. It is horrible. One can stand it to see one, two or twenty men die, but to see these poor devils dropping like flies sort of gets on your nerves.

On average, wrote the doctor, around 100 patients died each day.

Nurses at Fort Devens in 1918

(Courtesy of the Fort Devens Museum)

Grist’s letter is “a remarkably distinct and accurate description of what it was like to be in the midst of this,” says Bristow. “And then it goes on to talk about how difficult it is to be a doctor, … this sense of not being able to do as much as one might like and how exhausting it all is.”

Toward the end of the letter, Grist notes how much he wishes Burt, a fellow physician, was stationed at Fort Devens with him.

It’s more comfortable when one has a friend about. … I want to find some fellow who will not ‘talk shop’ but there ain’t none, no how. We eat it, sleep it, and dream it, to say nothing of breathing it 16 hours a day. I would be very grateful indeed if you would drop me a line or two once in a while, and I promise you that if you ever get into a fix like this, I will do the same for you.

Clara Wrasse

From the National WWI Museum and Memorial

In September 1918, 18-year-old Clara Wrasse wrote a letter to her future husband, Reid Fields, an American soldier stationed in France. Though her home city of Chicago was in the midst of battling an epidemic, influenza was, at best, a secondary concern for the teenager, who reported:

About four hundred [people] died of it at the Great Lakes … quite a number of people in Chi are suffering with it too. Mother thought that I had it when I wasn’t feeling good, but I am feeling fine now.

Quickly moving on from this mention of disease, Wrasse went on to regale her beau with stories of life in Chicago, which she deemed “to be the same old city, altho there are lots of queer things happening.”

September 25, 1918, letter from Clara Wrasse to Reid Fields

(National World War I Museum and Memorial)

Wrasse is believed to be one of the two women pictured here.

(Courtesy of the National World War I Museum)

Signing off with the lines “hoping you feel as happy as you did when we played Bunco together,” Wrasse added one last postscript: “Any time you haven’t got anything to do, drop me a few lines, as I watch for a letter from you like a cat watches a mouse.”

Vogt of the National World War I Museum cites Wrasse’s letters as some of her favorites in the Kansas City museum’s collections.

“It’s so clear how similar across the ages teenagers are and what interests them,” she says, “and that … they’re kind of wooing each other in these letters in a way that a teenager would.”

Leo Baekeland

From the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History

Leo Baekeland, inventor of the first commercialized plastic

(Public domain via Wikimedia Commons)

Inventor Leo Baekeland, creator of the world’s first commercialized plastic, “documented his life prolifically” in diaries, laboratory notebooks, photographs and correspondence, according to the museum’s archives center, which houses 49 boxes of the inventor’s papers.

Baekeland’s fall 1918 journal offers succinct summaries of how the epidemic affected his loved ones. On October 24, he reported that a friend named Albert was sick with influenza; by November 3, Albert and his children were “better and out of bed, but now [his] wife is sick with pneumonia.” On November 10, the inventor simply stated, “Albert’s wife is dead”—a to-the-point message he echoed one week later, when he wrote that his maid, Katie, was “buried this morning.”

Perhaps the most expressive sentiment found among Baekeland’s entries: “From five who had influenza, two deaths!”

Dorman B.E. Kent

From the Vermont Historical Society

Dorman B.E. Kent’s diary

(Courtesy of the Vermont Historical Society)

From the age of 11 to his death at 75 in 1951, Dorman B.E. Kent recorded his life in diaries and letters. These papers—now held by the Vermont Historical Society, where Kent served as a librarian for 11 years—document everything from his childhood chores to his views on Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal and his sons’ career progress.

Of particular interest is Kent’s fall 1918 diary, which contains vivid descriptions of his own bout with influenza. On September 24, he wrote (as mentioned above):

Awoke at 7:00 [a.m.] sick, sick, sick. Didn’t get up or try to. Had a high fever an awful headache every minute all day and was sick to my stomach also. Tried to get Dr. Watson in the morning but he couldn’t come. Told us instead what to do. Greased cloths with inflamacene all day and put around throat and chest and held a bottle of hot water at throat most of the time. Took a seidlitz powder about 10.00 and threw it up soon so then took two tablespoons of castor oil. Then the movements began and I spent a good part of the time at the seat … There is a tremendous lot of influenza in town.

Kent recovered within a few days, but by the time he was able to resume normal activities, his two sons had come down with the flu. Luckily, all three survived the illness.

In early October, Kent participated in a door-to-door census count of the disease’s toll. Surveying two wards in Montpelier on October 2, he and his fellow volunteers recorded 1,237 sick in bed, 1,876 “either ill or recovered,” and 8 dead in one night. The following day, Kent reported that “25 have died in Barre today & the conditions are getting worse all the while. … Terrible times.”

Donald McKinney Wallace

From the Wright State University Special Collections and Archives

Partially transcribed by Lisa Powell of Dayton Daily News

Donald McKinney Wallace, a farmer from New Carlisle, Ohio, was serving in the U.S. Army when the 1918 pandemic broke out. The soldier’s wartime diary detailed conditions in his unit’s sick bay—and the Army’s response to the crisis. On September 30, Wallace wrote:

Layed in our sick ward all day but am no better, had a fever all day. This evening the Doctor had some beef broth brought down to us which was the first I had eaten since last Fri. Our ward was fenced off from rest of the barrack by hanging blankets over a wire which they stretched clear across the ceiling.

On October 4, the still-ailing farmer added, “Not a bit well yet but anything is better than going over to the hospital. 2 men over there have Spanish Influenza bad and are not expected to live. We washed all windows and floors with creoline solution tonight.”

Donald McKinney Wallace’s September 30, 1918, diary entry

(Wright State University Special Collections and Archives)

Wallace survived his illness (and the war), dying in 1975 at age 78.

Though Wallace’s writings don’t reference the situation in his hometown, Bristow notes that many soldiers expressed concern for their families in correspondence sent from the front.

“You get these letters from soldiers who are so worried about their families at home,” she says, “and it’s not what anyone had expected. Their job was to go off soldiering, and the family would worry about them. And now, suddenly, the tables are turned, and it’s really unsettling.”

Helen Viola Jackson Kent

From Utah State University’s Digital History Collections

When Helen Viola Jackson Kent’s children donated her journals to Utah State University, they offered an apt description of the purpose these papers served. Like many diary writers, Kent used her journal to “reflect her daily life, her comings and goings, her thoughts, her wishes, her joys, and her disappointments.”

On November 1, 1918, the lifelong Utah resident wrote that she “[h]ad a bad head ache all day and did not accomplish much. Felt very uneasy as I found out I was exposed to the ‘flu’ Wed. at the store.”

Armistice Day celebrations inadvertently spread influenza.

(Photo by Topical Press Agency / Getty Images)

Kent escaped the flu, but her husband, Melvin—called “Mell” in her diary—was not so lucky. Still, Melvin managed to make a full recovery, and on November 18, his wife reported:

Mell much better and dressed today. Almost worn out with worry and loss of sleep. So much sickness and death this week, but one great ray of light and hope on the outcome of the war as peace came this past [11th].

Interestingly, Kent also noted that the celebrations held to mark the end of World War I had sparked an inadvertent uptick in illness.

“On account of the rejoicing and celebrating,” she wrote, “this disease of influenza increased everywhere.”

#Nature

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