#i had to succumb to the worms

[thebigshotman]

[[Succumb to the Worm]]

[keen-li]

Merry!Ex-mas.

18+ MDNI

22.k words synopsis: you get a notification about plane tickets you purchased about a trip you were excited for, only reason you're not excited at the remainder, is because you had planned the trip with your now ex. At the time you never thought you'd be spending December broken up. So, it felt like a great idea. not so much now. ex!jk x ex!femreader (fem anatomy.) exes to lovers use of 'yn' warnings: angst, fluff, smut: long-distance relationship, exes, second chance, miscommunication, b*tches is awkward, tension, one bed, forced proximity, Jungkook isn't crazy rich but he's got good money, i think he's an accountant, jk has that short ceo hair cut. reader has communication problem, jungkook's freaking green sweater needs it's own fanfic!, think are!you!sure jungkook. protective!jk, there's a creep who approaches reader as jungkook is off skiing, and whilst she's in the sauna(nothing bad happens.), sweet!wants!to!try!jk, jk has issues of not communicating too. they just can't seem to talk. avoiding stuff. teasing. touchy!jk, secret glances. jealousy, reader is very jealous,they're lying to themsleves, jungkook loves to take pictures especially of reader. hot tub jungkook who's looking up at you like you're a goddes. very needy kissing, boob sucking, dirty talking, oral(f!receiving.), handjob, cowgirl, protected!penetration, aftercare. hand kissing. [i don't know what else i need to add, let me know] as per usual, it was edited but if there are any errors, forgive me. A/N: this fic is honestly cause of that Jungkook green sweater I've never travelled to please don't come at me if anything is wrong. I very much world built some things. I've given written from top to bottom so don't except a part 2, unless maybe drabble requests. I wrote this in one week and i'm so proud i was able to write 22k words, in that time. though i was supposed to go up on the 25th[shhhhhh] A/N: i'm still learning how to write smut. so if you think the smut is cringe please don't tell me :) i don't wanna know. unless you want to help me improve it, and you do it kindly, i'd appreciate. likes, reblog, and all positive asks and comments are always appreciated. i hope you're happy with this one. [read under the cut]

You get the notification as you're scrolling through your phone. A remainder of sorts that you had been forgetting something. Cause you had been.

It loomed over you all week. The lingering feeling of remembering what you can’t. You hated it. But now that you know it’s source you couldn’t feel any worse.

Being the recipient of the message, you’re burdened with having to translate the message. Why do you have to do this? Broken up, having to text him feels like opening a can of worms. But the tickets are non-refundable, and it would be unfair for you to not inform him. You did both pay for them, Jungkook of course paying more because he was just too stubborn to split. he'd actually wanted to pay for the full thing but you were at odds with the idea. he settled eventually.

So, it would be unfair to not tell him. Right? Yes. But you don’t want to believe it.

Even if how the hell are you going to remind your ex about the holiday trip you planned thinking you’d be together for; but in turn would celebrate separately. Before the notification of the trip.

To add on, now you have to open your chat. An action you dread to do; for your emotional health.

What are you actually going to say? You think, finger hovering over the keyboard. Something that won’t make you sound like you’ve missed him, were thinking about him or even thinking about going on this trip with him. All which you’ve been doing. You’ve succumb to the thoughts, only because you two broke up in October, still relatively early to just forget a 3-year relationship with someone you thought you’d marry.

Sigh.

You still haven’t answered the question of how you’re even gonna bring it up. Will he even answer?

“shibal” jimin laughs into the speaker, not helping you one bit. “you two are ridiculous.”

You roll your eyes still waiting and hoping he’ll say something sensible. It’s all in vain. “How the hell do you book a trip and break up just before. You couldn’t wait?” He laughs and you just know he’s sat at his computer playing games, from his loud and unfocused speech.

“We didn’t freaking know we’d breakup.” You justify. “Plus, cause of the breakup we forgot. I forgot.” Your voice loses its strength at the end of the sentence, your mind slipping into a deep thought.

You haven’t been able to remember anything of relevance since that day. Maybe only how to breath and live but you’d say your body takes full credit for that.

“Hmm.” is all he says to you before screaming obscenities to someone in his game.

“Jimin are you gonna be of any help or wh-”

“You know what you should do?”

You want to believe his following statement will be of use, but you can never be certain.

“Just send it” he groans from what you assume is an attack on him. Your brow raises. “Send him a screenshot of the notification. If he doesn’t respond go on it on your own.”

“Or take me with you” he whispers. If it came to it, would you even choose jimin to go with? Probably. He’d help make it fun.

You sigh, still in the darkest of analysis. It’s your best option what else could you say. So, you say your goodbye to jimin who is quick to go off to his game, without a second thought. Rude. Talking to him whilst he’s on his game is setting yourself up.

Back to having a staring contest with your phone. And after a long while of panic, thump fidgeting and dry eyes, you click on his contact (yes you still have it.) and just send the screenshot.

As you wait to make sure the picture is sent you catch a glimpse of the last text from your chat. You were avoiding slipping up and seeing it, but your eyes couldn’t be helped.

Jungkook was the last to text.

Kookie<3: I miss you call me back.

Seeing the text makes your stomach churn. Makes your head spin with all the memories and emotions returning. You don’t want to linger on it. You’re quick to just sending the screenshot like jimin said, you only hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. If he does respond. The little thought in your head surfaces. What if he wants nothing to do with you. What if you’re bothering him? You shouldn’t have sent that text. But it’s too late now.

You’re well aware his message was sent before you had broken up. The only reason you hadn’t replied was because you couldn’t. On the same day you’d called him back and told him how you didn’t think you’d be able to do it anymore.

“Mm?” he hums confused. You can hear it in his voice and it only makes you even more nervous to repeat.

“This long-distance thing isn’t working for us jungkook.” You bite you lower lip hoping to hide some of your emotions that threaten to ruin your speech. Your fingers fidget in the silence waiting for his response. But it never comes and for a moment you think he’s cut the call and you’ve been talking to yourself. That’s when he sighs, showing you, he’s been listening but too shocked to speak.

You calling his full name, no nickname, strains at his heart. “Are you serious?” it’s calm, sad even. Of course he’s sad, you’re breaking up with him. Sad isn’t even strong enough to describe what he’s feeling. Shock is just amongst them, maybe even a little anger. You’ve been going through a challenging period because of the difference in cities. But he never thought it’d come to this. Was it that bad?

“Yeah.” It’s weak defeated. You are, your whole relationship is.

Jungkook is awfully silent, he’s not sure why either. “Is there anything I can do?” he’s aware of the only solution available. But it’s not possible. Neither of your work will allow the other to move.

You shake your head like he can see it. but he doesn’t need to see what your silence has already said.

After not much thought cause he’s not able to, he speaks. “Is this what you want?” his question only serves to add to your confusion.

“You know it’s not but- “you try to speak but the lump in your throat chokes you.

It hurts him that this is happening over a call. Wishes he could’ve spoken about it in person, cause there’s more to it.

More that you haven’t spoken about. Never have, and doubt you ever will or want to.

All this just makes the idea of this trip even more worrying. That’s if he’ll want to go or even respond. You never got to know what he thought but you assume he has some sort of resentment for the way you ended things. You would too. That’s one of the things you feel guilty for.

You’ll say the way things ended was not ideal, and honestly it never made you feel good as you thought it would. It made you feel worse actually. But at least now you don’t argue because you don’t talk. Who are you kidding, you miss the arguments, something to remind he was there.

Guilt hovers but, you console yourself by saying that he probably wanted it too if he didn’t try to fight for it. Which is unfair, but what else can you tell yourself as an excuse.

Your focus is now on your screen. You’re about to exit the chat, but then those familiar popups of bubbles appear. Already?

The bubbles disappear and appear, which only serves to grow your anxiety. Is he about to rebuke you for texting him. Gosh, what the hell would you say after that? He’s about to cuss you out. Suddenly your room feels too small to hold you and what you’re feeling.

But what pops up is even more anxiety inducing.

Kookie<3: I’m in town. We should meet and talk tomorrow.

Why does he sound so professional? Why do you care. Oh- your mind, it’s spinning.

He’s in town, when? Why didn’t he tell you. This would be the first time you see him in a year since he moved. And he couldn’t even just tell you he was in town. The reason to him being here is not unknown to you. It’s the Christmas season and his parents do live in the same city as you. And just like you they were not happy about they’re son moving so far away. But nothing was stopping jungkook. Nothing.

You’re probably not important to him anymore but, couldn’t he have just said, hi. I’m in town. How long has he even been here for? You never thought he’d return to the city even for the holidays.

You shake the thoughts out of your head. You can’t be over thinking this.

We?......meet?.....talk?.....TOMORROW!              

Tomorrow couldn’t come any faster (not that you were excited for it.). It’s almost as though it wants you and jungkook to meet.

You both agreed to meet at one of the small restaurants near your place. One you two frequented together, so it holds so much for you. Which only made you more anxious on your way.

When you walked in your eyes unconsciously moved to the table you and jungkook loved to seat at. It was good distance from the kitchen so your food could reach you quicker, and far from others so that jungkook could lean in and say the nastiest thing on earth. It always made you blush even though you’d swat at him. You spot jungkook sat where he usually sat. Coat taken off and hanged on his chair.

 “Hey.” You choke out smiling politely as you reach the table and take off your coat, the inside of the restaurant too warm to be comfortable with it on.

You take a sit and allow your body to get accustomed to the environment. And jungkook.

He’s quick to respond to your greeting just as awkward.

When you’re settled you finally get a chance to see just how much he’s changed in a year. The warm light from the ceiling softens his features which would normally be sharp in the dim lights of your bedroom. His hair is cut short. Last time you saw him it was neck length, but now it’s significantly short. Makes him look professional, mature. You like it, really like it. you wish you could just reach over and touch it, it’d probably be just as soft as you remember it and smell like lavender. You notice how he has it styled and gelled back so you doubt he’d be happy with you running your hands in it.

Jungkook spent an ungodly amount of time trying to get it to look like this, which he doesn’t think is perfect enough, but he was running out of time. Something about this meeting had him wanting to go out. He just hopes you like it. he remembers you last saw it when it was longer. It was a big cut, but after your breakup, he felt like giving up the length, considering your hands loved to live in his hair.

You sit hand in lap waiting for your mouth to catch up with how fast your brain is working. Though if you did speak what your brain was thinking, you’d embarrass yourself.

“We should order first.” He says rolling up the sleeves of his navy-blue denim shirt. The action reminding of the inks on his arm. A detail that adds to how attractive he is already. You’re really hating yourself for your thoughts. In your defence you haven’t seen him in the flesh for a year. “What do you wanna get?” he picks up his menu and you do too, stuttering in your movement. He seems calmer than you right now.

But the only thing is that he’s shitting himself inside. when he was sat before you came, his heart dropped every time he heard the door bells chime. Every time he turned it wasn’t you. Only increasing his nervousness. Maybe he was a little to forward with his message. You haven’t seen each other in a while and it’d probably be overwhelming, especially with a certain elephant in the room. He would’ve definitely understood if you didn’t want to show. On the chime of the door that followed his thoughts, he didn’t turn, only for it to be you. In your full glory, making him fidget with his phone more. Which he put aside immediately you sat down.

Clearing your throat you speak, “something soup-y. Today’s a little cold.” And you don’t feel like throwing up what you eat.

Jungkook agrees and his red nose is evidence of that. Cute, you think.

After your orders are taken you turn back to silence. What could you probably say right now? You can feel the distance between you emotionally. And you hate how this is how you are after not seeing each other for a year. Before breaking up you thought of the many ways, you’d hug him once you got to see him. You were definitely delusional over how serious your distance was. Really wanting to believe it wouldn’t be a problem; until it became one, and you just couldn’t do it anymore.

You don’t know how to behave right now.

“So, when did you get back?” you settle on a soft and casual tone.

“Just yesterday.” He speaks sounding a little hesitant. After not knowing where to look you decide to just look at one thing. The table.

After beats of silence, you continue. Can your food come any faster? “you’re staying with your parents?”

“Yeah.”

You lived together, in your used to be shared apartment before he decided to move. So, his only option was to live with his parents for the mean time. He assumed you wouldn’t want or even let him live with you. And it would be fair, you aren’t together anymore.

“I’m Sure they were shocked to see how much you’ve change.” Cause you are. You haven’t seen his parents in the same time that he hasn’t seen them.

“It was a surprise drop in so I’m sure they were” he says with weak chuckle. He bites into his lip before he’s looking at you again, but you don’t stare at him. It’s only when you realize his stare that you finally face him. “How have you been? You look well.” He’s dreading himself right now for not being able to speak to someone who has been, for 3 years, the only person he could speak to.

You do look good, and he can’t take his mind off it. the camera has not been doing you justice. Your skin looks brighter and you generally are just glowing. Gosh he missed looking at you. The way small dainty jewellery serves to compliment your outfit. Your hair done in a way you like, and he loves.

“I try.” You smile. Every chance you get you take a glace at his lip piercing. You’d forgotten just how it made him even the more--. “You look well too. How’s the job going?”

He sucks in a breath, showing visible stress at the thought of his job. “it’s going okay. Easiest way to put it.” he chuckles, awkwardly. You smile, awkwardly too. “I missed it here though, so much stuff I left behind.”

You just hum, nodding. Avoiding how his eyes glancing over you, just for a second as he was looking for where to keep his gaze whilst speaking.

“But I’m sure you’re having fun that side.” That side. He can hear the strength you put on the words. Instead of fiddling on your lap you decide to fold your arms on your chest. Finding it appropriate for the feelings that are sneaking in.

“You can say that, but there’s just something that feels empty y’know.” You do know, but you both choose to leave the conversation implicit.

And right on time, your food arrives saving you from saying anything. What the heck would you say when you can’t even think.

You two are soon digging into your food. Jungkook in his kimchi jjigae and you in yours.

“I missed this- mmm.” He hums making that little angry face he makes when he likes food. You laugh, a little to loud at that causing him to look up at you. You drop your smile.

“Mrs Kim always asks me about you when I come here.” 6 slices of chopped spring onion garnish you haven’t eaten, yet.

He leans back in his chair, unintentionally watching you eat.

He turns his head towards the kitchen where the lady in question usually spends her time. “Where is she anyways?” he’s back to digging into his food. the steam from the food warming his cold nose.

“she’s visiting sung Hoon in the US.” You inform him, taking in how relaxed you’ve become.

He nods at the info, “Ahh- she finally got to got to the US?” he smiles. He remembers how she would come to the table; she’d complain that her son doesn’t want her to visit, which was not the case. But being the dramatic lady she is, she would think that. “ ’m sure she was so excited.”

“no one could hear the end of it.”

He chuckles and you find yourself laughing too. But as much as you’re seemingly getting comfortable (though not wholly.) silence finds a way to wrap it’s long, cold and slimy finger around you two.

After you’re done eating your meals in silence, jungkook thinks it’s time to discuss the reason you’re even meeting. Cause you have nothing more to talk about.

“what’s the plan for the trip?” he shifts in his seat. “Assuming you’d want to go.” He doubts.

You take a deep breath before speaking, looking over at the whole scene of the restaurant. “I don’t know, we’d leave on Thursday. Assuming you’d want to go too.” You would want to go, that’s why you booked the trip. It’s only your situation that makes it awkward.

“Do you?” his question comes out fast and sudden and he regrets how quick it came out.

“Mm?” you mutter like you couldn’t hear what he said.

He clarifies choosing to speak more calmly and composed. “Do you want to go?”

The question takes you aback as though you hadn’t been asking yourself the same thing.

Reaching to play with the little gem on your necklace you stutter out. “I-I mean- yeah we spent money on it.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re unconsciously saying otherwise, but really, you’re just trying to keep your statement open. In case he doesn’t want to go, and you’re left embarrassed with an extra ticket.

Jungkook instead takes your action as you probably not wanting to go. “I get it if you don’t. It’s a weird situation.” His hands move to touching his hair.

You trying to jump in but end up speaking a little too fast. “No, I do. Plus, I hate wasting money.” You do hate wasting money, truly. And it is just that and the fact that you would love a trip right now, to de-stress.

“But do you want to go with me?” that churning feeling in your stomach is returning, and you’ve just eaten which makes it all the much better.

Biting down on your lip and releasing it you say, “I mean I wouldn’t want to go on my own.” You hate how you feel your throat choking up. “Who else would I go with?” you awkwardly joke. There are some people you’d go with. But you planned this trip with jungkook and he paid the much for the tickets. So, it’s only fair to go with him. If he wants to.

He skips your question, not in bad taste. it’d be weird for you to go on a trip you planned with him with someone else. Maybe he did think of it, that maybe you’d enjoy it more if you weren’t with him. But then he thought it through. Shit doesn’t have to be awkward unless you both make it. so, you can enjoy this trip if you just agree to enjoy it. “I don’t mind going with you, but I don’t want you to feel forced to have me there.”

“I have no problem with you, jungkook.” You saying his name even though it’s not the pet name he enjoys feels like a warm touch to him. “I just want to know if you wanna go.” You find it in you to ask.

“I don’t mind it at all.” He says, relieving you of your fears.

He sighs. After he silence speaks. “I can’t believe I forgot about it. I was so excited for it too.” he reminiscing on the day. It was such a good idea. Is a good idea, if you just agree to enjoy it.

“So? It’s settled right?“ You sit up grabbing your stuff and preparing to leave. Jungkook’s smile falls realizing that the moment is ending. But he will see you soon still.

“Yeah.” He prepares to leave too.

“We leave Thursday, I guess. We’ll stay in touch.”

And that’s it, your conversation ends with you managing to avoid the larger topic at hand. It’s like a game.

You throw your clothes in haphazardly. You’re in a panic, which is not necessary cause you have enough time, the whole day to be precise. Your flight’s tomorrow. But the whole airport thing has always found a way to make you panic.

You grab some essentials, but in frustration. Maybe you just want to get it over with. The packing, not the trip. Honestly it feels like it’s already started. Is this how you’re going to be.

As you search through your closet you land on a sweater, one you remember too well. It’s green colour and fluffy soft texture makes it the warmest thing you own. A very memorable sweater, for the warmth it brought you and its origin. You can still smell him on it. You dread packing it and resort to shoving it further in your closet. You’ll think about it.

You stare at your zipped up suitcase for a bit before your eyes gloss over to your phone that buzzes on your bed. For a split second you wonder if it’s jungkook. Could he have changed his mind. you sigh relived when you see it’s just jimin.

Who chooses to say nothing of value and just tease you. “Honestly why do I tell him these things.” You throw your phone on your bed.

Jungkook stands over his already packed suitcase. He just has to zip it closed and seal this trip. He sighs rubbing his lower lip. Before you two broke up he had so much planned for this trip. So much he wanted to say and do. But it's different now and it’d be weird and wrong to say those things. Not before talking of course.

Is he looking forward to this trip? Yes-wait- maybe. The trip in itself is fine, a great and good idea and opportunity to enjoy a holiday and relax. But your presence entails something more something he has to deal with (in a responsible and good way) and that he's been running away from.

 "You're excited huh?" his mother smiles leaning against his door frame, watching. He's not sure what about his facial expression, body language or general demeanour would make her think that he's excited. It’s not like he’s dreading or regretting it. it’s more like excitement is the last thing he’s feeling cause of all he’s thinking of.

He doesn't say anything before she's speaking again.

"You need this trip. you've been so busy." He has. Too much at that. So much that he forgot you two had even broken up and was about to go to your place first when he arrived. He’d been so excited to surprise you, then it dawned on him. His tires were quick to turning. His thoughts are cut short by his mother. "it'll help you spend more time with yn."

"I guess." he replies unenthusiastically. Though it’s the same idea they’re both thinking of it in a different context. Something that his mother doesn’t know yet.

He doesn't stare at where she stands only at his suitcase analysing what he's packed and what the heck is actually going on. "Plus, it would be a perfect place to propose." She enthuses, joyous at the thought. He seems to have slightly forgotten about that detail too.

 When you were planning the trip, he made a plan to propose to you on it. It honestly is the perfect place to and he felt like it was the right time. Of course, you'd be arguing but it wasn't something that was holding back your relationship. Plus, he thought you'd talked it out well enough. So, he spent his free time after planning the trip, shopping for rings and looking proposal ideas and even asked some of his colleagues for advice. It’d be a trip where you got to spend some time after being away for so long.

But that's when you called and honestly kicked him in the balls. Too confused he just went along with it.

"Switzerland is such a good choice, you kids are so good at these things." She says probably imaging herself there too.  It’s not long before his eyes are staring at the black velvet box on his dressing table, and his head is spinning all over again. He knows how excited she gets about this and she won’t stop. “You could take a walk and then pull out the Ring with those mountains in the back and-"

"Eomma!" His deep voice stops her, not harshly but whiny. Not telling his parents about the breakup is honestly the most overwhelming thing because of how his mother adores you and finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. she could go on but the tired look on her son's face makes her stop. She wants to pry on why he looks more drained that ecstatic but she chooses against it.

”Is something wrong?”

He realizes just how carried away he’s getting with his emotions. He shakes his head. “no. I’m just stressed.” He finally looks up at her to give a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes but she returns.

"Sorry, you know how I get carried away. I'm sure you have your own plan let me not stress you."

She leaves and he sighs

No. He has no plan of his own. He has no plan at all.

Your suitcase handle is firmly clutched into your hand as you walk into the airport.

Your eyes scan the crowd. Every face. Each bag too, because you know which one he'd probably be carrying with him. Seeing it again is gonna be triggering cause the last time you saw it was the last time you saw him off.

You and jungkook agreed to come separately and since his parents lived closer to the airport he'd be here first and wait for you by security. But now that you're there you can't see him. Maybe he's a little late but why wouldn't he tell you.

You told him you had just arrived but he hasn't even seen that message. Has he changed his mind? is the first thing that pops up in your head. If he has that's a shitty way to do it. Just ghost you?

So, you pull out your phone to call him. “Pick up." You mutter under your breath.

No answer.

You feel stupid. It honestly feels like you're on a Lifetime show or even worse TLC.

Your annoyance bubbles over as you glance around the busy security area. "Where is he?" you ask yourself.

 Though you think he has, you doubt jungkook would just ghost you. It's not what you know him to be. You tap your foot impatiently and try to call him again. Still nothing. Your heart finally relaxes when you spot him already walking to you. "Seriously?" You say a little upset when he finally reaches. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Oh. I didn't hear it." He says pulling it out of his pocket. "Must be on silent. I’m sorry." He looks at you genuinely so. And you can’t bring yourself to be as mad as you want to be. It’s not a big deal, he’s here now.

“it’s okay, we should get going, we’re almost late.” You say frustrated with how traffic delayed your arrival. Jungkook just hums agreeing and surprising you by taking you suitcase. You’d tell him it’s fine and you can manage but he’s already walking ahead of you. Probably not wanting to hear it.

A tense silence stretches between you two as you wait to board your plane. Sitting side by side has never felt so awkward, like the space between you is miles wide. You scroll through your phone, pretending to be so into it. You don’t notice Jungkook stealing occasional glances at you. Or rather, at the sweater you’re wearing—the one he gave you (more like you took.) just before he moved to another town. The green complimenting your skin. He loves how it just melts to fit you. He’s glad to know that you’re warm, he’s aware of how incredibly warm it is.

He wonders if you’re wearing it deliberately, or if it’s just because it’s the warmest thing you own, and today’s even colder than yesterday. Probably no meaning behind it. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Though it’s not enough to stop him from developing a smile on his face, one he covers with his hand.

The low hum of voices and the faint crackle of the airport announcements fill the silence. Someone walks past, dragging a squeaky suitcase, the airport noises the only thing between the two of you.

“I know this is awkward.” He starts randomly, at first doubting he was talking to you but then you move your attention to him, when you realize it’s only you he can be talking to. It’s not like you were looking at anything on your phone. “I want us to enjoy it. I want you to enjoy it.”

“I want you to enjoy it too.” You find yourself speaking before your brain can process.

He smiles and turns to meet your eyes. All of a sudden, he feels so close. “So can we just pretend.” His eyes don’t move, if possible, they stare even deeper into yours. Yours don’t move as well. “Pretend like everything’s okay.” He speaks low as if he doesn’t want others around to hear. “Agree?”

You haven’t said much, instead just let him speak. “Agreed.”

You don’t mind pretending. You’ve been pretending you’re okay all this time, so why can’t you do it now.

-

You watch Jungkook sliding the bags into the overhead storage above your seats. He notices you approaching and nods for you to have the window seat.

“You sure?” you ask only because he called dibs when you planned the trip that he’d be getting the window seat.

He nods. “Yeah. I know you like it more than I do.” You do. He only called dibs because he was trying to ‘one up’ you like everything’s a game.

You squeeze passed him get comfortable in your seat and he’s soon sitting next to you. You’re glad it’s just two seats.

You sit in silence for most of the flight, each pretending to be too absorbed in your own activities to notice the other. Jungkook watches you out of the corner of his eye as you scroll through your phone, then switch to reading a book. This trip can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. Of course, you two haven’t talked about your breakup, but it doesn’t have to come up. You’ll just enjoy the weekend and go back to normal, like he said—pretend---if either of you even knows what that means.

What are the boundaries of pretending.

At some point, you shift in your seat, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You’re asleep, of course, but Jungkook glances down at you, momentarily startled. He considers waking you but decides against it. Instead, he leans back slightly, letting you stay there.

As the plane hums softly and moves through the sky, Jungkook can’t help but wonder if this trip could be his chance to fix things. How does he want it to happen? Does he even know? All he knows it that you do eventually have to talk about things. Do you even want to talk about it, because you seem to be avoiding it.

But there’s only so much avoiding you can do.

As soon as the plane lands, you stretch in your seat, surprised you managed to sleep for that long. Glancing at Jungkook, you watch as he pulls the luggage from the overhead bin. He looks like he didn’t get any sleep at all, you had been sleeping on his shoulder for most of the time. You exchange a brief look—just acknowledging each other and your present moment—before heading off the plane

The crisp Swiss air hits you as you step outside the terminal, and you follow Jungkook as he gets into a cab and it drives confidently toward a car rental area, which you’re confused about but don’t ask. Jungkook picks up keys from the reception and you walk through the parkin lot looking for what you don’t know. You’re just following. You stare at him puzzled as he dangles the keys. He’s been quiet, and you hadn’t even expected to rent a car. Public transport seemed like the plan, but now that you think about it, you remember how Jungkook feels about it.

“You rented a car?” you raise a brow.

He nods, “yeah, it’d be easier. Thought you’d approve.”

He catches a glance of your face, like you’re trying to figure something out, but can’t.

“Hmm.” You only hum.

“You look cute when you’re confused”.  He takes you by surprise. “Come on.” He says walking and not letting you process his words. You just try to shake them out of your head.

You don’t admit it, but you're impressed. He thought ahead. And you’re honestly glad he did—something you feel he’s been lacking the past year.

Once he’s done packing the luggage into the car, he closes the trunk and slides into the driver’s seat. You’re not sure why you’re shocked to find out it’s a Mercedes-benz g63 amg. You’d always known he had an obsession with luxury cars, especially ones like this. The fact that his job pays so well certainly helps, you guess moving out of town must’ve been worth it.

The car is great-- so comfortable, and the heater works perfectly, keeping you warm against the cold.

As Jungkook adjusts the mirrors, you scroll through your contacts, trying to figure out what to call the person you booked the cabin with, “what do I call them a host?” You mutter under your breath before dialling the number.

Jungkook glances at you as you speak to the host in quick tones. "Got it, thanks," you say, giving a quick wave of your phone toward Jungkook. With the directions noted you can now get to moving.

"Okay, so we head north, then take-“

“North?" Jungkook interrupts, starting the engine. "Are you sure it's not west or whatever?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You glare at him. He glances at one map and thinks he knows his way around Switzerland.

"I just talked to the guy," you say flatly.

Jungkook smirks, recalling a past trip. "Remember last time we travelled, and we ended up on a dead-end street?" he says with a cheeky smile on his face. he’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes at the memory. You had been driving through the outskirts, and your GPS got wonky, causing you to go down a deserted road.

“If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t have gotten lost,” you reply.

You stop bickering, finally following the GPS. Jungkook decides to follow the directions, and the tension eases as you leave the city behind.

The atmosphere shifts, replaced by a sense of awe at the breathtaking scenery. Low-capped mountains stretch into the horizon, Swiss chalets dot the landscape, and the sun reflects off the lakes. You’re glad you arrived during the day; cause nighttime would not have done the view justice.

You watch out the window, your voice filled with awe. "Oh my gosh, it's so beautiful." Jungkook glances at your direction before returning his attention to the road. "Yeah, it is," he agrees, equally mesmerized by the view.

"Can you grab my camera from the back?" he askes. Recalling his passion for photography, you can’t be surprised he has it with him.

You pull out the camera from his bag, noticing it’s larger and more expensive looking than the one you had gifted him. "Do you still have your other one?" you’re curious.

He knows what you’re hinting to. "It fell in water during a fishing trip with my team, but I'm getting it fixed."

“Do you still have the pictures.” You’d hate to lose them, even though they are null and void now, you still like how happy you looked in them.

“Yeah. They’re in my SD.” He informs you and you’re glad.

You fumble with the new camera, struggling to operate its buttons, he notices. "There's a button just there," he directs. Though you aren’t much of a photographer, you manage to snap some decent shots of the scene. You take a lot to make sure you have options.

Feeling playful, you turn the camera to jungkook and snap a pic of him. You had always admired his model-like features and often joked he should pursue modelling instead of his current path, which kept him 218 miles away. But now you realize modelling would only take him even farther.

He never agreed to the idea but never argued either. He preferred to appreciate beauty rather than be the centre of attention.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, just one," you reply.

He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder what he’s thinking. Is he upset? Did you cross a pretending line?

"Wanna stop and take pictures," he grins, "y’know for your Instagram."

It’s not a bad idea, but you don’t want to be late and have the host waiting for too long.

"We won't be long." he looks over to see if you’re considering. He smiles when sees that you are. You don't post much on Instagram, and he knows that. But it wouldn't hurt to have some pictures from this trip.

"Let's be quick," you accept.

He pulls over to the side of the road and when you’re out he’s approaching you to take the camera. "Let me take some of you first," you insist. He isn’t so keen on it though.

"Just a few," you whine dodging him trying to take it from your hands.

"We're supposed to be quick." He reminds you. "And you know I'm not a fan of pictures of me."

 You not wanting to bicker. You hand it over to him. "But I will take pictures of you eventually," it’s a promise.

You quickly get posing on a spot you like, and he snaps several pictures. Some you were prepared for, while others were candid of you looking up a bird flying over, like you’ve never seen a bird before. or just in awe of the scene behind. Why do the birds seem so majestic here?

Jungkook smiles as he continues to take photos, forgetting the time. "I think that's enough. We're going to be late," you say, running out of poses to do.

You start walking to the car and he snaps one more picture of the scene before getting back and starting the car.  Whilst adjusting to the warmth he hands you the camera.

"These are so pretty," you bulge your eyes out at how good jungkook is at taking pictures. You can definitely see the difference. Jungkook can’t help but feel a sense of pride. You scroll through the camera, admiring more pictures.

Then you scroll a little too far and notice a series of photos featuring a friend—someone he seems to be close to. In one, she leans on his shoulder, a gesture that causes some type of discomfort or irritation. You couldn’t be sure, you’re too busy scrolling. She smiles too hard, you judge.

gosh you're pathetic. Why are you acting like this. The man is not your boyfriend he can do whatever. The statement causes an unwanted sour taste to form over your taste buds.

You continue to scroll, analysing the photos, each one deepening your insecurities.

"Careful, you're gonna damage the buttons," Jungkook jokes when he notices your rushed movement. He wonders what has you that way.

When he speaks, you’re brought back to reality. Though you’re brought back with an attitude. You switch off the device and lay it back where you found it, sitting back down with a scowl on your face and jungkook wonders the cause.

You had been fine just a moment ago. He doesn’t say anything and focuses fully on the road ahead. The silent drive to the cabin feels anything but aesthetic.

You sigh as the car slows, leaving behind the snow-covered path. When you approach the cabin, it’s instantly recognizable from the photo. At least you weren’t lost or scammed. The place looks serene. It’s blanketed in snow. It’s not like those huge family ones. It’s small just to fit you and jungkook. You’d have no money to buy anything or activities if you booked those larger ones. And they’re unnecessary cause it’s just the two of you.

Jungkook parks the car, and as you both step out, the awkwardness that’s shadowed the trip returns. It had been there from the beginning, lingering beneath exchanges and strained silences. Brief moments, like taking pictures earlier, had been relieving, but even that had soured quickly. Now, neither of you had much to say.

The cabin’s host, a kind older man with a thick Swiss accent, greets you warmly, showing you around the cozy interior and pointing out the back patio before leaving. Once alone, you both quietly bring in the luggage. The silence is deafening, broken only by the crunch of snow you step on.

Due to your irritation that some how still lingered you step a little too hard on the icy ground, and in an instant, your foot slips. You land awkwardly in a mix of snow and dirt, the impact cushioned but still hurting.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook calls, his voice tinged with concern and amusement. He’d drop the luggage to come check on you if you hadn’t brushed him away with your hand.

Still irritated, now cause of the fall, you dust yourself off and move yourself inside. You drop the luggage in bedroom and start taking off your sweater, only to have Jungkook walk in moments later.

“One bed,” he states, looking at the large, centred piece of furniture. “Looks comfy.” You seem to have forgotten the cabin was lover’s themed, so it did only have one bed. The host had asked you if it was a problem when he saw the look on your face but you just brushed it away at you being tired.

You glance at the bed, then at him. “Yeah. Guess you’ll have to take the couch,” you joke, though your tone comes out flatter than intended.

“Nope.” He flops onto the bed, which creaks under his weight, making him pause to check if it’s broken. When it holds, he relaxes. “I’m sleeping right here.”

You sigh, deciding it’s not worth arguing. You’ve shared a bed before—it shouldn’t be a big deal so many times at that. But those times are not now and you have to deal with your new circumstance.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you announce, expecting him to leave the room. Instead, he sprawls comfortably on the bed.

“Knock yourself out,” he replies casually.

Groaning, you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom. The hot water feels like a gift, relaxing your tense muscles. If only the whole trip could feel this peaceful.

When you return, Jungkook is gone, though his shoes by the door confirm he hasn’t gone far. You search through your suitcase for a sweater, only to realize you packed just one sweater—the one now wet and dirty. Frustration bubbles as you grab a thin, long-sleeved shirt. It’ll have to do, though you doubt it’ll keep you warm in tomorrow’s outdoor activities.

Meanwhile, Jungkook in the kitchen has immersed himself in exploring the layout of it. whilst on his expedition his attention drifts to a tiny blue bird minding its business outside the window. He leans into it but carefully not to scare it away. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to find him a bother. “Got any advice for me?” he murmurs, taking a peek behind him. The bird doesn’t react, oblivious to his internal conflict. He’s unsure—about you, about himself, about what this trip is supposed to accomplish.

When you enter the kitchen and done talking to his new friend who doesn’t present him with anything viable but his company, he’s quick to point out the lack of groceries. “We should go shopping. It’s on your itinerary, right?” he teases lightly.

You nod, unsurprised he remembers. You’d always been the planner, the one who thought of everything. Maybe that’s why the breakup hurt so much—it came so suddenly, leaving no time to plan how to feel or move on.

As he’s about to suggest leaving immediately, he notices you rubbing your arms. “Aren’t you cold?” he asks, gesturing to your thin shirt.

“I’m fine,” you reply dismissively, though you clearly aren’t.

“Put on a sweater before you get sick,” he insists. His boyfriend instincts linger, even now.

You hesitate but eventually admit, “I forgot to pack an extra one.” The way how stares at you is so embarrassing for you.

Jungkook chuckles softly, though not unkindly. “Of course you did.” You roll your eyes. He moves to grab a sweater from his suitcase and hands it to you. “Here. Borrow this.”

You take it, the faint scent of his cologne that seems to be on everything he wears no matter how much he washes, invaded your senses. “Thanks,” you say quietly, slipping it on and hoping not to ruin this one too.

By the time you return from the store, exhaustion settles in. You both sit in the living room, cups of hot cocoa in hand. Jungkook flips through the channels while you sit quietly, the warmth of his sweater and the fire calming you.

“You’ve made a lot of friends in Jeju,” you say suddenly, your tone sharper than intended.

Jungkook pauses, confused. “What friends?”

“Colleagues, maybe? Customers? I saw the pictures on your camera,” you admit, staring into your cup instead of at him.

He leans back, waiting. He knows what you’re referring to and could explain that the woman in the photos was a client a little too excited and touchy about her wedding rehearsal photos, and had wanted photos with him. But he wants you to ask.

Instead, the silence stretches, filled with unspoken questions—questions about Jeju, the photos, the breakup, and even yourself. You sigh, pushing them aside.

“is there something you wanna ask?”

“There’s nothing I want to ask,” you finally say, though the bitterness in your voice betrays the truth.

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. “I thought we agreed on pretending.” His voice is still soft.

“I know. Just don’t want you pretending if you’ve got other things going on.”

Jungkook chuckles taking a sip of his cocoa.” I’m good.”

“I’m good too.”

“Good.”

You watch him stand a sly smirk adoring his face. “let’s go back to pretending now, okay?” he says looking at you.

You mumble a sure and he walks off. Probably to sleep.

Sleeping the same bed is even more awkward. After spending some minutes you’d decide you were too tired to be awake, you came the bedroom.

Jungkook was still awake staring at his phone, and for some reason shirtless. He likes to sleep shirtless and the tension between you two isn’t going to stop him.

Jungkook tries to keep his eyes to himself as you change into your pajamas. You didn’t want to be childish so you just changed right there. It’s nothing he’s never seen before. He won’t act like the action doesn’t cause a rise in memories and he holds himself to not thinking further. Soon you’re crawling into your side and laying facing away from him. Jungkook chooses to lie on his back, the bed big enough for you to keep your distance. He turns off the lights but your eyes remain open staring into the dark.

As the night continues, none of you are able to fall asleep. Jungkook tries to make himself comfortable, his shifting cause you to think he might be moving closer, but he doesn’t. why do you feel sad. Your brain is used to being close to him and him holding you in situations like this. And he too is used to wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer into him. But there’s none of that.

“I can’t fucking sleep.” he groans frustratedly sitting up. He runs his hands in his hair. He looks over at you thinking you’re asleep, the darkness preventing him from actually knowing. He’s jealous at the idea of you being able to sleep, but when your frustrated voice sounds, he’s relieved. Relieved that he’s not the only not able to sleep.

“Same.” You mutter remaining on your side.

Jungkook huffs and puffs contemplating on asking what he’d been debating. Your bodies are probably used to sleeping closer to each other, so maybe that’s’ why it’s hard. You surely won’t mind if it means you get to sleep right?

He looks over to you and how far you seem from. He doesn’t like, hates the reality of it. “Can I sleep closer to you.” His words and the fact that he actually said takes you aback. You freeze. Your silence is killing him, he shouldn’t have said it. he should take it back, well—but he’s already sai-

“Okay.” Okay? Well, that was easy, he thought you’d be looking at him weird. but no, you just lay on your side waiting for him.

When he said closer you never thought he meant this close. You’re the closest you can be. But you don’t mind it, it actually brings you that giddy feeling, like it’s your first time cuddling. You realize just how much you missed it. He nuzzles his face in your neck and this is when he’d kiss your shoulder and neck but he doesn’t and the detail is gravely missed. He has to hold himself from not doing it.

“We’re going to move to the middle of the bed, darling.” It’s only then that you realize how much at the edge you were. You shuffle yourselves and move into the center and get comfortable in the position.

“Are you comfortable?”

So much you hate to say it. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry. “y-yeah.” You can barely respond coherently with how his voice is so close sending goosebumps all over you.

“Can I put my around you? It’s the only place I can put it.” he tries to explain, but you were actually hoping for it.

You nod for him to go ahead and he wraps his arm around you. Honestly, he should’ve just asked if he could cuddle you, because this is basically what you’re doing. He didn’t have to mask it; you’d have said yes either way. He doesn’t know that though.

Now that you’re close to him and him to you, you both weirdly fall asleep, very quickly at that.

First thing on your itinerary was to visit the Lindt home of chocolate you’d been drooling at the thought of it since you planned this trip. It would honestly be a crime to visit Switzerland and not visit the Lindt factory. Being a lover of chocolate no activity on your list will be as good as this.

“I don’t know why they have us putting our bags away.” Jungkook whines taking off his jacket, as required and placing it in a locker. “How am I supposed to carry my chocolate.” His speech is almost childlike. You just chuckle.

 ” That’s why they do it.” You inform him, with a soft smile and start to walk ahead of him. Jungkook walks behind you, watching how you look around with wonder.

Did he mention how good he feels right now. The sleep he had last night was the best he’s had in a while. And it only serves to tell him how much he’s missed your presence. Just you as a whole. Being away from you for so long has had an effect on him too. It’s only now, that he’s not able to do all the things he used to do, that he realizes how much he’s missed it. And how much you mean to him.

“Oh my gosh.” Jungkook watches how you take in the aroma of chocolate. It invades his senses and when you’re turning around to check on him, he’s nodding. You want him to enjoy this just as you are.

You gasp and it’s when you spot the huge chocolate fountain that you pull Jungkook’s attention to it by his arm. “it’s so fucking huge.” You say still holding onto him.

“that’s what she said.”

You roll your eyes. “Grow up.” You both laugh. and it’s when you’re lost in laughter and admiring the fountain that jungkook looks down to see you still holding his arm. So, in a swift action of no thought, all instinct he moves to hold your hand.

Your head sharply moves to look at him then at his hand holding yours and then back up at him. He’s got this innocent smile on his face and you can’t help but warm up into his hold. You don’t mind the action of holding hands but you fear what it implies. Is he for real or still pretending?

For the first minutes you stay holding hands, until jungkook is pulling away to grab his camera. You rub you hands together to try and regain your sense of independence. What the heck are you doing, holding hands? This pretending thing Is a good idea, but it’s definitely messing with you in some way. All ways. He’s giving you things that you’ve been craving. The cuddle at night, the holding hands, you’ve missed it all. But you don’t know where it’s coming from, does he miss you too or is he pretending. To think of it you never really discussed what type of pretending you’re doing. Are you pretending to still be together or are you pretending to be good friends. Gosh this is so stressful. And confusing. You wonder if he’s stressing like you are. He seems calm. He’s handling this so well.

“Wait—I need a picture of you. Stand still.” He points the camera to you and you’re quick to turning your head away.

“it’s fine you don’t need to-” snap.

He doesn’t give you the time to object and just snaps. “Jungkook stop taking pictures of me.” He doesn’t. you’re embarrassed to be doing this in public. But he seems thrilled. “Okay wait-” he doesn’t so you choose to reaching for the Lense. But jungkook doesn’t mind filling his storage with pictures of your palm. “Kook, wait.”

“Kook?” he questions smiling. You realize your mistake. Honestly you didn’t mean to call him that, it just came out naturally for you to get him to stop. And it worked. Though now it shifts the air.

You groan. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You roll your eyes. You don’t even know what you’re saying.

He doesn’t linger on it more, which honestly helps your case. The blush on your face is deserving of a picture. Snap.

“Stop that before I revoke your privileges.” You threaten. He doesn’t want that.

He raises his hands in surrender. “won’t do it again.”

You ignore him and turn to keep walking.

“Can take more later though?”

You don’t answer, but he takes it as a yes. You’ve always been his muse, it’s not gonna stop now. His camara is now getting some action.

This place is actually so beautiful, smells amazing too. The pictures you saw did not do it justice.

“Look at the strawberries, the nuts. Ah—I’m in heaven.”

Jungkook smiles as he watches enjoy and pointing for him to look at the large container, of everything that goes well with chocolate. He’s really just happy that you’re including him, by telling him how much you freaking love this place or how you want to stay here forever. It makes him feel like things aren’t all that bad between the two of you and it can be fixed.

“Why are you looking at me like that.” You narrow your eyes at him. Gosh he forgot how long he was looking for. You’d been telling him something but he zoned out.

“Oh-nothing.” He clears his throat.

You just brush it off, cause if you linger on it, you’ll melt. Jungkook looking at you has been a weakness for you, there’s just something about him focusing on you and having only you in sight. “Anyway, I was saying try this.”

He doesn’t regain his consciousness before you’re bringing a spoon full of chocolate to his lips. he takes it, tasting the sweetness of it.

He licks the chocolate off his lips when you pull away. “Mmm….so good.” You nod glad that he likes it. Though way he’s looking at you makes you think he might not be talking about the chocolate. You choose to ignore your thoughts with a cough.

As you go on you learn facts about chocolate and the factory and jungkook takes the pictures. When walking around you make sure to not forget to collect little pieces of chocolate from the dispensers. And it’s not long before your hands are getting full.

When your expedition is over, you’re returning to your bags to stuff them with your treasure.

“This is a lot of chocolate.” Jungkook states.

You shake your head. “it’s not that much.”

“Yeah of course an addict is telling me that.”

You gasp. “I’m not an addict.”

“Tell that to all the money I’ve spent buying you chocolate.” Money which it didn’t mind and loved spending.

“Honestly that’s all on you.” You say raising your hands. He chuckles.

Getting tired you both decide to go by the café inside the factory. Whilst there you both order some food to eat which is not chocolate, except you. For your beverage you picked to drink the famous hot cocoa. Which tastes like heaven made it themselves.

“How do I take this home with me?” you say motioning to your drink.

“Just stay.” He meant to say you both could just stay, but his tongue tripped.

You nod, thinking about it. “I could.” Moving to Switzerland and living here would be a dream. But unfortunately, things aren’t that easy. Finding a job would be hard, plus the language barrier would kill you.

��don’t.” he’s almost pleading. “I don’t know how I’d tell your family I lost you to Switzerland.” More like he doesn’t know how he’d fix things.

“Honestly it’s no competition.” You say in deep thought and analysis.

“What? you would leave me for Switzerland?” He says it not realizing causing you to chuckle. And when you look at him, he gets it.

The conversation doesn’t go farther after that. Jungkook just stays in his thought. When jungkook had made the decision to move. He honestly thought it wouldn’t be that bad. He’d plan on maybe moving you out to him when he settled down, but your job was a very hot topic. At the time he hadn’t realized how serious it was. But now he does.

If it was you moving, he’d be just as hurt. And it pissing him off that he hadn’t realize the impact.

For your second and last activity for the day, cause of the way time just flies by; is the largest indoor flea market.

You spend your time there; just looking around, eating, and buying stuff. During your move you make it a mission to take pictures of jungkook. And you do manage to take some good ones.

He also finds an opportunity to ask about your work and how it’s going. And if that co-worker that bothers you is still around. He’s glad to learn that she did get moved to another department. He’s happy with whatever makes you comfortable.

As you’re talking, you’re approached by a couple, older but not old and tourists as well. They ask you to take a picture of them and jungkook is glad to assist. When he’s done, they’re happy and offer to take a picture of you too, jungkook wants to decline the offer assuming you wouldn’t want to but you’re quick to accepting.

“you two look so lovely together.” The lady says and you have no clue what to say apart form an awkward thank you. You wouldn’t blame them for thinking you’re a couple, not with the way jungkook is smiling at the picture.

“Grow up kook.”

“What?” he whines. “It’s a good photo.”

You roll your eyes before walking away. He follows behind you, smiling.

-----

Soon your day on paper comes to an end and you’re returning to the cabin.

You did not know what to expect of your day in the morning. Your night was okay but would the rest of the day go the same? those were some of your thoughts. But to your pleasure the day went well, great even. You just hope it’s the same for the rest of the trip.

Jungkook is on cocoa duty (not assigned but he took the responsibility.) and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t do a good job at it every time.

Leaning against the counter holding your mug and watching him finishes up with his own, you watch.

“How’d you like the Lindt factory?”

He takes a sip before answering. “Great. Honestly enjoyed it more than I thought.”

“What? You don’t trust my judgement?” you watch as he leans on the counter opposite from you.

“it’s not that. Just never thought I was that big of a chocolate fan.”

You hum. Silence fills the kitchen as you’re just enjoying the drink. Why does the air feel so thick, is it the way he just leans there. Pajamas not doing a very good job at hiding his physique. Why the hell does he look buffer. Gosh, his arms look like they’d lift and lay you to your demise. In the morning you caught a glimpse of his shirtless torso, and you were about to lose your cool. To add gasoline to the fire he had just stepped out the shower and had not completely dried. Geez, if it wasn’t for your ability to leave the room, you don’t know what you would’ve done or said.

Jungkook has always had a keen eye for your little frustrated looks, the way you don’t blink, the way you wrap your hands around yourself or how you cross your legs. He knows. It’s the details he’s aware of. No one knows you like he does.

“I like this sweater on you.” He says pointing to the green sweater you’d just gotten back from the dry cleaners.

You look down at it. “Because it’s yours?” you raise a brow as you take a sip of your cocoa.

He shakes his head looking your body up. “no. because you look good in it.” He’s biting his lip, then his playing with that little lip ring. Yn, hold yourself.

You choke out a chuckle. “Jungkook.” It’s a warning for him. But he doesn’t take it.

“What? It’s not my fault you look good in all my clothes.” gosh you’re gonna die choking on this liquid. “Makes me want to just hand over my closet to you.” He’s coming closer to you, gosh what the fuck, he approaches but it’s the sink you’re standing in front he wants. You move. He rinses his mug, tired of the drink.

“Well, that won’t be necessary.” you say sliding away from his towering figure. Just to catch your breath, cause you’ve been holding it. Jungkook laughs at the movement. Just after, you’re rinsing your cup and placing it in the cupboard. You’re not gonna die choking on cocoa, or jungkook as a matter of fact.

“Think I’m going to bed.” You state thinking the bedroom will be your only place of solace away from him.

“Me too. I’m getting sleepy.”

You’re stiff as he walks behind you. You hope you’ll be able to sleep on your own tonight. Cause if jungkook just as much as touches you, you’ll turn into a puddle.

You’re quick to moving to your side and facing away from him as to not see him taking of his shirt. You know because you hear it drop.

“Goodnight.” He says turning off the light.

With all your might you mumble a goodnight to him too.

Tonight, you manage to fall asleep without cuddling. You sleep back-to-back close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other.

Jungkook wanted, so badly to go skiing after seeing an advertisement for it and saw some people do it on your way to the cabin. You’re not one for these intense sports but since he went with you to the Lindt factory, you thought it’d only be fair to go as well. Just accompany him.

Though his won’t be sweet and rewarding.

“You wanna go with me?” he asks teasingly and you shake your head, as soon as you process his words.” come on.” He whines.

“I’ll just cheer you on from down here.” The process of skiing looks terrifying. What do you mean you had to go on those zip line things, and slide down. Not you. Nope.

“it’s not that bad. You’ll be with me.”

Though it sounds comforting it doesn’t change anything. “I’ll just stay here looking around and taking pictures for you.” You smile hoping it convinces him.

He chuckles, his bunny smile on show for you.” baby what are you so scared of?” the pet name comes out smoothly, catching you by surprise. But it does seat itself in and warm your heart.

“it’s just scary.” You wrap your arms around your body.

He sighs watching you closely. “Fine, but can we do something as exciting, later.” He stares at you scattering your brain for what he could be referring to. “Like ice skating.” Oh—he was thinking ice skating. Last night has your mind in a whirlwind.

“That sounds better.” Jungkook laughs cause it’s basically the same thing, but he won’t get into it.

“Okay then.” He says walking to the register. “we’ll do that later.” It’s a promise.

Jungkook is off skiing and you’re sat in doors, still able to watch the outside activities, landscape and events thought the large window. You don’t mind not going skiing, it’s not like it was on your list.

While you’re sat you decide it’d be a good time to call jimin and let him in on your trip so far.

“it’s not as awkward, anymore. It was at first. But then we just agreed to just enjoy the trip for the sake of our money.”

“The sake of your money?” he mocks.

You choke out a laugh. “Yes, for the money.” Is it? “he’s been nice and all. It’s actually not bad.” Jimin hums as he listens, this time at least you have his attention.

You’ve shockingly enjoyed the trip more than you thought, so far. If you just keep on, the whole trip could go well and you’d be back to your normal lives. You hate the sickness you feel at the thought. The trip will end, it is gonna end and you’ll be back to what you were before. Gosh.

“Sounds like the trip is going a little too well.”

You scoff. “it’s not that, we’re both just chill.”

“No fucking or kissing.”

You gasp and look around like someone could’ve heard that, but your phone is to your ear. “jimin! Oh my gosh.” The thought of it has you blushing still.

“Just sayin’. Jungkook’s probably dying. ”

You roll your eyes. He’s fine, you’re fine.

You go on talking but soon you have to end the call. Immediately you cut the call and stuff your phone in your pocket a figure sits next to you. Male, not jungkook. You pay no mind to him. you’re on a public bench anyone can sit next to you. He’s just in his own business. Is what you think until he’s reaching over to talk to you.

“Exciting isn’t it.” when he speaks you catch his foreign accent, not Swiss. Must be a tourist like you.

You awkwardly furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“Skiing.” He points.

Then it clicks that that’s what he’s talking about.

“I presume.” You say modestly. Why the heck is he talking to you.

“Presume? Haven’t you gone?”

“no.” You shake your head chuckling. “it’s not for me.”

“You can’t say that. You haven’t even tried.” You internally roll your eyes. Why does he seem to care so much. “Plus, why come to Switzerland in the winter and not try skiing.”

You don’t know why you carry on this conversation, but you feel like justifying yourself. “Honestly I just came for the Lindt factory.” You say shamelessly causing the stranger to laugh. he doesn’t seem like a weirdo or creep, but you can never know. He’s probably not talking to you out of pure interest. So, you try to keep your distance.

“you’ve been?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

He hums sound interested and you know this conversation isn’t ending anytime soon. “How was it?”

You scoff internally. “It was fun. Would recommend you’ll love it.” You don’t even know him; how would you know he’d like it. And to be fair you’d add that Jungkook’s presence made the place more exciting to be at. You assume he doesn’t have a jungkook. Speaking of jungkook, how long is he going to be? You should’ve just gone out on a walk instead.

He nods. “Well maybe you can show me.” You pause, okay now you’re starting to get uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that I came alone and it would be nice to have someone show me around.” He justifies but it doesn’t make you any more comfortable. “I’d pay for your ticket if that’s the issue.”

You chuckle. “I’m a tourist to, there’s not much I can show you.”

“I mean you’ve visited the Lindt, so you know more than me.” Gosh he’s so adamant.

You smile awkwardly wishing jungkook would just pop up.

“you’d be better off going with someone else.” You’re looking around as if you’ve lost something. The man catches on to the action.

“Am I making you uncomfortable.” Yes. very.

“No-” before you can finish your lie of a statement, Jungkook’s interrupts, voice anything but kind.

“Yes, you are.” He says firmly, body not open for discussion.

The guy turns to look at you, then jungkook, then back at you. “Do you know him?”

Hesitantly you respond. “yeah” you debate on what to say. “He’s a friend.” He is isn’t he?

Friend? Jungkook chuckles internally. “Excuse us.” He spits out to the man.

The guy is taken aback, but just stands. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You just nod and give him an awkward smile as he walks away.

You sigh relieved that he’s gone.

 You and jungkook share a glance before he’s sitting down.

“Friend?” Jungkook asks when he sits next to you.

You raise a brow. “What? you wanted me to lie?”

“Lie?” he says even stronger. You don’t know what he’s pointing to right now.

“Are you parrot?” You chuckle trying to get smart with him.

Jungkook scoffs at how you avoid his eyes. “You couldn’t have said I was your boyfriend.”

“But you’re not.” You spit out a little quickly.

When you turn to look at him you catch how his jaw clenches. And if you weren’t arguing right now, you’d think it’s the hottest thing. “But you could’ve just lied so he leaves you alone. Now he’s probably going to try to approach you again.”

“he’s not going to.” You say naively.

Jungkook is getting frustrated with this, a little more than he should. “I know guys like that, he’s going wait for a time when I’m not around and attack.”

“Attack?” you laugh at his word choice. Your laughter only serves to his anger. “You’re being dramatic”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m being serious” his statement comes out a little strong and louder than you’d like

“don’t yell.” You warn him and he apologizes. “I get you feel like you need to protect me, but relax.”

He laughs at the way you think. You thinking he’s feeling like he needs to, no, he needs to. He wants to.

“I don’t feel like, I need to, I want to.”

You don’t say anything, he knows he’s got you, what more could you say. There’s nothing. Jungkook is the protective type, has always been. He’s shown you that many times in your relationship. And then, it made sense but now you feel like he shouldn’t have to bother himself with it. You’re not his responsibility anymore. “We should get ready to go for lunch.” you stand walking away.

Jungkook follows after you, knowing you’re now gonna give him attitude. Your folded arms are evidence of that. He’d normally just kiss the attitude away but for obvious reason he can’t.

-

“you’re not gonna ask how skiing was?” He tries really hard to open the air for conversation. He hates it when you argue. So, he tries to everything he can to lighten the air.

You stare down at your food. Your eyes not meeting him once. “How was it?” you don’t even sound interested which you hate because you are. You love to hear jungkook talk about things he loves.

“It was great.” He explains not into going into much detail like he wanted to. Your energy demoralizes him. “I’m sure they’re still open if you still want to try. He suggests but you’re quick to shaking your head.

When he’s about to say something, he’s getting interrupted. It’s a girl, the one he met when skiing. She showed him around some routes since she’s a local.

“Yn, this is Lena. I met her whilst skiing.” He says introducing you. “Lena this is yn, my friend.”

Fuck now you know how bad it stings.

“Hey yn. How are you liking you trip so far?” she asks politely in an accent.

You stare her up, taking in her features. She looks about your age, and gorgeous. Why is your body so rigid. Speak. “Umm- hi-I’m liking it well enough. Thanks.” you can hear how stiff and awkward your speech is. Gosh yn she hasn’t done anything to you, chill. Smile.

Jungkook breaks into your awkward encounter. “I’m gonna be seeing you at the ice rink, right?”

He says and she smiles a little too hard. You roll your eyes. What does he mean he’s gonna see her there. Is the a you and him trip anymore? Your food doesn’t look as appetizing anymore. “Yeah. I’m there often during the holidays.”

The way her voice rings in your head is jarring. Make it stop.

Soon your prayers are answered and she’s leaving. Though unlike her your heavy heart stays.

Jungkook turns to you, still staring at her route of exit. “You, okay?” your eyes return.

You shift your eyes to your hands. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” You stand from the table choosing to leave. “I think I’m gonna stop by the cabin.”

Jungkook is confused. But he just takes you as you are.

“Sure, let me get-” he threatens to stand.

“no. I’ll just take a train.”

He sits down. If you want to be alone it’s best if he lets you be.

When you get to the cabin, all alone. You find yourself falling into deep thought.

The pretend play you and jungkook are playing is good for you to enjoy the trip, but you won’t deny how much it only covers your true feelings. You play pretend and feel all these feelings as though you’re still together and then the trip ends and you’re sucked into being apart.  And it’s him leaving all over again.

You’re getting sick of it. There’s only so much pretending you can do.

Jungkook: ice skating later today?

He wants to be sure you haven’t changed your mind.

Not matter your emotions you still want to enjoy the trip.

You: sure. Meet you there.

When you make it to the ice rink, your mood is still tense from lunch, which is your fault for holding on to the emotions for so long. To only sour your mood more, you spot jungkook talking to the Lena girl from lunch.

You roll your eyes and watch how she giggles a little too hard at something he says. Jungkook is a funny guy, but she shouldn’t be laughing, whatever he’s said can’t be that funny. This is so irritating. Why the hell is she even here.

When jungkook spots you, he has on a huge grin, but the sour look on your face has him dropping it. He thought maybe you wouldn’t be still upset by now. But he’s wrong. “Yn you’re here.” He says it like he wasn’t expecting you and you weren’t meant to be here, or that’s how you hear it.

“We made plans, didn’t we?” your tone is nothing more than flat and irritated.

“We did.” He turns. “You remember Lena?” He turns to point at her, like you can’t see her. Why’s she looking at you.

Oh, could you forget her. “I do.” You jeer.

“Hi.” she with her perfect smile. You’d liked to punch it in—your of course—you’d never actually so it.

“Hey.” It comes out awkward and strained. Wanting to get things over with you turn to jungkook immediately. “what’re we doing now?”              

“Um. We’ll have to get the skates.” He turns to Lena for some type of consultation, you scoff.

 “Yeah, this way.” she says turning to lead the way.

Jungkook turns to you, your folded arms the first thing he sees. He stands next to you. “You get here okay?” you didn’t arrive together which means you had to take public transport, which he knows you don’t mind but he just wants to check on you.

“Yeah.” You mutter before walking ahead of him. Do you even know where you’re going?

You want to enjoy it, but the emotions that are ahead of you block you from doing so completely. And of course, Lena is a pro at skating.

Jungkook is fairly good, for someone who’s just taken it up. You’d attribute that to his quick learner personality.

You on the other hand are struggling, and it’s pissing you off. You hold on to the half wall and glide. There’s a good amount of people around and honestly, it’s embarrassing. -like- there are even small kids better at it than you. It’d be better if you just stopped. There are probably other activities you could do. Ice skating (or skiing) is not the end all be all of Switzerland.

Jungkook would probably enjoy skating more with Lena, seeing that they skied together earlier. You question why jungkook even ever liked you in the first place. You’re not cool like Lena or even as adventurous, you do try but you don’t feel it’s enough. He’s better off with someone like her. It’s good you broke up so that he can be free to do whatever. The thought stabs at your heart.

Jungkook spots you from where he is walking out. The look on your face anything but happy. He’s swift to skating to you, making sure not to bump into anymore with how fast he’s moving. “Where you going?”

His concerned and soft voice only intensifies your frustration. Could he not see how irritated and bad at this you are. He was probably too busy to notice. He’s always busy.

 “You haven’t even travelled the while ring.” He chuckles awkwardly as you step off. He follows.

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it.” You don’t even dare look at him, because you know if you do your frustration will win and you’ll end up yelling or crying. And both are too embarrassing to do in public.

Jungkook scoffs. Jungkook can’t tell what’s going on with you but it’s definitely disturbing your ability to enjoy anything. He wants you to enjoy. But what’s irritating him is how you don’t want to communicate what you’re feeling to him. He’s always made himself a safe space for you to open up. But you never take it. Ever since he m0ved you’ve been distant, physically and emotionally. It’s frustrating cause all he wants is to be close to you in all ways. “You were not feeling skiing and now you’re not feeling this?”

Is he blaming you for not enjoying this? It’s not your fault you feel this way. You don’t even want to be feeling like this. You do want to enjoy skating, gosh you want to, so bad. But there’s just so much you’re holding on too that pretending can’t solve.

“Jungkook I’m not any good at this.” You gesture around eyes starting to sting when you watch how other people have fun while you argue. “You just go have fun with your Leni or Lena whatever.” You act like you aren’t sure of her name.

It’s the way you say it, the force and strain in the word. The way you look to the crowd in a jittering stare looking for her that let’s jungkook know what this is all about. Did it come off like that? She’s just a girl he met whilst skiing, he honestly never thought that far. Never thought you’d be thinking of it.

“Is this because of her?” he questions eyebrows furrowed trying to look at your face that’s staring down. Why the hell are this shoe laces so hard to untie. you just want to cut them off, but you’d probably have to pay for damages. Shit

Your frustration is replaced with another type of embarrassment, when jungkook is on his knee to replace his hands with yours to help you take the laces off. You just want the ground to swallow you right now. Unlike you Jungkook’s calmness is able to take the laces off. He tries to help you into your other shoes but you just brush him off. He moves.

Standing up and looking at you he asks. Voice calm like usual. “Is it?” you’d even forgotten his previous question. Do you have to answer him?

“I don’t know how it would be when you two are off to the other side of the ring. I’ve barely talked to her.” That’s exactly the problem why the heck do you feel like this when you haven’t gotten to know the girl. You barely know her intentions.

“It is.”

You groan rolling your eyes. “If you want help skating, I can help you. I’m sorry that I got carried away.” It’s probably one of the things you’re mad about. He just fucking left you like you didn’t make plans to come here together. Yeah, maybe your attitude made the distance between you, but he should know how to deal with it by now. Gosh you’ve been together for a good 3 years. He should know how you are.

And he does. That’s why he insists you’re acting like this cause of Lena. well, she’s probably just a catalyst and there’s something deeper that you two have to address.

You stand looking up at him, but he’s towering figure doesn’t make you as intimidating as you want to feel. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything, why? Cause you always know what you’re doing.”

“You know it’d be better if you just said it directly.” Whatever it is, because he wants to know. You want to walk past him but his hand around your wrist stops you. You look at it then at him. He’s not smiling, but not mad. Just concerned.

“I don’t--I’m not saying anything.” You snatch it form his grip and he lets you.

Jungkook’s face scrunches up in frustration. “That’s what you always say, then pull shit like this.”

You pause and stare at right in his--round eyes that are now, siren. “Shit like what?”

“This. Your fucking attitude.” He almost loses his tone but remembers that you’re in public, which is so fucking embarrassing. “You never want to talk about things.” He looks around for any watching eyes.

You just glare at him. Maybe you don’t like expressing yourself to him anymore. You’ve noticed it too. It had been hard for you to express yourself to him over a call, and sometimes shitty network. There had been days where you wanted to cry on his shoulders but only had the screen to rely on, so guess what you did. Nothing. You didn’t cry, you didn’t tell him anything. You’d just cry on your pillow after the call ends. “Maybe I don’t cause I know you won’t listen.”

That’s a hit to his ego. To him as a person.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I always listen to you.” The blank look on your face has him questioning himself. “of course, I’m not perfect.”

You chuckle bitterly.

“Just go off to your little girlfriend.” And there it is, a confirmation of what he already knew.

You start walking to the entrance. And he follows. Shoes on. He’s not going to be able to skate with the heaviness in his heart. He’d end up sinking into the ice, which doesn’t sound so bad right now. “Come on.” He swiftly moves to standing Infront of you. He blocks you from moving and you just give up and just decide to look at his jaw, not wanting to look directly at him. Which was not a good idea, cause of how he clenches it. You look up into his eyes. “you’re jealous?”

“Who?” he’s a parrot and now you’re an owl, he wants to say but finds it inappropriate for your mood.

“You are so jealous.”

“I’m no-”

“don’t lie to me.” You try to push at his chest for him to move out of your way, but your plan backfires giving him leeway to hold your hand firmly to his chest. Hard as a rock even through he’s sweater. “Tell me why you’re jealous.”

Instead of answering him directly you try to change the topic. You swear you can feel his heart beat through his sweater.

“Don’t act like I couldn’t see you jealous too when that guy approached me.” You try to one-up.

“I was jealous.” His confession has you wanting you dig a hole and hide yourself. It’s so easy for him to say, you weren’t even enjoying your conversation with that guy. “Difference with me is that I can say it.”

Shit. Shit. What do you say now. Get angrier, that always works, well not really.

“Whatever. I’m not jealous.” You look away from him. Are you really doing this in public. Jungkook doesn’t look like he gives a fuck right now, he just wants an answer. One which he’s not going to get.

“Tell me what you’re so jealous about?” his voice lowers

“How many times do I have to say I’m not jealous.” Till you can’t deny it anymore, the thought runs through Jungkook’s mind.  “Just go have your fun.” You finally decide you’re tired of feeling his heart beat perfectly.

“you’re so ridiculous y’know.” He watches you move slight away, anger not faltering one bit. You’re determined to being upset. “can’t we just talk about this. It seems to be bothering you.”

It is. It’s fucking gnawing at your heart, your lungs, your mind.

“Nothing’s bothering me, I’m fine.” You breathe in, relaxing and calming down just a bit. “I just don’t want to be out there all on my own, while you’re having fun with some else.” Jungkook licks his lip. He doesn’t have anything else to say. What he has to say can’t be said here or whilst you’re unable to hear.

“I’m going home.” You pass by him and he doesn’t bother turning to watch you walk out.

“Korea?” it’s possible for you to want to leave. And the thought causes him to bite down hard on his bottom lip. Cause if you leave on these terms, nothing’s gonna change and he’d never get another chance. You’d avoid him like the plague.

“No, the cabin.” You state and he’s relieved. “Have fun.”

“Everything okay?” jungkook is startled by Lena’s voice who walked around to find him after she noticed he was gone.

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “I’ll just get going.” He informs her. He already has his stuff so there’s no need for him to go back inside. “Thanks for getting us in, though we didn’t even stay long.”

“No problem. It was fun, wish I got to talk to her.”

“Yeah, she isn’t normally like that.” Cause you aren’t.

“I understand.”

You don’t immediately go to the cabin. Instead, you go to the sauna you had been eyeing. It could probably be the only way to relax you. The sweat dripping down will mask the real tears falling down your face. You’re glad you’re alone right now.

You have your head leaned back thinking about what had just previously happened. The thoughts not wanting to leave you.

You hear the door open but you don’t bother looking, you’ve got a lot to think about. “hey stranger..” the familiar voice speaks just as shocked. You sharply open your eyes. Wondering if it’s you he’s speaking to but you’re just the two of you in here.

You’re just the two of you.

“didn’t expect to find you here.” He says setting himself down just in front of you and you looking at him oddly. Do you have bad luck?

“hmm” you chuckle awkwardly. You make a plan to gradually scoot yourself to the door. Being with him here does make you uncomfortable but you try to stay to enjoy what’s left of your time. You expect silence but the man doesn’t see on the same level. “Went to the Lindt factory like you said. Was honestly the best of everything.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” you say like you’re a worker at the factory or care.

“It would’ve been better if you came too.”

You awkwardly chuckle and finally decide to sit up. You came here to think and relax but this guy couldn’t be more of a bother. “I’m sure I would’ve just made it worse.”

He chuckles and smiles your way. A smile you do not reciprocate “I doubt.”

“Is your friend around?” Now you should fucking leave.

“Mm?” you ask like you didn’t hear. Fucking sirens are blaring. He’s not giving off I’m gonna leap at your vibe. It’s more of his inability to give up that bugs you. “Oh- ahh yeah. He’s gonna be here.”

He turns to look at the door like Jungkook’s about to walk through the door, but he doesn’t. gosh you wish he would. “isn’t it hard to have male friends like him.” You look at him brows furrowed, confused. You wait for him to elaborate and he’s quick to it. “Protective.” He says.

“how?”

“makes it hard for you to live your live and get to know people.” You laugh. it’s not like jungkook has his hands on you and pulling you away from people who want to talk to you. He’s actually for it but he just has a good discernment of creeps. As you sit here you reflect on his words from before when you initially met the guy. Gosh you should really start listening to jungkook. Makes you realize how right he is—sometimes--

“no.” your tone is sharp that the soft one you’d been giving him.

He shakes his head. He lifts his hands in defence saying, “I think he’s doing too much.” Now you’re getting upset, visibly so, which is not lost to the man. Who the fuck does he thinks he is. He’s the one doing too much, “I’m not some weirdo, I promise.” He hasn’t shown any signs of it yet, but you don’t give a fuck and you’re not gonna wait around for him to show it.

“I think you’re doing too much.” You snare abruptly standing up. He can tell the irritation on your face and is about to defend himself but you’re quick to cutting in. you’re not about to have it.

“I don’t know how your long your trip is but if you see me around, please don’t speak to me.”

“Wait.” You don’t.

Sauna time done you decide to go back to the cabin, feeling anything but relaxed. Daylight already lost.

Today has honestly knocked you out, as though you’ve done anything energy straining. It’s more of an emotional strain. When you walk in jungkook isn’t anywhere to be seen. So, you just assume he never got back. Makes you wonder where the hell he is and why he didn’t tell you, but you’re in no place to convict him cause you never informed him of your sauna endeavours as well. You’re both grown adults and can move around Switzerland without the other—but—why do you feel entitled to know where he is. You lost those privileges when you broke up and now when you left him at the rink.

Maybe a steamy shower will do what the sauna didn’t finish cause of you interruption. After that you decide to end your night early, you’ve got nothing to do after all.

you toss and turn in bed, barely able to get a linear sleeping time. Everything just feels so weird and off. Even worse than in the beginning. It’s all a different type of awkward, which you hate. Jungkook isn’t sleeping next to you which prompts you to checking the time.

1:39am your phone tells you.

Where the hell is he, you’re starting to get scared. You’re not worried about his safety cause jungkook is very capable in that sector, --well unless he got shot—shot?  Why are thinking of that. Who’d fucking shot him, let alone in Switzerland. He’s never been in any trouble with the law or anyone. You’re getting paranoid, if you don’t see jungkook in the flesh, well and not wounded, you’re gonna lose your mind.

Putting on the sweater that has been a staple and carried you through the trip you walk out the bedroom to the open floor living room. you sigh when you don’t spot jungkook. You won’t be able to go back to sleep even if you wanted to. Cause you don’t feel like it and are losing your mind. As you’re standing in the living room like an anxiety ridden mom waiting for their teenager child at midnight, you hear it. It’s wood chopping sounds. Harsh and fast. You do have some cabins around you so it could be your neighbours—but no--the sound is closer to yours, like it’s just outside. So, you curiously walk to the door which would lead you closer to the sound. Maybe you aren’t as afraid cause you assume it’s jungkook. And it is.

You relax when you spot his figure well and healthy.

He doesn’t notice as you stand watching him. bottom lip chewed down on. Why the hell is he chopping wood at 1 in the morning.

You want to say something. You need to. Maybe apologize about what happened at the rink, you have a fair share in the argument. Since waking up or maybe after the sauna you realized how childish your behaviour was. You ruined the moment. When you could’ve just asked jungkook to help you and he would’ve been there, hadn’t you chosen to give into your irritation. Irritation of seeing him with a woman. There you said it.

His muscles flex as he moves to drop the axe down on the wood.

This is not what you want for you and jungkook. Arguing and not able to talk or share air. It’s not what you want. Even if things do officially end, you’d want to end it on calm and friendlier terms.

As you watch him you notice how his jaw tightens. He’s not just chopping wood. You start to worry for him when his movements grow harsher, of the larger chunk of wood.

“What did the wood do to you?” you try to be neutral.

He didn’t notice you behind him. So, he’s startled by the sound of your voice. Turning to look at you holding yourself in the door way, he chooses to take a break. He got so carried away he forgot he was cutting wood for the fire place and had cut too much. He drops the axe into snow. “Ditched me at the ice rink.” He says going to pick up some pieces of wood to bring inside.

Fuck you feel so bad. You stay silent watching him until he’s brought all the wood in and finally closing the door. Which allows for the warmth from the now blazing fire to fill the house. Now in warmer climate, jungkook takes off his large sweater and you drop your arms that were still wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry about that.” You mumble softly. He stands at the sink, you assume to make himself something warm.

“it’s okay, it’s not like I went all the way to stay in touch with some girl so she could get me—us--a good deal at the ice rink. Then I take you there and you ditch the thing entirely.”

You do feel horrible about to, but his tone irritates you causing you to respond as just that. Which you immediately regret.

“I left you with her, weren’t you happy with that.” You have an interesting way of saying things that bother you.

Jungkook pauses his actions and stares at you with a seriously confused face. He scoffs. You’re not making sense. “You know that’s not what I wanted.” He returns to his mug. “I wanted to spend it with you.” His voices calms.

Fuck. Uhm what do you say. You should probably say you’re sorry. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook just listening. He just doesn’t understand, he wishes you could just be straight forward. Frustrated and tired of hiding behind a task, he drops the cup to give you, his attention.

“Did I say something wrong?” you stand where you are but jungkook moves. To you. You panic but he doesn’t walk closer than a few feet from you. You don’t know how you’d handle yourself if he came any closer. At the rink you almost died. “At the rink?” he clarifies like you’re not fully aware. He just wants to make sure that you’re on the same page. Cause you can think of other times he might have feared he’d said something wrong.  “I honestly shouldn’t even have started talking to her.” He rubs a hand over his face.

Jungkook has never been malicious to you in your friendship before or relationship. Or even now. He’s been cordial. He’s the only man who’s treated so well and calmingly. Of course he has his imperfections, you both do. But it doesn’t take from how well he’s treated you. He never crosses a line.

“it’s not even that.” You’re looking off to the side and holding yourself again,

Gosh, he’s really holding himself right now. He bites his lower lip and clenches his jaw to hold himself back from just walking up to you and making you look him in the eyes. “Then what’s wrong. Please talk to me.” He pleads.

“I don’t know,” you whisper still looking beyond him, your voice is barely audible.

He’s begging, really for you to just tell him something. “Please don’t say that.” He responds, his tone a mix of frustration and pleading. He steps closer just a few centimetres away, if you unfolded your arms you’d probably bump into his chest.

“I don’t-” you start but your voice cuts you off, “it’s the way you-” you aren’t able to finish. What are you going to do with yourself. This is embarrassing, you can barely form or organize your thoughts and your mouth can barely move to speak. You’re not even going to talk about how hard it is for you to look him in the eyes. You just settle with staring at his other supporting features. His hair, his ears (that are red from what you assume is frustration—it’s not--), his eyebrows and then you skip to look at his nose--

“was it me talking to that girl?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You push away slightly.

“But we have--you know what--I want to.” He moves to block your action of walking away. You thought you were strong enough. You thought you’d manage to talk about this. But you can’t. not when it makes you want to cry.  “I want to talk about it.” His voice is stern but not harsh. It’s just strong enough to let you know he’s not letting this go. It’s funny how something so insignificant can cause you to be in this situation. Forced to express and confront your emotions, the one’s you’ve been running from since the trip began, the one’s you told yourselves you’d pretend didn’t exist. You fooled yourselves by dodging the topic.

Now you’re here. “While we’re at it we can talk about why you broke up with me.” He’s not asking if you can talk about it, he’s telling you it has to be talked about and he’s not gonna let it go by. Not this time.

At his words, all your emotions unite to form a single unit of defence. “me? you agreed too.” You point at him face scowling.

“I only did cause it’s what you wanted, and I didn’t want to hold you back.”

You stare confused. “Hold me back from what?” what the fuck does he think you’ve been doing. You hope he doesn’t think you’ve been out and about since breaking up, that’s been the last thing on your mind.

“From living the life, you wanted to, without me.” His upset at the thought leading his voice to come out a little passive aggressive.

He does think that, you can see it. “Without you? I don’t want that.” You state. “But how can I live a life with you when you’re miles away, always busy. And can barely visit.” You just talk. Finally, your gears are moving. But the problem is that so are the tears. “You moving away is you choosing to live without me too.” You choke on your words a little. “Even I didn’t want to tie you to me or hold you back from your dreams that’s why I tried to li- live with it, but it got so unbearable kook. I couldn’t take it. it felt like I was alone. In fact, I was alone.”

Jungkook feels sick hearing that you felt alone.

“You know I did try.” His voice is soft, moving himself into your circle. You let him. He can’t help himself but cup your cheek. The action feels comforting, almost relieving. At least he’s here and you’re not talking over the phone, makes it much easier for you to sink into his touch.

You hold the wrist that’s caressing your cheek. Gosh you want to keep his touch here forever. “I know that’s what hurts more you tried but it still wasn’t enough. I really did want it to work. I still do.” On your last sentence you look up at him and he’s already staring at you, the thump of his other hand coming swiftly to wipe your stray tears. You sniffle. “Cause honestly I’ve missed you kook.” You feel comforted playing with the end of his sweater.  “So much. I miss how we were before you moved. When it was easier for us to be together.” your fingers take a journey from the bottom of his sweater to the neck.

Your palms lay flat on his chest and his hands move to softly hold your wrist, not to move you away but you keep there.

“I know we said we’d pretend. A-and I thought I could. But I can’t kook.” On cue with his name, you look up at him. “fuck- I never knew how much I hate seeing you talk to other—" you can’t finish your sentence, but it’s okay cause he’s finished for you in his mind. “I’m sorry for attitude.”

He glides his hands from your wrists down your arms until they are both on your waist. “I’m sorry too.” He’s pulling you closer, your hands still on his chest, but now for stability. “I’m so sorry I was too distracted for you. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t serve that.” He’s caressing your back. “okay?” you have to answer but you can only bring yourself to nodding. All he’s ever wanted was to know. Know what was wrong and how he could fix it.

“I’ve missed you too.” He smiles lightly bringing his nose to brush against yours. The action has you tilting your head upwards. His lips itch to touch yours, but they don’t they just hover, he still has more to say. And he wants to say it close enough for you to feel it. “If only you knew how I dreaded every morning and realized you weren’t next to me. Every time I just wanted to fly back home.”

“So, what stopped you.” You’re looking at his lips. his rosy and moist lips from how hard he’s been biting and licking on that. You wanna do that. You wanna kiss him, wanna be the only biting down on his lips.  you wanna do a lot of things right now. You wanna run your hands through his hair remind yourself of its texture, you wanna lift that sweater off, that holds his cologne so well, the earthy lavender scent, that crawls its way through your system. You wanna take that sweater off him, --feel, see—just how much that gym membership as proved itself valuable. You know you won’t be disappointed, jungkook loves the fucking gym.

“I don’t even know. But all I know is that it’s not gonna stop me anymore.” Him nudging his nose closer has you tilting your head to meet his lips. the air between you feels heavy. The feeling pulling your lips to meet. And when the do, it’s fervent. His kiss is urgent but slow, not wanting to be apart from you for a second.

 Your bodies are hooked together as Jungkook is moving you back into a wall. The kiss intensifies when he leans your head back with his hand around your neck. You’re gripping onto his sweater for support and breathing him in for life.

Jungkook clings onto your lips for life too, even if he needs to breath he doesn’t stop. You moaning into his mouth will suffice. He doesn’t know where to keep his hands. Should he use them to tilt your head back to deepen the kiss, (if he goes any deeper he’s gonna sink.) whilst he uses the other to pull you leg up by your thighs, his grip surely leaving crescent moons as decorations. He doesn’t know what to do with them. For the moment he uses them to pull he sweater over his head. You’ve been clawing at it to come off.

Now shirtless you can feel his skin for what you remember it to be silky-smooth. So delicate that you fear leaving scratch marks on him, but jungkook encourages it, he begs you to do it. Your hands roam his body, first his large back, muscles flexed, then down his firm chest then down to his defined midsection. “What am I to do with all this.” You say breathless.

“You tell me. It’s all yours.” Your lips are meeting again. Tongues tagging at each other. For some reason the rich, sweet and completely irresistible taste of chocolate lingers on your lips, but he loves it and is drinking it up.

Jungkook finds that his hands are better at gripping your thigh and lifting it to wrap around his waist. His core moves into you and you feel how hard he is against you. You’re thankful for his thin pajama pants.

Your hands pull at the root of his hair, though it’s shorter you make it work, making him groan into your mouth. You both can’t fucking breath at this point, which is the only reason you’re pulling away. Your heavy breaths brushing against each other.

“jungk-” you’re moaning for him to take you to bed but he’s steps ahead of you. Your feet don’t have to fret cause he’s lifting you by the thighs to lay you on the edge of the bed.

You lay back on the bed but legs on his shoulder, he’s kneeling between your legs. Your pants are still on but not for long. In a swift motion you’re left in your plain black panties. The ones with the little bow. He chuckles at the detail. When you see what he’s laughing at you get self conscious. Jungkook looks up at you confused why you’re closing your legs.

“I didn’t know we’d be in this position, so these are the one I brought.” You try to explain yourself cheeks blushing red. He doesn’t know why you’re so insecure about the detail. He loves them.

For a quick kiss he’s on his feet hovering over you. “it’s okay, I like my gifts wrapped in bows.” He smirks and the comment has you calling out his name in shock. peck. He’s back on his knees staring at your core. The bow is a detail he’ll miss but he’d gotta take them off. Fuck is all he can think when your cunt is right in front of him, wet. Is this where he’s meant to die, right in your cunt from suffocation cause he won’t be able to detach himself from you.

Your legs are planted on his shoulder, your ass just at the edge of the bed. When he first swipes his tongue through your folds, it takes you by surprise. Gosh you missed him being right there.

“fuck” you whimper the sound not being able to be masked. Your slick, probably mixed with his saliva, drips down your cunt, down his chin. His nose is so deep in it that some of your juices run up his nose. Is this how fucking cocaine sniffers feel?  He can’t wait till his cock is buried snuggly it. He sniffs in, on purpose this time, takin git once more. You grind on his face making him suck harder at your clit. You’re getting dizzy and gripping hard at the sheets. His nails dig into your thighs harshly, the pain causing pleasure.

Everything is so intense you can’t tell apart your orgasm. Fuck you can’t be coming this fast from just his tongue. Shit. “Jungkook. Don’t stop” You whine the intense feeling approaching quick, your walls tightening and fluttering around his tongue. Jungkook’s so carried away he only realizes you’re coming when your legs are shaking. He drinks everything that leaves and it’s only when you’re pulling his head back from overstimulation that he realizes he should take a breath. He’s starved can you blame him?

“you’re so gorgeous baby.” he says peppering kisses on your thighs. “Wanna do that again for me.” He’d absolutely would eat you out for a second time in a row. And you’d love that but you just want to feel him.

You’re moving up the bed and he’s hovering over you kissing your jaw. Your palms meet his ass in a teasing smack.

“Missed this ass.” You smile under him. jungkook just chuckles. you want to add on but his finger stuffing your tight cunt has you silent, gasping for air.

Jungkook smiles down at your pleasure strained face. “mm? not so talkative now?”

He thinks he’s got you. Then you slide down your hand down his abs, he knows where your hand travels and though it’ll destroy his ego, he lets you do it. “so big” you bite your bottom lip as you start stroking him, using your own juices as lubricate. He’s walls are falling. Your hand wrapped around him, has him burying his moans in the croak of your neck.

It’s a competition huh? he loves those second and fucking your cunt first.

You’re stroking him in his pants and he’s pumping his fingers in your cunt. He’s kissing you to hide his moans. It’s a fucking competition and he’s losing. He can’t lose. His hand leaves your cunt to grab at your wrist. You stop. He pulls you away from him. if you went on any longer, he’d be done for and the night wouldn’t end the way he wants. He hasn’t been touched in a year, unless it’s talking about those times you sexted, but it doesn’t count. It feels different when it’s your hands.

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“If you did that you wouldn’t have gotten the orgasms I have left for you.” You don’t respond. you won’t argue, you do want them.

His fingers are back to pumping and even sooner than before your climax approaches. He wishes he could count just how much you flutter around his finger but he’s too busy looking at your face, pleasure written all over it. and its pride that fills him, knowing he’s the one giving it to you.

Jungkook moves away and you watch how he licks his fingers clean. The way he smiles at you after, is disgustingly hot.

“Take off your pants.” You tell him.

“You take off your shirt.” He reciprocates, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing anything.

Jungkook is spoiled by the sight before him, your chest sprawled out for him to taste. So, he leans down and wraps his tongue around a nipple. His hand lost at the other side. You love all the foreplay, really, but you want him. you’ve been thinking about it for forever.

“Jungkook.” You call. He hums saying you have his attention. “I want you.”

There’s nothing more he wants.

“Want you too baby.” He says grabbing his cock and aligning it with your entrance. Then he remembers.

“fuck” he whispers. You sit up and wander what has him holding back.

“what?”

“I don’t have a condom.” He knows he doesn’t have one, it’d be weird, it’s not like he was coming on this trip expecting to fuck you.

“Why?” he stares at you confused.

“I didn’t expect fucking to be on the itinerary.”

Oh yeah, you laugh at himself.

“Do you?”

“Nope. Why would I have them.” He just shrugs his shoulders.

He’s gonna lose it. “Are you on the pill?” it’s his only option.

That’s when you shake your head. “Got off when we broke up.”

Okay so what is he gonna do, his cock hard and your cunt right in front of him.

“Jungkook come on you can pull out.” You whine pulling him forward.

She shakes his head. “god no. I almost lost my mind from your hand. It’d lose it in your pussy.” You smile, you shouldn’t be laughing cause you won’t be able to fuck. But you just can’t help but smile at the fact that he almost lost himself just from your hand. You’ve got no clue on what to do. You really need to fuck him.

“Wait--” he looks at you. “This is a lover’s cabin.” You say but he waits for you to elaborate and make sense.

“wouldn’t they have condoms in the cupboard or something.” He didn’t think of that.

So, as you stand you walk over to the cupboard roughly open it almost tipping it over. “Bingo!” you celebrate pulling out a long string of condoms. Your saving grace.

You carefully pull out one and toss it to jungkook.

“Relax aren’t they the one’s you usually use,” you say when you see the look on his face. They do look like they’ve just been purchased and placed. He’s so thankful right now. He leans against the head board and you watch how he gracefully he strokes himself and slips it on, your mouth drools but you’re too needy. You’ll do that another day.

“Come ride cow girl.” He welcomes you when he’s all done. You stretch your legs over him, centering yourself. His hands are quick to spread across your ass, landing a light tap.

He helps you centre himself at your entrance. His brows scrunch together when he feels your tight warmth slide down him. he definitely isn’t going to last long, maybe he’ll hold on till you come but after that is not promised.

His hand loosely holds at your throat, just enough to tilt it back slightly and leave wet kisses and marks everywhere on your skin.

You sliding up and down him feels great but he couldn’t help himself but move his fingers to touch your clit. In pure pleasure you’re wrapping your arms around him and kissing him. you love this position, how he nudges at your back, how intimate it feels, the way you’re so close after being so far away. The cold is barely in mind. Jungkook can’t express how much he’s missed you.

You love it.

But what you love more is how he pulls at your hair, just softly. “Love fucking my cock huh?” he asks but you’re unable to answer his hips jutting up into you with great speed. Jungkook could get carried away with the way your boob bounce but he chooses to say focus. “You like that huh?” he smirks but your eyes are closed, the pleasure of his intense strokes taking you out.

“Yeah, love fucking you kook.” You whimper out.

He’s thrusting harder and you’re moaning louder. “you look so pretty taking me baby. Wanna fuck you forever.”

You wish you.

Your body melts into his as you’re coming again, jungkook fucking into you for his own high which follows after yours. When he catches his breath, he’s laying you down and beside you just after throwing the filled condom.

“I’m gonna get the bath started.” He says planting a quick kiss on your shoulder.

You’re too drained to stand so when he’s back to come get you you’re dozing off. “come on baby I’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

You groan. “Then after a I can make you cocoa.”

“I’m so tired kook.” You whine.

“I knowww.” he coos. Next thing you know he’s lifting you, bridal style. “it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“Hmm. Don’t move.” Jungkook whines when you threaten to stand and start your day. You two have already slept in because of your late-night endeavours.

“I have to kook. We have so much for our day.”

“Ugh! Fine. But first give me your hand.” He demands the action has you confused but you give it to him. when he has it, he’s giving you a billion kisses. “I love you.” He doesn’t think it’s too soon cause—well he doesn’t know it just felt right to say.

“I love you too now let me go.” He makes sure not to unhand you until you say it more ‘meaningfully’ according to him.

---

You and jungkook decided to retry ice skating (you were hell bent on not going skiing.)

As you’re skating jungkook slides to the half wall, after telling you he has to take a call. You shoo him away after telling you’ll be fine alone (for the meantime).

“Any news?” jungkook was nervous when he got the call from Namjoon. This is a very important call from him, it determines what the hell he’s gonna choose. Quit or get transferred.

“Yeah. it’s been approved.” Jungkook is still for a moment.

“Seriously?” it almost feels like a dream.

“Yeah, had to do a lot of convincing but they agreed.” He’s so grateful for Namjoon. He’s gonna miss him. Jungkook looks over to you, gliding not great but better, and you’re smiling this time. So, he’s happy. You’re happy.

“Thank you, man,”

Namjoon smiles, he knows how much this means. “No problem.” The call cuts.

This just seals a lot “kook look out.” He pockets his phone and as he’s turning to you, you slam into him. You haven’t gotten to the knowing how to stop just yet. Maybe next time.

“You okay, baby.” He says holding onto you by your waist

You let out a dramatic breath that has him smiling. “Yeah, but I’m getting kinda tired.” You say out of breath and letting your weight fall into his arms.

“I’m getting hungry too.” You’ve spent a good amount of time ice skating so you decide to leave it for next time.

--

“what’s the plan for tonight.” He asks as you eat.

“Hmm. For the first time I don’t know.” You both laugh. “We could go out for dinner—ohhh the hot tub--.” You forgot about it cause none of you ever wanted to use it, honestly you didn’t even expect the place to have a hot tub.

“I like the sound of that.”

The steam of the hot tub hovers lazily on the surface of the water. The steam curls around jungkook as his gaze locks on you. Body dry cause you haven’t gotten in yet. You walk onto the deck, the dim but still bright enough lights radiant off your skin, as though the sun has come to pay him a visit at night.

His breath is caught.

The bikini hugs you in all the ways that made his thoughts falter, the curves of your body illuminated by the soft glow of the light. He swallows hard, his mouth dry despite being surround by water. You make him weak, so much that he looks only at you, even though your attention is else were. You try to find a place to hook your towels.

And then you turn around to smile at him in victory of finding a place to hang them. He nods acknowledging but no paying attention.

He leans back slightly, the water lapping at his shoulders as his eyes roam you, mesmerized. There’s some thing unworldly about you, something he can’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the way you looked, that made him trip for you. It was the way you carried yourself, the way your body swayed as you moved closer to him.

His arms immediately reach out to envelope you. “Enjoying the view?” you tease, your voice relaxing into the tub and his warmth.

The chuckle he releases is low, “you know I am.”

Your giggle like a melody. You wrap your arms around him and he loses his stability for a second before regaining it. “careful.” He murmurs to you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I might drown.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” you peck his lips.

You relax for a while just taking in the night and each other presence.

Jungkook has been meaning to ask, the question eating at his mind.  “Do you want to go back to Korea with me?” it sounds like a dumb question, you came together so you will be leaving together.

But the double meaning lies within and he’s desperate to know your answer.

“What are you saying?” you coo at him. “Aren’t we already going back together.” You’re talking about the tangible stuff, the tickets, the plane, the flying, even the landing and going home. But he doesn’t mean that.

After pecking your shoulder water sticking to his lips, he explains. “I don’t mean physically.”

You stare down at him eyes softening. “kook” you realize the seriousness of his question. And for a second jungkook senses scepticism. So, he panics.

“If it’s bout my job, I’m working on it.” His voice is quick.

That was a fear of yours, even more that he wouldn’t want to move. Jungkook has thought about it, the move was a rush decision he never spoke to anyone about it to ask their opinion or whatever. And honestly the move didn’t bring him much joy, besides the opportunity to adventure Jeju. But apart from that he was away from his family, his friends and you. Everything that made his life.

“Seriously?” you say more shocked than anything else.

“Yeah, Namjoon called me. My transfer got approved.”

 You gasp the water swashing from your movement. “don’t lie to me”

He laughs. “I’m not.”

“I thought you said getting it approved is hard.” You’re finding this so hard to believe.

“It is, I guess I got lucky.”

You squeal moving in to hug him.

“When did you start all this.” It’s along process so he had to start early.

“Honestly before we broke up. I wanted to surprise you if it got approved. But then-” you shush him from going on further.

“So, what would have you done if it didn’t get approved.” Your tone drops.

Jungkook sighs looking around in thought. “would’ve fucking quit.” it’s funny how easy the idea is for him, former him would have struggled with the question. “I’m tired of being so far from you.”

“Same.” He places a longer and soft kiss on your lips.

“So, you wanna go back with me?” His voice is playful, as he looks up at you through wet lashes.

“Mhm.” You smile, leaning slightly closer to him, your fingertips tracing lazy circles on his shoulder. “I wanna go everywhere with you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, warm and intimate, as his lips lifts into a small, boyish grin. “We can arrange that.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind being patched to your side like a little purse dog. In fact, the way he leans into you now, his hand slipping around your waist as if it were second nature, says he’d prefer it. His thumb grazes your hip absentmindedly, a small gesture that feels both possessive and endearing.

“I’m gonna miss it.” you say leaning into Jungkook's shoulder with a pout. You wait patiently for your flight. “Feels like we just started the trip.”

Jungkook reaches over to cup your hand in his. He then interlocks your fingers and brings it to his lips; the action causes you to smile softly. He really likes to do that. It’d never been a trait of his before, so you’re intrigued, to why he does it all of a sudden. “We can come back one day. together.”

“Yeah together.” You reassure. You like this. Like having him with you.

[3 months later]

“Jimin if you’re gonna wear that to my fucking wedding you’re not coming.” You announce to a jimin too focused on the light blue suit he’s in. in the mirror you can spot his cheeky grin. He’s not gonna wear a freaking light blue suit, it’s not on the colour scheme, plus he doesn’t like how it makes him look.

He turns to look at jungkook who’s standing on his own pedestal looking into the mirror. Touching and teasing at the suit. “Jungkook you’re not gonna let her do that right?.” Jungkook just shrugs his shoulders at jimin. He’s not pleased with the answer. He knew the dude was down bad, but not this down bad. “Bro!”

“she’s the boss.” Jungkook raises his hands in surrender and you smirk in your seat.

“Come on man…standup.” he fists at Jungkook who just laughs. As Jimin is stepping out to get out of the suit (he stayed so long in it you thought he might actually want to wear it.) and get changed, you swat him with a magazine and he’s quick to running out not wanting you to land another hit.

Now alone in the dressing room you walk up to jungkook. You lean your chin on his shoulder, your hands finding there way to his chest. He welcomes them with his own. “You look so handsome.” Your voices hums sweetly by his ear. Jungkook lifts up both of your hands to place soft and warm kisses on them. The action has you blushing red. The ring on your finger and indication of why he liked to do it before. Plus, now, he just enjoys it., it makes you blush and he likes that.

“Mhm.” He hums against your wrists. “You like it?”

“I love it.” You take a hundredth glance at a preview of what he might wear at your wedding. If he chooses it’s what he wants. You love the cut on him. the colour complimenting his skin, and the style shows off his physique, not too much, but not too little. But all the buttons on the vest and shirt are gonna give you some trouble undoing.

Jungkook stares at you completely enamoured at the way you’re looking at it. You should be looking at him like that. “I think you might love the suit more than me.” He turns abruptly causing you to fall into his chest. He catches and keeps you stable with his firm hand on your lower back.

You place one hand on his chest and the other around his neck, bringing you much closer. “I might just.” Your lips could meet easily with how close you are. But you don’t move them and jungkook pouts at how you deny him the opportunity.

“I’m gonna take it off, not gonna let you love it more.” He nudges his nose with yours.

“Take it off.”

“Jeon Yn! I forgot how freaky you are.” You roll your eyes at how he’s already given you his last name, you like the sound of it though. Reminds you of how real this is, you’re not dreaming.

Trying to tease him more you move by his ear to whisper, “Not here though.”

Jungkook is biting his lower lip. “We should hurry then.” he moves to kiss your shoulder, your off-the-shoulder top giving him leeway to kiss your skin directly. He peppers more kisses from your shoulder to your neck before  you get carried away you’re prompting for him to turn around. He does, though reluctantly.

You giggle.

“Do you like it though?” your voice turns serious, as much as you like it and how you just want to see him in it the whole day. If he likes it matters.

“Yeah, it makes me look so…husband.” He smiles boyishly as he winks at you in the mirror.

“Oh-gosh.” You push yourself away from him to get back to your seat. You’re not gonna be here all day.

He turns to face you. Still standing on the pedestal. “When do I get to see you in your dress” His teeth play with his lip ring as he asks curiously. The thought of you in the gown exciting him.

“When I walk down the aisle.” You stare blankly, no room for discussion. And he doesn’t, you’ve been quite stern about him not seeing you in any bridal wear until the wedding. Which he doesn’t mind, he can wait.

“Make sure it’s a ball gown so that I can slip under and hide.” He gestures his hands to elaborate what he means.

You shake your head. It’s not your style, maybe when you were a child, but you’ve grown. “I’m not wearing a ball gown.”

Ditching the jacket, he places it next to you and stands closing your legs between his. He lowers himself so your nose is touching his. His arms trap you between him and the couch. You didn’t think he was not gonna get that kiss right? He kisses you softly, then again. Then a little harder the third time, this one lasting seconds longer. You hold on his waist for stability. He kisses you once more just for the sake.

“I’m very sure you’ll look divine in whatever you pick, baby.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: so that's that. I hope I've fixed your broken heart from I-redo. there are scenes that i couldn't fit in. Yes of course there are other activities they did, but if i wrote it all it would be boring and too long and would probably be pushed to next month. i wish i could've written more fluff but idk.

i will allow for story drabble request if you guys want that.

but yeah thanks, for reading, liking and commenting. much love. wishing you a happy new year.

story idea copyright of keen-li, 30.12.24

[yourdarkcherry]

Is it casual now?// Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: you and Ellie had a “casual” thing until she decided to ghost you and replace you. your friends decide that the best way to get over her is to get under another woman.

warnings: jealous ellie, abby is the revenge, reader is barely surviving her first wlw heartbreak, she/her for reader.

a/n: if u cant tell im obsessed with chappell roan.

It was your fault. Sleeping with Ellie Willaims was your fault. 

Ellie was notoriously known as the toxic one, and you knew that. But you were like a moth drawn to a flame, you smiled at her when your eyes met hers too many times at the party. You allowed her to flirt with you, and encouraged her to make out with you at the backseat of the Uber. 

She told you she liked you, and that you were the sexiest girl she was with, but it was all casual and no attachments, it was just having fun.

You knew that deep in your heart, and you liked it because you weren’t looking for anything serious and simply liked the sex and the flirting without any attachment. You liked being able to sleep with anyone you wanted, you liked being able to flirt with anyone, no one blowing up your phone and no one requiring your time and care.

You liked it all.

Until Ellie wormed her way to your heart. It was truly your fault, all of your friends told you that a ‘Casual’ thing with Ellie was a recipe for disaster. 

You didn’t care, you were happy to be the one occupying most of her time, you were simply happy to be the one that got to meet her dad or Joel as she liked to call him, you were ecstatic being the only one to know how much of a big nerd she really is, to be the one to hear her sing, to be the only one that knows how to make her laugh when she’s sad.

That is all until she decided to replace you.

The sight of Ellie with another girl, the two of them were on the couch, the girl sat on Ellie’s lap and giggling into her neck as Ellie whispered things you never wanted to hear in her ear. Just seeing them like that made your eyes burn, and your breathing turned short and despite wanting to peel away your stare from them.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were glued to them, your vision turning blurry by the second and your stomach turning sick, you didn’t drink anything at this party so you cannot blame it on the drinks no matter how much you wanted to.

In your trance at them, Ellie turned to stare at you—must’ve felt your burning look. You wanted her to push the girl away, to stand up and walk to you and lie to you that it’s not what you think it is. You wished for her to tell you any lie, to pretend like she wanted you just as you wanted her.

You would’ve believed it all, you would have succumbed to her and allowed her to take you to her bed and you would’ve allowed her back into your heart.

But none of your wishes came true. While maintaining eye contact with you, Ellie pulled the girl closer to her.You could feel the bile rising to your throat, and you ran outside the house party and threw up into one of the bushes.

Some part of you is grateful that your wishes didn’t come true, that the next day you didn’t wake up naked in Ellie’s bed. Because it makes hating her a lot easier. 

“It’s a good thing you two ended that weird casual thing you had,” Leah told you on the way to the cafeteria after class. “I don’t know about you, but if the person I was fucking with no strings attached made me meet their parents, I’d run.” You sigh and roll your eyes at her words.

“It was never casual, maybe at the beginning but it quickly escalated to something very codependent. I’m glad it ended, though.” She added, taking the booth seat. 

“Okay, can we stop airing out my dirty laundry for once? I was wrong and you were right, is that what you wanna hear?” you scoff at Leah. The woman grins and nods, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You sigh for the millionth time on this day. 

“I’m glad you admitted that I’m right, because from now on you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Leah said, then her eyes falling to something behind you and waving. Before you could look over your shoulder to what she’s looking at, or more rightfully, who she’s looking at, she holds your arm and stops you.

“You’re going to flirt hard with Abby Anderson, and you’re going to dress as a slutty cop when you go to the party this weekend with Abby.”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Abby Anderson and why does Leah think she can boss you around like that, but she cuts you as she speaks urgently. “You are a whore, act like it.” before you get a chance to feel offended at her words, you hear Jordan’s voice as he greets, “hi babe”

He rounds the table to sit at the booth, he presses a kiss to Leah’s forehead. She grins into it, and from the corner of your eyes you see a new figure, you turn to look at a tall blonde woman. She pulls out a seat and then turns to look at you when she notices your look.

“Hi, I’m Abby, Jordan’s friend.” You blink, taking in the sight of the tall, blonde woman who just introduced herself as Abby. Her gaze is steady and confident, her smile is charming and polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you reply, forcing a smile as you try to mask your confusion. Leah’s instructions echo in your mind, and you're not sure how to react. Who is this Abby Anderson, and why does Leah seem so intent on orchestrating some kind of encounter between you and her?

Leah’s so obvious as she says with a knowing look directed to you, “(Y/N), this is Abby Anderson,” 

“Hi Abby, Leah tells me a lot about you.” you lie. 

Abby chuckles, and nods, “she told me about you too. She has a knack for thinking all the lesbians on campus know each other.”

As you burst out in laughter at Abby’s comment, Leah feigns innocence as she asks, “y’all don’t? I know all the bisexuals on campus.”

Jordan leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the booth, watching the interaction with a keen interest. "So, you guys ready for the party this weekend?" he asks.

Leah comments, throwing you another look as she said, “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to it,” she says, shooting a grin at Abby. “She never attended a frat halloween party.”

Abby nods, and looks at you, “It’s pretty fun, any thoughts for a costume?” Her voice is smooth, and it grounds you even when you glance at Leah that’s glaring at you. 

“Uh…” you hesitate, glancing again at Leah that kicks your leg underneath the table. You finally answer, “uhm…I’m going as a cop.”

“No way! I’m going as a prisoner.” Abby said with pure surprise, and when your gaze falls at Leah and Jordan that are pretending to not have known. You also stammer as you try to lie, “wow, I had no idea!”

“What a coincidence, truly.” Leah says.

“You two should go together.” Jordan comments, and Leah claps as she affirms, “oh yes that’s such a good idea! That way you two won’t look like single losers, no offense.”

“None taken.” Abby says with an amused grin, then she tilts her head to you and asks, “so, what do you say?”

“Sure.” You nod.

As the night of the party approaches, your nerves begin to bubble up, and it's not just because of the skimpy costume Leah convinced you to wear. The real source of your anxiety is the possibility of running into Ellie Williams. 

She attended all the parties, she never missed one. You on the other hand stopped attending them after the one you saw her at weeks before with that other girl in her lap. After that, you swore to never see her again. Which was easy, considering you had memorized her schedule like the back of your hand. 

The idea of seeing her at the party, mingling with others and having fun, twists your stomach into knots.

“When’s Abby picking you up?” Leah asks, her voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the police costume's accessories for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on anything other than the potential encounter. “In five minutes, you on the way the party?” 

“Yeah, Jordan is in the car with me.” She answers. 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Cool, I’ll see you guys there,” you say, forcing a smile that Leah can’t see.

“Hey, you'll be fine," Leah reassures, her tone softening. "Remember, this party is about you having fun and maybe getting to know Abby better. Don't worry about Ellie. If she shows up, just ignore her. You've got this."

You nod, even though she can't see you, and glance at the clock. Time seems to drag and race simultaneously, your thoughts racing ahead to every possible scenario that could unfold at the party. The memory of seeing Ellie with another girl, looking so carefree and happy, still stings. It was that moment that made you realize it was time to let go.

A knock on your door startles you out of your reverie. You quickly grab your phone, ending the call with Leah. "Abby's here. I'll catch you later."

"Have fun, (Y/N)!" Leah calls out before you hang up. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your costume and taking a deep breath.

When you open the door, Abby stands there, a grin on her face. She's in her prisoner costume, complete with fake tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved orange button down, the first five buttons left open and giving you a good look into her chest. “Hey, Officer,” she jokes lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t arrest me just yet, I have a party to attend.”

You laugh, though it’s tinged with nervousness. “I’ll let you off the hook just this time.” you reply, stepping out and closing the door behind you. 

The drive to the party is filled with light chatter, Abby doing most of the talking. She seems at ease, excited for the night ahead, and her energy is contagious. You try to focus on her words, on the fun you're supposed to be having, but a part of you can't stop thinking about Ellie.

It’s truly the pinnacle of loser behavior as your friends always tell you, but you can’t help it. She plagues your mind, and everything about her haunts you.

As you arrive at the party, the music and laughter spilling out from the house only amplify your anxiety.You and Abby climb the steps leading up to the door, and enter through the wide door. Your eyes scan through the dim lit room with the red and green lights. The music pulses through the room, a steady beat that seems to synchronize with the thrumming in your chest. You scan the room, your eyes darting from group to group, hoping to spot familiar faces—or perhaps to avoid one in particular.

"Wow, it's packed," Abby comments, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Her presence is comforting, a steady anchor in the sea of partygoers.

You nod, your eyes still searching the room. Suddenly, you spot Nora and Mel in one of the corners, engaged in an animated conversation. They're dressed up too, Nora as a pirate with a makeshift sword at her side and Mel as a witch, complete with a pointed hat and a fake broomstick.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends. You nudge Abby and point in their direction. "There are Nora and Mel," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your earlier anxiety.

Abby smiles back, nodding. "Let's go say hi."

As you and Abby approach Nora and Mel, their faces light up with recognition. Nora waves excitedly. "Hey, Abby! (Y/N)! Over here!"

Mel, grins widely, “there you two are! We were wondering when you'd show up." She gives you both a quick hug. "And look at you, Abby! Going all out with the prisoner theme, huh?" Nora hands you a drink that you down, hoping it will calm down your nerves.

Abby laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks” she says as she’s glancing at you, "and (Y/N) makes a pretty convincing cop, don't you think?"

Nora nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You two look great. Perfect match for the night." She takes the empty cup from you and places it somewhere else. Eager to find another drink, you take the red cup from Mel’s hands and down it too.

A new song starts playing, and as you recognize the song from the beginning of it. Nora’s eyes widen and she pushes you and Abby to the direction of the dance floor, “this is (Y/N)’s favorite song! You two should dance together!”

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Leah most likely roped Nora into it too. The mission of getting you to get laid by someone new to get over your weird feelings for Ellie.

It seems like your friends are determined to push you out of your comfort zone tonight. Abby, ever the good sport, grins and shrugs. "Well, if it's your favorite song, we have to dance," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Caught in a case of mild embarrassment, you let yourself be led to the dance floor. When you reach there, you kick out all the embarrassment out of your head, and then turn around as you bring Abby’s hands to rest on your waist from the back.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but if your friends are so eager for you to sleep with Abby, you might as well do that. It’s probably the tell-tale signs of you being tipsy but the idea of making out with Abby seems like a good idea right now. You like her just enough, and she seems to like you too.

With that, you start grinding your ass on her. Abby leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're a pretty good dancer," she says and you can hear her teasing grin. 

You smile back, feeling a flush of warmth to your cheeks and neck as one of her hands on your waist roams underneath your tits.

“Do you like my costume?” you ask, your hand resting on her own and you tilt your head to the side to allow her to press her face to your neck. She breathes in your perfume and whispers back, “I love it.”

You’re about to whisper the same line you used on Ellie when she saw you wearing that tiny scarlet dress she likes in that first party you met her. I wore it just so you’d sleep with me. But your eyes fall on the very same Ellie Williams.

Standing right to the side, and glaring at you like you were the one that cursed her with seven years of bad luck. Her piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and any playful mood you had vanishes instantly. The weight of her stare is too much, and instinctively, you pull back from Abby, the space between you widening in an instant.

Abby, sensing the shift, looks at you with concern, “something wrong?”

“I—I need to go to the bathroom.” you lie, and then take unbalanced steps towards the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom. Your mind races, unsure of what to do next. The party, the music, and the laughter all fade into the background as you enter the toilet.

You allow the cold water to sting your hands as you can’t really wash your face. 

But before you can fully collect your thoughts, the door swings open, and Ellie steps in, closing it behind her with a quiet click. The small space suddenly feels even smaller, the air charged with the unresolved tension between you.

Ellie’s eyes are a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place. She takes a step closer, her jaw set. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice low but intense.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You rest your hands on the sink as you scoff, “why do you care?” then you push your weight back while turning around to face her, “you moved on, and I’m trying to move on.”

“Is that what it was? Moving on?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You want to say yes, to tell her that you’re over her, but the truth is, you’re not sure. Seeing her now, the intensity of your feelings crashes over you like a wave, and you realize that moving on is much harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, it’s not moving on. We were never something, it was never that deep between us.” You say.

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you stare at her, before you stepped closer to the door and invade her personal space, “baby, no attachment.” you use the same words she told you that last night you slept with her.

Without waiting for her reaction, you turn and push open the bathroom door. You walk out, the noise of the party flooding back in, a stark contrast to the tense silence of the small room. As you step into the hallway, your heart races, the adrenaline from the confrontation making your pulse quicken.

Forcing yourself to keep moving, and trying to put as much distance between yourself and Ellie as possible. You promise yourself that night that you won’t allow her to take up one thought of your mind.

[milkbobatyun]

wake up, please

pairing: diluc x fem!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: an argument causes you to leave the safety of the ragnvindr manor at night, would diluc ever get to hear your voice, ever see you open your eyes again?

word count: 883

a/n: idk, i thought this would fit diluc kinda well, sorry for re-traumatising this already traumatised boi (◞‸◟；)

the thick silence crackled with anger, your fists clenched, heart pounding in your chest. the tranquility of the winery had been shattered by your arguing with diluc. you wouldn’t call yourself a jealous woman, but seeing another woman drape herself over diluc had you seething. his lack of protest and unwillingness to push her away was enough to make your blood boil.

with a frustrated sigh, you threw open the study door, stalking down the hallway and slamming the front door as you left. the resounding echo was loud enough to make diluc wince from the study, guilt settling deep in his chest.

perhaps you were being foolish, going out into the night with only a thin layer of clothing and only a small dagger tucked at your side. but your rationality was clouded with frustration, danger the last thing on your mind. the weak moonlight barely illuminated the path before you, but you didn’t care, you needed space, to breathe.

but as that principle goes, you attract what you fear.

hilichurls. their grunts echoing in the quiet night as they had you surrounded, their bats dancing with flames and swinging as they ran towards you. you summoned your dagger, dodging the first attack and swining with a desperate arc, the heat of the wave dancing across your skin, teasing you with dancer.

you were outnumbered and unprepared, but you fought, adrenaline driving you forwards. they were weaker than they looked, but your body had taken a toll. with your clothing ripped and torn in some places, you stumbled home, a deep cut on your forehead the main source of pain, though the pain in your head was a dull roar compared to the turmoil in your heart.

the foyer was illuminated brightly with candlelights, though it remained quiet. with a clatter, you discarded your shoes at the door, head pounding with every step and fatigue seeping into your bones. the familiar scent of old wood and wine filled your senses as you staggered into the nearest armchair, its softness cradling your aching body as you collapsed into the cushions.

with a sigh, you succumbed to the darkness crawling at the edge of your vision.

diluc sat at his study table, trying to complete the paperwork that had been piling on top. his eyes scanned across the same line time and time again. his thoughts, wouldn’t allow him to concentrate, worrying about your safety. in the vast mansion, every creak of the floorboards, every step of the servants amplified the tension in his chest, his ears straining to hear something.

when he heard the muffled thud of shoes against the hardwood floor, he sprung up from his chair, his papers forgotten. diluc threw open his study door, racing down the hallway. his sharp eyes caught sight of the droplets of blood on the floor, his stomach dropping, icy dread chilling his veins as he ran towards you.

your slumped figure lay in the armchair, the shallow rise and fall of your chest a sign of life. the blood oozed from your forehead, dripping down in streams. diluc’s hands trembled as he reached towards you, ripping a strip of his shirt to press against your wound.

“adele!” diluc’s voice yelled out, raw with fear and desperation. “adele, go fetch a doctor! now!”

the blood soaked through the snow white strip immediately, the warmth coating his hands. his heart pounded in his chest as he applied more pressure on your wound, willing the bleeding to stop.

the medic arrived, treating your wounds with practiced hands, his face grim. diluc’s hawk eyes watched every movement, worry worming away in his stomach.

“young master,” the doctor began tentatively, eyes glued to the floor. “the lady may be asleep for a few days, no need to worry of course, but i am just informing you that she most likely won’t wake up today.”

“for her comfort, i suggest moving her to her bed.” the doctor continued, giving his instructions while he cleaned and packed away the bloody medical instruments.

diluc’s breath caught, swallowing thickly. his hands were still sticky from your blood, the heavy silence weighing down on his chest.

“thank you,” diluc whispered, his voice hoarse. the doctor’s words echoed in his mind. with gentle hands, diluc cradled your sleeping form in his arms, pace steady as he walked towards your room.

adele scurried ahead, laying out a change of clothes and preparing the bed. diluc softly set you down, placing your head on the pillow, leaving the room to wash his hands and allow adele to change your clothes with privacy, red hot embarrassment dusting his ears. 

quietly, diluc brought over a chair, sitting down next to your bed, hand hesitantly hovering above yours, before finally settling it on your cold skin. the sight of your head, swathed in the white bandages, tugged at his heartstrings. it was his actions, his words that had caused this. the burden of guilt settled on his shoulders.

“im sorry,” his whisper of apology fell from his lips as he sat next to you, the moonlight filtering through the gap of the closed curtains. underneath the milky light of the moon, diluc sat, a quiet vigil of guilt, praying for your forgiveness when you wake.

if you would ever wake.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[wosoragebaiter69]

you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk part 1 [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige break up and neither of you know how to move on properly with your life

a/n: decided to go for some angst again…didn’t really have an aim or a direction when writing this so not sure if i should turn this into a series or not ? lmk what yall think

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | next

The First Week

In the first week, Paige had fallen into her daily routine. Her moments of forgetfulness were instinctual; she’d laid a dollop of minty Crest toothpaste on her blue toothbrush before doing the same thing to your red one, leaving it hanging over the edge of the counter.

The first time she did it, she’d hadn’t even noticed. It was only when she’d turned her mouth to catch the water under the faucet that she’d spotted your toothbrush that she’d set up, ready with Crest, as if you’d pop in any moment to stick it in your mouth and start scrubbing. Paige had almost choked on the water she’d been gurgling, grief worming its way up her throat and making it hard to breathe.

Heaving, she’d stood over the sink, hand gripping both sides of the counter to support herself until her knuckles turned white. It took all her strength not to buckle over from the precipitous wave of agony that had collided into her with gut-wrenching speed.

But for some reason, Paige had stuck your toothbrush under the stream of water then placed it carefully back in its cup. And so she’d made the same mistake the day after. This time, when she realized what she’d done, it wasn’t the weight of sadness that compressed her lungs, but a brewing storm of fury. Her vision had gone red, and she’d grabbed the toothbrush and hurled it against the wall as hard as she could, with a strength that she didn’t even know that she’d still had. And this time, when Paige stared at the toothpaste dripping slowly down the wall, mocking her as it made a mess on the floor, the counter couldn’t save her. She’d succumbed to the force of her fury dragging her down, and had crumpled to the floor, sobs racking her body.

The First Month

Your room was dark, in almost sub-freezing temperatures with the windows wide open to welcome in the frosty, bone-chilling winter air that Connecticut was known for. The only light in the room came from the dim glow of your laptop screen, opened live to the UConn women’s basketball game playing live on ESPN.

At first, you’d attempted to be nonchalant whenever Paige sunk yet another basket with ease, making the crowd and commentators going feral as she celebrated with her signature moves. But as the game between UConn and Stanford got closer and closer, you couldn’t help but smile when Paige crossed over her defense, sending them flying to the floor and leaving her wide open to score yet another 3. It reminded you all too well of the Paige you’d met and fallen in love with, whose confidence on the court had made you start viewing her as more than just your teammate.

But any trace of smile on your face quickly vanished once you watched Paige’s post-game interview during the livestream. “You’ve had quite a run this season despite being out for most of your sophomore and junior year due to injury. Who would you like to thank for your unpredented comeback?”

“I’d like to thank God. He’s been with me through everything, given me trials to test my resilience. In fact, he’s made me stronger than ever.” Paige had paused. You’d recognized her hesitance; the way she nibbled her bottom lip, her mouth half open as she debated a response, the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered. But she seemed to recover from any reluctance, and what she said next made your heart drop. “I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Leslie.” She motioned to someone off camera, and soon the frame was filled with tousled brown hair and soft green eyes.

Paige pulled her in close, and your world spun as you watched Paige, your Paige, press her lips against the brunette. Your hands had reached up to tear your headphones off your head, unable to further listen to the claps and hoots of the crowd along with the cooing of the commentators without feeling the need to throw up. But before you could, Paige had started speaking again. Your hands froze. You hated yourself for it, but you had to listen.

“She’s been with me through everything, from freshman year to now. She was my number one supporter when I got injured.” She wrapped her arm around Leslie’s waist, staring intently at the camera, and never before had you been this sickened staring at the blue eyes you’d once adored, could’ve spent hours getting lost in. “But even outside of my injury, Les has been on my side. Especially with all the immature drama that happened on the court last year, she was really a clear voice in all of that. So I’m pretty grateful for her.”

Leslie’s mouth split into a grin, and she turned to pull Paige in for another kiss, and that was when you slammed your laptop so hard that when you opened it the next morning, you were surprised to see that the screen hadn’t shattered.

You were not someone who cried. Your family members, your friends, Paige could all attest to that. But the torment that was clawing its way through your body, threatening to suffocate you, finally exploded. Tears had surged from your eyes, seemingly never ending, and you’d cried so much that night that it suddenly made sense why you’d almost never cried before; it was like all the tears in your life had been pent up, waiting for this moment, for when the pin fell.

That night was the lowest you’d ever felt in your life, and possibly even the lowest you’ve ever acted - blinded by a jealous rage over the girl that Paige had always promised you not to worry about, the girl Paige was basically making out with on live television just one month after you guys had broken up (and when it’d taken her two years to show PDA with you), you’d gone on all your social media accounts and blocked Paige on every single one of them.

Then an idea came to you. An act of retaliation that would hurt Paige as much as she hurt you. So you’d reopened Twitter, unblocked Paige. You’d scrolled until you found the perfect tweet. Your thumb had hovered for a split second over the like button, haunted by images of Paige’s hand trailing your stomach, her hair brushing your eyes, her mouth on your neck, before it was violently replaced by the image of Paige locking lips with the brunette flooding your mind, causing you to jam your thumb down with ferocity on the like button. You’d slammed the final nail in the coffin by deleting the app so that you couldn’t go back and undo your action before word got around to Paige.

The First Year

You thought you knew grief. You thought you’d familiarized yourself with every aspect of mourning: the realization in the morning, when your eyes open and you lose the blissful state of dreaming and you’re confronted with the harsh truths of the world. Or the late nights, when you’re restless and can’t sleep because of jealousy plaguing your mind. Even the deep longing of missing someone’s touch so bad that you swear that you can almost almost smell their perfume.

So you thought you knew grief - until your grandma died. It had been a matter of time. She’d had breast cancer, and for years now the doctors had been saying any time. But that still didn’t prepare you for the overwhelming pain that consumed all your senses, making it hard to think or eat or sleep or even breathe.

The first few nights after you received the news, you stared at the ceiling, unblinking until the early hours of the morning when the sun started creeping up through your windows. But you couldn’t even cry; you felt like a broken faucet. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sobbing over your stupid ex that you’d broken up with an entire year ago, but unable to shed a tear for your grandma, the woman who had single-handedly raised you. You were exhausted to the point of no return. When would everything stop hurting?

You’d only torn your eyes from your ceiling when your phone had lit up. It was 4 AM, and you wondered who it could be. You checked your phone, and every part of your body froze when you read the notifications.

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I’m so sorry

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I just heard the news

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

Don’t know if you’re even active on here anymore but it’s the only way I could reach you. If you see this, I just want to ask you to not keep your grief to yourself. Isolating yourself won’t make the pain go away. Make sure to talk to someone

Your heart had ached, your phone trembling in your hand. Because Paige had cared enough to send you a message, on the same app where you’d given the tabloids a wet dream and caused the UConn fandom to go into a spiral by liking a hate tweet about Paige. She’d cared enough to disregard all that to make sure you were okay. But she still hadn’t cared enough to offer to be that someone that she wanted you to talk to so bad.

So you’d left her on read, without responding. Had slipped back into your sheets, your head pounding and your lungs aching. This time the tears fell out easily.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Psst, hear me out: The Beast being fucking yanderes with the ancients.

You Get It™️ I mean... Did you guys see episode 6? Burning Simp Cookie is already a yandere lol. He's been there and he refuses to leave. And Shadow Milk is honestly not that far behind, he feels some type of way towards Pure Vanilla and it would be cute if it wasn't so sad and creepy lol

Really though, I just love hero/villain ships in general (always have, since long before Cookie Run ever existed) and I get a kick out of villains acting stupid over crushes (read: obsessions), and acting stupid in general. There's just something about a villain being in love with the hero to a psychotic, comical degree, and the hero rebuffing them at every turn that's just really amusing to me lol. Like what Joker sort of has with Batman, you know?

Here are my Yandere Beasts in bare-bones terms:

Burning Spice: come on, if you've read my stuff, you know EXACTLY what Yandere Spice is like lol. If not, I'll refer you to this and this, as well as my fics on AO3. If those don't tell you what Yandere Spice is like then idk how else to help you lol

Shadow Milk: if the final boss of theater/drama kids had a crush but was also a malignant narcissist of some sort lol. Absolutely DESPERATE for Vanilla's attention at all times. If he's not actively trying to worm into Vanilla's brain and harass him in his thoughts and dreams, he's in the real world brainstorming better ways to do that lol. He does not grasp why the creepy puppet shows and gaslighting attempts aren't convincing Vanilla to fall in love with him. Will attack and torment and insult Vani in one breath and then praise and love and worship him in another, because he's a histrionic clown freak with whirlwind emotions. But above all else, he literally thinks he owns Vani and is meticulously plotting the horrible and hilarious demise of any and all he perceives as a threat to their union

Eternal Sugar: World's Laziest Stalker™️. Almost exclusively haunts Holly in her dreams (I have to assume that that's what her power will entail, as the Beast of Sloth); however, she's more "effective" in her wooing attempts due to her past experience as the Herald of Happiness. She actually goes out of her way to construct dreams and the like that have things in them that make Holly happy (or what she thinks makes Holly happy; she, as well as the others, has big tunnel vision and is very selfish and self-absorbed, and thus pays more lip service to her own wants than those of who she loves/obsesses over). Thankfully doesn't run into Holly in person often because that's work... but sometimes she DOES work up the nerve to go after her for real, and... well

Mystic Flour: Denial, denial, denial. Not just a river in Egypt the Golden Cheese Kingdom, but she'll say and act like otherwise. No, she does not like Dark Cacao. He robbed her of her volition and the chance to enact her will. He prevented her from freeing the world from pain and suffering. He is a stubborn fool who refuses to understand the truth. He... is very handsome. She does not like how handsome he is. It is distracting. She doesn't like dwelling on her memories of him and their encounters. She doesn't like how she came to harbor a single kernel of respect in her heart after he stood his ground against her; a kernel that she inadvertently nurtured and cultivated slowly but surely, until... no. No, she doesn't like Dark Cacao. She doesn't think about him all day. She doesn't want to try to lure him back to her land so she can trap him in the flour fog with her again. She doesn't miss feeling his dark eyes on her. She doesn't deeply resent his attachment to his people, and seek to transfer that attachment to her instead. No, she... damn it, he's ruined her. He's made her feel things again. He's made her succumb to selfishness and greed, to earthly desire and attachment - desire for HIM, attachment to HIM. All of her hard work and enlightenment gone to waste... She doesn't want to like Dark Cacao, she recognizes the folly in such a thing, but she's stuck - and so stuck is she that not only does she not really see a way out, she doesn't WANT one. She's become too content with her attachment to him too quickly. Now she has to agonize over her own foolishness, and try to keep denying that she doesn't care while also longing for his attention and wanting to do away with all that steals his attention away from her

Silent Salt: probably the least awful of the five, but he's still creepy and that's not a high bar to clear anyway lol. Has a better grasp on "normal" behavior than the others (like... he pays attention to what White Lily likes/wants and tries to adjust accordingly), but he's following her around everywhere and acting extremely violent and territorial over her towards anyone who he catches approaching her. He's legitimately, surprisingly sweet and gentle towards her; he brings her flowers, he listens to her when she asks/tells him something, he's more or less respectful of her personal space (he will try to be as physically close to her as possible, but actually backs off a little if she asks him to, only to try again, and so on and so forth)... but he's still a villain, he's still violent and creepy, he still gets angry when she pays attention to other people for too long and he has brought actual harm to others out of jealousy. He's the best of the worst but that really doesn't mean much of anything, he's still a psycho creep like the others

In short, they form a tight-knit coalition of absolutely fucking deranged freakazoids and they should all probably die :)

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐁𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 8: ROLEPLAY

könig x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: as with all of your bedroom antics with könig, you plant the seed. but when he finally succumbs to your devious plan, you struggle to withstand the heat.

cw: f!reader, roleplay hostage situation, faux attack, faux disregard for partners comfort (könig cares a lot though, i promise) oral sex (m receiving), rough oral sex, face slapping, rough deep throating. 

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 9: WITCH!READER ⇾

The answer is unyielding and finite; ❝ no ❞. 

König was consistent in his promise to separate work from pleasure, so to speak. He refused to amalgamate something as pretty and delicate as you with something as ruinous and hideous as war— as his job. 

KorTac and Task Force 141 were unaware of your existence. König assured you it was for your protection. The less his allies knew about his valuable and beloved, his adversaries knew little still. Despite this, he offered you insight into his hostile world through a minute embrasure; the Scottish bomb disposal expert, Soap, the handsome Gaz who König colloquially named ‘helicopter boy’. Ghost. 

Still, he insisted upon keeping you pure. Scratch free, barren from the agonising shrapnel of grief and the devastating shells of brutal warfare. 

So when you pose the idea, quiet and shy in your approach, of König wearing his tactical uniform and treating you like a captive… The ‘no’ is adamant. However, as with everything you do or say to König, the idea worms its way into his mind. 

Days pass, but the thought seems to stick with König. He’s unsettled, fidgety almost. You suppose he thinks he’s being subtle, but with a frame as enormous as König lugs around, it’s almost impossible for the pitiful giant to do anything indistinctly. One nervous bob of his knee appears to set off avalanches in Tibet. 

When you return from work, everything is still, and abnormally quiet. It’s unusual for the house to be vacant upon your return from work, König always at the door as if ready to spring and remove the damn laptop bag that threatened to pop your shoulder from its socket as though it were an incendiary with a lit fuse. Nevertheless, the lights are off today, and the TV is silent. 

Creeping forward into the apartment, the door slowly swings shut behind you. The click of the lock setting into place isn’t alien to you– but neither is it, it seems, to your attacker. Poised and lethally swift, your assailant leaps from the shadows of the dimly lit apartment and smothers your mouth before a scream can even bubble past your trembling lips. Soft hushes breathe against your ear before terror can truly kick in, a familiar lilting accent turning your knees soft beneath your weight.

“You are to do as I say when I say it, Meine Perle.” König sounds so relaxed, as though he’s not breaking a sweat beneath the tactical vest you can feel digging into your shoulder blades. With a fizzling arousal skittering up your vertebrae and trembling beneath his touch, you nod your head slightly. It earns you praise, whispering a quiet ‘good girl’ against your hairline. 

So in tune with König’s non-verbal commands, you kneel as though he had barked the order when you feel him tap your shoulder absentmindedly. It’s foreign, the disregard König shows to your knees by making you settle on the hardwood floor in front of the entrance door– usually he would situate a pillow beneath you to ensure you didn’t bruise. Not today. You were his hostage. His plaything. 

Gazing up at the startling bulk of the behemoth standing before you, a thrill prickles at the nape of your neck when you watch him unzip his camo trousers deftly. It’s as though your taste buds tingle with anticipation as König pulls his already leaking cock from them, the leather of his gloves protesting quietly as he grips his length hard. 

“Open your mouth.” It’s an order. A threat. Excitement rouses between your thighs as you do just that, gazing up at your captor demurely and situating your palms on your lap. He’s unforgiving, winding your hair around his fingers and violently pulling your mouth onto his twitching cock. 

You barely register what’s happened before the rumble of his groan reaches your ears. A quiet ‘fuck’. 

Then he’s pushing, using the heel of his palm on the curve of your skull to sink you down his length before you’re ready. Firm, velvety flesh hits the back of your throat and sends you reeling, tears welling in your eyes as you gag around him, attempting to draw back. 

“Stop,” he barks, the frigidity of his tone triggering sparks in your abdomen– so unlike König. He halts your retreat, shoving you forward onto his cock until your nose is buried in the thatch of dark curls at the base of his shaft. Salt burns in the back of your throat, and tears spill down your cheeks. There’s a gleam in his eye that tells you he’s grinning. 

“If you value the air in your lungs,” König murmurs, voice sticky and thick with arousal as he rocks his hips slightly, your nose bumping his pubic bone and the head of his dick nudging your at your gag reflex, “it’ll do you good to stay put.” 

Heaving breaths through your nose, you flinch as König raises his leather-clad palm. It strikes downwards, connecting with your cheek harder than you suppose you’d both anticipated– because König lets out a sadistic groan of bliss, head lilting to the side slightly as he tries to bury himself further down your throat. It crushes your nose into his abdomen, and you feel the skin stretched above the bridge wrinkle. 

“Shit–” you hear him heave, the fingers in your hair tightening mercilessly, “I felt that in my cock.” The murmured admission, a slight deviation from that character König was attempting to play. Glee buries itself at the base of your spine, pulses in your clit. 

“Again,” he snaps back into character, with his dick buried as far down your throat as possible. Again, he lifts his wrist, bringing it down with a brutal smack against your cheek. The skin prickles, and you heave against the intrusion of his cock until tears spill down your cheeks. 

König’s lungs rattle with the force of his growl. His eyes are dark behind the mask, pleasure swallowing the pretty jade-green of his irises and he watched you choke on his length. 

Of course he’s getting off on you kneeling in front of him, dick buried in your throat and making a mess of your work makeup— but he can feel the vibrations of his slaps in your mouth around him. It’s making his nostrils flare; you can hear it. 

“A-gain.”

The crack that sounds against your cheekbone this time makes you whimper with the pain that follows. König loses control of himself, it seems, grasping desperately at your skull to hold you in place while fucking into your throat wildly. His head rolls back, grip bruising as his whole body seems to seize. 

Cum spills down your throat, heavy and thick and plentiful. König sounds almost pained by the force his orgasm is ripped from him, groaning loudly and high pitched to your ears as you gag around him again, the squeezing of your throat muscles adding to his bliss. 

“Hah—“ he gasps, pulling himself from your mouth to allow you to breathe. It’s not pretty, the ridiculous sounds of your frantic breathing, but when König kneels in front of you and cradles you in his massive arms, you feel precious. Priceless. 

König presses kisses to your temple, pushes your hair from your face and tells you just that. 

“Meine Perle.” 

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[interastical]

just had a silly idea....how would they respond to reader asking "would you still love me if I was a worm"...any phighters really 👉👈

`` WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I

WAS A WORM ? , ,

" ... darlin' ... what? "

SWORD

Considering how socially awkward the guy is, even with you as his partner, he'd still find himself giving you the most confused stare of his life as the question left your mouth.

"What kind of a question is that??"

When your question is left unanswered for a few short moments, you give him a raised brow and cross your arms - a stupid smirk on your face.

He's flustered, the blush on his cheeks beginning to show.

"Of.. of course I would still love you,"

He'd say, after processing your question - and after succumbing to your teasing and playful glances.

MEDKIT

The question doesn't catch the guy off-guard. Medkit knows you, and he knows how often you ask ridiculous questions when things grow silent between the two of you.

When he doesn't answer, yet still feels your gaze locked onto him, he sighs.

"Don't ask such ridiculous questions. You know I love you."

He leans in and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, letting out a soft, comforting chuckle erupting from your throat.

Your chuckle makes him smile.

VINE STAFF

She hums, thinking over your bizarre question for a small moment. Looking down at the bed of flowers the two of you were just planting, her fingers would brush against the petals of one of the blooming flowers.

"Dear.. the way I wonder how your mind comes up with such silly questions," Vine Staff smiled, slowly and carefully picking the flower off of the bed.

She'd turn to face you, reaching her hand out and placing the beautiful flower onto your head.

"Demon.. worm.. plant.. it wouldn't matter to me." She explained. "You're still my blossom."

SCYTHE

She barks out a laugh that echoes throughout the canyons of Lost Temple - a laugh that you were convinced could be heard for miles.

The desert outlaw wiped a tear from her eye, giving you a playful smirk.

"Darlin'... the things you come up with!"

Scythe strolled towards you, her heels clicking and bringing up small, tiny clouds of desert sand as your posture shifted - instantly becoming flustered up as you felt her reach her robotic, clawed hand under your chin, lifting it up with ease.

"Whatever you are.. it don't matter. You're mine, love. Ain't nothin' gonna change that."

Scythe chuckled at your frozen state, taking the chance to steal a kiss - planting it right on your cheek.

COIL

The two of you were in the midst of a brawl between a bunch of Biografts sent by Subspace to track the two of you down. During the playful banter that you and Coil shared as you both took down the robots with ease, the question came up.

Coil shattered the face of one of the Biografts', before pausing and turning towards you, holding back his laughter.

"Did you just ask if I would love you even if you were a worm?"

You laughed - taking down one of the Biografts attempting to charge towards you, turning your head towards Coil and giving him a wink, sticking your tongue out.

Your intoxicating laughter made the hellhound erupt in laughter as the two of you moved side-by-side to fight together against the incoming group of Biografts.

" Lil' ol' you, a worm? Pshh.. wouldn't stop ya from being cute," Coil grinned sheepishly, sending his own wink your way before rushing ahead towards the small swarm of robots, leaving you stunned for a moment - processing his reply.

With a blush rising to your face, you shook your head, letting out a sheepish chuckle at his goofy behavior, before running after him to lend a hand.

[thedubiousdallon]

Okay, fuck it, I've built up enough goodwill with this sideblog - let's risk it all by sharing my opinions on how Amy is handled in Ward.

It's kinda complicated I think.

Okay, now that I've resisted the urge to immediately hit post for the bit: I think the way her interludes are written substantially flattens her character in a way that I find distasteful and unpleasant, but I find the overall shape of her arc and her role in the narrative compelling. The things I dislike have been well-covered by plenty of other people in the fandom, so I'm going to focus on the things I like.

To talk about Amy's role in Ward, I first need to talk about my interpretation of Ward as a whole. To me, Ward is, above all else, about trauma and recovery. Society is traumatized by the end of the world, the shards are traumatized by the death of Scion and their loss of purpose, individuals are traumatized by all the things individuals are traumatized by. As an aside, this reading is a big reason why I'm not too bothered by a lot of the world building choices that other people frequently (and fairly) criticize - I think many of them serve this theme effectively.

One specific facet of that reading that I find particularly compelling is Ward's interest in people who are traumatized not just by the harm done to them, but by the harm they've done. Characters don't just regret what they've done, they don't just want to be better, they are traumatized by it, and their reactions to that trauma are as messy and complicated as any other traumatized people. I don't always agree with the stances the text takes on how to deal with having done harm and been traumatized as a result, but I find the exploration of the topic compelling.

Enter The Altruistic Amy Dallon.

Amy's arc in Worm was, to a degree, a prototype of this kind of storytelling. She is repeatedly and horrifically traumatized, the actions she eventually takes in response to that experience inflict equally horrific trauma on her victim, and she is further traumatized by her own actions almost to the point of ego death. She removes herself from the environment she was in, begins rebuilding her sense of identity and ethics, and reemerges having grown, prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations for her past actions as best she can. Arc done! It's satisfying and cathartic, and we leave content in the knowledge that the part she's on will take her to better places. It's the quintessential appeal of a redemption arc, and it's a strong example of its type.

There's something people like to say a lot when talking about mental health and personal growth in real life, and that is that progress isn't linear. It's an important truth to understand.

It's rarely true in fiction. Very often, in redemption arcs, in personal growth arcs, after a series of false starts and setbacks, the character reaches a critical point where they resolve their conflict and either overcome it or succumb to it. From that point on, their nature or behavior is fundamentally changed - if they've grown they never relapse past a certain point, or do so only fleetingly, or else never improve past a certain point. This makes sense from a storytelling perspective, but it doesn't map to how growth often works in real life.

In Ward, Amy occupies the very rare narrative position of being who completes her arc of growth and redemption, who crosses that critical threshold of lasting, meaningful change... but backslides anyway, to the point of essentially losing all that progress.

It's an outcome that I find very believable for her, honestly. Her newfound worldview and conviction were forged in the very insular environment of the Birdcage - of course they would be impacted by her new environment. She says at the end of Ward that she had been able to excuse all of her worst behavior because she had convinced herself that she could fix anything - and at the end of Worm, I can see how she would come to think that! She's been pardoned and released from Forever Prison, she overcame her old aversion to brains to create Khepri and thereby saved the world, she's formed a positive relationship with the father she never thought she'd meet, she's receiving love and support from parents she never felt good enough for, she's using her powers to help people in a way that doesn't make her want to die, and she even "fixed" Victoria, when failing to do that before was the final nail in the coffin she just finished clawing her way out of! The sheer number of seemingly impossible things she's accomplished, of apparently irreversible failures she's seemingly put right, is mind boggling! It'd be the easiest thing in the world to let that go to your head!

Her social circle is also a perfect environment to enable her worst tendencies - there's no one left in it whose opinion she trusts that's willing to call her on her shit. Marquis doesn't see anything wrong with her behavior, Carol is trying to make up for a decade of neglect and unwarranted criticism, Mark just wants everybody to get along and be happy, and Riley and Rinke are pretty shaky on this whole human decency thing themselves! With a (not unjustified) pride in how far she'd come, a circle of willing enablers, a complete lack of moderating influences, and a bulletproof get-out-of-moral-culpability-free card, and two years to spiral, I find her backsliding to be completely believable. And given that Victoria is the fly in the ointment to all of this, that her continued refusal to have anything to do with Amy gives lie to Amy's belief that she can fix anything, and thereby puts the entire edifice of her self-rationalizations at risk, it also makes perfect sense to me that Amy would become fixated on her, on proving that she really can fix anything.

Of course, being believable isn't the same thing as being compelling. The thing that makes all this so resonant for me is that, at the end of Ward, after being this grasping spectre that haunts Victoria the whole book, after rejecting countless opportunities to demonstrate a hint of self-awareness or the slimmest motivation to change - Amy does. She sits down with a therapist. She rips off the band-aid - both the metaphorical one and the literal one made out of Victoria's skin, jesus christ Amy - looks at what she's done, at how she went awry, and resolves to do better. And we end with her in essentially the same place she was at the end of Worm: prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations as best she can. But the journey she has taken to get there gives the destination entirely new meaning for me. She's already fumbled her chance at redemption! But her journey gives lie to the idea that you only have one chance, or two, or any finite number! Every moment you draw breath is a chance to do better.

To me, Amy Dallon's arc in Ward shows that the most important step you can take is the next one, and no matter how many times you walk up and down that road, it never stops being true. And I find that compelling as hell.

[101maverick]

hey i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if maybe you could write smth hurt/comfort with jason please? like they had a big fight and then they make up after something happens🙌🏻

A/n: okok srry if it took me a few days but school and other projects are kicking my butt, hope you enjoy!! I decided to use your request to study Jason from a more ak! Point of view if that makes sense? I haven’t consumed the media but i’ve read some really beautiful works with him and hope it makes him justice :)

Word count: 1206 words

Execution At Sundown

Jason was at your place, sitting on the side of the couch with your tv remote by his side, cup of soda in his hand.

He still hadn’t shown you his face even after months of dating, and even though it stung you understood that it was a huge show of trust on his part, so if he was content sipping his soda from a straw that went under his mask you wouldn’t say anything about it and keep your feelings to yourself.

Everything had been going fine, you had just been hanging out while watching a movie.

It all hit the fan when you decided to go get another soda, rising up from the couch and padding down the hallway to the kitchen to fetch the drink.

After retrieving your drink you made your way back, and as the couch came into view you saw that Jason was now engrossed with something on his phone.

You didn’t think too much about it, just eyed the now empty soda resting in his left hand. On a whim, you walked up to his side of the couch and leaned over, going to grab his empty cup to replenish it.

Before you could do much more than make contact with the clothed skin of Jason’s shoulder though you found yourself being slammed back, loosing your balance and falling on your behind.

——————————

Jason reacted out of instinct.

One second he was relatively relaxed on his girlfriend’s couch, looking at a map of his territory for anything suspicious that might be going on, and the next there was a pressure on his shoulder, somebody leaning in and- “Why don’t you scream a bit for me, Todd?” and then there was pain-

He grabbed the body pressing in on him and pushed, slamming his attacker back and watching, half-standing and with his torso turned in a way that pulled at the knotted skin marring every inch of him, and even if the assailant was on the ground they still hurt him, that damned clown still dug his claws in and he always screamed but nobody heard him and-

Oh. It’s you.

It’s you, who had wormed his way into his heart in a matter of months.

It’s you, who had caressed the mangled skin of his hands and said “That’s okay” in response to the proof of him having been broken and put together crooked and wrong. As if it really was.

It’s you, legs sprawled on the floor with a bewildered expression on your face, wide eyes staring up at him in shock.

Jason stares back at you, his own features turned to stone under the mask as he feels his throat close up.

He had hurt you. He had thrown you to the ground. Guess the apple never falls far from the tree then, uh? Guess he was just like Willis after all, smacking around anyone without the ability to control his feelings. A rabid animal.

An animal. A pet. That’s what the Joker used to call him. What the Joker still calls him every day, in his wretched mind. A mindless thing, twisted and contorted to be ready to bend at his master’s will, and the fact he didn’t have one here anymore didn’t mean he was suddenly upgraded to ‘human’, did it? He was still incapable of controlling himself, succumbing to the rage just like Willis had to the bottle. Not even capable of recognising his girlfriend the only person who had accepted his crooked form and chipped edges, throwing her around simply because even gentle and casual touches were ruined for him by that forsaken clown-

“Jace?”

The world comes back into focus, his eyes zero in on the spot of the wall he had been staring at in his haze and then shift down to you, now seated more comfortably on the ground. You haven’t moved, you haven’t come closer to him.

You’re scared of him.

Jason feels his throat constrict, and he punches the words out around the lump forming in his throat. “I- I didn’t- you were- sorry- I-”

Gosh he’s such a mess, can’t even explain to you how pathetic he is, how he still lets a fucking clown torture him with his mere shadow, and now you will realise the honeyed touches are not made for him, not anymore, maybe they never were, or else someone would’ve come-

Now you will realise that all those jagged edges are places you could cut yourself on. Now you will realise a rabid dog like him just needs to be put down for good.

He stutters out a last sentence for you, spits it out on your clean parquet, and even that feels too much like dirtying your sanctuary for his liking. “I- sorry, I’ll- I’ll go-” and he’s not even finishing his sentence before he’s stalking towards your apartment’s door, steps as sure as he can make them as he walks away from the only hands who had held him oh so gently, only like Catherine ever had, his mom, and he wills his legs to keep moving or else he won’t make it out of here for good-

“Don’t leave, please.”

Your voice is quiet, quiet as it breaks his heart and his resolve.

Because Jason has never been strong, and the little crack he can hear coming from his heart hurts but so does the knowledge he’s too weak to keep going the last few steps to your door, the few steps that’ll lead him back to how it was before and you back to a life of safety, free of the burden that is Jason Todd.

He turns around. You’re leaning in the doorway to the living room, staring at him on the other side of the hallway.

Your stance is relaxed. You aren’t holding yourself like you’re hurt. Your eyes are wide, and sad, but they’re not wary.

With his attention on you, you speak again. Your voice is soft, and now also kinda trembly. “I know I don’t know even the start of the story, but I know you have one and it’s the reason things like this sometimes happen.” Your eyes stare into the white lenses of the mask, desperately searching for his gaze under it. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because it isn’t.”

There it is. The proof he fucked it up, like is his design.

“It’s not okay,” you continue, startling him. He was getting lost again. He waits for the axe. “because something or someone hurt you, and you still suffer from it.”

He looks at you. Jason looks in your eyes, and gets the feeling you know he’s returning your gaze.

“I want to help you, Jace. Any way I can. Any way you let me. Because I know that when things aren’t okay, sometimes all you need is someone there with you to help you make it so.”

Your voice was sure through it all, but now it falters a bit. “So, so if you want, I could be by your side. If that’s how you’ll let me help. So, so don’t leave.”

His eyes don’t wander away from you.

And as he gazes into your eyes, glinting with the light from the tv bathing your side in neons, he knows that he never could.

The axe doesn’t fall.

[suroweczka]

Would you still love me if I were an ant? Zoro x reader

Wtf did i write idk

Warnings: Other than being an ant (horrible disease, sending prayers to all affected) and reader being ridiculous and annoying, none, pure fluff😘😘

— The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow over the room as you and Zoro lay in bed. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and you could tell he was teetering on the edge of sleep. But you couldn’t let go of the random thought that had wormed its way into your mind.

“Zoro,” you whispered, nudging him lightly.

He grunted, barely cracking an eye open. “What?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

His eye opened a bit more, and he frowned, confused. “What kind of question is that? You know I do.”

You smiled softly but couldn’t stop yourself from pushing further. “Okay, but... what if I wasn’t me? Like, what if I got turned into... an ant?”

His brow furrowed deeply, and he tilted his head to look at you fully, his confusion now complete. “An ant?” he repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“Yeah,” you said seriously. “If I somehow got turned into an ant, would you still love me?”

Zoro stared at you for a long moment, then closed his eye and groaned, rolling onto his back. “What the hell kind of question is that? No, I wouldn’t love an ant.”

Your heart sank at his blunt response, and you sat up slightly, glaring down at him. “So you’d just leave me? Break up with me? Just because I turned into an ant?”

His eye shot open again, glaring at you. “How am I supposed to love an ant? You’d be... an ant! I can’t talk to an ant, can’t train with an ant, can’t even drink sake with an ant!”

“But it would still be me!” you argued, crossing your arms. “I’d just be... smaller. And maybe a little squirmy.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. “This is ridiculous. I’m trying to sleep, and you’re asking me if I’d date a bug.”

You huffed, lying back down beside him with your arms crossed. “Well, it’s good to know that if something terrible happened to me, you’d just leave me.”

Zoro groaned again, clearly trying to keep his patience. He turned to you, propping himself up on one elbow. “Alright, listen. If you turned into an ant after we’d already been together, I’d... I’d deal with it, okay? I wouldn’t leave you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But if I was an ant from the beginning, you wouldn’t even give me a chance?”

He stared at you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “How the hell would I even meet you if you were an ant? I’m not walking around staring at the ground looking for bugs to date.”

You pouted, turning your back to him. “That’s not the point, Zoro.”

He sighed, sitting up and leaning over you. His tone softened, though there was still a hint of exasperation. “Look. I don’t care what happens to you—human, ant, whatever. I love you. I’ve never given a crap about anyone else like I do about you. You’re the only one who’s ever mattered, and you’re the only one I want to be with. But I swear, if you keep me up with more dumb questions, I’m tying you to the mast tomorrow.”

You turned back to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your grumpiness. “You really mean that?”

He rolled his eye, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, I mean it. Now go to sleep.”

You finally relaxed, snuggling into his chest as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Goodnight, Zoro.”

“’Night,” he muttered, his voice already heavy with sleep.

As you drifted off, content in his arms, Zoro sighed quietly to himself. “miraculously dodged a bullet,” he muttered under his breath before finally succumbing to sleep.

[kckt88]

In The Night.

Summary:

Aemond struggles to cope in the aftermath of killing Lucerys and seeks comfort from an unlikely source.

Warnings - Brothel Visit, Guilt, Remorse, Language, Violence, Angst Uncle/Neice Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal/Anal Fingering, P in V, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Positions.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C - JACAELLA VELARYON

Word Count: 6065

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond wandered the bustling streets of King's Landing, his mind a tempest of recent events and decisions. The cobblestones under his boots seemed to echo the turmoil within him.

His grandsire Otto Hightower's plot to usurp the throne from Rhaenyra had set everything in motion, pushing Aemond into a whirlwind of political machinations and betrayals.

Otto's insistence on crowning Aegon as King, and the measures taken to ensure their success, had left a bitter taste in Aemond's mouth. He remembered the cold determination in Otto's eyes as he had insisted that his wife, Jacaella, and their son, Rhaegar be locked in their chambers, preventing any chance of escape or interference.

Jacaella's pleas still haunted him. Her voice, filled with desperation and fear, echoed in his mind. “Don't do this, Aemond. Please, I’m begging you-”

But he had steeled his heart then, convinced that the end justified the means, his brother Aegon was Viserys first born son, he was the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, not his oldest child and named heir Rhaenyra.

His journey to Storm's End played out in his thoughts like a twisted saga. He had gone there to secure Baratheon's support, promising a marriage pact between one of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters and his younger brother, Daeron.

But it was his encounter with Lucerys that stood out the most. The memory of their confrontation. The chase through the skies on the backs of their dragons was a blur of adrenaline and fear. And then, the final, horrific moment when Vhagar had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

The streets of King's Landing blurred around him as Aemond thought of Jacaella, her grief-stricken face burned into his memory, she had wept for hours upon hearing of her brother's death.

Since then, she had withdrawn from him completely, refusing to be near him, to see him, or even to touch him, even in the presence of their son. The distance she placed between them felt like a physical wound, deep and unhealing.

His heart ached with a profound sorrow. He loved Jacaella more than he had ever thought possible, at first, she was the wife he never wanted, but their fates were sealed that night in Driftmark, after he lost his eye, it was his father’s last desperate attempt to bridge the ever expanding chasm that had formed within the family.

He had lost an eye but gained two dragons that night, and he had loathed his father for it, forcing a the twin sister of Jacaerys Velaryon upon him, but when she arrived in Kings Landing at the age of four and ten, he tried his best to avoid being around her, but everywhere he went there she was, he tried to pretend he was unbothered by her amethyst eyes and flowing dark curls but eventually he succumbed.

She wormed her way into his heart and from their first kiss, he was hooked. She was intelligent, witty and a fantastic artist. His chamber walls were quickly decorated with her sketches, and his most treasured possession was the drawing of Vhagar.

Their wedding night would be ingrained within his memory forever, the sounds she had made as she peaked on his tongue, fingers and then his cock were like song notes on the wind. The marks he had left upon her skin were proof of their love.

He insisted on shared chambers, so they could enjoy one another as often as they wished too, which admittedly was every night and sometimes more than once, there were even occasions when he would find her during the day, and they would sneak off with one another.

It was no surprise when it was announced that she was with child, given how often he gave her his seed. The day she birthed his son Rhaegar was one of the proudest moments of his life, his precious boy, his little silver haired dragon.

Gods how he vowed to always make sure that his son knew of his love, and that Rhaegar would always know he was wanted, that his wife would always know of his devotion.

But now his actions had driven a wedge between them. She was angry and frightened of him, and he was desperate to bridge the chasm that had formed.

But how could he? How could he make her understand that everything he did was for their family's future? How could he win back her trust when his hands were stained with her brother's blood?

As he walked, the weight of his choices pressed heavily on him. The people around him went about their lives, unaware of the storm raging within their Prince. The street vendors called out, children laughed and played, and the city thrived. But Aemond felt like an outsider, disconnected from the world around him.

Aemond stood outside the brothel, his heart pounding in his chest. The sounds of the city seemed distant, muffled by the roaring turmoil within him. He didn't mean to be here, didn't want to be here, but he couldn't help himself.

Desperation and confusion had led him to this place, a refuge of sorts where he hoped to find some semblance of solace or escape from his tormented thoughts.

The sign above the door swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the soft, inviting light spilling from within contrasted sharply with the darkness that shrouded his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door.

The noise and spectacle inside assaulted his senses: laughter, music, and the murmur of illicit activities. He ignored it all, his eye scanning the room.

And then he saw her. Sylvi. The older woman Aegon had brought him to see when he was just three and ten. His stomach churned as their eyes met, a mix of shame and a strange, unsettling familiarity washing over him.

Sylvi's gaze held recognition, and a slow smile spread across her lips as she approached him, her movements graceful and predatory.

"How you've grown," she said, her voice a sultry purr.

Aemond lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. He didn't know what to say, the words sticking in his throat like shards of glass.

He felt like a boy again, lost and uncertain, standing in a place he didn't belong.

Sylvi reached out and took his trembling hand in hers, her touch sending a jolt through him. She led him through the room, past the leering patrons and the spectacle he was trying so hard to ignore.

They ascended a narrow staircase, the noise fading into a dull hum as they reached the upper floors.

She opened the door to a private room and gently guided him inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of incense and something else he couldn't quite place.

Aemond stood there, feeling more vulnerable than he had in years.

Sylvi turned to face him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, perhaps a flicker of compassion. "Why are you here, my Prince?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, his emotions a tangled mess. "I-I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You're carrying a heavy burden," she observed. "It's written all over you."

Aemond closed his eyes, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "I just-I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice breaking.

Sylvi's gaze softened, and she took his hands in hers, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I can offer you something, someone, to help you forget, if only for a moment. Sometimes, that’s all we need."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. But in his desperation, he nodded silently.

Sylvi gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hands once more before slipping out of the room. He sat there, staring at the flickering candlelight, feeling the oppressive silence close in around him.

Minutes later, the door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered. She moved with a practiced grace, her smile polite and professional. "I'm Copper Penny," she introduced herself, her voice soft and inviting.

Aemond said nothing, his throat tight.

Copper Penny approached him, taking his hand and gently pulling him to his feet. He stood there, watching her silently as she untied his cloak and began to undo the clasps of his leather tunic. Her fingers were deft and quick, but as she worked, he caught sight of her eyes—green and bright. Panic surged through him.

His mind was flooded with images of Jacaella, her amethyst eyes filled with hurt and anger. The memory of her face, her voice, her touch, crashed over him like a tidal wave.

It was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. He had a wife; they had a son, he couldn’t dishonour them like this.

"N-No," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Copper Penny paused, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. He could see the questions in her eyes, the silent query of what she had done wrong.

Aemond's panic turned to anger, a desperate, flailing anger born from his own self-loathing.

He pushed Copper Penny away from him, his movements abrupt and forceful. "Leave," he demanded, his voice harsh and unsteady. "Get out!"

Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't argue. She nodded quickly, gathering her composure before retreating from the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Aemond stood there, his chest heaving, his hands trembling with the intensity of his emotions. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in around him.

The weight of his actions, his decisions, and the consequences they had wrought pressed down on him, threatening to crush him completely.

He thought of Jacaella, of their son, of the life he had shattered with his choices. The woman he loved was pulling away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. The realization cutting deeper than any blade.

Aemond collapsed onto the bed, the softness beneath him barely registering as he fought to contain the flood of emotions.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the room spinning around him as he struggled to keep his composure.

The sound of the door opening was a distant murmur, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head or see who had entered.

Sylvi's presence beside him was a gentle intrusion into his storm of despair. She sat beside him, her weight sinking into the mattress, and he felt her hand on his shoulder, a warm, comforting touch.

He turned his head, resting it in her lap, his tears soaking into the fabric of her dress. She stroked his long silver hair with slow, soothing motions, her fingers gentle and patient.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Aemond sobbed, his voice muffled and broken. "I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident-all I wanted was his eye as payment for the one he took from me”.

Sylvi's hand continued its rhythmic stroking, her silence an invitation for him to unburden himself.

"He never said sorry," Aemond continued, his words pouring out in a torrent of grief and anger. "He was never punished for what he did, and I suffered for years. The pain, the infections, the endless procedures to try and fix the damage. He lived without consequence while I bore the scar. My father choosing her-we meant nothing to him, I was nothing"

His sobs intensified, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "And Jacaella," he choked out. "My sweet wife, I've broken her heart. She was the one good thing I had in my life, my light in the darkness-and now she's gone. I've driven her away."

Sylvi's touch remained steady, her presence a steady anchor in the maelstrom of his guilt and sorrow. She listened without interruption, allowing him to pour out the anguish that had been festering inside him.

"I don't know how to fix this," Aemond whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. "I don't know how to make her see that I'm still the man she loved that I never wanted to hurt her. I just wanted justice, for what was taken from me."

Sylvi continued to stroke his hair, her silence a balm to his wounded soul.

In her lap, Aemond wept for all that he had lost, the tears cleansing in their own way.

As the minutes passed, the intensity of his sobs gradually subsided, leaving him exhausted and hollow.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed in a whisper, his voice trembling. "I don't know how to make things right."

Aemond's breathing began to steady, the storm of his emotions gradually subsiding. But as the silence stretched, a new feeling took hold—a creeping, insidious fear.

His confession, the vulnerability he had shown, it was dangerous. If anyone knew, if word got out, it could unravel everything.

Panic seized him. He bolted upright, gripping Sylvi's arms with a strength that belied his earlier exhaustion. His eye, wild and desperate, bored into hers. "No one can know," he hissed, his voice low and trembling with intensity. "You are never to repeat what I just told you-If you do, I will feed you to Vhagar."

Sylvi's eyes widened, but she nodded quietly, understanding the gravity of his threat.

She had seen many men in states of distress, but the ferocity in Aemond's gaze was something else entirely. "I won't tell anyone," she promised, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her heart.

Aemond's grip loosened, and he exhaled shakily, his panic slowly ebbing away. He reached into his belt pouch, retrieving a hefty purse of gold coins, and handed it to her.

Without another word, Aemond picked up his discarded leather tunic and cloak, his movements sharp and hurried. He threw them over his shoulder, his eyes avoiding hers as he made his way to the door. He paused briefly, his hand on the doorframe, as if weighing his next words.

But none came. Instead, he pushed the door open and left the room, the echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Sylvi remained where she was, the purse of gold heavy in her hands. She watched the door close behind him, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

She knew better than to betray the secrets of powerful men, especially one as volatile as Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond walked through the halls of the Red Keep, his mind still reeling from the night's events. He moved quickly, his steps echoing in the empty corridors, until he reached his chambers.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised to find Jacaella there.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Aemond stiffened, confusion and defensiveness flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"

"I know where you've been," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "You've been on the Street of Silk. To a brothel."

Aemond's heart sank. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jacaella's words came in a torrent, cutting him off.

"Wasn't stealing my mother's throne and killing my brother enough for you? Now you have to sully our marriage by laying with whores?" Her voice rose, trembling with emotion. "You have made a mockery of me, of us. You have dishonoured me."

Aemond's face twisted with a mixture of guilt and anger. "Is it any wonder I found myself seeking comfort elsewhere when my own wife will not even look at me?" he retorted, his voice sharp.

The slap came swiftly and without warning. Jacaella's palm struck his cheek with a resounding crack, the force of it snapping his head to the side.

He stared at her, stunned, as she continued to rage, lurching forward pounding her fists against his chest.

"KINSLAYER” she screamed. "I hate you-I hate you-I hate you!"

Aemond stood there, enduring her blows, the words cutting deeper than any physical pain. Each accusation, each strike, drove home the depth of her betrayal and heartbreak.

"I didn't touch another woman," he began, his voice raw with emotion. "I almost did, but I couldn't-"

Jacaella paused, but he could see the slight tremor in her shoulders.

"I just felt so lonely," Aemond continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you hate me for what I've done, and I hate myself too. Every day, I live with the regret, the guilt-I know I destroyed what we had. But you mean everything to me, Jacaella."

“Aemond-”

"I hurt you so badly. I took away your brother, your trust, your peace. And I can't forgive myself for that." whispered Aemond as he took another step closer, reaching out to her.

Jacaella turned slowly to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Aemond felt a lump in his throat, his own tears threatening to spill over. He took her face gently in his hands, his touch trembling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Tears streamed down his face as he repeated the words over and over, his thumbs brushing away the tears that fell from Jacaella's eyes.

He sobbed openly, the weight of his remorse and sorrow overwhelming him. "I don't want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

Jacaella stood there, her heart pounding, torn between the remnants of her anger and the glimmer of hope Aemond's words had kindled.

The pain was still raw, the betrayal fresh, but his anguish and sincerity had touched something deep within her. Without warning, she lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him.

For a moment, Aemond was stunned, his mind struggling to process the sudden, intense contact. This was the most she had touched him in what felt like an eternity.

Her lips were urgent, demanding, and filled with a mix of pain and longing. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before his instincts took over, and he kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her close.

The kiss was a tumultuous blend of emotions—grief, anger, love, and desperation. Aemond held her tightly, afraid to let go, afraid that this moment would slip away like so many others.

He could feel the tremble in her body, the soft hitch of her breath as their kiss deepened. His hands roamed her back, clutching at her as if she were a lifeline.

Jacaella's fingers tangled in his long hair, pulling him even closer, her tears mingling with his. The kiss was a catharsis, a way to pour out all the emotions that words could never fully express.

Aemond's mind swirled with the intensity of it, the world outside their embrace fading into insignificance.

Aemond looked into Jacaella's eyes, the intensity of their shared moment still coursing through him.

He could feel the fragile connection they had just begun to rebuild, and he didn't want to let it slip away. With a deep, shuddering breath, he whispered, "Please, Jacaella-let me take you to bed."

Jacaella looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She could see the raw need in his gaze, the sincere plea for a chance to show her how much she meant to him. Her own heart ached with the desire to find solace in his arms, to escape the pain that had haunted them both.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice breaking. "Please, Aemond, make me forget. Let me feel your love for me."

Aemond's heart soared with a mixture of relief and yearning. He gently cupped her face in his hands, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before leading her to their bed.

Aemond hooked his arms around her thighs, quickly pulling her to the edge of the bed.

Jacaella watched as Aemond opened his mouth spat on her cunny.

His singular eye quickly looking at her before he lowered his head and pressed into her core with his tongue.

Jacaella clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core, licking at her pearl with his tongue. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Jacaella ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby-” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Jacaella.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his wife.

Aemond moved up Jacaella’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Jacaella, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Jacaella’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

Gods he was so desperate for her, his wife. His treasure.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Jacaella desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Jacaella.

"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up his wife’s neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Jacaella.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Fucking mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Jacaella dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

 “Gods, Ella" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what his wife was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Jacaella’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

His wife folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Jacaella.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension  building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Jacaella’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Jacaella, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Jacaella.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Jacaella as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Jacaella once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Jacaella, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please raqiarzy” wailed Jacaella (Beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Valzȳrys-” whimpered Jacaella (Husband).

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Jacaella’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Jacaella took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what his wife wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Jacaella’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.

 “Fuck. Ella-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Jacaella’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the dark messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held his wife tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Jacaella her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Jacaella.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Jacaella breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Ooooh” gasped Jacaella as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Jacaella dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Jacaella as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella her vision going white as she came around his cock.

 Her husband pulled her too him and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“Gods Ella-my Ella” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

“I love you ābrazȳrys-never forget that” (Wife).

Afterwards, as they lay together in the quiet of their chambers, the air heavy with the aftermath of their shared intimacy.

Aemond held Jacaella close, his arms wrapped around her as if he could protect her from the world outside.

"What are we going to do now?" Jacaella whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "I'm scared, Aemond. Scared of the war that's coming, of the losses we will no doubt endure."

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He held her tighter, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities they faced.

"We will leave," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "We will take Rhaegar, and we will fly across the Narrow Sea. Far away from this war."

Jacaella lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. "But your duty-”she began, her voice faltering.

Aemond shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I made a mistake before," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I put my duty ahead of what was truly important— you and Rhaegar. But not anymore. You are all that matters to me, Jacaella. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears welled up in Jacaella's eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and his determination to protect their family. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were her anchor in a storm-tossed sea.

"Can we truly leave everything behind?" she asked softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

Aemond held her close, his fingers gently stroking her hair. "We can," he reassured her, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We will find a place where we can start anew, away from the shadows of our past. I promise you”

"What will our absence mean for the war?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Aemond sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him once more. He held Jacaella closer, as if drawing strength from her presence.

"The only thing keeping Rhaenyra and Daemon at bay is you and Vhagar," he admitted, his voice low and resigned. "Once we are no longer here, they will likely seize their chance to take King's Landing."

Jacaella's eyes widened with realization, the gravity of their departure sinking in. "And what about your mother, Aegon, Helaena, and their children?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond hesitated, his jaw tightening with a mixture of hope and fear. "With any luck," he murmured, "Your mother will be merciful and spare them-”

He brushed a strand of hair away from Jacaella's face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil within him. "But those who committed treason, my grandsire, Tyland, Jasper, Larys-" he continued, his voice hardening slightly, "They will not be spared. I know that-”

Jacaella's voice quivered as she voiced her deepest fear. "What if my mother seizes the throne and sends people after us demanding your head in retribution for what happened with Luke?"

Aemond's heart sank at the thought, but he met her gaze with unwavering determination. "If it comes to that, if giving my life ensures your safety and Rhaegar's future, then I will gladly meet the Stranger," he replied solemnly. "I have made many mistakes, but I will not shy away from the consequences."

Tears welled in Jacaella's eyes as she shook her head, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "No, Aemond," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion. "I won't allow your death. Leaving isn't just about keeping me and Rhaegar safe. It's about protecting you too."

Aemond's brow furrowed with concern. "Jacaella, if it means sparing you and our son from harm—"

"No," she interrupted firmly, her voice trembling with resolve. "I cannot lose you. Not like this."

They held each other tightly, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy between them. Aemond's heart ached with the knowledge of the pain he had caused her, the wounds he had inflicted upon their family. He buried his face in her hair, his voice muffled but earnest. "I am so sorry, Jacaella. For everything."

She held him close, her fingers running through his hair as she struggled to find the right words. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And maybe, in time, I will forgive you for what happened. But I will never forget."

Aemond nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. He kissed her forehead gently, a silent promise to do everything in his power to make amends. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make things right," he vowed quietly. "For you, for Rhaegar, for our family."

Aemond stood at the edge of King's Landing with Jacaella and Rhaegar beside him, Vhagar and Cannibal looming large behind them. His gaze swept over the city one last time, a mixture of nostalgia and resolve tightening his jaw.

He slowly lifted Rhaegar into his arms, the weight of his son grounding him amidst the tumultuous emotion swirling within him.

Rhaegar looked up at him with wide eyes, sensing the gravity of their departure. Aemond kissed his forehead gently before ascending the rope ladder attached to Vhagar's saddle.

As he settled into the saddle, securing the riding chains around himself and Rhaegar, Aemond glanced over at Jacaella. She was already mounted on Cannibal, her posture proud yet tinged with sadness. For a fleeting moment, a pang of regret over leaving their home behind tugged at Aemond's heart. But he pushed it aside with conviction.

This was the right thing to do. For Jacaella, for Rhaegar, for their family's safety and future.

He met Jacaella's gaze across the space between their dragons, offering her a reassuring nod. She returned it with a determined look of her own, her resolve mirroring his.

Together, they were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united in purpose.

Aemond took a deep breath, his hands steady on the reins of Vhagar. With a spoken command, the great dragon spread her wings, lifting them into the sky, with Cannibal following suit, their powerful wings beating rhythmically against the air.

As Vhagar soared through the skies away from King's Landing, Aemond felt the wind rush past him, carrying with it a sense of both relief and uncertainty.

Then, amidst the sound of the wind and the beating of dragon wings, another roar echoed through the air—a familiar, unexpected sound. Aemond's eye widened in surprise as he turned to see Dreamfyre approaching, her majestic form cutting through the clouds.

Strapped into Dreamfyre's saddle was his sister Helaena, and in front of her, squashed together but laughing, were her three children.

"Helaena-what?" Aemond called out, a mixture of shock and concern in his voice.

Helaena looked over at him with a serene smile, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of freedom. "Jacaella" she replied simply, her voice carrying over the rush of the wind.

Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude and admiration for his wife. In that moment, he realized that Jacaella had not only secured their own escape but had also ensured Helaena's happiness and the safety of her children.

Aside from Jacaella and Rhaegar, Helaena and her little ones were the only other truly innocent souls in their Targaryen family.

A sense of peace settled over Aemond as he looked at Helaena and her children, their laughter ringing out in the sky. He had always felt a protective instinct towards his sweet sister, knowing the hardships she had endured within the confines of the Red Keep.

Now, she was finally free to live a life away from the politics and dangers that had plagued their family.

With a nod of gratitude towards Jacaella, Aemond turned his focus back to the horizon ahead. They were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united, bound by love and a shared desire for a new beginning.

As the dragons continued to carry them away from the troubles of Westeros, Aemond felt a glimmer of hope that they might find a place where they could all truly belong, where their dragons could roam freely and their family could finally thrive in peace.

The End.

[ghcstao3]

was??? going through old wips for inspiration and??? no clue when i wrote this, nor where i was going with it, Nor if i’ve ever shared any of it so. let me know if i should continue

‘09 ghoap AU — “one last job” / cw implied drug use

-

The world comes to in a series of sluggish blinks and hazy memories, and Simon already wants nothing more than to crawl back into the hole he’s just emerged from.

The sweat pooling at his temples isn’t exactly conducive to comfortably resting against the wall of the toilet cubicle, skin slick with perspiration keeping his head upright about as effectively as a newborn baby’s neck. But he has no choice so long as he wishes to keep the scant contents of his stomach intact, especially with every swoop and pulse of nausea that washes over him in rhythm with the muted thump of music from the club whose loo he’s been occupying for an indeterminate amount of time. It’s probably disgusting—is disgusting, getting so intimate with the sharpied cocks and vulgar words and stains of mysterious origin plastered all over the partition in such a way, but Simon is dizzy, the wall is solid, and this is hardly one of the worst positions he’s ever been in.

Simon’s leg bounces erratically, the curved edge of the toilet seat digging into his thigh as he struggles to blindly fish his phone from his pocket. His fingers are clammy, tremorous; a frustrated growl tears from his throat when the device slips from his grasp more than once before he’s able to pull it out and pry it open like it isn’t currently the most offensive thing to his senses.

But he pauses, then, not entirely certain why he needed the phone at all in the first place. There had to have been a reason, surely, but as Simon glares at the backlit numbers through a single squinted, bloodshot eye, he can’t find it in himself to be arsed to remember. If he’s honest, he can’t really recall much of anything at the moment, much less why he thought the old burner would serve as any kind of solace, any kind of cosmic saving grace. As it is, the phone is merely a foreign object, silver and scratched and impossible to comprehend the longer Simon stares at it.

An idea strikes him after many minutes have dragged by, whether or not it’d been the one he’d originally forgotten, and he begins dialling his brother—until about halfway through he thinks better of it, knowing that on the off chance Tom actually picks up at this ungodly hour, his voice and inevitable spiel would be more grating than it’d be reassuring, and Simon has already discovered enough new kinds of headaches in the past several minutes to last him more than a lifetime.

He sighs a raspy, crackly sort of exhale, then unceremoniously snaps the phone closed and shoves it back into the lint-filled depths of his trousers. His eyelids are leaden, his shoulders burdened, and he’s content to slump further against the wall and slip back into the embrace of that unconscious void if only because it’s the one thing he can manage without making things worse for himself.

A sudden, sharp rap on the stall door startles Simon just as he’s succumbing to that temporary relief, setting off the drum of his heartbeat like a jackhammer in his chest, a crescendoing panic unhelped by the intruder’s insistence, their continuous knocking on cheap metal. With strength previously entirely sapped from his body, Simon’s sitting up, alert, prepared to flee, even when his aching limbs and substance-addled mind are so adamant to keep him tethered to this, quite literally, shitty place.

“Oi, you right in there?” A Scottish brogue demands of him, booming, deafening; it rattles Simon’s bones, seizes his spine, worms beneath his skin. The words have Simon inexplicably ill all over again, and once he manages to wrench his mouth open to respond along the lines of either fuck off or fuck you, he discovers his mouth has been stuffed with cotton, his lips cracked and tongue stapled in place.

Another resounding beat of knuckles on the door, shoes shuffling on the dirty tile outside. Simon’s heavy gaze drifts downward to loafers far too pristine for an establishment such as this, too expensive and too polished and too out of place, and suddenly he’s even more terrified, more baffled by this individual so keen on seeking him out. Why should someone be so concerned of his rotting away on filthy porcelain, if not for some ulterior motive? If not to ruin him further, somehow more irreparably?

“I know you can hear me, Riley,” the voice says, low and gruff and teetering on the verge of threatening. It speaks a warning, Simon thinks, but he also thinks it could be a million other things he hasn’t the time nor capacity to consider. This warning means little to him, is no more significant than the sweat still beading on the nape of his neck, and he shoves it from his mind with the ease of swatting away a particularly bothersome fly.

He still can’t force himself to reply. Simon smacks his lips instead. He has second thoughts about not calling Tom.

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/746604785112940545/how-would-the-tce-boys-hold-up-in-a-zombie

The Morell one unsettled me fr fr 💀

I like to imagine meeting Santi in a zombie apocalypse though. You aren’t sure of him at first but then you get cornered by some zombies and after he helps you out you accept his offer

Out of all the things you expected to find in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, an incubus is the last one.

Since their method of feeding involves being so close to others, and body fluids, they were a major factor in the propagation of the infection, and also some of the first to succumb to it.

So really, your poor brain is doing cartwheels in your skull trying to understand how not only did you spot a living high-ranking incubus, but said demon also saved you from a considerable horde of zombies.

Santi, he introduced himself as soon as the two of you aren't covered in rotten blood, and he was clearly malnourished. Dim eyes, bags under them and somewhat gaunt cheeks, a sickly sort of hue to his skin. His smile had too much teeth to it and his gaze was too predatory no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

The demon would try to act charming, but the hunger merely being near you would induce had him snorting at the air and salivating as if you were seasoned steak on a platter. You knew what he wanted, just as you do now. Even if Santi had tried to be gentlemanly and claim that he helped you without expecting anything in return, it was no secret those words were only meant to endear him to you enough to consider sex.

He must be too weakened to be using pheromones, because you only ever experience small waves of arousal next to him. They last little and can be ignored with some effort. His mostly futile and tentative attempts to be subtle, to coax you, ruined by his instinctive anticipation.

You knew one day he could just decide to throw you to the ground and fuck the daylights out of you. That he was dangerous, less so than the zombies, but there was still the fear that he would savagely hurt you in his hunger.

Nights ago, you woke up with the sound of him tearing wildy into a group of zombies, frustrated by the inability to gain minimal energy from using their bodies. You think you might have heard him sob then, and in that moment, you could only imagine how such constant starvation must be driving him insane.

He can die soon.

Because, while you can find a can of beans somewhere and be satisfied for a while, Santi can only do the human equivalent of scraping the hints of sugar off candy wrapper.

And that thought scared you immensely. The incubus had been your most reliable source of protection thus far, losing him would mean going back to that permanent dread, that hopelessness, the slow madness of being alone for extended periods of time. But every single day, your hellish guardian grew weaker.

And a part of you thinks the incubus might be fond of you, to not just outright assault you and keep denying his survival drives.

More than merely fond, but that's a can of worms neither of you want to open.

Tonight, you've been awoken again.

The sensation of something wet trailing bare skin had you shivering to awareness, and now you're face to face with the demon. His tongue drooling across your inner thigh, eyes glazed, sweat glistening on his face and a fat cock throbbing between taught legs.

" Please... " He begged, long devoid of any attempt to charm. " Please... "

And it'd be selfish of you not to, right?

He saved your life.

You should save his.

[camillelespanayesbtch]

Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Chapter Content: Funeral, men being violent, fire

Word Count: 3942

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

I will block minors and ageless bios.

Chapter Two

The embers had long grown cold by the time you found it in yourself to lay your mother down so you could prepare her grave. It would take a while to dig the hole, but you didn’t want to rush it as the walls would cave in. You could tell the soil was good, it was dark and fluffy, worms wriggling around in the pile to the side of the hole as you add another shovel load to it. This is what your mother had wanted from you all along, to ensure that the soil that provides you with food had enough nutrition to continue providing, to not starve and sap life from the plants that called the earth their home. The earth, this soil would now be your mother’s home, and you hoped that the insects and bugs would treat her as kindly as she had them.

You wipe the sweat and tears from your face onto your sleeve, smearing the dirt that had got on your clothes onto your face. You lean back against the wall of the grave, tilting your head up to look at the night sky above. The stars were twinkling brilliantly, some even dancing across the sky and kissing the moon as they pass by. You reach your hand out, hoping to capture one of them because where there was light as bright as this, there was life, and maybe just maybe it would be enough to bring her back, but just like when you were a child trying the same thing- the stars were out of reach for they were meant to be untouched, their purpose is to be free, to guide us should we need it. A soft sigh leaves your lips, watching the way the light from the moon reflects off your nails and for a moment you could trick yourself into believing you had the stars at your fingertips.

You turn your head to look at where your mother lay, the light of the moon shining down on her made her body look silver instead of like a body from Pompeii. You plant your hands on the ground above the grave and pull yourself out, taking the shovel with you and stabbing it into the mound of dirt. There was a brief moment where you wanted to keep stabbing the soil, as if to punish it for what had transpired that day, but you had already disappointed your mother while she was living, you did not need her spirit to feel that way too. Your shoulders slump, more sobs wracking through your body, and you would have let yourself succumb to despair had you not been worried the beasts of the night would take to her body. You force yourself to turn around and go to your mother’s body, using your powers to lift her up, the tendrils of red carefully wrapping around her as you guide her into the grave. You lay her gently in the cold dark earth, leaning down to place a bouquet in her hands, hoping it would protect her like the flowers she had woven into your hair did. You stare at her a moment longer, although she no longer had her icy-blue eyes or soft features, you could still tell it was her because there were lines on her face that weren’t burnt- paths created by her healing tears as she cried for you, for herself. No one cried for you as much as she did.

You were careful piling the dirt on top of her, your last act as her caring daughter, perhaps even penance for inflicting so much suffering upon her. She had always told you to be respectful of the dead, be it an animal or human, their body should be cared for just as much as you would have cared for them while they were still alive. A proper burial is essential, each stone placed gently as to not wake the dead. Then the flowers, ones that they loved, ones that will protect them on the other side.

You scatter the last shovel of dirt on the grave before putting the shovel to the side to start placing the rocks. On the underside of each one was a rune, carved into it with your knife, and although you weren’t a protection witch like she was, there was still the possibility they did something- there is still the possibility it will stop the other members of the coven from desecrating her grave. The last stone was her headstone, you carve her symbol into it, a lotus, the representation of the cycle of life. The sound was harsh on your ears, metal scraping against hard stone shouldn’t ever happen like this, and usually it wouldn’t, would it? Nobody would willingly sit on the wet earth under the night sky and carve runes and symbols into rocks to mark a loved one’s grave, they would sooner do everything they could do to ensure their family survives than this. Why hadn’t you done that? Selfish girl. Monster.

You stand up, gathering the last of the flowers and laying them over the stones, “Everything returns to the earth with which we came,” you murmur. You wipe your face again, a terrible aching in your chest as the weight of the evening finally settles in your bones. You understood that there were people out there that lost their mother younger than you, and there was no doubt that was incredibly painful, but tonight- tonight you had lost yours. Then again, those children, those teenagers, they were not the reason their mother died, but you were. You are. Were you really burying her to protect her? Or were you doing that to assuage your own guilt? This was the most genuine thing you have done for your mother in a long, long time. Do not kid yourself, the flowers you gave her, the false apologies that left your lips as easily as milk flows from a cow’s udder, those were not sincere, those were not genuine. You are, and always will be, nothing more than a selfish, evil little girl that you heard your mother call you one meeting.

Just like it had earlier that day, the same darkness settles onto you, and while your cheeks were stained with tears, no more threatened to fall. The switch had flicked in your brain, and as you head back to the house you’d once called home, the bodies of the other witches go up in flames once more. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could hear them screaming and oh how that sent a shiver down your spine. Those women had it coming, always treating you like an outcast, a miscreant, and whispering in your mother’s ear about how you should have been left in the woods as a baby to be torn apart by wolves. You hum to yourself as you walk, your fingers moving down by your side as though you’re conducting a choir, the gesture soothing to you even as you feel the spark of magic jumping between fingertips. Maybe you should burn this town to the ground, get the few good people out with a warning sent on the wind, then sit back and watch the fireworks begin.

The front door was still open when you get back, a few leaves from outside having blown in on the breeze but other than that, there was no evidence of anyone damaging the property. You shut the door behind you, your eyes landing on the chair your mother had sat in, a few petals from flowers scattered around it, the color drained from them. You let out a bark of a laugh at that, pushing off the door then heading upstairs, each footstep hitting the floor with a heavy thud, the wooden steps groaning under the force. You didn’t know what to put in your bag, obviously you needed underwear- you had gone commando once or twice and the sensation was thoroughly unwelcome. But should you pack your laptop? Makeup? It seemed silly, really, to bring those things along with you. You couldn’t take your phone charger because you didn’t know when you’d next be in a building with a plug, maybe you could get one of those solar chargers on your adventure. You toss a few clothes into your backpack before going to your bed where you pick up the soft toy you’ve had since you were a baby, it had definitely seen better days, but it still provided you comfort. You stare at its black beady eyes, able to see your reflection in them and you looked so small in those little eyes, the black exaggerating the filth that you were covered in. Should you shower? It seemed rather pointless to wash the dirt and grime from your skin when you were about to spend lord knows how long wandering the great outdoors. You didn’t want to catch ubers to other towns as it meant waiting around for them to arrive which gave ample opportunity for the rest of the coven to lynch you.

You hug the toy close to yourself, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mother’s perfume that had been sprayed on it. The toy provided such comfort to you, your heartrate slowing down as you continue to take deep breaths, and if you let your mind wander you could almost feel your mother’s arms wrapping around you, her soft voice in your ear “You are kind. You are smart. You are my beautiful little girl. Never forget, mama loves you.” You wish you hadn’t heard that last part because how could she say she loves you then cast you aside to burn? How could she have admitted to the other members of the coven that she knew you were evil, agreeing with them when they said she should have left you in the woods then come home to you and profess her love? You didn’t understand. You grab the toys head with one hand, your other hand gripping the body and you start to twist it, the fire returning to your eyes, “If you want me to burn, then I’ll burn everything that once was mine.”

Try as you might, the threads holding the toy together did not budge, no fabric tears as the head twists three-sixty. You swear loudly, going to throw it on the ground when a glimmer catches your eye- only when you look closer could you see that the thread was gold. Of course, you think bitterly, of course. Your mother must have known from the moment you left her body that you would be an angry girl, that no amount of love she pours into you would make you calm like she was. No amount of food laced with calming herbs, nor drinks brewed with nothing but love would dull the volcano that bubbled deep within you.

You feel your hands warm up, not bothering to take deep breaths to calm the impending combustion, and soon enough you were holding the toy as it starts to burn- the flames licking up its sides, wrapping around the toy in a cloak, the smell of burning cotton hitting your nose. It was frustrating, watching it clearly on fire yet none of the fur was turning black, the beady eyes did not melt, and if you were being honest, that made it worse than actually destroying something that had once provided you such comfort all those years ago. “Why won’t you just die?” You ask it, voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames, “Just break. Break. Break.” Please.

You toss the burning toy onto your bed, gathering the last few items you wanted and stuffing them into your backpack before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. The smell of burning fabric fills the room along with thick black smoke, the substance staining the white walls until they too were consumed by flames. There was a strange comfort in the warmth of the fire as they lick at your skin like snake tongues, tickling what skin was available to them and threatening to further ruin your clothing. You reach out, your hand hovering above the flames, your fingers moving as though you could make the fire dance the way you want it to. The heat stung, were you anybody else, your skin would be threatening to blister, filling with liquid then bursting, or perhaps it would melt off like it did those men. Part of you hoped that it would, maybe then you would understand why your mother had begged for you to stop, why the men had screamed so loudly with the echoes of all those that had perished before them. Maybe you did deserve to burn after all.

You let out a laugh and shake your head, don’t be so foolish. You did what you had to do, didn’t you? So what if a few men got hurt in the process, how many thousands of women have been hurt because of them for no reason? They had it coming. They only have themselves to blame. You leave your room, humming to yourself as you make your way downstairs, the burning inferno surging after you, spilling down the steps behind you and reaching out to wrap around your feet. You and your mother were the only ones to sing this song in your coven as the elder-witch had forbidden it, claiming it had been used for centuries to lure witches to their demise. How could a song do something like that? All songs have stories to them, it didn’t make them true. Yet, whenever you hum the tune, the ballad, you could feel your magic crackling under your skin, at the tips of your fingers like electricity- whoever created it knew what they were doing, and deep down, you didn’t blame them for using it to their advantage. People hate to see a woman succeed.

“You can burn the place to the ground, but it won’t hide what you’ve done,” a gruff voice says, a husband of one of the women whom you had killed at your attempted execution. He was holding a crossbow up, the sharp tip of the arrow pointing at you, the steel reflecting the fire that was starting to creep along the ceiling towards the only exit, the beast starved for oxygen. He narrows his eyes at you when you don’t flinch, instead, holding your head up higher, your fingers twitching by your side as the tips begin to glow. “You killed my wife,” he continues, “You turned my daughter against us. There is no space in this coven for someone like you.”

You run your tongue over your teeth as a smirk tugs at your lips, shaking your head slightly you then suck in a breath, “Me?” You ask innocently, putting your hands behind your back and shifting your body slightly like a child would when trying to get out of trouble, “Little old me?” A chuckle rumbles from your chest before escaping from your mouth, quickly turning into a cackle that makes the man step back, his crossbow wavering, “It’s not my fault your daughter saw you two for the sad, weak, pathetic little witches you really are.” If you twisted the knife a little deeper, he’d soon cave in to his base instinct, all men do and that made them terribly predictable. “Heaven forbid I treat your daughter better than any man could. What? Can’t handle another maiden treating her right? Is that because you were busy the next town over fucking someone her age? Tsk, twenty-three is a bit young for you, don’t you think?”

“You little bitch!” He yells, tossing the cross-bow to the side as he storms up to you, his hands coming up to wrap around your neck like a noose. His thumbs press into the center of your throat, his fingers squeezing and cutting the flow of blood to your head. He doesn’t even realize that your eyes fill with burning flames, nor does he swat your hands away as the grip his head, his anger fueling him to keep going even as your thumbs start to press into his eyes. “You can’t kill all of us,” he growls.

Your head was starting to pound, your face growing hot as you start to feel the effect of lack of oxygen, but as that happens, the build up of energy in you only grows. Your hands were burning, leaving handprint burns on his face, the heat traveling throughout his body and starting to boil him. Only then, only when his insides start to turn to soup does his grip on you disappear, the man clawing at his clothes and stumbling back as he tries to escape his fate. “You can’t-“ He falls to the ground, writhing in pain, “You can’t- You can’t escape what you are-“

You stand over him, your chest heaving as you grapple the overwhelming magic trying to find balance in your body, “What I am?” You laugh, the sound drowning out the crackling of wood and shattering of glass from the heat. “What I am?!” You crouch down, grabbing his jaw roughly with your hand and watching his eyes grow redder as his capillaries burst, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you murmur, a feral look on your face. You push his head away before standing up, watching as his body is engulfed by flames.

You rub your throat, hissing as your fingers press against the bruising. How long would it take for them to fade? Your mother would have healed them, the skin looking perfect once more, but she was no longer here. She wouldn’t ever return. You didn’t know how long it would take for it to naturally go away. Would it be gone tomorrow? Or would it take longer? Maybe you could Google it, although that in itself was a bad idea. You adjust your backpack then hold the straps as you walk out the front door, the house caving in as its framing yields to the hungry inferno. You had no idea where to go, but you knew you couldn’t stay here. If he found you, it wouldn’t be long before others joined.

Long after the fire had burned, leaving behind smoldering embers of the house, only then did the witch dare to step out from where she had been lurking. She took a few tentative steps, looking around to see if there were any onlookers but thankfully, for their sake more than hers, there were none. She rolls her shoulders back, tilts her chin up then saunters towards the coals, each foot placement careful because she certainly didn’t want her shoes to get dirty, and this place was a tip. Why hadn’t you tidied up a little bit, hm? Your mother would be so disappointed, and besides, it’s not like you had anything better to do with your time. Ha! Oh, she makes herself laugh. She is terribly funny, a comedienne if you will.

She uses a stick to poke around the in embers, letting out a huff every time she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. She isn’t a very patient woman, and this is certainly testing every single ounce of patience she has. She was close to giving up, even though she would never actually admit to it, when she sees a glimmer of gold, “There you are,” she murmurs, flicking her coat out as she crouches down to pick the sooty toy up. She dusts it off with a grimace, the ash falling off with ease until the toy looked normal again. The beady black eyes stare into hers, a chuckle rumbling from her chest, “Take a picture, why dontcha? Get my good side.” She turns her head before laughing, “Oh who am I kidding? Every side is my good side, you flirt.” She winks at it before making her way off the rubble, dusting herself off and letting out a sound of disgust. Why did everything involve so much fucking dirt??

The witch looks at the toy once more, she could feel the protection spell emanating from it and she, better than anyone else, knew that it comes from the purest thing out there- a mother’s love. It made her sick. How could someone claim to be a good mom and do what yours did? So what if you were a little- psychotic, all the best women are! There’s nothing wrong with a little murder every now and then, it’s what makes life more interesting. And so what if you got a little pep in your step after because their energy is intoxicating? More power to ya! She loved a little energy drink too, and she certainly isn’t talking about redbull. There she goes again, making herself laugh. Her humor never ceases to amaze her.

“Who are you?” A voice asks her, making the witch whip her head around in the direction it came from. “You’re not from here. I know the faces of all the women in our coven- Well, the ones that remain, and you’re not one of them.”

A young little thing, how sweet. A little bit too big for her britches though, brazen in asking the [Redacted] who she is. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, little girl?” She asks the young woman, her eyes running over the figure before looking at her once more. “Don’t tell me… Your mother was burnt like an over-cooked chicken wing, huh? Maybe if you add a little hot sauce she’ll come back, the little zing might just-“ she gestures with her hands like she was shocking someone, “Zing her back to life.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” the young woman bites back, clenching her fists beside her. She knew the risk her mother faced because she had pleaded with her not to do it, but there are laws in covens and they need to be followed, no matter the personal cost. “You can’t be here. You need to leave.”

“Aww, did I touch a sore spot, hm? Maybe I should have called her one chicken nugget from the pack of- what, seven? Did the McDonald’s workers toss an extra one in for good luck? And where’s the sweet and sour sauce?” Her own fingers were twitching by her side, the toy now safely in her pant pocket. "What is a little thing like you gonna do about it? You’re no bigger than a French-fry.”

“Stop!” The witch screams at the unknown woman. She takes a few breaths to calm herself, letting out a sigh after, “My mother told me about witches like you. I won’t let my anger make me a victim. You’re not welcome here. You must leave before the men find you, they don’t take kindly to strangers.” She takes one more look at the mystery woman before turning and heading back to her home, she would tell her father about this if she remembered.

The mystery witch lets out a frustrated groan, stomping her foot, “Ugh!” What is it with people being taught how to regulate their emotions these days!? What was wrong with the good ol’ pure unadulterated rage!? Pathetic. She rakes her fingers through her hair, the gesture soothing her before she heads on her way, the toy heavy in her pocket. It wouldn’t take much for her to find you, just follow the ashy road. Maybe she could make a song about that- follow the ashy road. You’re off to see the- the… fuck. Who were you after? Ugh.