#i love him very much i just also hate him

[crispy-art-on-fire]

I read Shattered Glass and like everything I need to combine two interests together for enrichment (Also I needed a break from writing the fic). Also very much inspired by @pritong-baboy 's own SG!Shockdad au because ooo that gremlin child + Reluctant dad combo.

To keep conventions I think SG version of "What if Longarm adopted sparkling Bumblebee" would be sooo much worse. Like for Autobots Caretakers are basically drill sergeants for toddlers to raise emotionally stunted killing machines. When Shockwave is forced into adopting B-127 it horribly sabotages his operations as he just cannot bring himself to Do what they want from him.

Instead of making this Bumblebee a well adjusted person the constant push and pull of Longarm having to act distant and Shockwave trying to be a good dad it fucks him up severely. He wants the love and attention but when Longarm cares it's out of weakness, so that means that Bumblebee craves it makes him weak too. So he hates Shockwave as much as he loves him if you get me, he always need his attention but also to kill him.

In this version Shockwave is still a loyal Decepticon who while cried when Bumblebee disappeared also thought "I'm so glad I won't have to be his enemy". Unfortunately he isn't so lucky for Bumblebee to stay dead.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Hi! I have it as a general rule of thumb online that if I’m going to engage in a debate, I do so politely and with earnest, even if I disagree, which in this case, I still do.

I appreciate you breaking down your thoughts though! I apologise for taking so long to reply too.

I think it’s important that I begin this by establishing that with the term red flag, I mean a warning sign. Obviously, we have the wonders of hindsight that Padme did not, but I don’t think that erases the fact some of the things Anakin said were warning signs, and Padme was willing to brush past them, because she was in love, and he saw her as Padme, not a senator, or a queen.

I understand the point of comparing Anakin’s mindset to the Jedi Council, but I think it’s also important to take into account Palpatine is also a large influence on Anakin’s life, and his view on politics. The lines, in this case, do start blur with that context. That, and the fact he’s okay with what Padme points out is a dictatorship ‘if it works’ or if it’s necessary, is still a huge warning sign that Padme then chooses to overlook, rather than address, or even educate Anakin on.

And I’m sorry, but I cannot, in any good conscience, agree with the statement that a massacre is not a warning sign.

Yes, we have a psychological reasoning for Anakin’s behaviour, and I do feel sympathy for him, but that doesn’t change what he did. And, if you are going to argue the massacre itself isn’t a red flag, then understand the motivation behind it, and how dangerously far Anakin is willing to go for the people he loves is. We see this at its worst in ROTS — the Tusken Massacre is a direct early parallel to that I’d argue, on a much smaller scale.

Anakin’s regret to me doesn’t stem from a place of the Tusken’s fate either. He refers to them as animals. He hates them — intensely so. But he regrets how he failed as a Jedi: “I know I’m better than this.” I rewatched the scene and that’s how I understood it.

I think Padme made the right move in comforting, in regards to handling what was clearly Anakin experiencing a split (BPD terminology), but at the same time, the fact she pushed aside all of that, and never once set boundaries, was not good for either of them.

And I also think objectively, someone showing they are very capable of mass murder for those they love is just… a very bad sign. It doesn’t matter why at that point. Because then it’s a question of how far can they go if pushed?

I would also rather we didn’t mention the existences of real life examples when trying to explain why a genocide isn’t a warning sign either. There are a lot of times I think comparing Star Wars to real life is understandable — even encouraged! — but this is not a context I think you should be doing that.

I will die on the hill that to understand Anidala you have to accept that Padme saw the red flags clear as day and went for it anyway. Why? Because Anakin was honest with her. Because Anakin, for all his idolising and putting her on a pedestal, still saw and treated her as a human being, even argued against her at times without fear or without hiding behind clever words. Because Anakin made her feel the youth that was taken from her at a young age. She was captured by the boyish charm and the awkwardness and the blunt honesty, and so when he came to her with a billion red flags, she went for it anyway. He was a breath of fresh air to her.

To understand Anidala you must understand they are 100% freak4freak. They are both children who grew up too fast and are now in a secret relationship giggling like teenagers in their twenties. This is vital to them. Padme is not a flawless character or an idea of perfection, on the contrary she is a very human character who was put in charge of her people at fourteen, something that had a lasting impact on her, and so she is choosing her childhood joy and a fairytale romance over the red flags her husband is waving. She is the OG ‘I can fix him’ mentality. No one is doing it like her.

‘The red flags are mass murder’ and the point still stands.

[nemesyaaa]

feel it coming // older!rafe x daughter's bff! reader

summary : you're maybe not a good friend but at least you're a good girl.

warnings : +18 content. strong age gap. smut. older man/younger girl dynamic. smoking. smut. p in v. oral (f. receiving). friend/dad betrayal. reader isn't guilty. sweet burns by cigarettes. lil fantasy. daughter's best friend trope. sir/young girl nicknames. be aware of the warning before reading.

author's note : none.

You were everything bad, the bad daughter, the bad friend, the bad girl, always needy or whimpering for everything. you were so envious of your best friend because her dad was so kind to her. that's the treatment you've been craving for and always wanted but never received. so you started to want this attention, always beingat the house of your best friend even if she was not there. knowing that rafe was divorced was also such a boost for you because you could act like his wife while no one was there. you were sweet and innocent like a flower, but also very young. the same age as his daughter. you could be her, but you were far better.

So you were at home so often, doing chores, acting sweet and caring. You took care of his laundry, you cooked his meals, you put his beers on the fridge to get them cold, you ironed and took care of his shirts, also, cleaning the house as if it were your own.

Since his ex-wife left, his daughter was somewhere with her boyfriend, you kept Rafe company. It wasn't a pity concern, but he was almost forty and he needed someone to take care of him, but more importantly, to be there for him. You were there for him, you might have done too much, but he never complained.

You were also there for his friends when he invited them over to watch the games at home, bringing new packs of beer and making sure they had enough to eat. You didn't hesitate to cook again, and when you were tired, Rafe would let you rest on his lap, ignoring his best friend's stare.

At first, Rafe wasn't really into corruption. You were fragile, sweet, and kind, so easy to manipulate and break. You were a dangerous temptation, his daughter's best friend. He hated the way your eyes were always tearful and innocent, begging not to be ignored. How was he supposed to care for you when you looked at him like that as such a nervous and little thing, so eager to satisfy and please him?

And you were so young. Literally born in the same year as his daughter. He could bet you were a virgin. How could he not corrupt you when he was already eager to teach you everything ? Was it an old man thing? The urge to teach you everything, how to kiss someone, how to pleasure yourself, how to make you feel good, how better you will be with him rather than the other guys ?

You caught him lost in thought on the front steps of the house, the perfect time to go see him. You held a beer in your hands that you had already capped and you came to sit on his lap with your favorite innocent expression.

He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke blowing over his face. You thought he was gorgeous, and it was unfair, this handsomeness as he was getting older. He was also so big; you could feel it just by sitting on his muscular legs. But also his shirts, which compressed around his muscles. And his hands, you loved playing with them, old man's hands. That was your weakness. They were strong and huge. The veins were large, but they were thicker when Rafe was groping at you.

His gaze fell on you, before he placed the burning end of his cigarette against your bare thigh. You cried out, hurt by the sudden pain of the burns.

"It hurts... really hurts!" You sniffed, as he gently mocked your pout.

"I know it hurts, baby. But It also hurts to see you wearing such vulgar clothes, because you're such an attention whore."

"So you're punishing me?"

He placed his cigarette against the inside of your thigh, watching the light quickly burning your skin. He showed you how short your skirt was by running the nicotine stick along your inner leg.

" It's not like you hate that. " he said while pressing the cigarette against the wet spot of your panties, exposing your sweet lie.

“ You like the pain. " He continued by dragging the stick against your clothed drenching folds, before slowly pushing down the burning side.

Your cooed noisily, your head turning over to the side of your shoulder. Your legs were trembling from the sensation. That was hurting but you wanted more.

" P-please..." You pleaded out, tears running down your cheeks while muffling your pain. “ S-s-stop...we can't do this outside. ”

“ Always bragging your slutty behavior and now acting ashamed about some invisible neighbors ? "

" What about your reputation ? "

" I can fuck who the fuck i want. " He said firmly, switching his place with yours to put himself between your legs.

“ But I'm very young..."

" Right ? " He carefully answered before his fingers slipped into your pussy. " Make sure they know how much then while I'm taking care of your pretty little cunt. “

Your cheeks heated. You know he was better than you at those kinds of things, his fingers were skilled enough to make you feel so good that soft moans were escaping your mouth. He was fingering you softly at the beginning, little and gentle strokes preparing your sweet core for his thicker cock. You loved everything about his hands, but damn, his fingers were insane, they knew how to please you. You can feel the huge ones brushing against the wetness of your hole, ramming back and forth until your slick hang agape everytime he was fucking you. You squirmed when the pad of his thumb played with your throbbing clit, drawing small circles, his skin rubbing gently the swollen bud, while your core was clenched hard around his fast digits.

When you were comfortable enough, his fingers took a quicker pace, speeding his movements so fast that your own hand reached without your consent against his to attempt a slower rhythm.

“ Do that again, and i will make sure all the town know what we're currently doing. ”

You removed your hand so fast and his smile widened over his lips. He was moving so rapidly inside you, the bump of his knuckle hitting you hard, squishy sounds of your pussy getting fucked brushing your ears. you should be ashamed for enjoying the feeling of your best friend’s dad stuffing your sopping core with his fingers, but also for being wet enough to hear your own arousal wetting his skin. that was such a suffocating and weird feeling. but you were fingered too dumb to bother, and it's not like you wanted him to stop. “ Stop thinking. You don't need anything to worry about. ” He said with a hoarse voice, as his thrusts got powerful.

“ You're such a bad friend, little girl. ” He murmured while pushing roughly his fingers in your insides.

“ Think you're a better person for fucking your daughter's friend ? ” You teased back, bucking your hips widely against his soaked hand. “ I never said i was a good friend, but i can be really good , sir. ”

He moved his thumb against your lips to trace the line of your mouth, and also for shushing you. Another little cry came from your eyes because of the sweet attention he gave you, so you kissed the pad of his thumb, before sucking it slowly, your tongue rolling sweetly against his skin. He watched you sucking his finger, getting him wet with saliva and spit, but also disappearing in the inside of your mouth, the gasp sound of your throat following every of your back and forth.

You were such a dangerous temptation, the one that made him lose his mind. You could break his whole world he wanted. But he was still fingering you, pumping his fingers in and out until your folded slick left soaked on his skin.

"Keep that for me," he said, placing his cigarette between your parted lips. "Careful, sweetheart. The ashes burn, but you already know that."

It was cruel to point out your pain, still slightly warm and unhealed. But before you could reply, his mouth traced the outline of your burns, tongue slid against the hot skin while placing small kisses on them, easing the suffocating pain of the heat.

"How does it feel?"

"B-better..." you cried out.

"But you're still crying. Aren't you tired of being a fucking crybaby?"

"You're the one that makes me cry!" you answered and twitched at the hold of his hand on your thigh.

"I'm the only one, yea. Keep this in that dumb mind." he corrected you before pushing his tongue between your walls.

You really had a hard time holding the cigarette between your lips while Rafe's was eating you. His breath was heavy and hot against your dripping cunt, as he was giving you fat licks, swiping all his tongue over your pussy and clit. he's pushing it deep down your core, making sure you feel him inside your walls, while gripping tightly at your hips to make you stay still. all his mouth was over you, sweet rubs from his nose against your clit while his tongue was lolling the inside of your pussy. his hand was resting in your inner thigh, as his face was literally buried against your cunt.

The swirls of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you shiver, and breath senseless. while he was eating you out, his face glistened with your own wetness, his chin coating at your arousal. the taste of your pussy was so sweet that his mouth was sticking to it. he was crazy with his licks and was making you arche widely on the chair. you felt so good, insanely good that it was impossible for you to not move your trembling legs.

The moment he was inside you, you lost it. His dick was huge. you weren't prepared for the fatness of his cock but you couldn't think about it longer because he was driving his whole length inside your cunt, running all his inches step by step on your walls. Since the day his wife left, Rafe haven't sex with someone. you were the first one after such a long time and how bad for you, because he needed to release all the frustration inside your hole. And your pussy was perfect for that, so tight and immaculate. He was the first one inside it and he made sure to leave his print. He was going back and forth, slamming his built hips against your skin. All his thrusts were insanely hard and merciless, running on your fucked core to the point of lefting you dazy.

He knows how to fuck you, because he literally dreamed about this moment since you entered the house. He wanted to fuck your little hole for so long, fisting his own throbbing dick on the bathroom while you were with his daughter on the living room, watching some stupid movies or in her room speaking about useless boys.

And as the sweetheart you always been, you always wanted to help him. With dishes, laundry, dinner, groceries and every domestic task.

But what if he needed you for more ?

And now, he had you. all for him. Squirming and moaning against his hefty body, trying to escape from his evil strokes but you couldn't. He wasn't okay with leaving you, and especially, when he has his full aching cock buried inside your soiled walls.

He was looking at you with no shame while pounding inside you. His phone buzzed on the little table. but he ignored it. All his attention was for you. And you smiled through the pleasurable pain, through the hot tears and falling ashes on your skin.

But the second after, your phone buzzed too. but you decided to ignore it too. it wasn't like you could do a single move, and you didn't want to. You knew damn well who it was, and Rafe too. But the two of you were fucking nasty on here too care.

You literally came on his dick, soaking all his driving length. It didn't take long for him to join you, and release his seeds over your pussy.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't make you pregnant. He had his own limits.

You kissed him on the mouth, making sure to have a taste of his lips before leaving. you always loved the feeling of his warm tongue against yours, and especially this time. after a long make out, his rough muscle was highly soak and limp, following the movements of yours.

“ I really want to be with you. " You confessed. "Your age gap is not that strong..."

“ Not that strong ? I’m the dad of your best friend, angel. I shouldn't be playing around with such a young thing like you . ”

“ She's not that special for making you a dad. I could do this too...if only next time, you accept to breed me…” You said playfully, biting so hard the bottom of your lip while looking at him.

" Don't be a brat. " he warned.

" Then don't force me to be. ”

“ I can't believe i fucked you few minutes ago. ”

“ Too old to trust that dick anymore huh ? ”

“ Yes, I'm old enough, sweetheart but not for your fucking mom, so if you don't want your best friend as your beloved sister, care to shut that bratty mouth of yours before I'm making sure you finally have someone to call dad in your life. Now, go take a shower.”

Sometimes, he could be so mean. And you hated it.

“I’m better than all the women you can have.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I already have such a good relationship with your daughter.”

He almost choked with his breath as he heard your answers, didn't know if you were serious with that fucking attitude.

"I swear, you're really fucked up in the mind, young girl."

“And it’s just the beginning, sir.”

“I thought you were kind of sweet and innocent but you finally showed me your true colors.”

“I just love you so much.” you admitted. “I don't want to let you go with someone else.”

“Why don’t you go around boys your age?”

“Will you let me fuck with stupid boys my age?”

"You're free to do as you want." he lied. “I’m not your man.”

“But I don’t want to be free.” you confessed. “I want to be yours, chained to you. ”

[dreamersparacosm]

under the checkered flag - epilogue blurb 1!

prompt ; in which your boyfriend, who’s normally all confidence, cockiness and self-assured, turns into a pouty, jealous mess when he remembers how much of a catch his girlfriend really is.

warnings ; unprotected sex, lil bit of oral (m recieving) (also this is not even a blurb. this is a whole ass story. also wrote this hungover so if there’s grammar errors… welp. idk how i got so ahead of myself pls help)

request ; linked here

part of the under the checkered flag universe

You’re not entirely sure why you agreed to this.

The room is packed: it’s loud, buzzing with conversation, glittering lights and expensive diamonds you could never dream of affording, filled with the kind of people who look like they walked off the cover of Vogue. Jungkook, of course, is in his element, shaking hands, flashing his signature grin, seamlessly weaving through the crowd like he was born for this.

Meanwhile, you are hiding behind him like a child.

“Baby,” Jungkook murmurs over his shoulder, amused. His hand rests against your hip, keeping you tucked close as he greets another executive, another industry legend who already knows exactly who he is. “You gonna say hi or just use me as a human shield all night?”

You huff, clutching onto the sleeve of his tailored suit, peeking past his shoulder just enough to offer a shy, “Hi.”

The older man chuckles, shaking his head. “Cute one you got there, Jungkook.”

Jungkook beams, unbothered. “I know, right?” His fingers tighten around your waist, clearly very proud of you, and he wants everyone in this room to know exactly who you are.

And, to be fair, they already do. Your face has been plastered across every media outlet since his last race a few weeks ago, the headlines barely able to contain themselves. “Jeon Jungkook Off The Market: Meet the Woman Who Stole His Heart.” Paparazzi shots of him running to you after his win, kissing you in front of thousands, wrapping you in his arms like you’re his greatest trophy. Really, it was getting a little overwhelming.

You smile up at him as the aforementioned man turns away to entertain another person “Why are you doing this?”

He bites back a smirk. “Doing what?”

“Introducing me to every single person like I’m some mystery. They know who I am, Jungkook.”

“Do they?” He grins, leaning down, voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “Because I don’t think they know you’re the love of my life yet. Want me to make a bigger announcement?”

Your face bursts into flames. You slap his side, making him laugh as he pulls you closer, not letting you escape even an inch.

“Relax, my love.” He presses a kiss to your temple, warm, grounding, very much second nature now. “Just wanna show you off a little.”

You groan, burying your face in his shoulder. “I hate you.”

“Liar liar pants on fire.” He says it so easily, so confidently, because he’s right. You’re completely, stupidly in love with him actually. However, the worst part of that? So is everyone else in this damn room.

The buzz of the party hums around you as you trail behind Jungkook, hands still lightly clinging to his arm like it’s your lifeline. He doesn’t seem to mind, laughing lightly as he introduces you to every person who approaches, all the while keeping one eye on you, making sure you’re still there, still close. You’re the quiet one, always in the background, but tonight? You’re sticking to him like glue.

The chaos around you only adds to the sensation of feeling out of place, and your mind pulses with the need to break free for a moment.

“I’m gonna get some champagne,” You tug on his arm to get his attention, hoping he won’t follow, aching for just a second alone.

“Alright,” Jungkook says, winking at you. “Dont wander far, I’ll miss you too much.”

You roll your eyes, the slight teasing in his voice making you smile despite yourself.

And finally, with a little space between you two, you head for the bar, where the bartender is already pouring multiple glass of champagne, a brand you hardly recognize besides the times that Jungkook has sprayed it over your head in his locker room after a win. You grab one, thank him with a smile, clutching your drink tightly, letting the warmth of the alcohol loosen some of the tension in your shoulders. You lean against the bar, taking in a deep breath, trying to shake off the intensity of the room.

You shift slightly, your heels pinching the back of your feet. Even though Jungkook is across the room now, deep in conversation with some high-profile men, you can still feel him, like a phantom touch, like gravity pulling you toward him even from a distance.

You’re halfway through your first sip when someone leans in beside you. His voice is warm, easy-going.

“Is it safe to assume you’re with Jungkook?”

The voice comes from your right, definitely belonging to someone who’s good at conversation.

You glance up, blinking at the tall, well-dressed man beside you. He’s… handsome, you suppose. Friendly. Dressed in a navy suit, collar slightly open, drink in hand. Polished, but not in an obnoxious way. He leans against the bar with a casual kind of confidence, the kind of presence that blends in rather than commands the room.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit, still feeling a little shy. “I’m his… well, girlfriend. Sort of.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Sort of? That’s an interesting answer.”

You huff a small laugh. “I mean, yes. I am. He just… likes making a big deal out of it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” he chuckles, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I take it you’re not used to all this?”

You shake your head immediately. “Not even a little.”

He laughs, genuinely, like he understands. “I get it. These events can be overwhelming.”

You tilt your head slightly, curiosity creeping in. “You say that like you’ve been to a lot of them.”

He grins, and that’s when it clicks. You suddenly recognize him, the familiar face.

“Wait—” Your eyes widen. “You’re a driver too, right? You raced today.”

His smile turns a little playful. “I did. And I did alright, if I say so myself.”

“You placed third, didn’t you?”

He blinks, slightly impressed. “Didn’t expect you to know that.”

You blush slightly, shrugging. “Well… I may have learned a thing or two from Jungkook.”

“Ah, so he’s been turning you into a racing expert, huh?” He teases.

“Not even close,” You laugh, shaking your head. “But congratulations. Third place is still huge.”

“Thanks,” He says, tipping his glass toward you. “Though, I have to admit, Jungkook is damn near impossible to beat. The guy drives like he’s invincible.”

You smile softly, the kind of smile that only comes when someone you love is being praised. “Yeah… he does.”

“You must be proud of him.”

“I am.” The words fall out before you can second-guess them, before you can hide them behind your usual shyness.

That much, you know is true. You are proud of Jungkook, more than he’ll ever know.

The man watches you for a second, a knowing look flashing in his eyes. Then, he smiles, shaking his head slightly. “He’s got a good one.”

You tilt your head. “What do you mean?”

He gestures toward Jungkook, who’s across the room, entertaining the guests, bright and effortless. “I mean, it’s not every day you see him this… settled. The guy used to be a bit of a wildcard.”

Your stomach flutters. You know that. You know exactly who Jungkook was before you.

You swallow, about to respond, when his next words catch you off guard. “Though, I have to admit…” He leans in slightly, voice dropping just a bit, teasing but still measured. “It must be tough, standing next to him all the time, knowing you stand out. ”

You feel your heart skip, your fingers tightening around your glass. You’ve always been completely oblivious when it comes to flirting. It’s not intentional—you just never assume anyone would be interested in you like that. Compliments fly over your head, teasing remarks get brushed off as jokes, and subtle advances? You don’t even register them.

Even with Jungkook, it took months of playful taunts, agreeing to do whatever you wanted, and blatantly flirty texts before you even considered the possibility that he might actually like you. And now, standing here at the bar, faced with a man who is clearly steering the conversation into dangerously suggestive waters, you’re a little slow to catch up. The moment finally clicks a beat too late, the realization washing over you like a delayed shockwave—oh. He’s not just making conversation. He’s flirting. And you? You walked right into that trap.

You let out a soft laugh, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to ignore the way his words sit uncomfortably in your chest.

“I mean, yeah,” You say lightly, swirling the champagne in your glass, forcing yourself to play it cool. “Jungkook has a lot of eyes on him. That’s kind of the deal when you’re one of the best, right?”

You try to steer the conversation back to Jungkook, hoping it’ll naturally fizzle out, but he gives you a look. A slow, appreciative glance. The kind that lingers just long enough to make your stomach twist in anxiety.

“That’s true,” He muses, his voice casual. “But I think most people would be looking at you tonight.”

Goddamnit.

Your fingers grip the glass so roughly it might shatter in your hands as you blink at him, processing. You laugh again, but this time it’s a little awkward, a tad nervous, like you’re trying to buy yourself a moment to think.

And then, as naturally as breathing, you look for him. Jungkook.

Your eyes search the crowd, scanning past the fitting dresses and tailored suits, past the photographers and the industry elites, until they land on him.

Of course, he’s right at the center of it all.

He’s laughing, head thrown back slightly, looking so alive, so magnetic, exuding the kind of confidence that made the world fall in love with him (and you as well, for that matter.) His suit jacket is long gone, probably thrown off on the back of a chair somewhere, replaced with a perfectly tailored white button-up, his sleeves pushed up just enough to tease the tattoos running along his forearm. He looks stupidly good.

He’s glowing, genuinely happy, his eyes crinkling as he talks, hands gesturing animatedly, completely and utterly in his element.

You bite your lip, a new kind of frustration blooming in your chest. How is he over there, completely fine, while you’re over here trying to figure out how to escape this conversation without being rude? Why must the universe put you, of all people, in the ring of fire?

“So,” The driver’s voice pulls you back, making you blink and turn your attention back to him. “How did you and Jungkook even meet? I don’t think I ever heard the full story.”

You shift again, clearing your throat, desperate to reroute the conversation away from yourself. “Oh—uh, through work, sort of. It’s actually kind of funny—”

Focus. Focus on Jungkook. Keep it safe. Keep it neutral.

You take another sip in between your sentence, the champagne fizzling against your lips, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You keep your focus on the man, trying to steer every single word back to Jungkook. It’s a delicate balancing act, keeping the conversation polite while dodging every veiled compliment, every lingering glance, every slight shift in tone that threatens to turn friendly into flirtatious.

“Yeah, it’s kind of funny, actually,” you pick up where you left off, still trying to keep it collected. “I had no idea who Jungkook even was when we first met. Everyone was freaking out about him, and I was just..”

You pause, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Well, completely clueless.”

He chuckles, leaning in slightly, interest still flickering behind his eyes. “And now you’re wearing his jacket, front and center at every race.”

“Guess I learned who he was real quick,” You joke, though your fingers tighten slightly around your glass.

He tilts his head, like he’s about to say something else, perhaps even heavier, when two warm hands slip around your waist. They’re firm, familiar. A voice, deep, steady, and close enough to feel the breath of it against your temple. “Didn’t realize you two were getting so close.”

You blink, your entire body reacting before your mind even processes it. His presence is instant, all-consuming. You barely have time to react before you feel him pull you back against him, his grip on your waist just tight enough to send a message. The warmth of his chest presses against your back, solid and unwavering.

And when you tilt your head slightly, looking up at who you know damn well is your boyfriend — Oh. Oh, he’s not happy.

His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a firm line. His usual easy-going expression is replaced by something darker, sharper, a quiet intensity simmering behind his eyes.

The man clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. He knows. Everyone in this room knows. Hell, even the higher powers know better than to mess with Jungkook’s girl.

“Jungkook,” he greets, nodding slightly. “Good race today, man.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. Doesn’t nod. Doesn’t blink.

He just keeps his eyes on the man in front of you, expression unreadable, until he finally speaks.

“Yeah?” he muses, voice deceptively smooth. “Guess I’m lucky I had my girl with me.”

His hold on your waist tightens, just slightly, as if reinforcing the point.

Your pulse spikes, warmth creeping up your neck as you become painfully aware of how close he is.

You’re not usually the center of attention. But right now, you may as well be standing in the eye of a storm.

The tension lingers for a moment more. Jungkook’s hands are possessive, fingers pressing slightly into the fabric of your dress. His presence is impossible to ignore, a wall of warmth at your back, his cologne—deep, musky, with some woodsy notes—wrapping around you like a second layer of skin.

The man shifts, clearly picking up on the shift in atmosphere. Still, he offers an easy smile, nodding toward you.

“She’s beautiful,” he comments, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world. “Guess I can’t blame you for keeping her close.”

Jungkook hums smugly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “Prettiest girl in the whole damn room.”

Your stomach flips violently, a cage of butterflies releasing themselves in your body. You’ll never get used to the way he speaks about you.

The driver gives one last chuckle, his eyes flicking between the two of you before wisely deciding to move along with his night. He excuses himself, raising his glass towards both of you before scurrying away as quick as his legs can take him.

And then it’s just you and Jungkook.

You exhale, not even realizing you had been holding your breath, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your waist.

You’re about to say something, but before you can, he turns to you, leans down, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of it spreads across your skin like wildfire.

He pulls back, just slightly, his lips hovering over your skin, his voice dropping into something quiet, “You really let that guy talk to you for that long?”

Your eyes widen. “What? I wasn’t—”

Jungkook pulls back, finally looking at you, and he’s pouting. Actually pouting. The 27 year old man. Lips jutted slightly, brows furrowed, his usual confidence slipping juuuust enough to reveal the jealousy simmering beneath. It might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

You can’t help it. You giggle, heart swelling in your chest.

“Jungkook,” You breathe out, leaning up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He grumbles something under his breath. You kiss him again, again… one more time for safe measures. Tiny, peppered kisses, soft and teasing, trailing across his cheek until you feel the tension in his shoulders start to ease. He exhales slowly, tilting his head, still acting like he’s suffered through the potato famine, furthering your agenda on the sassy man apocalypse.

“I just don’t get it,” he mutters, dramatic. “Why does everyone love you?”

You giggle again, nose brushing against his as you murmur, “Maybe because I’m soooo beautiful?”

Jungkook scoffs. “You think I don’t know that?”

And for the rest of the night, Jungkook doesn’t let you go. Not for a millisecond.

His arm is wrapped around your waist like an iron band, keeping you flush against his side as he guides you through the afterparty. He greets people, nods along to conversations, but his attention never fully strays from you.

Every so often, he leans down, his lips brushing against your temple, the shell of your ear, whispering things only for you.

“Having fun, pretty girl?”

“Gonna keep breaking hearts tonight, or am I enough attention for you?”

“Can’t believe you almost let some other guy steal you away. The blasphemy.”

You laugh every time, eyes sparkling, cheeks warm from the champagne and from the way his voice wraps around you like velvet.

By the time you’re finally in his car, it’s even more obvious.

The moment he pulls onto the empty streets, one hand gripping the wheel, the other immediately finds your thigh. You’re all giggles and smiles, alcohol-induced laughs spilling from your lips as you shift beneath his touch.

“You’re being so touchy,” You tease, voice teasing, light, dripping with warmth.

Jungkook barely glances at you, but you see the smirk pulling at his lips. “Don’t see you pulling my hand away.”

You roll your eyes, but your skin betrays you, heat pooling everywhere his fingertips graze. His thumb circles slowly, rubbing absentminded patterns into your thigh, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“You’re ridiculous,” You mutter, biting back another laugh as you lean against the headrest, the world outside the car nothing but passing trees and shadows.

“And you’re also tipsy,” Jungkook counters, stealing a glance at you, his eyes dark, amused, playful.

He licks his lips, the silver of his piercing catching the streetlights, and you hate how mesmerizing it is.

“So?” you huff, crossing your arms in mock defense.

“So,” he drawls, fingers squeezing slightly around your thigh, watching with interest as you visibly react. “You’re all giggly and sweet right now, and I think I like it too much. My bad for wanting to get my hands on my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

God, the word rolls off him so easily it makes you dizzy.

“You like me all the time,” You poke his hand that’s on your thigh.

“Yeah, but I like you even more when you’re like this,” He plays with his lip ring as his eyes focus on the road.

You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, watching the way his jaw flexes, the way he glances at you just a little too long at a red light. And then, without thinking, you lean toward him, voice dropping into something soft, just shy of teasing. “You’re really that possessive, huh?”

Jungkook’s fingers flex, grip tightening, and for a split second, he looks like he might mount you in that car. “Oh, you have no idea.”

And, he proves it to you. The second his front door swings shut behind you, there’s barely a beat of silence before his lips crash onto yours. It’s immediate, it’s urgent, all-consuming from the tip of your scalp to your toes.

His hands are already on you, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you in like he’s been starving for this. You gasp against his mouth, the taste of champagne still lingering between you, and it makes you giggle yet again like a little high schooler. “Jungkook—”

“Mm,” He hums against your lips, not even bothering to let you finish.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy ,” You chortle in between, barely able to keep up with his pace. Jungkook groans, grinning against your lips before kissing you again, longer, slower.

“What did I tell you about calling me cute?” He mutters, voice low (definitely playing up the octave to seem even more menacing.)

“That it’s true?” You tease, bubbly from the way he won’t stop kissing you.

In a single swift motion, Jungkook grips your thighs and lifts you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and a squeal exits your mouth.

“Jungkook!” You yelp, arms looping around his neck in surprise. Except it’s really no surprise, because the man has made it clear he’ll throw you around like a rag-doll. He’s already moving, already carrying you toward the bedroom with so much ease your head is spinning.

“Tired of you running from me,” He murmurs, smiling cheek-to-cheek, his bunny teeth poking out as he shuffles quickly down the hall.

You can’t stop laughing, light and heady, fingers threading through his dark hair as he all but sprints the rest of the way. He nearly flings you onto the bed like you’re deadweight.

The laughter is still spilling from your lips when Jungkook slots your mouth with his again, swallowing every giggle, every teasing remark before it can fully form. He kisses you like he needs you to stay quiet, like he’s trying to erase every last trace of your playful remarks before they slip past your lips.

But, you are not letting him off that easy.

“You were so jealous tonight,” You whisper between kisses, smiling against his lips.

Jungkook groans, tilting his head back just slightly before diving back in, his mouth brushing yours in a way that feels punishing.“Maybe. Or maybe I was just passionate.”

You roll your eyes, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he leans into you.

“It was kinda hot,” You mock. “You couldn’t stand it, could you?”

Jungkook grumbles something under his breath, his fingers pressing into your waist, pulling you closer, as if kissing you harder will shut you up. But the moment his lips trail down to your jaw, your pulse leaping beneath his touch, you decide to take control.

In a swift motion, you push against his chest, sliding out from underneath him and standing up.

Jungkook stumbles back onto the bed, eyes wide for half a second before something darker, more intrigued, flickers through them.

You smirk down at him, your confidence surprising even yourself.

“Oh?” Jungkook muses, grinning as he props himself up on his elbows. “Taking charge today?”

You hum, sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress as you settle yourself atop him.

“I think you need to be reminded,” You murmur, your fingers ghosting over the silver chain around his neck before trailing downward, nails grazing the buttons of his shirt.

“Of what?” He questions, eyes dark, eager, watching your every move.

You lower yourself, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, not quite kissing him, just kind of floating.

Slowly, with a purpose, you start kissing down his jaw and the column of his throat. “That I’m all yours,” You whisper against his skin, letting your lips brush over him with every word.

“All mine?” His voice is rough, strained, his fingers practically imprinting upon your skin. He needs to hear it again.

You pull back slightly, rolling your eyes just a little. The man knows very well you’re all his, but the desperation in his voice has you a little more soaked than you’d like to admit.

“Yes, baby,” You breathe out, cupping his face, your thumbs brushing over the faint pink tinge dusting his cheeks. “All yours.”

Now, Jungkook has seen many sides of you. The quiet, reserved girl who hides behind him at events, the sweet and hesitant thing who blushed at every flirty remark he threw your way, the one who overthought every touch, every glance, every lingering silence between you. However, that’s not to say he’s not thoroughly enjoying how unbelievably attractive you looked sitting on top of him.

The girl—the one who is straddling his lap, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, murmuring sinful things in that soft, teasing tone, the heat of breath sending shockwaves straight through him—he does not recognize.

His heartbeat pounds in his ears, blood rushing to his cock. He can hardly breathe or think, all logic stripped away. Jungkook watches, wind knocked out of him, as you shift in his lap, your hips rolling against the growing bulge in his pants. He is ever the patient man; almost as if he wants to see how far you’ll take it.

He continues to stare as your fingers reach behind you, tugging at the zipper of your dress, the soft fabric peeling away from your shoulders, slipping lower, revealing more, more…more. Good lord.

The room is silent except for the soft rustle of fabric, the faint collective gasp in his breath as your dress pools around your waist, leaving your bare skin kissed by the golden lamp light in the room. Jungkook is entranced, his pupils dark. He’s still propped up on his elbows, yet he’s barely keeping himself upright.

Your body is soft curves and slow movements, every roll of your hips against him smoother, more confident than the last, every movement calculated and precise .

His head tips back against the mattress, his long lashes fluttering, his cock throbbing beneath the confines of his pants. Just when he thinks he might combust, you lean down, your lips hovering near his ear, whispering something he doesn’t even hear properly through the haze in his mind. He doesn’t even know what language you’re speaking.

Every teasing shift of your body against his, every brush of bare skin against fabric is driving him to the brink of insanity.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Your hands trail up his chest, slowly undoing every button, nails barely scratching the heated skin beneath his shirt. Your jaw slightly drops as you let out a soft, needy whimper, a sound so devastating it makes his cock twitch beneath his slacks. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Jungkook’s resolve crumbles, and his hand flies up, fingers wrapping around your jaw. He tilts your face toward his, making sure you see him. His eyes are feral, his pupils so black and wide they nearly swallow you whole. “Want my cock in your mouth.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your body clenching instinctively. There is a small part of you that’s not all that experienced, despite your past boyfriend and you having sexual experiences. It’s just.. different with Jungkook. You think he expects more, although he tells you he doesn’t. But you’ll do your best for him, like you always do.

He moves up, sitting against the headboard, and you wiggle down, your lips parting just slightly, like you’re already imagining how he’ll feel pushing past them, how he’ll taste on your tongue, which you 100% are.

Your fingers work slowly, methodically, undoing the zipper of his slacks with a deliberate precision that has Jungkook shaking beneath you.

The sound of the zipper unfurling is deafening in the quiet room, drowned only by the unsteady rhythm of his breath, the way it stutters every time your fingers brush against him, every time you shift or press a kiss just a little lower. The man is putty in your hands.

You slip his pants down his thighs, fabric pooling around his ankles, and you throw them somewhere in the room; it doesn’t even matter. What matters is beneath them, he is hard, aching, straining against the waistband of his boxers, the fabric doing nothing to hide just how much he needs you, letting you take control while he teeters on the edge of losing it completely.

Your lips press softly to the fabric, your breath warm, your hands gliding up his thighs, fingertips tracing the defined muscles there, feeling the way they tense under your touch, how they twitch with anticipation.

Jungkook watches you, his dark lashes heavy, his chest rising and falling too quickly. He gathers your hair for you gently, fingers running through the strands, pushing them away from your face, tucking them behind your ears, cradling the back of your head, making sure he can see you completely.

For the first time in a long time, you want to be seen.

You want him to watch as you shift, as you lean back, as you slowly kick off your dress, letting it slip down the length of your body, letting it pool onto the floor in a forgotten heap, leaving you bare and exposed.

The black lingerie set you had worn underneath is still intact, a stunning contrast against your skin, the delicate lace barely covering anything at all, making you feel utterly unbreakable under his gaze.

You finally pull his boxers down. His cock springs free, the thickness of it always making you gulp. It’s flushed an angry shade of red, the tip glistening with precum, leaking and throbbing.

You swallow, your mouth already watering, your thighs pressing together as you wrap your fingers around him, feeling the weight of him in your palm. “F-fuck, baby,” Jungkook gasps, his head tipping back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hair tightly.

You stroke him slowly, taking your time, watching every little reaction, fascinated by how his body responds to you, by how his hips barely lift off the bed, chasing your warmth, chasing more. There’s normally a slight hesitation from you, but between the mix of the champagne and how fucking good he looks, you lean in. The first kitten lick to his tip is tentative, barely a flick of your tongue, just a taste.

Jungkook groans, his body jerking, “Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses, his voice shaking, his grip trembling against your scalp.

You hum softly, the sound vibrating against him, your lips parting slightly, your tongue flattening against the tip this time, lapping up the bead of precum that had gathered there, savoring the salty, musky taste of him on your tongue.

“That’s it, baby, fuck, so good,” Jungkook moans, his thighs tensing, his abs clenching, eyes screwing shut, then flickering open again, desperate to watch you, desperate to see you taking him, loving him, making him fall apart in the most beautiful way possible.

His praise makes you braver, makes you bolder, makes you want to see him even more undone, even more at your mercy. You press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his tip, feeling him pulse beneath your lips, hearing the way he gasps sharply.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He whispers, his voice awe-struck that you’re letting him have this piece of you.

His cock is heavy, filling your mouth so perfectly, stretching your lips as you slowly bob your head, taking in as much as you can. You feel the weight of him glide over your tongue, your throat relaxing, your jaw straining in the best way possible.

“Shit, baby,” Jungkook groans. You’ve always loved how vocal he gets for you.

You steal a glance up at him, and that’s when your eyes meet. His gaze is so dark, pupils blown out, his lips parted, damp. The moment he catches your heavy-lidded, pleading stare, something in him breaks like a live-wire.

“F-fuck,” He chokes out, his abs flexing as his breath breaks. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You get the urge to keep going, faster now, the wet, lewd sounds of your mouth working him filling the room. Your tongue flattens along the underside of his cock, the heat of your mouth searing, your hand wrapping around the length that won’t fit, pumping in time with your movements.

“So, so good, so fucking good,” He pants, voice cracking like a prepubescent boy, his self-control hanging by a thread.

You feel it when he starts to twitch on your tongue, when his hips stutter, when his grip tightens, when he pulls your hair just slightly, as if he’s trying to stop himself from spiraling completely.

“Shit, fuck, wait—” He pulls you off him suddenly, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting you. Your lips are swollen and glossy, your breath ragged as you look up at him, dazed and a tad cock-drunk.

“But…” You sigh, your voice small, your fingers still gripping his length, feeling the way he pulses in your palm. “I wanted to keep going.”

Jungkook groans, pulling you up onto his lap where he needs you most. His lips find your cheeks first, then your nose, your forehead, your jawline, kissing you everywhere, like he’s seconds away from breaking.

“I know, baby, I know,” He pants, barely coherent. Before you know it, he’s positioning you, guiding you to straddle him, to let him sink inside you where he belongs. “But I need you to sit on my cock, baby, please.”

His forehead presses against yours, his lips brushing against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Need to feel you, need to be inside you.”

You whimper against him, the words sending a shudder through your body. Your core throbs and aches for him, whole body on fire like you’ll die if you don’t have him.

You align yourself, rolling your hips just slightly and letting his tip press against your folds. You glide it through your slick, coating him in you. It’s disgusting how aroused you are by him, but there’s comfort in knowing he feels the same way about you.

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and your head tilts back, your mouth falling open, a soft, breathless moan slipping past your lips as the friction sparks along every nerve in your body.

Jungkook is completely gone, eyes glued to where your bodies meet, his jaw clenched so tight. He’s doing everything in his power to not completely lose control before he even gets inside you.

You sink down, slow, so slow, inch by inch, your walls stretching and molding to accommodate him.

The moment his thick length pushes inside, Jungkook groans, low and broken, while he holds you steady. The slide feels endless, like it always does, stretching you out like you’ve never taken him before, and he’s still struggling to ground himself, trying not to explode right then and there.

“Oh, f-fuck,” He hisses, his thighs tensing beneath you, his muscles coiling so tightly. He’s barely keeping himself from thrusting up into you, from taking what he wants, from losing himself in you completely.

You are getting split in half. Or, it feels like it. Your walls squeeze around him, your body shuddering.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants, his voice low, as his fingers trail up your spine. “Taking me so f-fucking well, feel so good, so tight.”

You only really sit comfortably when your clit presses against his pubic bone, when he is fully, completely inside you, when his cock is buried to the hilt, stretching you so perfectly, so devastatingly deep that it feels like he’s become a part of you.

“Oh my fucking god,” He chokes out, his grip on you bruising, completely lost in the feeling of you milking him already, pulling him in deeper, deeper, deeper. “I almost, fuck, I almost came just from that—”

The thought of it, the idea that you could make him cum just from sinking onto him, has your brain on autopilot.

You start to move, hips rolling in smooth undulations, dragging yourself up his length, feeling every ridge, every inch, before sinking down again. It’s a steady rhythm, one that has you both gasping for air.

But you don’t let him look away from you.

Nails pressing into his shoulder blades, you keep him anchored to you, your body flush against his. You tilt his face back up, your lips ghosting over his. The eye contact sends a shudder through him, his pupils blown wide, begging without words.

“You’re mine,” You murmur, your voice soft but firm, dripping with possession. Your hands trail up to cup his face, holding him there, making sure he hears you.

“Yeah?” he pants, his voice slightly slurred and drenched in adoration “Show me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Your walls squeeze him with every movement, every drag of your hips. And it’s all too much: his cock reaching even deeper, grazing that spot that paints stars in your vision.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” He groans, his voice choked, eyes desperate.

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging slightly, and he whimpers, his lips grazing over you, kissing wherever he can reach, mouthing at your skin. “All yours, baby, fuck. No one else, just you.”

Your heart swells, his jealousy from earlier feeling so distant, so insignificant, when he’s begging for you like this.

“Mine,” you whisper again, your lips ghosting over his ear, your hips picking up the pace, making him writhe beneath you.“Always fucking mine.”

Jungkook shudders, “Yours, baby.” And the words are just being repeated over and over like babbles, barely coherent to either of you as the feeling of being full by him overtakes all.

His hands lift you slightly, just enough for you to feel the drag of his cock leaving you, before he pulls you back down, filling you again in one smooth, deep motion. You cry out, your walls fluttering around him, the pace shifting from teasing to something more consuming, more needy.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, his hips meeting yours now, pushing deeper, guiding you exactly how he wants you. “Just like that, ride me just like that.”

“Kook,” You whimper, nearly shaking, nearly crying from how good it feels, your hands sliding down to press against his chest.

You’re practically soaking him, your slick glistening at the base of his cock, collecting there, and he might need to be put in a mental institution after catching sight of it.

“Look at what you’re doing to me,” His eyes lock onto yours, hand slightly moving your face to avert your gaze elsewhere. You glance down, and fuck, he’s right. He’s glistening, his cock shiny with your arousal. Every time he pushes back inside, there’s more slick coating his length, dripping onto his thighs, pooling at the base of him like a sinful masterpiece.

“You feel that, baby?” he whines,“This is all yours.”

Everything becomes messier, sloppier, you’re not even sure where you are anymore. Jungkook is barely holding on, his thrusts erratic, his hands tight on your waist, slamming your hips down over and over again.

Your walls are fluttering, pulsing around him, the pleasure so intensethat you can barely even think or form any thought that isn’t jumbled.

“Jungkook, fuck,” You sob, your body jolting forward every time he drives into you, every time he hits that perfect spot inside you, over and over and over again.

“I got you, baby, fuck, I got you.” And then you really can’t take it anymore when he says things like that. Your hand flies between your legs, fingers pressing to your clit, rubbing furiously. You’re trying to tip yourself over the edge, trying to chase the orgasm that is so close, building like a wave, curling at the base of your spine, ready to crash over you at any second.

Jungkook watches, lips slightly parted. He can’t tear him away from the way you touch yourself, how you look so absolutely fucked out on top of him.

“You gonna cum for me, hmph? Hm, baby?” His words send a shockwave through you, his pace stuttering for just a second before he pounds up into you without a single ounce of restraint left.

“Fuck!” You cry out, your release inevitably waiting for you. Jungkook grins, knowing how close you are, already used to how you look when you finish.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure, white-hot ecstasy. Your entire body locks up, breaking apart as your orgasm rips through you with violent force.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Your walls are squeezing around him so tight it nearly forces him out, your head tipping back, mouth falling open, but no sound coming out. Your fingers slip from your clit as your body gives out, but Jungkook doesn’t stop. His hands are locked onto your waist, his hips still driving up into you, prolonging your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you’re whimpering.

“Holy fuck, squeezing me so tight,” He’s shaking with restraint, his muscles taut.

Watching you fall apart like this, feeling your walls clench around him like a vice, holding him, owning him, milking him—it’s a lot.

Jungkook grits his teeth, his grip on your waist turning bruising, his chest rising and falling in frantic, erratic pants as his orgasm hits him like a fucking wrecking ball.

“Fuck, mineminemine,” He gasps, and for the first time since you two started dating, he doesn’t ask for permission to finish inside of you. Doesn’t wait for your sweet little nod, your usual whispered “yes” into his ear.

No, not tonight. Tonight, he needs to claim you, needs to remind you, remind himself that no one else is going to have you.

Tonight, he slams you down onto his cock one final time, burying himself as deep as he can go, he spills inside you, filling you up.

“Take all of it, baby,” He gasps, his hips jerking up, riding out his high. Your bodies tremble together, both of you completely wrecked. Yet still, he stays inside you. Still buried to the hilt, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his sweaty body. His lips press lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your temple, your collarbone.

The room bathes in the warm afterglow of post-sex air. Your limbs are tangled with his as you lay with your head sprawled across his chest, his heartbeat still hammering beneath your ear. For a long moment, neither of you speak. Just deep, ragged breaths. The faint hum of the city outside. The lingering warmth of his hands tracing slow, absentminded patterns across your bare back.

“So… still wanna deny how jealous you were tonight?” You laugh, the words muffled slightly against his skin.

Jungkook groans, his arms tightening around you instinctively. “Don’t start.”

You grin, tilting your head slightly to catch the faint pink creeping up his ears.

“No, but really,” you hum, your fingers lazily tracing the chain around his neck, feeling invincible. “You almost lost your mind over a five-minute conversation. Kind of insane, actually.”

Jungkook lets out a low, gravelly laugh, the sound vibrating through your ears. “You don’t understand how fucking attractive you are. Seriously.”

“Jungkook—”

“No, really,” he kisses your forehead, watching you so intently you feel like he’s seeing right through you. “You walk into a room and I lose my goddamn mind. Every single time. You could have anyone, and yet… you chose me.”

He exhales slowly, lips brushing against your forehead in a way that feels so domestic. You don’t know what to say to that, so you sit with the words for a minute, let them reverberate through your chest. And it almost feels like your chest can’t contain it, like the pressure is building too fast, too much, like your ribs might crack beneath the weight of it. Behind them, your heart swells, expanding at least three sizes larger than its usual.

You pull him back down, lips curving into a soft smile as you kiss him again. “Always gonna choose you, Kook.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[honeymilktea-444]

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ what is ur intuition trying to tell you ? ˚⊱🪷⊰˚

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚

hi my babies! breathe in and breathe out, and choose whichever pile or piles you’re drawn to. Enjoy, take what resonates and toss out the rest. Left to right, 1–>2 and so on.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ pile one ˚⊱🪷⊰˚

hi my pile one babies, this pile is short and sweet. all of these piles for this read, the messages are coming out very very clear. your intuition is trying to show you who the one is. it’s exactly who you’re thinking. it’s exactly the one you have the most pull towards. it’s exactly the one you hate is what i just heard lol. it’s a masculine. and yes he’s the one. he fucks you really good as well, and you hate that too. for those of you who have never dealt with this person intimately before and it’s a new person, you feel a huge pull to this person and you can’t explain it. but you have a gut feeling that this is your person and it is. he could be older than you. for some, this is your baby daddy. sorry to break it to you, he’s the one and you will go back.

some signs for you to know who it is or to clarify because some of you are shaking your head “hell no” when you’re reading this. he’s much taller than you, he wears black very often, you love how he smells, and you love hugging him. he may cuddle really well, and his hugs make you feel very warm. if you two have had sex before, you’ve snuggled and smelled his armpits before, as well as sucked his fingers, or compared hand sizes in a cute sleepy way. for those of you haven’t got close to this person in an intimate way, you’ve fallen asleep on the phone with this person, have possibly smoked in a car with person. for some this person skates or has tattoos on one of his arms. you’ve watched or talked about some sort of anime or game together. this is the one my babies. songs i channeled for this pile are pop by ari lennox, and glock six by 6lack. for a lot of you this person doesn’t have any children, if they do it’s the children they have with you if it’s your baby daddy. or if they do have kids and they aren’t kids you share together, for some personal reason they aren’t around much. that’s all i have for you my pile 1 babies! love you. see you in the next reading. <3.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ pile two ˚⊱🪷⊰˚

hi my pile two babies. again this reading is short and sweet because for whatever reason, the messages are super super clear and concise. what your intuition is trying to tell you is how to make money. there’s an energy of going back to the basics, and going with what you know. it’s a thing you’ve done before when you’ve had nothing. a skill that you can rely on. it’s what comes easiest to you, to where it doesn’t feel like work at all, you can make it in your sleep. it could be literally anything nails, sex work, cooking/baking, hair, painting, cleaning, ride share, anything. but you’ve did it before and stopped. but it’s to a point in your life where you need to rely on it again. do it. when you do this, it’ll put you back on your feet quickly, in no time as it’s always done. it’ll always be there when you need it. it’s okay, no one cares and those who do, aren’t paying your bills, or helping you; so it really doesn’t matter lovebug. i channeled the song/remix “yummy x righteous” by ayesha erotica. that’s all i have for you my pile two babies! see you in the next reading. <3

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ pile three ˚⊱🪷⊰˚

hi my pile three babies, this is a short and sweet reading because the messages for this pick a card came out super clear and concise. what your intuition is trying to tell is to cut your family off. cut your “community” off. the one you grew up. abandon your hometown. i’m picking up the song you’re on your own kid by taylor swift and matilda by harry styles, and lost and found by ledisi. also a gospel song called chains by kirk franklin. your family or this community has never supported you, they taken you for granted, deteriorated your mental health, destabilized you, for some stolen your money, for some they’ve left you completely destitute, they’ve never been there for you when you’re struggling, let them all go without any guilt. your intuition is telling you to ghost these people. disappear without a trace, a warning, a sound, and never comeback. it’s not just a fantasy, or a “i wish i could just..” that’s what your intuition is telling you to actually really do. permanently, for the rest of your life. i’m picking up when scar told simba to run away and never come back. so for some a family member or parent/matriarch/patriarch passed away and everyone true colors came out. for others dark secrets came out that you want absolutely nothing to do with and may have had something to do with this family unit betraying you or someone else. these people have led you astray. i am also channeling the song we don’t talk about bruno from the movie encanto. there could have been a male family member specifically an uncle (or aunt, or cousin, or for some a sister) that moved far away or doesn’t talk to the family anymore and now that you’re grown you see why. your intuition is telling you to do the same thing. move away. change your number. and never look back. you can build your own found family. you can start over and build a healthy life for yourself. you don’t have to keep these ppl in your life because of who society says they are to you because they didn’t care who you were to them when they fucked you over, royally. I’m picking up the song 16 carriages by Beyoncé. you may have sacrificed a lot for these people and found out they didn’t actually love you, they were just exploiting you. they may have stolen something from you. specifically money, or innocence or both. could’ve been time they stole as well. there’s still time for your dreams for some of you that dream is art of love. don’t ruminate over time lost babies, or you’ll waste the time you don’t see you have left. right here, right now. you still have your whole life ahead of you. if you leave now, you’ll eventually start to feel like no time was lost at all because of how much you’re reclaiming. also, you may owe someone an apology as well for getting mad at them for something you didn’t understand then but understand now. that little message came through. or vise versa. thats what your intuition is telling you. that’s all i have for you my pile three babies. love you and see you in the next reading. <3

• thank you for supporting my little blog. feel free to like, comment on this post or the hashtags, and reblog if it resonates with you. it makes me smile, even if it doesn’t let me respond. pls remember to always be kind, and not to post my readings as your own. love you. muah! 😘☺️ •

[poppitron360]

Esperanza as a character fascinates me and I’m so intrigued by the idea of the world from her perspective. She’s very much thinking along the same lines as Sally Jackson (and I think it’s sad that Leo and Percy are so similar except for the fact that Sally survived). She’s completely alone- a single mother trying to make it in a male dominated industry, trying to keep food on the table, unable to talk to anyone about her fears and worries for her son because who would understand? Who can she tell? The Greek Myths are shitshows and horror stories as it is but to an already frightened mother I can’t imagine what she must have felt when Leo was young. She must have been terrified that she’s just raising her son to die. And you know what? She was right. He did die.

And the differences and similarities in Leo’s and Jason’s upbringings- the fact that Leo was raised with love and care and affection and Jason was raised with none of that and yet they were both massively screwed over by the universe. And it doesn’t even occur to Jason to not be the one to sacrifice himself not only because he cares for Leo too much but also he was programmed from an early age that that is what he’s supposed to do- that’s his place in the world.

And so they’re both convinced they have to fill these archetypal roles- Jason as the Hero and Leo as the comic relief and sidekick- but neither of them really want that. And even though they swap roles in the big finale with Gaia and it seems like they’ve subverted that they still end up filling those roles later on. Jason dies a hero and Leo is pushed to the side again. For a universe whose first series was all about breaking oppressive cycles Rick sure likes to put the later characters in oppressive cycles.

Basically every problem I have with the Riordanverse boils down to “Rick tried to fit nine main characters into five books and ended up biting off more than he can chew”:

- Gaia is one-note and not given any nuance

- Basically half of TOA is spent hastily wrapping up arcs and almost EVERYONE’S (the only exception, sadly, being Jason) endings get rushed with little thought

- The finale of HOO was incredibly underwhelming as nobody except for the Lost Trio really did anything in the final battle

- Nico and Reyna’s POVs felt like add-ons and there wasn’t enough time to explore them in detail

- FRANK AND HAZEL ONLY GET TWO BOOKS WITH POVS.

- And so much more. You name a problem with the Riordanverse, it’s probably because of that.

This is a conversation that I will bring up over and over again because I too have so much beef with TOA and it’s tainted most of my enjoyment of the other books.

Also, Leo’s death was handled so badly. I actually hate that his friends got to find out he was alive before he came back, so they ended up just being pissed off instead of grieving. We as readers never feel the effect his loss had on the characters which makes the big heroic sacrifice so unsatisfying. There’s no actual consequences to his death, so that big build up was for nothing. This is why I’m a big fan of Leo with prosthetics/hearing loss/whatever after the explosion because at least that gives us some sort of sense that he actually sacrificed something, not just an apparent sacrifice that got reversed a chapter later. He’s not even given any visible trauma for it (to be fair, Leo’s whole schtick is that he hides his pain, so we wouldn’t see it from Lester’s POV, but still), I’d like to have seen a moment between Leo and Apollo, perhaps where Apollo regrets the part he played in giving Leo the ingredients to the cure instead of trying to stop him from Kamikaze-ing himself into unalive status (I’ve always had this idea in my head of Apollo asking if Leo would still have gone through with his plan if he didn’t have the cure, and Leo saying yes- it would have been a perfect fit to the whole “Apollo learns about sacrifice arc” that takes place throughout the whole five books but starts ramping up at around the Dark Prophecy when Apollo admits for the first time he’d give his life up for his friends) This is probably a separate Rant Post I’ll threaten to make and never get around to it, but I have so many thoughts about this it’s unreal. I am unwell I think.

Hands down one of the funniest things about tlh Valgrace is how badly Leo wants them to be in some sort of imbalanced rivalry/prince and stablehand situation but Jason just. Being way too nice for it to work?

Leo: I am worse than you in every way imaginable. I hate your stupid good looks and the fact that you’re this perfect hero and I will never measure up to you.

Jason: Incorrect! Actually you’re incredible and better than me in so many ways and I wish I could do half the stuff you do! You’re so cool! I’m so lucky to know you and love that we’re best friends :D

Leo: …what the hell is happening

[emichanted]

➷ BAD HABITS ft. Sae Itoshi (MDNI)

Synopsis: Sae is your ex. But you somehow always end up back in his bed.

Contains: Sexual Content (MDNI), a little bit of angst.

Warning: NOT proof read (I apologise for any mistakes)

Word Count: 2.8k

You found yourself in Sae's bed again, your legs were wrapped around his waist as he slid in and out inside of you. God you missed this. You missed him.

Sae is your ex. You had closed that door month ago when he made it very clear he would always put soccer above you. Which you did understand. It was his career, his dream. But what about you? Where did you fit in? Because he surely never made the time or effort to show you that you meant anything to him.

But you never locked that door. And that was a mistake on your part. You were hoping, praying, he would come back and tell you how much he loved you. But instead, you somehow ended up finding yourself entangled in his bed, just like right now. It was a bad habit of yours. One that you loved and hated at the same time.

You were mad at yourself, but you also couldn't imagine letting any other man fuck you. Sae just did it sooo good.

But you were also mad at him. Why did he let this happen? A part of you was hoping that maybe, just maybe, he missed you, too.

You throw your head back as you feel your orgasm coming, you feel Sae's heavy breaths agains your neck, he was about to finish too. Both of you cling onto eachother as you reach your climaxes. Sae drops down beside you, relaxing his breath, your head spinning.

You feel Sae's hand come up and rest on your stomach. You turn your head to look at him and see him already staring at you.

"What?"

That annoying smirk of his appears on his face as he uses his finger to trace little circles on your stomach, sending shivers down your spine.

"Nothing. You're just very beautiful like this."

You roll your eyes at him and turn your head away from him. Because, what the fuck?

"Hey, Y/N?"

You don't look at him. You simply answer with an annoyed "what?" As you sit up from his bed, grabbing your clothes.

He grabs your wrist, stopping you. That's when you finally turn around and look at him again.

"Don't... Don't go just yet..."

Was the Sae Itoshi who doesn't give a fuck about anything literally asking you to not leave just yet? You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you.

"What?" Your words come out quieter than intended.

He lets go of your wrist and sighs, rolling onto his back. God, he was beautiful.

"I've just been thinking, Y/N... We've been broken up for months now."

Yeah, you have been. And yet, here you are, in his room, naked, sitting on his bed.

He turns his head to face you again.

"But yet, we always find ourselves back in each others arms."

Was that a smile you saw on his face? A genuine smile? You gulp, wondering what's coming next, not wanting to let your hopes up.

"I mean... I may just be hoping for too much but... Maybe, you still love me?"

Same props himself up on his elbow, staring into your eyes. You feel so... Bare... Under his stare. Even though you are still naked, you feel like he's staring right into you.

You gulp. "And what would that change?"

"Everything."

Before you know what's going on, Sae grabs your arm and pulls you on top of him. You stare down at him underneath you, your hands on his chest. You feel like you're about to explode.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Is all he says before he pulls your face to his and kisses you with more passion than ever. After a few seconds, he pulls away and stares at you again. "Can you give me another chance? I promise to do better this time..."

Andyou just couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you kissed him. Harder than ever before. The words you've been longing to hear. He finally said it. You felt like you could die right this moment.

Maybe this bad habit of always ending back up in his bed was not such a bad habit after all if it ended like this? You couldn't be more happier.

A/N: pls I love Sae sm I could write fics about his every day, all day 🤧

Masterlist

[jobean12-blog]

Love Bug

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob Au)

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: You and your very busy husband are on a rare weekend getaway to your beach house when an unexpected house guest causes some trouble.

Author’s Note: this is for Missy’s @saiyanprincessswanie writing challenge! I did a Mob AU and used the prompt, “I would move mountains for you.” Thank you so much for hosting Missy! Love and hugs my friend🩷 The Mob AU part is subtle but hopefully you’ll feel it! Also, I personally hate these fuckers and if you’re interested to see what they look like, click here. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: soft fluff, fun, laughs, a scary bug, Bucky being sweet and cute, it’s mostly silly and domestic

PS this idea came about because I wrote THIS for Joel Miller the other day and I thought Bucky would be fun too! 🩷

You open your eyes and stare at the outstretched hand resting on your pillow. The simple gold band circling his left ring finger catches the light from the rising sun and it rivals the way the gold streaks along his metal arm shine and sparkle.

You reach up and place your hand in his and the firm bicep beneath your cheek flexes at your touch. He shifts behind you, tightening the arm at your waist and pressing the hardness between his legs against your back.

You really need to pee.

The steady in and out of his breathing warms the nape of your neck, every inch of his contoured chest rising and falling against your back, legs tangled together. It’s the most comfortable spot in the known Universe.

You still really need to pee.

But he rarely gets to sleep in, and you’re torn between the urge to close your eyes against the discomfort and trying to sneak off to the bathroom.

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you make the painful decision to disentangle yourself from your husband and slide out of bed, releasing a breath when he grumbles in his throat. You grab his discarded button down from the floor and slide it over your shoulders.

He rolls over in a bare-chested sprawl and goes back to breathing evenly, the sheet tented where it rests between his legs.

It takes everything in you to leave the bed, but you manage to slip away and into your en-suite bathroom. The large windows by the bath frame a view of the ocean, letting in the thick rays of the sun and highlighting the beauty of the marble flooring.

You’re momentarily distracted by the view so when you walk toward the toilet at first you don’t notice the large insect sitting just below it.

Right as you step onto the rug it moves and you catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye, letting out a high-pitched scream that would wake the neighbors if they were any closer than a mile away.

Bucky is out of bed and in the bathroom before you can even call his name, sheets tangled in his legs, hair wild and mussed from both your hands last night and the sleep that followed and a large knife in his hand.

“Doll?” he croaks out, staring at you wide eyed, body poised and ready to fight.

“It’s…,” you start, backing away slowly toward your husband. “Buck it’s one of those things. With the legs. Hairy looking.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his heart starting to return to a normal beat and his head clearing, but he doesn’t lower the knife.

There’s silence other than the sound of his breathing and you squeeze yourself behind him, hanging on to his forearms with a death grip.

Finally, he lowers the knife and exhales.

“Hairy legs?” he asks as he runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s by the toilet!” you whisper.

“I don’t see anything!” he says, squinting now.

“See, right there!” you point, still safely tucked behind him.

“Whe…? Oh yeah. I see him.”

It moves again and you let out a squeal of terror, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Get it Buck!!! Get ittttt!” you whine.

Your eyes are squeezed shut and your face is hidden against his back so when he starts to laugh you feel his body shake.

“THIS IS SO NOT FUNNY!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry doll face,” he says, turning to you. “But I ran in here thinking I’d have to kill someone.”

“Don’t take your eyes off it! We could lose it and then it’ll be living in here forever and get even bigger and and…”

His nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle at the corners, more laughter erupting from his chest.

When he finally calms down he gives you a sympathetic look. “It’s ok baby doll. I’ll handle it but you’re gonna have to let go.”

You blink several times, expression blank. You look down at your fingers that are digging into his skin.

“Oh! Right, but…”

You peek around him to see if the centipede is still there…and he is, staring at you menacingly.

“I can’t let go. What if it comes over here. I hate the way they move.”

“Then you’ll have to come with me,” he says carefully.

You shake your head no.

“Baby doll.”

“We have to move. You can just buy us a new beach house!”

“Sure, I can,” he says with a sideways smile. “But you love this house.”

You sigh in defeat and cling to him harder.

“I have an idea,” he says softly as he scoops you into his arms and skirts the wall until he reaches the tub.

He sets you down inside it, the high sides and four brass feet keeping you safely off the ground and away from the centipede.

“There,” he says.

You give him a small smile and watch as he searches the bathroom, his eyes lighting up when they land on the small hand towel neatly folded and hanging by the sink.

“YOU CAN’T KILL IT BUCK!” you screech.

He pins you with an incredulous look.

“What did you expect me to do doll?”

“I don’t know but if you squish it then I’ll never be able to use that toilet again.”

You cover your eyes with your hands but separate two fingers to peek through.

His hand falls to his side as he surveys the bathroom again, then, as if suddenly remembering he has a knife, he lifts it and starts to stalk toward the toilet.

“OH MY GOD Bucky, you can’t stab it!”

“I can stab anything,” he says quietly, his voice deadly.

“But I don’t want you to kill it,” you reply in an equally quiet but much softer tone.

He stops moving and turns toward you slowly, exasperation in his expression but when your bottom lip sticks out in a pout he softens and relents.

“Then what should I use?” he asks.

The both of you look around and then your eyes land on the stack of cups near the sink and they brighten.

“Cups Buck!”

He smiles and gets one and with calculated and careful steps, he approaches the centipede.

You duck lower into the tub and make squeaky noises every time you see the insect twitch.

“Be careful Bucky!” you whisper shout.

“Shhh,” he says softly, the muscles in his bare back tense with his cautious movements.

When he’s close enough he slowly lowers the cup over the centipede, letting out a loud exhale when it appears he has it trapped.

“Now what?” you ask.

He stands and shrugs.

“I didn’t think that far ahead.”

You slowly rise from the tub and move closer to him. “Can we just leave it there?”

“It will definitely die.”

“Oh.”

“I could just step on the cup?”

You grab his hand, holding it tightly and shaking your head. “No. I don’t want to hurt it I just want it to live somewhere else, far away.”

“We can slide something under the cup.”

“Good idea,” you agree.

“Get me a magazine doll. That should work.”

You run back into the bedroom and grab one, returning with it to your safe spot behind Bucky.

He bends down and carefully slides the magazine under the cup.

“You’re butt looks really good,” you say with a giggle.

“Good to know you’re ogling my ass during this life-or-death situation doll face.”

“It’s just a centipede Buck.”

He’s on you before you can react, caging you against the sink with his arms.

“Just…a centipede? Says the one who screamed bloody murder ten minutes ago and had to hide in the tub.”

“I was just trying to pee! It could have attacked me at my most vulnerable time.”

He tries to hold back his laughter, but the corners of his mouth turn up and he drops his head into your neck.

“You’re going to put it outside right?” you ask as your fingers smooth up and down his back. “Like all the way across the street? Maybe the next town over?”

When his eyes meet yours they still sparkle with mirth and he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Of course I will.”

“Thank you.”

“I would move mountains for you doll.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Buck.”

He kisses you softly, his lips lingering before moving to the corner of your mouth and then along your jaw to meet the shell of your ear.

You shiver in his arms.

“I’m gonna take care of his little fucker,” he murmurs. “And while I do that I want you to get naked and get back in bed.”

Without and answer you squeeze out of his hold and rush back toward the bedroom, squealing when his left-hand whips out and smacks your ass.

You can’t wait to get back into bed but not before making a stop at one of the other four bathrooms down the hall (hopefully bug free!).

[puppysuke]

Hii! Could you please do if the tulpar crew was dating an autistic reader? Or someone with neurodivergent traits? (As in like would they understand it/know how to handle them.) So sorry if this is a difficult ask!

oh my GODS i love this one so much being someone neurodivergent. i am so excited for this, it's not difficult at all! i'll get to my other asks after this one, but i'm just super excited for this one :3 thank you for the ask anon!

notes: continue reading under the cut!

tulpar crew dating autistic reader.

꒰ curly .ᐟ ꒱

𖦹 he really tries his best to understand everything ans make you as comfortable as possible.

𖦹 he honestly makes a lists of what your sensory needs are, like what you don't like to touch and when textures you're okay with.

𖦹 he doesn't fully understand what you feel, so he often asks you to explain how you feel.

𖦹 "what are you thinking?" curly asks, noticing you seem farther away from your mind than usual. "is something too loud? not feeling right?" he asks, talking in a soft and quiet voice.

𖦹 curly does a lot of research on what you have and how to customize things for your needs.

𖦹 he also asks you a lot about your opinions. like how you feel about things, how your brain works.

𖦹 he doesn't realize at first that autism is different for everyone, so he kinda gets you basic autism special interest things like dinosaurs things, especially.

𖦹 if that's not your special interest and you tell him and explain autism a little more to him, he panics a little.

𖦹 "i'm sorry, i swear i'm not ableist!" he says quickly, eyes wide. "i just wanna do this right!"

𖦹 he treats you like a normal person when you explain everything to him, because you are a normal person. and he knows that.

𖦹 loves to listen to you info dump and gets you things based on the things you ramble about, he loves seeing how excited you get.

꒰ jimmy .ᐟ ꒱

𖦹 he actually knows a lot about different disabilities, including autism due to studying a lot about it.

𖦹 he hates that he sees a lot of himself in you, certain things you do and traits. he doesn't like it.

𖦹 but he loves you (vine boom sound effect), so he tries his very best to not do anything wrong.

𖦹 jimmy is honestly pretty chill about it, i think. he just tries to read you and figure you out without having to ask.

𖦹 he lets you ramble to him about your hyperfixations / special interests, but he doesn't particularly listen, it's in one ear and out the other.

𖦹 he doesn't push you to talk when you're nonverbal and enjoys just sitting in silence with you when you're not talking.

𖦹 he makes sure to wear things that have textures you don't mind if you have bad sensory issues. he doesn't wanna drive you away from touching him.

𖦹 he likes to lay on you like he's a weighted blanket tbh and gets you a weighted blanket for when he isn't around.

𖦹 overall, he understands and knows how to help you, he just has trouble adjusting to dating you.

꒰ daisuke .ᐟ ꒱

𖦹 "woah, you're autistic!? i got a touch of the tism myself!"

𖦹 you guys share interests and stuff so yap sessions all the time.

𖦹 he definitely knows what he's doing when it comes down to comforting you, whether it's with over stimulation or lack of understanding social cues or something else.

𖦹 he literally learned sign language with you for when you're non verbal tbh.

𖦹 not really much to say about daisuke here i think, he's just also autistic/nd, i wish i could say more but he def just gets it.

꒰ anya .ᐟ ꒱

𖦹 she didn't exactly study psychology or brain things, but she does just to learn more about how to care for you and help you out.

𖦹 it doesn't take long for her to get used to dating someone nd, she just makes sure to read up on it a lot.

𖦹 again, i feel like there isn't much to say about anya. she learns quickly and spends lots of time trying to figure everything out to help you.

𖦹 she does pay attention when you talk about the things you like and tries to learn about those things too.

꒰ swansea .ᐟ ꒱

𖦹 honestly, i don't think he handles it all that well at first, saying some ableist shit like "oh we're all a little autistic."

𖦹 yeah, turns out he also is autistic, just refuses to acknowledge it!

𖦹 he finally decides to research a bit and ask you about your own experiences and starts to handle it better.

𖦹 he babies you a little at first but soon starts to realize that's not the thing to do and treats you normally.

𖦹 gets more well versed with neurodivergencies as time passes and figures everything out and is pretty good with it after a while!

i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

[hyukascampfire]

everyone say it with me… betta late then never!!

first let’s watch our regularly scheduled broadcasting of rain suffering and hating me while reading

ash you're going to pay for this. I hate you.

fuck u ash.

You let him go. - SAY IT THEN FUCKING SAY IT

I refuse this. I rebuke this.

“I want to go. I’m ready.” damn it. damn it. damn it.

I hate you ash. I hate you so much, you'll pay for this. I hate you.

NO HELP ME I CANT DO THISS

I WONT LOSE U AGAIN WHAT HELP I CANT MY HEART HURTS

LOLLLLLL I WAS IN THE BACKSEAT OF MY CAR GIGGLING

off the bat, this is an insane quote. I love you, ash. I do. hehe

ASH. ASH. IF DEATH THINKS YOU ARE FLATTERED, HE MISUNDERSTANDS YOU. THIS LINE, IM SO GLAD IT HIT YOU TOO CAUSE IT HIT ME WHILE WRITING IT

ok, so I've prided myself on not knowing much of anything about this fic because I wanted to be surprised, so i'lll be writing my takeaways from everything. and from my understanding here, is it that everything she touches or is in contact with dies? I'm going to feel so dumb if I'm interpreting this all wrong lmaoo. you’re so smart cause this was literally right. now that you’ve read it, i’ll confirm that wasn’t yeonjun’s intention, but it was definitely his fault, because his proximity and affection for her caused things to die around her.

they are death made in the flesh. help. you're in their forest. I would genuinely be so scared. me too, i’d be running just like her

“There you are, love.” - oh I'm ready, I'm so fucking ready. THIS LINE THIS LINE I LOVE THIS LINE the foreshadowing and the fact that it implies that he’d been looking for her. and when he calls her love >.<;

is it fucked that I find this hot. & FINE ASF. & him wearing a cape just made him a thousand times more hot. LMAOO THE THIRSTING OVER HIM IS SO REAL and no it’s not fucked because he’s hot and he can’t help it. this yeonjun specifically was sexy asf while i was writing him like yes my panties were wet yes i needed him badly and i think it shows in what i wrote sometimes 😭 also RAIN YOU GET ME SO BADLY WITH THE CAPE idk if this is a fantasy reader thing but the cape is just hot

Should you run or thank him? Is Death as prideful a creature as the other kinds that inhabit Aethera? - I like this quote a lot. ily

Morbid curiosity is like that, though. - I really like all the subtle hints at death in this i love people who notice things. like youre just a noticer and i love it

A deep, familiar voice from behind you gives you pause. “Want some help with that?” Soobin says. He stands  in the doorway, his head nearly brushing the top of the frame. It’s made too small for him. Most things in your tiny village were made too small for Soobin. There had been a time where you’d been taller than him, that had hardly lasted long enough. - are you wearing pants... WHEN I TELL YOU IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND THIS CAUSE I WAS LIKE… yes he’s wearing pants?? duh??

  “Cow shit isn’t an ingredient.” - LMAOOO loled when i wrote this poor guy

“I think you are very, very beautiful. Would you stop ignoring me, now?” - help ok why do I ship them now... never tell anybody you heard this from me but in my heart he definitely had an unrequited crush

“Don’t like you?” he asks, “What reason would they have for that?” - boy why are you acting like you don't know...it's your fault LMAO POOR YEONJUN HE DIDNT MEAN TO

he was human??? — “You were human?” oop me and her are the same. this made me giggle

THE DANDELIONS MY HEART. SHE DIED GIVING BIRTH??? — YOU FOUND HER YOU FOUND HER. also, "or a blade of grass in the forest" help. their love story is so tragic and i know that i wrote it like it came from my head but it still hurts. and yeonjun’s backstory especially. he loved her so much :(

I'm betting it's the reader. you clocked that. like i said youre just a KNOWERR

if only we cold know that death was actually like this, the comfort I would feel if it were. yes. exactly this. a big source of inspo for this fic was my own fear of death. it felt nice to portray it as something not so final and scary, but maybe something to look forward to. i’m still scared of it and definitely always will be, but it would be so comforting to know for sure that there’s something after death.

and one sec lemme compile all the little bits from the smut scene cause it’s my favorite part I LOVED READING THIS PLEASE

“Crawl to me, then.” - OH? THIS LINE IM ILL sir yes sir!!!

“Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to go. Because I don’t know how.” - HELP HELP HELP DONT GO DO NOT GO GOD I LOVE HIM I LOVE A DESPERATE MAN. i just love how he wants her so badly and lets it be known. HOT HOT HOT

“No, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. All I’ve ever done is ruin. All I’ll ever do is ruin. I won’t ruin you; not again.” - NOT AGAIN?????????? hell yes

“I want you so fucking bad. You are in the marrow of my bones. Fuck, I have done nothing but want you, but I am foul. I will only hurt you.” - what if I pass away huh?? what if I do that?! LMFAOOOO

“I want you to beg me for it,” he says, grinning down at you with cruel intention. “Beg me, and make it so pretty.” - I'm hot is anyone else hot or is it just me... i love you so bad for giving me the opportunity to read all this

“I could give it to you, or I could not…” He hums. “Wouldn’t that be so cruel of me? To leave you wanting?” - HELPPP MEEE RIGHT.

Think about it: do animals just fly into anybody else’s windows and die? Do the trees that they pick from just end up dead? It’s his fault that they all treat you the way you do.” - and ykw I cant be mad at him for saying this because the logic part of me agrees with him. he just cares for her and doesn’t want her hurt. soobin loved her so much. DAMN. but i also understand why what he says hurts her as well yk? it’s the worst. and this being the last time they speak is so awful, but sometimes it happens that way. :((

You were expecting wary looks, anyway. - awh no I feel so bad for her ): she tried to not blame them for being scared of her but omg it makes me so sad for her. she always just wanted be a part of the community. it’s messed up

It was by your hope that he’s gone. - SOOBIN NO. SSOOBIN NO NO NO. FUCK OFF ASH MY SHAYLAAAAAAA. WAS HE EVEN WEARING PANTS PLS WAS HE EVEN WEARING PANTS LMAO IM CTFU

The day moves along without you. You’re not sure how long you sit, but it stretches somewhere between a few minutes and eternity. No matter how long you wait, there are no answers. No matter how long you mull over it. - ok Bella swan WAIT LMAO YES

i loved reading this thank you queen. 💋💋💋

THE TERRIBLE HALF-TRUTHS OF THE UNDEAD ҜING

⠀(🍂 ) 𝓡EVENANT in folklore, a revenant is a spirit or animated corpse that is believed to have been revived from death to haunt the living ... ( 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 )

1︎5.5k revenant!yeonjun · ƒ ! r ft. soobin ⸺ ✴︎ 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ... smut, violence, angst, death, animal death & vivid descriptions of animal death, major character death, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dry humping (because bring it back), biting, dom yeonjun sub reader, mentions of death in childbirth, reincarnation, teasing, breast worship, yj calls reader ‘my love’, def some typos

🪶 ⦂ how fun is this collab? :,) this fic was so fun to write. i personally believe that tsfawc enjoyers will love this one,, but you'll have to read it to confirm that, right? hehe. and of course, go read everybody else's if you love this one! they're all set in the same world, and everybody worked so hard on these fics. send some love their way!

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

𝒪𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝒰𝑃𝑂𝑁 𝒶 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸, in a land far, far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky and the water sparkled under the glowing sun, where mountains rose high, and long, deep caves ran through them, where the sea met shore in collisions of swirling, foamy punches, where the undead walked among the living, where the winged flew above the finned, there was a land where things beyond reason and rhyme existed perfectly true. Among those strange beings and within the veils of Aethera, there was a girl loved by death. 

He sits on your shoulder, a dark, boding shadow and glared at those around you with promise in his eyes.

That’s how it seems, anyway. That’s how everybody looks at you. They dodge you, whisper about you, evade your gaze as if he might reach his claws for them next if they linger for too long.

Crows with dead eyes arrive at your doorstep like some lover’s cheeky gift, other poor creatures like fat grey mice are left to rot in the wheatfields, and yarrow stocks wilt outside the wall of your room. If Death thinks that you are flattered, he misunderstands you. You are terrified of nothing more than dying. The first time, it was a sly joke. Then it happened again, and you watched their eyes change. And it happened again and again, and your people are a suspicious type. Something can only be a coincidence so many times.

When you began to sneak into a little shack with a village boy, you thought that maybe, somehow, this would all pass. He died too. There’s really no coming back from that, is there? You don’t blame them. You’re not the freak that they all believe you to be—none of them get close enough anymore to know that, though.

The wickerbasket’s handle creaks under your fist. You usually only forage along the shallow line of the forest; you pluck from bramble bushes topped with plump berries that crawl between trees during the summer, and when the crab apple tree’s branches hang heavy with the fruit, you snatch those up too. You’re more useful to your family out here, in the woods that they deem just as cursed as you. Where you won’t be their burden.

Crisp autumn leaves crunch under your boots. You scan between them—more grey and rotted this late in the season than fresh and orangey—for the edible mushrooms and roots that you usually forage at this time of year. The basket’s already pretty heavy with a variety, black morels and sorrel and burdock, as you bend down to pull a truffle from the dirt against a tree.

You drop it down with the rest of your finds. The basket smells like earth, no doubt your hands do too. You dust your palms off on your skirts and go to rise back from your squat.

A deep, billowing horn pierces the forest’s silence. It’s both far away, wiggling between the whispers of rustling leaves, and much too close. It draws out. Long. Bone-chilling. You freeze, scanning between each tree trunk and praying that you won’t find what you fear you might.

You are much deeper into the woods than you usually are. Than you ought to be. And you know what that horn means—you know that it means something far worse than what you’d been afraid of, coming into these woods. Much more primordial than the hide-behinds you were scared you might find this deep, much less avoidable than the faerie rings you stepped around.

Why would The Wild Hunt be here? A shudder runs down your spine, and you curl your fingers into your skirts and lift them as if to prepare to run, but you don’t. Your feet find root in the forest floor and all you can do is stand terribly still in catatonia. Their horn sounds again, and a procession of wicked whoops and howls follow. Wild hoofbeat rumbles under it all—the hunt and their rides. You hope that they’re just passing through, and you won’t so much as see one of those wild riders. There were plenty of folktales that the matrons of your village would bolster to terrify you as children, but you knew even then that their stories of the riders, with their flesh falling away from them and their pale or beady eyes and their gnarled maws and frightening figures as they rode on the backs of equally terrible steeds, were not fabricated. They are not a bogeyman or a wailing banshee; they are death made in the flesh, and they are here. In your forest. 

Your legs won’t work. You curl your clammy fingers tighter around your basket and lean into the tree beside you. How deep had you wandered into the forest? Hopefully not too far; when you gain the courage to run, you hope that they do not send their hounds to snap their foul breath on your heels. Maybe just standing here and blending into the trees is best. The Hunt would love a chase, and you don’t want to become their next.

The next call comes and you throw that all to the wind. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you let your basket clatter to the leaves and you take off. You fly over roots and shrubbery and between the trees, your blood roaring in your ears faster. You’d oblige if you could.

Above the loudness of your frantic mind, the harrowing whinnies and The Hunt’s ruckus dulls until it’s faraway again, and then it’s gone. Well, you don’t stop to check if they’ve really passed through the forest. You just run.

“There you are, love.”

His voice cuts through your frantic escape and stops you dead in your path. You almost go crashing down over the ground with the force that you dig your heels into it. Though the voice is non-threatening, you don’t turn to face the source.

He speaks again. You already know who it is. He, old as the earth you stand on itself, leads that band of wild riders. Is the king of the undead, collects souls for reaping.

And he’s the one who’s plagued you with his attention. Death.

“Why do you keep your back turned to me?” he says. “I frighten you. That hurts.” His voice lilts with amusement and sharpness. “I wish that you would face me.”

You’re not fond of the way that he speaks to you with a familiarity. But then again, you’re not fond of dying, either. Your legs are boneless beneath you. Turning, you slowly indulge him, though it takes a great amount of willpower to not run again like your jittering jaw and trembling hands ask you to.

The King of Death stands tall and utterly preternatural, leaned against a crooked tree in the woods behind you. His smile cracks across his face in a jagged way that suggests he finds you amusing, but none of that meets his eyes. They’re the color of the greyish, rotted leaves beneath you. The dark shadows beneath his eyes are the only thing belying the weight that his infinite life might have on him. That, and the hollowness that rings from him.

And though he sounded entirely playful, you are shaken by the sorrow that you find in him now that you’ve turned. Even more so, you’re not sure why you feel it echoed somewhere in the hollows of your bones. “I’m sorry,” you say. It trembles terribly. You want to say that you’re sorry you caught his attention, but it seems you’ve always had his attention. It’s more that you are petrified down to your marrow that the time’s come that you face this… strange infatuation. Here he stands: the one who leaves hollowed out husks of creatures at your doorstep. Should you run or thank him? Is Death as prideful a creature as the other kinds that inhabit Aethera? “I don’t mean to…”

He pushes off his tree, fixing his cape that cascades over only one of his shoulders. It’s tattered and falling apart like the rest of his clothing, though you think that the bronze stitching and swirling oakleaf patterns in the black say that they might have been immaculate at some point. Or maybe they weren’t, and they had started that way. He is Death, anyway. “You’re sorry?” he says. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’ve hardly done a thing to warrant it.”

Faltering, you wet your chapped lips. You’re not really sure. Holding back another apology for fear that you’ve offended him and he’ll now strike you down for it, you say, “I thought that, maybe the hunt was…” Wow, you sound stupid. You can see in the sly smile his lips form that it amuses him. That’s almost worse than angering him: intriguing him. What you really should be doing is boring him so that he’ll find you a waste of his time. Then, maybe, he’d give up haunting you.

“After you?” he finishes. Shaking his head, he says, “My hunters only answer to me.”

“Oh,” you say plainly. Part of you wants to ask why that should comfort you, especially when you’re the one that he sends little bits of death to, but rationality keeps those words in the back of your throat. You don’t really want to know. “Why are you passing by here?”

Something akin to old longing passes through those witty eyes, and then he eats up the distance between you with languid steps of his long legs until he’s nothing more than one last step in front of you. The closeness consumes the air in your lungs, leaving nothing for you but short and shallow drags. The forest has gone dead silent aside from the sound of it. His voice is even more magnetic now that he’s so close.

You recoil when he brings a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb over your cheek and then cup your jaw, as if afraid that he might snuff you out here and now. His fingers are softer than you thought they might be, and the lines of his face sharpen into what you think is hurt. Hurt that you flinched?

“We go here and there,” he says, “but it’s been a very long time since we came here.” There’s a certain thickness to his words; a certain tension coiled over them from something that you’re not privy to. And yet, there’s a farawayness, too. You bet he’s full of a lifetime of secrets. Lifetimes of secrets. “But I think I’ve found myself a reason to finally return.”

Breathy and still struggling to flatten out your breathing, you ask him, “Why?”

The Undead King’s smile turns wicked once more, and he doesn’t answer you. It’s awfully eerie.

“Do you have… business here?” you try again. It’s a roundabout way of asking, do you have someone to take away?

“I have business wherever the living go,” he says, letting your face go but not giving you any more room. You narrow your eyes. He’s quite good at non-answers. “Nothing is more certain than that I will greet every living thing eventually. I’ll come to take you, too, when the time comes.”

Your mouth dries up. The entirety of your home, all the people you’ve ever known, fear you for all the death you bring. Not one of them fears it more than you do. You’ve seen it enough to fear its frightening finality.

The drop of your face must’ve told him how much that scared you. “Dying is not such an awful thing, love. Living pales in comparison.” Searching your eyes, he adds, “But I’ve not come to take you.”

That’s easy for him to say: that death isn’t something to fear. His words don’t calm your thundering heart, but you offer him a, “Thank you…” It trails off toward the end when you realize that you don’t have his name. If he has one, anyway.

“Yeonjun.” He tilts his head, strands of sparrow hair brushing over his watching eyes. “Most don’t know it, but you’re not most people, are you?”

Your breathing had just begun evening out. It’s a shame, the way that it kicks back up at the way he looks at you. “What do you mean?” you say, but of course you know. Nobody else is given dead things like you. It’s not like you yourself are very strange; you like pretty dresses and sharing gossip with friends just as much as any other girl your age.

Giving you another one of those knowing smiles that he uses just like words, he steps back. “I’m sorry that I scare you how I do.”

You don’t answer him. What could you say to that? That he doesn’t? That would be a lie, and he would know it.

Yeonjun’s eyes flit over your face, over your cheeks made pink by the autumn cold, lingering on your lips for a few unexplainable beats, and then landing on your eyes where he searches and finds something that sends his throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “I don’t mean to be your monster. It’s only that…” He steps back again. “You remind me a terrible amount of someone I once knew.”

“Who?” Though your shoulders relax a bit with some distance between the two of you, you do your best to not let your guard down. All the stories that you recall being told, all those cautionary tales passed down through word of mouth around a fire, end with some stupid girl thinking that the monster could be changed or tricked. You’re willing to bet that the man in front of you, no matter how human he looks or how enchanting his words are, could be neither.

That doesn’t explain the ache in your chest when he holds your eyes for too long. But you shove that feeling way, way down. It’s nonsensical.

His voice takes on a parting tilt when he says, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Death takes us all.” Yeonjun dips his head at you. His smile wavers. You’d think that crooked smile on his mouth was indelible had you not seen it twitch down at the corners only for a moment. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed it. “You think I’ll hurt you,” he says, “well, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, run. I apologize for your basket.”

Death takes us all. You’re not sure what that’s supposed to mean, coming from him, but it sends a cold wind up your spine and goosebumps crawling over your skin.

He watches you go. You don’t look back when you do, but his gaze sits on your back until you’re sure you’re out of his sight. When you return to your home, your mother asks where the basket full of ingredients for supper went.

You imagine what her face might look like if you told her the truth. But that was impossible, so instead you tell her some stupid story about a wolf that startled you so bad that you ran home paying no mind to where your basket was. It’s close enough to the truth.

༺ ꘏ ༻

It doesn’t matter what you do; you can’t get his face out of your head. While you cut butter into flour and then roll out dough, simmer fruits over flame and you slice cheese off blocks, you replay that meeting in the forest. The memory spins and turns over no matter how hard you try to put it away from your thoughts.

It’s not every day that somebody meets the likes of him. You can’t blame yourself; he had such captivating eyes. Dark, playful, and endless. There they are again. You sigh and dust your hands off. Maybe you are just as strange as they all think that you are. Morbid curiosity is like that, though. Taking the most normal of us and making you wonder what you absolutely should not wonder about.

And you absolutely should not wonder about him.

The sun has begun to hang high in the sky, but the breeze that crawls through the window you pulled open before you got to work is a crisp one. Autumn’s really come, now. Outside the window, a huddle of children play around in the leaves that you’d raked up. You’ll have to rake those back up, but you hardly have the heart to tell them to take their playing elsewhere. Their giggles and small voices waft in with the breeze, and a traitorous part of you yearns for a family that you know you’ll never have. No man would risk that fate, not after what happened to the last man who paid you any attention. You grit your teeth at the memory.

Having a face for the thing that’s made your life the way it is is strange. Seeing him in the flesh, with handsome eyes and a taunting mouth, looking something near human, you think you’ve come to resent him for it. How dare he ruin your life? He, more than anybody, should know how fleeting life is. What is in it for him to deface what little time you have? You keep going back to that thought: why did he ever even appear to you in that forest? There is not one story in which you remember Yeonjun showing his face to those he hasn’t come to claim. Death makes his visits swift and purposeful.

Moreover, why on earth would he even look your way? You wish there was a plain way to ask him why, or even to plead with him to stop. Whatever it is he’d ask of you, you think you might give him. To get back to living, you would.

A deep, familiar voice from behind you gives you pause. “Want some help with that?” Soobin says. He stands  in the doorway, his head nearly brushing the top of the frame. It’s made too small for him. Most things in your tiny village were made too small for Soobin. There had been a time where you’d been taller than him, that had hardly lasted long enough.

“As if,” you dismiss and gesture at his dirty hands. He’d no doubt been out working his family’s field, his tunic sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  “Cow shit isn’t an ingredient.”

Anybody else might’ve scoffed or taken offense, but he just laughs and invites himself in anyway. It never fazes Soobin. He doesn’t let you push him away.

It’d be better if he did. How long before he ends up dead, too? Alive one moment, and then a husk without a soul next. You don’t think you could handle seeing cold, dead eyes where the annoying, warm shine should be. Of course it would be better if he stayed away, if he had half the mind to. Even most of the children have heard enough from their mothers to stay a healthy distance. He’s not too much better than a child, though.

“Isn’t it?” he says. His cheek is smudged with whatever sort of dirt he’s got on his hands and under his nails. “I’m done with work for the day. Want to go out to the field?”

You two have always ran off and avoided your life in between willowy, flaxen wheat stocks. They were just tall enough at this time of year to hide you away. But, for some reason, your stomach does a quick flip at the thought of being outside. It’s silly; couldn’t he find you here, too? “I’m busy,” you say. You’d already kneaded this roll of dough plenty, but you dig your fingers into it and begin again.

“Busy?” he scoffs, “Since when are you too busy to get away from work?”

Gritting your teeth, you let the sounds of your kneading answer. Now, more than ever, he should keep his distance. You know one thing that you’re sure nobody else does: Death’s come to visit. 

His brows shoot up in your peripherals. “I don’t get answers today?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, giving up working the over-kneaded dough only because your arms ache. “Why don’t you go talk off the ear of some other poor village girl? I’ve heard as much as I can handle today. And then when that one’s tired, you can bother the next, I’m sure.”  You soften the words with a quick smile his way. No matter how many times you say something sour in hopes that it’ll send him away, as soon as you glance up at his face, you reel it in.

His company is all you’ve ever had. The least you can do for him is make sure he doesn’t end up like carrion, even if he chooses to take that risk himself. You don’t know why he does.

Voice playful, he says, “I’m glad to hear that you believe I’ve got ladies falling at my feet, but I’d rather not annoy a pretty girl, so you’re my only option.” He pokes at the sleeve of your simple cotton dress. “Should I drag you out of here? Don’t your arms hurt doing all that?”

“Oh, you are a refined man, aren’t you?” you say, shuffling out of his reach. Damn him, he makes it difficult. “Well, I am a pretty girl, so you should take yourself elsewhere.”

Soobin smiles easy. “I’m bored out of my mind. You’re just going to let me suffer?”

“That’s not my issue.”

“I’d argue that it is,” he says. “Come on. Why are you giving me a cold shoulder?” Leaning, he tries to get a look at your face. “Did I upset you? I wasn’t aware that you cared much about what I thought.” When you spare him a sharp glance, he says, “I think you are very, very beautiful. Would you stop ignoring me, now?”

You wish you could fall into the easy banter that comes with being around Soobin, but you can’t. You can’t let him be around you. “Soobin, stop it,” you say, draining your voice. You don’t look at him while you say it.

Going quiet, he seems to notice that today’s different. His gaze is heavy as he stares at you for a few long moments. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “What happened?”

You swallow. “Nothing. I’m just doing something.”

“Oh, alright,” he says, tone inflicting in a way that says he doesn’t believe you one bit. He pushes off the counter. “I’ve put up with you pushing me away for years. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Soobin,” you warn. If you look at him, you fear you’ll be forced to watch the only one who never cared much what a risk it was being around you leaving. So you don’t.

Your friend raises his hands in the air defensively. “Okay, then.” He makes for the doorway with languid, lingering steps. As if he doesn’t want to leave. “Tomorrow..”

That’s both a threat and a promise, knowing him. Sighing and watching the rowan tree out your window sway, you bid him a curt goodbye.

If only that jerk took offense to things. It would make things an awful lot easier for you.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Being out in the wheat fields brings you peace when you’re alone, but you find it to be terribly lonely. The earthy, sweet scent of it wraps around you, and the stalks whisper against each other in a soothing way.

When you look beside you, the patch of wheat imprinted with the shape of your bodies is empty on his side. You are quite weak; it makes you want to go knocking at his door for his company. But that would be the selfish thing to do, so you card your fingers between the golden straw instead.

A chill trickles down your spine. You feel his presence before you even see him; it’s a feeling that you used to get fleetingly, as if something far away was tugging at you. But then he became real, a living thing in front of you that can touch, and that is much different.

“Why is it that I always find you out in the wilderness?” Yeonjun says. His voice comes from behind you.

Has he been watching you? You stand and dust your bottom off, heart kicking to life. “It’s nice out here,” you say. In truth, you haven’t come outside since that day. You’ve dodged Soobin and made a million excuses as to why you won’t go anywhere past the fences of your home. “I like to… watch people go about their days. It’s interesting.” It’s true—you always watch from afar how the village folk interact. How groups of girls your age link arms and whisper to each other, how neighbors come together to fix up a shoddy fence. You watch them be a community that you are not a part of. Watching it tastes bitter sometimes, but mostly you take pleasure in imagining yourself there with them. You’re not sure why you try making small talk with him, but what else? Should you go running again? If you were to listen to your pattering heart, maybe that’s what you’d do. He’s hardly shown you any bad will, though, and he’s the one that’s come to you. Maybe it’s silly to wait until something bad happens to be cautious.

A thousand pounds in stones sit at the center of your chest, though, and his voice makes them feel lighter. Why on earth that is, you’re not sure. It’s a nice relief regardless.

He smiles. It's different from the ones he showed you before. It’s knowing; more sweet than cracking over his face like the smile you would expect from the likes of him. What use might he have in being sweet? “Could I join you?”

Blinking dumbly at him for a second, you nod. “Oh, uh… Yeah.” Settling back down into your spot, you spare him a few curious sideways glances.

The breeze billows over the gold stems, moving them like gentle waves over the ocean and blowing your hair in it too. The flattened bits rustle under his weight. He doesn’t even turn his face toward the village; instantly, his gravitational eyes are on you.

“Do you come here often?”

“I do,” you answer. Mostly when you and Soobin have too much to do and not enough will to do it. “It’s nice. The village doesn’t like me much, so it’s easier out here.” You don’t mention that mostly you don’t come here alone.

Yeonjun’s face becomes far away. It looks strikingly like somebody forced into an old, unpleasant memory. “Don’t like you?” he asks, “What reason would they have for that?”

“They fear me. Things go wrong around me, that’s all.” You pluck at the hay absentmindedly. “Things die. They’re smart to stay away.”

The hay whispers much louder for the long moment he remains quiet, digesting what you’ve said. Maybe deciding what to say, considering that it’s his fault.

“Die?” he asks, voice inflected with surprise.

Turning to him, your brow creases. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the one that’s done it to you. “Everything that gets too close ends up dead. Everything,” you say, resting your temple on your knee. “So, I guess, I just keep it all at arm’s length.” You look back at your tiny village, a collection of familiar, un-familiar thatch-roof homes. 

Continuing to blink at you, his eyes narrowed in a strange grimace, Yeonjun says, “Death follows me, too.”

What? A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in your chest. Of course, death follows him. You cover your mouth with a hand to obscure your laugh, but you just giggle at him harder.

A laugh twitches at the corners of his mouth, too. “I mean it,” he says. The lines of his face become distant again, eyes both trained on your face and melancholic as if the sight reminds him of something.

It ignites a question in your mind about something he said in the forest. “You said that I reminded you of somebody,” you say, testing the waters. “Who?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. He looks away, as if he can’t look at you while he says it. “I loved a girl from this village once. When I was human, no less than you.”

You falter, mouth falling open to ask all the questions that flurry through your thoughts. You settle on one. “You were human?”

“I was,” he says ruefully. “And I had everything. I had the love of my life. I think that even the most bitter of creatures on this island had envy for our love. She would braid dandelions into my hair, and then I’d braid them into hers.” He swallows thickly and pauses, as if the wound was still festering and fresh. “And then she died. She died starting our family. She died because of me, in my arms.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just look into his shining eyes as if that’ll help. You’re not very useful with people, much less comforting them.

“I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t. So I went where I shouldn’t have gone, and angered something much bigger than myself. They thought it would be a fitting punishment for me to live an eternity, the King of Death who could not bring back his dead lover.” The harrowed look that he gives you, only briefly, has your chest heavy all over again. “They have a sense of humor, the forces.”

You imagine what it would’ve been like for him to lose his lover in that way. How far he’d gone to try and have her back, but death does not give back. Where had he gone to have been turned into this? An immortal thing, forced to roam the world and scoop up the souls of the living for an eternity? To be bound in ancient bones and made to remember forever how you had lost your lover?

The grandness of what you want to say is too big, but all those words feel pitying and patronizing in a way that you don’t think will actually bring him any comfort. Rather, you doubt anything you say will be able to patch up a wound older than you could imagine. Simply, you offer him a raw, “I’m so sorry.”

Yeonjun lets a crooked smile replace the trembling at his lips. “As long as I live, so too will she,” he says, placing his palm over his heart. “Death doesn’t so much happen when we leave behind our bodies, but when we’ve left the minds of the living.” Narrowing his eyes at you, he brushes hair behind your ear with his knuckles. “I know she lives on, somewhere out there. Somewhere. I’ll find her.”

That intrigues you. “Is there some way that you could bring her back?”

The grim light in his eyes tells you his answer. “My curse is to take life,” he says, “not to give it. But the one who made me this, he is cruel in a twisted way. If I were to find her, as a human or an animal or a blade of grass in the forest, only then could I rest.”

It is cruel. “You’ve been searching, then,” you conclude. “When you find her, you’ll both be able to rest.” But how could he find her, if as he says, she could be any living thing? Where would he even begin?

Slowly, he shakes his head, throat bobbing. “Death needs a farrier.”

She would become what he is. You swallow thickly. Was it not him who caused the deaths that follow you? Or, at least, it was not on purpose?

Opening your mouth, you go to tell him that you’ll help him look. You’re sure you’ll be of no help. He’s spent an immortal lifetime searching, and he still hasn’t found his dead lover. Nobody would know better than him where to look.

The ground shakes beneath your palms with impact, and something cuts through the wheat. The noise of its bleating becomes nearer until the both of you scramble up to find out what’s in such distress.

A deer stumbles around wildly. It looks lame, but you don’t see anything wrong with its legs. Your throat tightens at the awful sound, piercing and sad. Frozen, you watch it try to stay upright before it finally collapses down, legs still kicking as though it still wants to run but its body has begun weakening on it. “Oh my god,” you say, stumbling back. The sounds; its sounds are awful, echoing in your bones and constricting your thoughts until they’re a pinched panic.

There’s an arrow lodged into its ribcage, deep and at a terrible angle. You already know that it’s pierced some vital organs, if not its heart. It continues to writhe on the ground, not ready to give up. You’re not sure if you should approach it—you don’t want to scare it, and you can tell by the look in its wet eyes that it already wants to be away from you.

Or, maybe it had come to you. How else had it found the two of you in the middle of this field?

Yeonjun’s already on it. He puts his knees into the dirt and dried wheat to kneel by it, running his hand over the beast's pelt in long strokes. The small buck flinches at first but relaxes once he learns that his touches are gentle, not the gnashing of hungry teeth ready to make him a meal.

Blood runs like lead through your veins. You say, “Can we help it?”

He shakes his head. “He’ll die.”

Whip-lashed, you swallow thickly. He says it so unphased, and you’re sure he is. You can hardly make yourself mirror that serenity that he exudes as he runs his hand over its flank, but you get on the ground beside him anyway.

The buck’s breaths slow to desperate drags for breath. For a few long minutes, the two of you sit in silence and stay with him until he no longer fights, until his breaths are ragged. You feel his side, still warm and alive, but you see the life going from his eyes. You sit here, talking to each other about nothing just so it hears gentle voices as it goes, for a while.

Eventually, he’s gone. Quiet and at peace, no longer hurting. This time, when you look over to Yeonjun who still smooths over the deer’s skin even as he goes, guiding him delicately into whatever greets us when we go, you see death as a gentle thing.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Though you never seek him out, Yeonjun always finds you. In hidden places, away from prying eyes, he appears behind you and makes himself known. Well, you have a feeling that he watches you for a while before saying anything. It’s hard not to feel the strange tingling of his gaze over your form. It’s akin to the sixth sense that’s supposed to keep you safe out in the dark hearts of forests, an innate feeling that tells you some beast with a rotten, pale maw watches you between the trees.

Yeonjun doesn’t feel rotten, though, preternatural and eerie as he is. As you shirk your duties and talk with him for hours, you stare into ancient eyes and watch his crooked mouth move around his words and you feel an odd comfort. As if he’s the only one who’s ever understood you, or maybe that your strangeness pales beside him and for once you’re nothing but who you are. So many nights, the sun fell on your talking until the night insects buzzed from the grasses and your eyes were heavy.

Sometimes, as you dozed off with your back to a hay bale or a hardwood wall of the abandoned home beside yours with its sagging thatched roof, you caught such festering longing in his his eyes that you’d let your lashes fall and pretend to sleep so that you could imagine what it was that he longed for. No doubt his lost lover. When you imagine him, bound in bones and coming back to haunt the living for an eternity as he mourns her infinitely, searching for her in impossible places, your chest aches with a gnawing intensity.

It’s a terrible, cursed existence. Even the nothingness of death becomes a paradise beside it.

“Is it scary?” you ask into the air, sat criss-crossed on the thick duvet of the bed. He sits across from you, looking perfectly lazy. Moonlight pools in like sterling mist through the shutters.

“What?” He watches you, sitting in your plain dress, as though you’re the only thing in the world.

You’ve begun to wonder. Wonder about those looks he gives you.

Shifting, you fix the shoulder of your soft chemise where it’s slipped down when you catch his eyes lingering on it. His throat bobs. “Dying,” you elaborate. “Is it really nothing? After we go, all of it was for nothing?”

A slow smile tugs his full lips, made a bit red in the middle where he likes to worry it. It’s such a human habit to see on something so far from human. “Hardly,” he says. “It’s like going home, right where your soul is supposed to be. Who do you think rides with me?”

Furrowing your brows, you tilt your head toward one shoulder and let your hair pool there. “The riders are dead?” You had thought they were undead in some way like Yeonjun, other sorts of revenants come back to life with their own purposes. Then, are their creepy horses dead, too? A chill goes down your arms. Sometimes, sitting here with him when his face is made soft by the orange glow of the fire he puts on, you forget what he is.

“They are.” He nods, leaned back onto his elbows, his eyes alight with a hunger that makes your insides feel funny. “It doesn’t stop once we’ve died. You don’t need to be scared, my love. So many things end, but then so many things begin. The earth no longer holds you down, the weight of being is gone. You don’t know anything like it; you don’t know leaving behind the pleasures of earth to know the ones that only the afterlife can show you.”

His eyes laced with something entirely else, he adds, “And it’s not the end. Not for everything. For some it’s only the beginning, and for others, those who have not yet fulfilled their purpose, they come back to the flesh. They return.”

You can’t tell if he means himself, or something else. The weight in his eyes, dark, endlessly swirling pools, makes you wonder again why it is that he’s lingering here: the place that he had not visited once since the death of his lover, for the fact that it still hurts too much. Why his shadow of death, his fault or not, was tangled in your soul enough to brush its fingers over the things around you.

“It’s scary,” you say, breathy. The thought of eternity.

Soft hairs brush over his eyes as he tilts his head at you. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“No?” he echos, pushing himself up so that he leans back onto his palms. “Isn’t that strange? Pretty little thing says she’s not afraid of death, but her heart races when I’m near. Her sweet heart jumps at just the brush of my leg. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth, love?”

Your blood roars in your veins, inflaming your cheeks and making your head dizzy. Nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. Hair prickles on your skin. “Yes,” you breathe.

Feral delight sparks in his eyes, black as pitch. His smile turns up all feline at the crooked corners. “Crawl to me, then.”

Like how fire licks up oxygen in any room it is in, his words steal the breath right from your lungs. What does he think you are? You blink at him wide-eyed and dumb for a moment.

How can he say that as though it were nothing? Moreover, how does the ravenous flare in his eyes, his head tilted back as he watches you down his nose expectantly, do that to your belly?

Your mind glazes over with something thick and heady, and you damn the nerves in your belly and begin to crawl from your end of the bed to his. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, making sure you feel every inch of the taunt in his eyes as he trains them on you. When you’ve gotten to him through the thickness in the air, you settle into his lap and bracket his waist with your thighs.

Yeonjun takes the soft fat of your hips in his fingers. “Fuck,” he says. It sounds like he’s barely holding the gates on something endlessly consuming. Something that might break loose on the two of you, and leave you changed forever with its hungry, gnashing teeth. His head hits your collarbone. “Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to go. Because I don’t know how.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop. I want it, Yeonjun. I want this.”

He straightens, pupils blown and eyes as tense as his set jaw. “No, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. All I’ve ever done is ruin. All I’ll ever do is ruin. I won’t ruin you; not again.”

That rings bells somewhere outside the heavy fog that’s infiltrated your mind, but they don’t sound too alarming when he looks as though he wants to drag his teeth over your heart to taste its beating. It doesn’t touch the ground, when you want him to, so badly. So badly that you taste it on your tongue and it tinges your words as you tell him, “I do know what I’m asking for. I want you. Yeonjun. Don’t you want me too?” Voice and confidence wavering, you pull back. Maybe you’ve read this all wrong. A tickling shame crawls over your skull. “Do you not want me?”

“You think I don’t want you?” he says, straightening up and meeting your gaze. His breath is hot on your mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. You are in the marrow of my bones. Fuck, I have done nothing but want you, but I am foul. I will only hurt you.”

He takes your hand and places it over his chest, where a heart should be. Beneath your palm, you do not feel the thumping of an alive thing. Yeonjun has no heart. You knit your brows and examine the strain of his features. Does he think that you’ll be disgusted? Maybe the girl you were in that forest might’ve been, but being near Yeonjun has changed you in ways you couldn’t start to put your finger on. “I’m asking you to,” you say. “Show me what you want to do to me. What you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Searing silence burns between you as he drinks that in, and then he shoves you onto your back. Supporting himself with an arm beside your head, he curls his fingers into your hip and nudges your thighs wider. He doesn’t lift the hem of your chemise like you expect him to. No—Yeonjun begins to grind himself into your cunt through all the layers of your clothes. Though your dress is bunched up and his pants lay between any real contact, Yeonjun’s hard and that friction tastes fleetingly sweet.

“I want you to beg me for it,” he says, grinning down at you with cruel intention. “Beg me, and make it so pretty.”

You let little sounds linger in that back of your throat and become hungrier each time he grinds against you. It’s so much, mind swimming and sparks spraying up your spine, and yet each time it is not near enough. Damn that foxish smile on his face; you beg for him anyway. “Yeonjun,” you breathe, curling your fingers around the wrist of that hand with which he pins your hip. “P…lease, will you help me? It feels so good; I want more, please.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and an eager grind comes right over your throbbing clit. 

You know he wants more than that, but mortification already is making your voice unsteady and your cheeks burn. “Yeonjun,” you huff, hips wiggling.

The king of the undead delights fully in your shame and rewards you with more of those pointed, dry grinds. Your legs tremble; he’s giving you so little, and yet your need takes it and magnifies it into something grand.

Though he pretends he’s on some high ground, you hear his shuddering breaths each time his fucks his hips against you. He feels that roiling, liquid need in his belly just as vehemently as you do. The room fills with your breathy pants and grinding bodies. You catch your lip in your teeth and begin to meet him half-way. Your moans are low and sweet, and each one sends his jaw tighter. 

You twist and grind against each other like fumbling teens until you’re coiled up so tight that he has to pull himself away. Your throbbing cunt protests, but you know he doesn’t want you cumming like this.

“You want me to show you what I’ve wanted to do to you?” he says, working at his pants. His eyes are so drunk on you, and his cheeks betray his state. “Open your legs, my love. Let me show you a little death.”

Throat gone dry, you slowly let your thighs fall open. The dull throbbing between your thighs roars to life. He slides your skirt up your leg, stopping when he frees your knee to pepper a few hot kisses into it. Once he’s got it bunched up at your ribcage, he runs his tongue over his dry lips to wet them. “Fuck. Such a pretty pussy. I want to fucking eat you up.”

“Yeonjun,” you whine. His name is all you can muster out, anticipation sharpened to a knife point.

Flashing his teeth, he purrs, “You like that, you filthy thing. I bet you’d like for me to fuck you till your brain’s gone and all that’s left is my name. Isn’t that right? Is that what you want?”

Your thoughts stall and you nod, making your mouth into a filthy pout. God, how you want that. Maybe he’s right about you being filthy. Coming from him, it sounds like a delicious thing to be.

The pretty, leaking tip of his cock brushes your clit as he slides it up and down your slit to collect the mess there. Your thighs jump to close before your mind gets the better of it. He does this a few times—up and down, letting you feel and get used to the size and length of him all the way till his cockhead kisses your clit and you squeak.

“Are you comfortable, love?” he asks, shifting your hips with strong hands. “Do you need anything from me?”

It’s so at odds with his other, nastier words. Your head spins, the moonlight blurring. “I’m okay,” you tell him. “I… just want you. Want you to put it in, want to feel you.”

His cock catches on your hole, and he begins to push forward with promising pressure. But then he pulls back, smiling downturned. You whine; why can’t he save his capriciousness for later? You’d almost had it…

“I could give it to you, or I could not…” He hums. “Wouldn’t that be so cruel of me? To leave you wanting?”

You flutter around nothing. Every inch of your body buzzes. Alive. You are more alive now, at the promise of Death’s touch, than ever before. The irony might be something to wonder about if you weren’t dribbling down onto the bed sheets with crude need. “Stop it,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You’re glad you can hardly hear yourself past the pounding in your bloodstream.

That delights the King of Death. He wrinkles his nose at you, burning you alive with his eyes as he presses his palm to your belly and guides himself into you with his free hand. You wrap around each inch of him slowly. The air between you bows under the weight of your gazes; he holds your eyes the whole way, inch by inch until he’s seated fully into you with his groin flush to your body. He stretches you to fit, and yet it’s just right. You could ask for no more or no less; you might even think your body was made for him, were you not too busy circling your hips to feel him.

“Good?” he says, squeezing your hip. “Do you need a moment?”

Pursing your lips, you test out the shape of him with another wiggle. “Maybe… Maybe a second.” Truth be told, you need a moment to grapple with the sparks sprinkling over your mind more than you need a moment to adjust to his stretch. You let out a shuddering breath.

He traces circles into your belly, just beneath your navel. The pad of his thumb goes round and round, warm on your flesh. “As long as you need,” he says, but it’s more like a triumphant, playful coo. There’s that lopsided smirk. One day, you’d like to kiss it off him. Taking that hypnotizing finger, Yeonjun trails it up your stomach, over your ribcage. He hooks it beneath your dress and drags it higher, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to the air. You shudder, body so, so hot that your nipples peak and tighten against the cool air.

“Such pretty tits,” he says, brushing his knuckle up the underside of one. “Everything about you. Such a pretty, pretty body. God, I don’t know if I want to worship it or ruin it.” His breaths fan over your skin as he bends down and pops an eager nipple into his mouth, lavishing it before releasing it with a lewd pop and letting his mouth fall all over your breast. Lick here, nip there, until you’re squirming adequately and squeezing him like a virgin. Then he blows cool air over it and watches with eyes like a cat toying with its prey as you shudder harder, your chest jumping. “Fucking look at you,” he sneers.

“Junnie,” you say, lost for breath. You think you’ve walked yourself into the lion’s den.

His breathy laughs fall over your breast. Taking his teeth, he drags them over your skin, right over where your heart thunders a rhythm fully for him, and then he bites. Nothing more than a shallow mark, the shape of his teeth in your soft tit. He lingers there, admiring the sight before he straightens himself up again.

“Fine.” He pulls out of you slowly, but you know what comes after that, so you savor every second of it. “I suppose you’ve wanted after it long enough. Let me hear your sweet voice again, my love.”

Yeonjun fucks you just right. His cock nudges right up on your sweet spot as if he’s done this before. Like he knows where to find it. You gasp and whine—you’re just happy he’s finally giving you something. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mewl. His shoulders wear the red crescent marks of your nails. “That’s—so good right there.”

Ever egotistical and cocky, he croons, “Yeah?” Rolling himself back, he makes it his mission to hit it ruthlessly.

A sharp, pitchy sound comes tumbling past your lips. You bring your hand up over your mouth, letting your eyelids dust your burning cheeks so that you can brave the flipping in your spine and deep in your belly. It’s nearly insufferable—the way pleasure licks up your spine, how it spreads out into your veins and takes control of you.

“No,” Yeonjun growls. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Let me see that look in your eyes when you cum.”

Your eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but you open them. The sight that greets you is worth the effort. Yeonjun’s lip twitches and then he throws his head back, the column of his neck on display as his Adam's apple jumps around a thick swallow.

If that sight wasn’t enough to send you teetering down into whatever depths of lust and ecstasy that he crawled out from, then the angle he hits as he pushes one of your thighs to your chest is. The world frays, deep tremors starting at one small point in your cunt and then exploding up through your stomach and down the back of your thighs. Your chest arches off the bed and you mewl helplessly, fighting and embracing your orgasm in an intoxicating death.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeonjun growls, strained with something whinier as he watches you shake beneath him. “Fuck. I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum…” His voice chokes as his hips become stuttered more than pointed, the slick sounds of your own release tangling up with his grunts and pants until he shudders and stills, cumming into your puffy, fluttering cunt.

You both catch your breaths as if there’s no air in the room left for a while. His hair’s damp on his forehead, as is yours on your neck, and his eyes droop lazily. More lazy and content than you’ve ever seen him.

Collecting you to his chest, where only your heart thumps away frantically, he presses his mouth to your ear and says, “Do you think death is so scary now?”

With your limbs nothing more than boneless and liquid pleasure floating slowly through your thoughts, you smile.

A little death can be more visceral than living, you think.

༺ ꘏ ༻

The tree stump beneath you makes your tailbone ache. You sit criss-crossed, watching Soobin work away at the soil and tend to that section of the fence that’s begun to rot and sag. Your mouth moves endlessly, filling the space that would otherwise just be made up of his grunts of hard work.

“You know, you ought to help me if you’re just going to sit and watch,” he says, straightening to swipe at his forehead, sweaty despite the cold in the air.

“Totally improper,” you say, smiling at him cheekily. “Are you saying that you can’t handle yourself, strong man?”

He glares at you with the venom only somebody made to put up with hours of chatter could muster. “What’s got you so talkative?” he says.

You know he means why you’re suddenly not glaring him away. You can’t tell him that you’ve spoken with Death himself, so instead you say, “Nothing.” Letting your legs dangle down, you smile at him.

Yeonjun hadn’t done any of it. It’s a comfort, to some degrees, to know that. It’s not your fault that they died. Being around them, being around Soobin, won’t make them turn up dead. The rest of them still don’t know that—and they wouldn’t believe it, anyway—but the black shadow hanging over your shoulders dissipates.

For the first time in so, so long, you do not feel marked by death.

“Sure.” His smile tilts. “A week ago, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to give him a hard time. “Not true. You just have a way of getting on my nerves.”

“I take pride in that.”

“Take pride in what? Being insufferable?”

Crinkling his nose, he says, “Knowing how to bother you best.”

“Get back to work, stupid.” Your heart soars. It’s good to have friends. To let yourself have friends is an ever better thing. Is this how it is? To be with others and not feel like their burden, or like they’re crossing their fingers behind their back to ward off whatever bad things you might bring onto them? He’s made it his mission to hover around you no matter what, but this feels different.

Maybe, for so long, part of it has been your own gloom that’s obscured it all. Maybe if you didn’t bare your teeth to anybody who got too close, it could’ve been like this always. You hate to think that your own isolation could be some part your own fault. But how were you not to show your teeth when someone tried to reach their hand out to you?

It doesn’t matter now. You shove that all down and let yourself feel the slight warmth of the sun’s glow on your skin where it peeks through the clouds. It’s a nice day, you shouldn’t ruin it with those thoughts.

The sun’s begun making its descent when Soobin’s done. He takes a long drink of water, hissing with relief and crumpling down to the ground with his back to your stump.

“Are you making any way with that girl you were talking to me about?” you prompt.

Giving you a long look over his shoulder, he says, “Don’t.”

“What?” You laugh a little, raising your brows down at him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he says, voice flat as he picks stickers out of his fingers.

Soobin’s had a thousand different crushes. There was that daughter of the shepherd, and then the wealthy merchant’s daughter and her long pretty hair, and then the neighbor… Well, you could go on. None of them ever really came to fruition for the poor guy. He thinks that it’s because he’s a poor farmer’s son, but you always tell him that it’s because he’s got an insistent mouth, and that he should be more grateful that you deal with him. Your lips turn up at the corners a little thinking about it—he’ll find the one eventually, but you like the indignant look on his face when you say it.

“I mean it!” you say, nudging him with your leg. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“You won’t even tell me what’s happening with you. Until one of us quits keeping secrets,” he says, placing accusation heavy over the words, “I’ll keep my dealings to myself. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Feeling the weight of his head as he lets it loll lazily against your thigh, you decide that it couldn’t hurt to tell him. The itch to tell somebody crawls under your skin. Especially to tell him. “You know the other day? When I was… being awful?”

His body shakes with a vindicated laugh. “If you’re nothing else, at least you’re self-aware.”

You skirt around that with your own, more awkward, laugh. It’s nice that he thinks so, but you don’t feel it. “Stop,” you huff and nudge him again. “I was foraging out where I usually go. But I guess I wandered out farther than I thought I did. You remember when they used to tell us stories, right? Like the bogeyman. That he’d come snatch us up if we didn’t listen.” Your mom especially had loved that one, back when she cared what became of you. Would she care again, if you told her that everything was fine? “Well, I don’t know if you remember the one about The Wild Hunt, but… Anyway, I was picking some stuff, and…”

Sitting up from his exhausted slouch, Soobin looks like he’s suddenly come back to life. “What?” he interrupts. His voice is strangely serious.

“What?” you say, brow creasing. “They travel here and there… but they were here. In the woods. Like, I heard them.”

Tersely, he asks, “What were you doing that deep in the woods?”

“I mean, I just kept on finding nice stuff until I just… was deeper.” You survey him. You hadn’t thought that he’d react like this. “So I ran, and then there was this guy,” you say, watching realization fall over his face. He knew those stories as much as you do—knew where you were going with this. He is as starkly superstitious as the rest of your people, you forgot. Pushing past the grimace on his face, you say, “And I knew that he was the king. The one from the stories. It was so weird; it’s like you can feel it. And I spoke to him, and then…”

Stood up now, he cuts you off once more. “Are you kidding?”

“Why are you being like that?” you say, messing with your skirts to quell the defensive bite in your tone. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything? Are you trying to get killed?” He throws up his hard-working hands. “We have rules for a reason. Don’t go out into the forest, don’t make deals with faeries, don’t follow a banshee scream. And then you go and talk to the king of death? How am I not supposed to be upset about that? You know that…” Soobin blinks a few times as if second-guessing what he’s about to say, but he says it anyway. “You know that he’s the reason that they treat you how they do. You know that he’s the one who ruined your life. Why would you ever mess with that?”

You push yourself up from the ground, eyes burning. That stings like a cut. “He didn’t do it. None of it is his fault,” you say, furrowing your brows. “What are you trying to say, Soobin? Just say what you want to say. Come on.”

“He didn’t do anything?” He scoffs, letting a heavy silence hang suspended in the air for a moment before saying, “Is that what he told you? And you just believed it? Listen to yourself, does that make any sense? He’s played with your life like it’s some fucking toy, and now he’s come to rub it in your face. Think about it: do animals just fly into anybody else’s windows and die? Do the trees that they pick from just end up dead? It’s his fault that they all treat you the way you do.”

Mouth opening and closing, you don’t know what to say. 

He sees the hurt in your burning eyes and tries to reel it back in. “What I’m trying to say is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” you say, grabbing up the lunch you’ve been nibbling on. “I know exactly what you’re saying. I just never thought you’d say it out loud.”

“Say what?” Soobin says, his voice raising behind you as you storm off.

That you think it’s my fault, you want to say. That they all die because I am a plague, and you are a charity worker for being my friend. Instead, you just leave and try to choke down the tightness in your throat.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You curl your arms around yourself, the night biting cold. Yeonjun had dragged you from bed, and who knows what hour of the night it is? If the heaviness beneath your eyes is to judge it by, it’s far too deep in the dead of night to be outside with your boots half-laced and nothing but your sleep chemise on.

You might’ve just stayed wrapped up in your blankets if you weren’t so lonely as you’ve been. Soobin’s been scarce. The most you see of him is in the fields from morning to afternoons. You hope that he’ll stop by your doorstep and knock so that you can groan about it but swing the door open anyway each time, but he doesn’t. He thinks that you won’t want to see him, and so he allows you your space.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s hard to be the one to come back after a conversation like that, though. You watch him from the windows and hope he understands at some point instead. It’s an awful lot easier.

Other than preparing meals and window watching, you’ve been up to nothing much at all. You hadn’t realized how much you had, but you feel him in his absence. 

“It’s cold…” you say. The fog of breath that punctuates it makes your point. Whatever he’s brought you out here for, you have no doubt it’ll be something strange. The grin on his face tells you as much.

Leading the way, he heads for the Darkwood. “Only you would come rushing out without a cloak for your shoulders.”

“Well, only you would drag me from my nice, warm bed at this time of night. For what?”

“Can’t anything be a surprise with you?” he says, shooting you a cheeky glance over his shoulder. “Surprises are fun.”

“Surprises!” you say, working your legs to catch him. “Not surprises that involve you bringing me out into the woods. You know, it’s awfully suspicious. Somebody who sees this might think that I am the type to… sneak out with men.”

“Aren’t you now?”

Your lips tug down. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs in his airy way, a twig snapping under his foot. You’re well in the woods, now. Probably somewhere near where you’d first met him.

Lifting a brow, you look at him expectantly. Maybe a will-o’-the-wisp will come floating through with its light bouncing off the trees. That would be a nice surprise, you admit.

Yeonjun circles you. His presence behind you tingles in the way it always does, but true chills erupt when his breath puffs against your ear. “Close your eyes. I have something I want to show you.”

Your mind wanders back to what Soobin had gotten so twisted up about. It might be naive and reckless and against everything you ever learned, but you let your eyes fall shut to blackness. If he was going to hurt you, you imagine he’d have had that opportunity a mind-numbing amount of times before.

“Are they shut?” he asks, waiting for your nod. His voice comes from in front of you now. “I want you to keep them shut. You can’t open your eyes, or it will all go away. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, mind full of a bounty of questions. You don’t even know where to begin to assume what he’s got going on, so you stand there shifting your antsy feet.

There’s a strange, rustling sound that catches you off guard with your eyes closed. It drags on for a long moment. Curiosity pries at your eyes; you want nothing more than to just crack an eye open to spy the source of the ruckus. 

It’ll be gone if you do, anyway.

You let out a surprised squeak as something rises up beneath you, as if risen from nothing more than the dirt and roots of the forest floor, bringing you up from the earth. You wobble and send your hands out to find a perch.

A horse. It’s a horse, its mane so tangled and windswept, but matted and clumped with leaves that crunch under your palm when you find them. It reeks of mud—everything around you begins to smell of earth and decomposition.

You know that if you open your eyes, you’ll find yourself sat upon the pale white steed of the Undead King, its eyes white and its knobby knees almost as famous as the leader of The Hunt himself. It chuffs beneath you.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun says over your shoulder. You can hear the feral grin in his voice. It’s the leader of The Hunt, a creature of folklore, that sits behind you now. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him, securing you against the wall of his chest. “Hold on tight, my love.”

The call of the wild, that horn, bellows again like it had the first time you heard it. Rather than coming from nearby as you thought it would, it dances between trees far off just like it had that time, too. Your heart jumps up into your throat.

Taking off with a howl, the Wild Hunt follows it.

You dig your fingers into Yeonjun’s at your waist. Weight melts away, and you know you’re in the air. Your belly swoops in tandem with the howls and hoots of the riders, heart palpitating to the hoofbeats. How there’s hoofbeats as you ride through the air, you’re not sure. The ghostly fleet manifests around you in vivid imagery, though you squeeze your eyes shut. They are wild enough to imagine just what they might look like: with their clothes and flesh in tatters, with their eyes beady or pale, with their hounds piercing the air with their calls and running alongside them, they are a perfect personification of freedom.

Whip-lash sends you reeling, body going rigid. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes harder, wishing that you’ll touch ground soon and that everything would become real again.

Yeonjun feels you go stiff. Bringing his head back to your shoulder from his own delight, he says, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it into your bones. Do you think I would let it hurt you?”

He is their leader. If it got too much, you know Yeonjun would be there to catch you. Curling your fingers into his, you release that tension and allow their drumbeat to echo through you.

And when it does, your blood begins to sing along. The wind whips your cheeks and your hair, and you begin to laugh with them. The Hunt twists and turns and dances through the air, an apparition in the night, but nothing more than that.

It comes to a slow, eventually, until the noise and even your steed crumbles back down into the dirt it appeared from. Your eyes pop open hoping to catch at least a glimpse of them, but only the dark forest and pale moonlight answer. Your legs threaten to give out on you, veins still thrumming, but, oh, do you feel alive.

You feel more alive than you ever have, more than you ever could have hoped to have known. Mind spinning, you stumble. Yeonjun catches and steadies you before you can go scraping your knees on a rock.

“Oh my fucking god,” you say.

The laugh that Yeonjun breaks into has you sending him a glare, but you break too. Everything about him is ironic; and how ironic indeed that Death himself should show you how to be alive, rather than to just live?

༺ ꘏ ༻

The air is so fresh in your lungs when you step outside that it nearly burns. You clutch your basket of warm fig tarts. Songbirds trill and fly between tree tops that slowly become more bare the deeper you fall into the season, singing their sweet songs that sound like new beginnings.

Raising your hem from the ground churned up into mud from the afternoon’s trickle, you prance into town with a lively pep in your step. You spent all last night making these—Yeonjun had kept you company, watching you how he always does as you pored over making them just right. His cruel snicker when the jam had simmered over flame for too long and became too thick bounces off your bones in a sweet melody. You’ve come to adore his wicked delight, the way his smile cracks over his face and the facetious raise of his brows, more than you fear it.

Sending small smiles to the people that you pass, you stop by a huddle of kids digging sticks into the mud. They look up at you with curious eyes, stopping to gawk.

“Hey, guys,” you say, pulling back the cloth laid over the sweets. “I’ve made some fig tarts. Do you like fig? I bet you’ll like them; they’re sweet.”

The kids stand up, eyes big as they share a look. They don’t let out so much as a peep before they scurry off home.

You blink. Well, you’re used to weird reactions, but that was… different. Picking up your deflated shoulders and hesitant limbs, you make a shoddy attempt at not letting it dampen your good morning. You were expecting wary looks, anyway.

You head down a little further toward the far side of your home village, the side that breaks off after a fenceline into a great, grassy field. There’s a bustle, mothers washing their clothes in pails and hanging them up to dry and a few others whispering at each other lowly as they go about their days.

An old woman so old her back curves and her fingers have gone knobby makes her way to wherever the day’s duty demands her to be. Your neighbor—an eccentric old lady bound in her times. You decide on her: the elderly are forgotten by the young. She might enjoy knowing that her neighbors still know she exists.

“Hello,” you say, showing her your basket with a hopeful, excited heart. “I have some treats that I was wanting to give out. I know they might not be much, but would you like one? I’m not the best baker, but I do it often enough.” A face like that, dragged down by her years on this earth and not long to death, has no doubt spent many years making meals for her family. You imagine your goods would be nothing beside hers, but it’s the gesture, no?

“Oh, girl,” she says, voice crackling as she clutches her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m afraid it’s best if you found yourself missing from this place. Hurry yourself up and spare the drama.”

The incessant cawing of a crow from a clawed tree fades into the background as you furrow your brows and lower your basket to ask, “...Huh?” Your belly goes up in knots; terrible knots done up tight and fast. You haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about. Elders always did speak a bit strange, though. It could be nothing much; she’s a stern old lady.

But her eyes are not angry and glaring in the way that a harrowed old hag might turn her nose up at the youth. They drag down with a cold pity.

“Listen to me, girl.” She points at you with one of those worn, sun-spotted hands. “You had best leave. The boy’s gone, and they are already not fond of you. Who will they point their fingers to?” the woman says. “I hardly know you, but I would hate to see it.”

The rest of her words fade into the roaring in your ears, the feral drumbeat of your heart like a wardrum in the cage of your ribs as it beats against them as if to escape from you. You don’t feel the basket in your hands, don’t feel the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, and don’t feel a single one of your thoughts like tangible things. They flit as if liquidated into a rotten, sick mush.

Nothing. You can think of nothing. Nothing real; nothing holding you to the earth.

“What?” Your voice hardly reaches your ears, but what does is weak and broken and like a plea for her to tell you that it’s not really what you think it is.

And if you could see or hear anything beyond your fraying little rift in reality, you would’ve heard the man coming up to you. You would’ve heard the words coming from his angry, sneering mouth, and would’ve done something when he picked up a pail of water, and you would’ve been shaken by the nasty ice water that runs down your frozen body and plasters your hair and clothes down as he pours it over you. But none of it cuts through your stupor.

He yells some awful, stabbing things at you, and a few others join him. They tell you that you are nothing but a plague, tell you to leave and to not come back here.

But this is your home. Where else would you go?

With your sopping wet dress clutched in your shaking fists as though that might keep you grounded, you choke down the tightening of your throat and sift through their faces, searching for his face. Those brown eyes, brown and always shining with nagging playfulness, do not come up anywhere. Jaw trembling, you search harder. Out on the field where he should be at this time of day, at your doorstep demanding that you go spend the day doing nothing with him, in someone’s yard helping them fix up a broken fence, no matter where you look, neither his broad silhouette nor his cheeky, dimpled face is there. You continue to stand stricken dumb, looking for him even though you know by the churning in your belly that it’s true, and you’re just hurting yourself trying to find him right where he should be.

Fine. Alive. Untouched by your disgusting, destructive presence.

When you can no longer fight the strangling tightness in your lungs and your dress is as heavy as your heart, you take off. The hem of your dress drags in mud and sticker bushes and catches on stray twigs, and you don’t know where you’re going, but you just run. You’ll give them what they want. 

You stumble, probably like some lost, undead thing, until you find yourself at the edge of the forest. Only then do you let the wall of whittle-edged tears roll down your face. And you assume you sound like a choking, dying animal with how you choke and heave on them, but he was the one you might’ve dropped your head and cried to, so what’s the use of making it pretty? No; you let it all fall as it is.

Soobin’s dead. Soobin’s dead, and it’s nobody else’s but your own fault. You clutch your chest to staunch that old ache that’s grown teeth and tears at your heart; you have and will always be the end of everything that comes near. You are just as much the plague that you began to pretend, to believe, you weren’t. It was your stupid hope that maybe you could have something and not watch it become carrion that drove that pick. It was by your hope that he’s gone.

The hair on your arms begins to raise. You pick your head up and find Yeonjun standing in front of you.

There’s a few beats of long, dreadful quiet as he takes in the state of you. He drags his eyes down and they become liquid flame—something different from the impious delight that he is made of. He becomes the King of Death.

“What happened?” he says. The chills on your arms prickle furiously at the words, furling out distant and yet furious like the center of the fire.

You shake your head, wiping your soaked cheek.

“What the fuck happened?” he growls again, taking your face into his hand. “Who did this? Who did this to you, my love? I need you to tell me who the fuck did this to you.”

Letting the venom in your mouth out, you shove his chest and say, “Get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

Yeonjun’s face twists up, looking scalded. Not surprised, though. “Don’t do this,” he says. “Let me hold you while it hurts. Don’t push me away. I can’t… I won’t lose you again.”

All the pieces that you had been putting into the corners of your mind snap together at that. As many suspicions as you had, though, it feels sour hearing it confirmed from his mouth. That you are his dead past lover, reincarnated or whatever you are. That it was his presence—because even though he stayed away for centuries, a part of him still lingered with you—that now has torn down everything you ever thought you could love. He, standing there in front of you like a kicked puppy, is the ruination of your life in the flesh. The flipping of your stomach is nauseating.

“I hate you,” you spit. “I hate you so much.” You repeat it a few more times, and you sob it into his chest as he takes you into his arms. “Is this what you wanted? You’ve been waiting for this forever, haven’t you? To find me again, so that you can die and fucking leave me here. So that you can make me exactly what you are, while you get your peace. You are a liar and a thief. All you’ve ever done is steal and take. How could you do it? Huh? Tell me…” Your voice trembles and staggers off. “Tell me how you made love to me, how you made me believe that you loved me, and all you ever wanted was to save yourself? You betrayed me.”

Pulling back, Yeonjun says, “No.”

“Yes,” you say, stumbling back away from him with a shaking, accusatory finger pointed at him. “Yes you did.”

Fingers itching to reach out to you, he holds them back by curling them into fists. “No. That’s not fair. I have spent an eternity loving you. I spent the entirety of my immortal, monstrous life searching for you, just so that I might find you in any form. I would have been glad to find you as a leaf in a tree, as long as I found you. But, then, I find you alive. Alive and back, as if… it never happened.” He steps toward you, aching to be near you. His voice wavers. “Please, don’t do this to me, love. Please, just let me have you again. I’ve waited… I’ve waited and I’ve waited, and I finally have you, and now you’re looking at me like I… Like I’d ever hurt you. Finding death—finally getting to die would be worth nothing if you weren’t there with me. It was never about that.”

“I could never love you,” you say, matching his steps forward with steps away from him. “I could never love a monster that does… Does nothing but kill. Take.”  You know your words are cruel, but you need them to be. You need him to hurt, you need him to go so far away from you that never again will you cause another living thing’s death. 

“You did.” Yeonjun’s mouth cracks into a pained smile, sharp at the corners. “You loved me just as much as I love you, once.”

“Just leave me. Leave me, and I wish to never see you again. If you love me, then you’ll give me that.” 

He looks at you, clever eyes intense and glassy, for a long time. And then he says, “Would that make you happy? Would it make it so that you could live a happy life, and find yourself something to live for?”

What’s left for you? A small village that won’t ever embrace you? No, it wouldn’t fix your life. But you open your mouth and tell him, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, brushing his knuckles over your cheeks reverently. He swallows in your features, running over them for what he knows is the last time he’ll be seeing you—the very last time he’ll see the face of his undying love. When he finally opens his mouth again, his voice is gentle. “I’ll leave you. If my being here hurts you, then I won’t be selfish. I love you, darling.”

Don’t go, you want to tell him. Please don’t leave. Please, hold me. But your mouth is dry, and you let the radiant hurt in your chest stop you. You let him go.

༺ ꘏ ༻

There’s only one place you can think of going to. It’s the only place your vagrant feet take you.

His spot still is held sacred by the flattened, gold wheat stalks. Your best friend, still living here on Earth in at least one way even if he’s not here to listen to your stupid rambling. And he would maybe complain, but he’d always listen.

The last thing you���d done was fight with him. What an awful thing—what an awful way to repay him for being the only one who ever dared to get close.

You sit in your spot, beside his, and rest your chin on your knees. If only the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. You’d deserve it.

What’s left for you? Is there a place in the world that would keep you happily once they see what you do? No. There is not. You wish you knew what to do; you wish you had somebody to ask.

Releasing a long, tight breath, you just sit and wait for something to give you answers. A gentle breeze makes your hair dance, but it does not whisper anything to your ears. Something’s circling over head, but it doesn’t caw in the cadence of his laughter.

The day moves along without you. You’re not sure how long you sit, but it stretches somewhere between a few minutes and eternity. No matter how long you wait, there are no answers. No matter how long you mull over it.

Conceding, you begin to push yourself up from the ground. A rustle in between the foliage stops you before you stand.

A tawny hare leaps out in front of you. It sniffs around you, nose twitching. Then it stands back on its haunches. It stares straight at you, an intelligent light in its eyes that knits your brows. The wild thing stands there with a purpose that is uncharacteristic of a forest animal.

But entirely familiar in the face of your best friend. That shine in its eyes as it stands there, nose still twitching, makes your chest tighten up.

“Hey,” you say, as if it might answer you. Your eyes well up with hot tears again. Of course, it doesn’t. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, but you know that it’s him. That idiot, coming to show you that he’s okay in the afterlife—to visit one last time and to let you know that you shouldn’t worry for him or cry for him. Look at him, full of life once again, he seems to say. The hare blinks its beady eyes. It lingers there for a long time, the ease of peace found in his gaze that Soobin hadn’t had in this life, saying that there is still something waiting out there for us once we go. You reach out a hand. He does not flinch as you scratch behind its ear.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’m glad to know you’re alright. I know what I need to do, now.”

He blinks.

You laugh a hoarse, breathy laugh, familiar in only the way that Soobin could achieve. “You look stupid.”

Indignantly, the hare stops a bratty foot in a way reminiscent of one of Soobin’s huffs before it settles back down onto its forelegs and scurries off. He goes to live out this new form of life, because it’s true: life does not end in death. He’s shown you that.

Maybe, like this, he’ll find that pretty lady that loves him the way he deserves. That loser.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You spend only one night in your home and you know that what you’ve chosen is right. After spending your day out in the field, you sneak under night’s cover into your husk of a room and let yourself sleep there under the covers one last time. When morning breaks through the window, you gather your weary bones up and leave. 

You run into your mother on the way out. She doesn’t yell at you to leave, but her eyes have gone cold. Colder than you’re used to. You’ve killed again, in every way that counts. So you don’t bother with bidding her or any of them any grand goodbyes. You couldn’t handle the relief you might find falling over them, should you.

Plopping down to the floor, you take a few bites of the cheese and bread lathered in sweet jam that you’d swiped from the kitchen. The grass is long and willows in the wind, bending and dancing prettily. It’s so soft; you enjoy the feeling of it beneath your fingers in your quiet serenity. The scent of it, fresh over the baseness of dirt, you breathe into your lungs.

It would be the loveliest place to spend the rest of eternity.

For the first time, Yeonjun appears in front of you rather than behind you. He materializes from nothing, his elbow on his knee as casual as if he’d been sat there the whole time. The darkness beneath his eyes seems heavier, but then again you know that exact heaviness. It sits right in the very center of you.

You both are quiet for a bit. You let the tall grass whisper, instead.

“Bread?” you say and slant your lips into a smile. Bringing it up, you offer it to him.

His smile wrinkles his nose and curls at the edges. Entirely him. Yeonjun accepts the bread, ripping a bite out before throwing it away into the sea of green. Once he’s chewed, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s utterly at odds with his sharp mouth. Your lips move over each other gently, save for an indulgent nip or bite here and there.

He pushes you back into a bed of sweetgrass, never letting your lips go. Not to breathe, not to say something that’ll pale in comparison to the sweetness of your mouths on one another. He kisses you until he’s had enough to fulfill a lifetime without it, and then some more.

“My love,” he whispers into your skin, his breath hot on your collarbone. “Mine,” he says, pressing a kiss into the column of your neck, and then he says it again with a hot kiss to the place where your dress suggests your breasts. He says it a handful more times as he pushes your skirts up your thighs. “My love forever. I waited for you so long, and I would do it again.” Lowering his voice to a honeyed whisper, he adds, “I would find you no matter what.”

Laughing softly, you run your fingers through his raven hair to better see his eyes. You know he would.

Gently giving you one more of his lingering kisses that make your skin tingle, right into your bare shoulder, he presses into you. You loose a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The beating in your chest slows to a content purr as he begins languid thrusts in and out of you, rolling pointedly and unhurried.

Yeonjun makes love to you in a thousand dusted kisses and sweet words, your hands holding each other’s soft edges. Yeonjun traces the lines of you, taking the pads of his thumb down your cheeks and your lips and then his hand over the swell of your breasts and down your belly and over your thighs. Clamping down on him as your belly grows tight in the way it had the first time you had done this, your thighs begin to shake.

 Breathlessly, as you hurdle over the edge, all that you can say is, “I love you, ‘Junnie.” 

Yeonjun smiles at you and then presses his face into your neck. He doesn’t even brace himself against the grass to chase his own peak. Neither of you want this to end; you want to hold on to this moment and let it span forever. Slowly, Yeonjun rolls up into you until his hips finally stutter and he cums into you, his cheeks pink. The weight of him above you as he shakes with your shared ecstasy, and even as you both have come down and are nothing but lazy, is the only thing in this world. He is the only thing in this world.

Once you’ve both evened your breathing out, you roll apart and face each other, still just two forms bending the grass into your shapes. Blinking slowly and digesting his features one at a time—the angle of his eyes, softened but never tamed, the line of his nose, the line of his mouth always so proud and playful, and that pretty dot below his left eye—you let them solidify fully in your mind.

“Yeonjun,” you say, finally meeting his eyes across from you. “I want to go. I’m ready.”

The gentle, knowing look that he gives you soothes over the way your heart begins to race in your chest in rebellion. “I know,” he says.

Of course he had known. Yeonjun had been called here to ferry you into the afterlife. He had known the moment he appeared in front of you that his last soul to reap would be you; an ironic circle of karma that should be cruel, but you two make it something sweet. Chewing on your lip, you will your hands to not shake as you curl toward him. You’re no longer scared of going. You know that if you’ll be with him, it will be okay. It won’t be so scary. A hot tear rolls down your temple and then drops into your hair. “Will you be with me? I won’t be there alone?”

He tucks some hair behind your ear reverently and then leaves his hand there. “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here with you.”

You lay there for a long time. Chatting and giggling and just looking into each other's eyes, until your heart becomes slow and all you feel is the wind singing in your blood. Yeonjun presses one final kiss to your forehead.

Maybe, in some years, somebody might dig up your bones and find you immortalized like this in your love. Your bones bowing toward each other, as if even death were not enough to stop you from reaching for each other. Or maybe they’ll just find yours, and Yeonjun still curling into them how you know he will for an eternity more.

Either way, the going is still slow and gentle, as death always is.

🪶 ⦂ tears. omfg i cried writing this which could totally be me being a bitch baby but it DAMN. omfg.

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

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[zorosangell]

First of all, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Can't thank you enough for gracing us all with your fics. They've made me smile and gush over em many times. Heaven knows I'm too far gone to be simping some more on Zoro but THE FICS JUST MADE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM SO MUCH MORE. You write and make me envision him so beautifully. The Inn Series are THE BEST and my FAVES so far. 💚

Lastly, an ask if you're still taking requests: Writing Zoro with a reader/OC with a dynamic where they're both equally strong parts of the Straw Hat crew and always draw inspiration from each other as they journey on together. Slow burn and idiots who don't know they have feelings for each other + a scene with tension while they're sparring/swordfighting? 🥺

⛥ﾟ・。 white lotus

synopsis: you and your squadron reprimand zoro and bring him back to the castle after he's found wandering around in your kingdom's forest. turns out, the crew is already there since, surprise surprise, luffy destroyed something he wasn't supposed to. now the crew has to plead their case... but while they're doing so, zoro can't seem to keep his eyes off a certain someone, nor understand the weird feeling in his chest at the sight of her strength.

cw: part 1/3 (possibly more), fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a bit of a simp, sanji is definitely a simp, reader has a facial scar (nothing crazy), reader is FIONE, i hate writing fighting scenes but with this series imma do my best

a/n: went a bit overboard with this one but i really enjoyed the concept (also plz forgive my upload schedule my life is chaos)

a/n 2: AND DON'T BE AFRAID TO SEND MULTIPLE ASKS I LITERALLY LOVE THEM IDK

With a soft sigh, Zoro rolled his shoulders, muscles melting into the rough bark of the olive tree he rested under as he shifted.

Smoothly, he tucked his hands behind his neck, letting out a faint yawn before tilting his head to glance up, a small smile rising to his lips at the clear sky and soft breeze.

A guy could really get used to this...

It was a known fact that Zoro was no stranger to hard work—he'd had the same, strict training regiment since the ripe age of ten—and was often very selective of the pleasures he allowed himself to indulge in.

But... if there was one secret satisfaction he found in everyday life, it was a good summer island.

Especially if there was nothing to be done.

No evil tyrants.

No endangered princesses.

No oppressed villages.

Don't get him wrong, he loved to fight more than anything—the rush of battle, the chance to test his strength against unbeatable foes, the ability to emerge victorious and land one step closer to his dream.

But everyone deserved a break every once in a while.

And now, after straying from the crew and getting lost in the sun-dappled glade bordering the southern ridge of the island, all the swordsman wanted to do was rest against a well-shaded tree, drink some sake, and take a solid nap.

That is... until you showed up.

The sound of a snapping twig quickly ripped Zoro from his slumber, his eye widening at the sight before him as he instantly drew one of his swords, managing to meet your spear with only a fraction of a second to spare.

The reverberations from your powerful clash tore through the tree he was leaning against as if it were butter, sharp cracks echoing through the empty clearing before it finally split in two, the pieces toppling on either side and exposing the splintered wood within.

Swiftly, you used your shield to push off, putting some space between you two before you launched another attack.

"State your name!" you barked, the iciness of your tone sending a cold shiver down the swordsman's spine. "What is your business on Nabis?"

The two of you collided once again, but rather than attempt another test of strength, you went straight for the head, Zoro managing to dodge by the skin of his teeth before pushing you off with a second sword.

'Goddammit, Usopp... told me this place was uninhabited.'

The man was shocked to say the least.

He had honestly never seen someone move so fast, nor get the jump on him so easily.

"I said state your name! What is your business here?!"

The words seemed to go in one ear and out the other as he finally got a good look at you, the will to listen leaving him.

You had smooth, silky chestnut skin that stood out among the polished, gold armor you donned, consisting of a breastplate, greaves, vambraces, and spaulders, along with a scarlet tunic that fell teasingly high, yet somehow still covered your ass.

Paired with that was your large, gold helmet, which only exposed your ears, nose, and mouth, and had a large, red mohawk running down its center.

But the statement piece of it all... was your eyes.

Although shaded slightly by the shadows of the helmet, they were still just as piercing and entrancing as they were in the sun, maybe even more so.

You stared him down with cold calculation, as if it would take nothing to cut him down where he stood.

And he found that hot.

He found that really hot.

"I will not ask you again, swordsman! State your name, and your business on Nabis!" you bared your teeth, your stance readying you for another attack.

"What's it to you?" he asked, having finally found his voice.

"We detained a pirate crew this morning. Their captain caused a scene in the middle of Leonidas Square," you raised your spear to point at him. "Are you an ally to a rubber man known as Luffy?"

At the name, Zoro groaned, fervently fighting off the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

'Of course...'

He leaves them alone for a few hours and everything goes to shit.

"What happens if I say yes?"

As your brows furrowed, your hand swirled your spear back into its upright position, a rather awe-inspiring feat seeing as it was about a few inches taller than you and made of solid gold.

"I bring you back to the royal castle where you will face the queen's judgement alongside your crew."

For a moment, Zoro paused, ruminating on the option.

It didn't sound too shabby, and if the whole crew was together, whatever forces were waiting didn't stand a chance.

"Fine, then," he sighed, sheathing his two swords before raising his arms in the air. "I surrender."

Still wary, you gave him a firm nod, slowly coming out of your rigid stance to stand fully erect.

Suddenly, a squad of a little over ten men emerged from the trees, grabbing hold of Zoro and cuffing his wrists with haki-imbued shackles, allowing you to step closer until you were standing right in front of him.

"Swordsman, in the name of Queen Calysta, you are hereby under arrest."

"Hey, Zoro! Ya made it!" Luffy cheered, grinning widely as the moss-haired swordsman was ushered into the throne room.

"That's not something to be happy about, Luffy!" Nami and Usopp exclaimed, both of them hitting him upside the head with their shackles.

"Ouchie!"

"I take it they found you wandering around in the woods, eh?" Franky asked, raising a brow as the man was moved to stand next to him.

"Was in the middle of a nap, actually," Zoro corrected with a sigh, eye slowly gliding to your form standing a few feet away. "A good one, too. 'Til someone had to come along and ruin it."

Now that he was really looking, he noticed that you were the only guard in the entire room with gold armor, the rest of the them donning some sort of bronze or worn silver.

His brows furrowed, slightly confused.

'Weird.'

Just then, a loud horn blew, every soldier standing at attention and turning toward the elevated throne.

"Now arriving! Her Majesty... Queen Calysta!"

A sharp flourish bounded off the walls, playing proudly as the woman entered the room, catching the awe of the entire crew.

She looked young enough to be in her forties, barely a wrinkle or vein in sight, but the locks of silver and deep grey cascading down her armored back proved that she was significantly older.

Though her walk still carried a certain aura, powerful and unwavering as she approached the steps, and eventually scaled them before sitting down on the menacing throne—it was decorated by the shattered fragments of enemy swords.

"And advising! High General of the Nabisian Army... Her Highness... Princess (y/n)!"

'Princess?'

To Zoro's thorough surprise, you were the one to step forward at the introduction, the man watching with a wide eye as you strode up to your mother's side, receiving an acknowledging nod from her before you turned to face the crew.

In one, smooth motion, you removed your helmet, your eyes finding the moss-haired swordsman as you finally revealed your face.

"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath, a faint tinge pink burning up his neck as his heart stuttered to a sudden stop, the skin of his chest tightening over itself and constricting his air supply.

You were hands-down the prettiest women he had ever seen; utterly gorgeous.

From your eyes to your lips to your hair to the rather prominent scar that spanned across the bridge of your nose, you were breath-taking, each feature only further accentuating your natural beauty.

"My dreams have come true! I'm in the presence of a real-life goddess!" Sanji squealed, eyes bulging out their sockets as his tongue lulled out his mouth, a singular trickle of blood rolling out his nose.

"My word! What a dazzling beauty!" Brook marveled, flailing his arms. "Miss, could you be so kind as to show me your panties?"

"Knock it off, you two!" Nami barked, kicking them both upside the head.

"Which of you is the one known as Luffy?" your mother asked, her powerful voice instantly shutting down all side conversations.

"That's me!" Luffy answered, proudly, his smile never wavering.

Though, the guards were quick to change that, roughly grabbing him by his shackles before pulling him forward and forcing him to his knees, their spears crossing above his neck to keep him from lifting his head.

"Hey! Watch it!" Zoro barked, brows furrowing at the treatment of his captain.

"The hell's all this for, anyway!" Franky exclaimed.

"We didn't do anything!" Sanji scoffed.

"Yeah, what's the big idea?" Usopp agreed.

"You destroyed the tribute to my father!" you bellowed, your eyes zeroing in on the crew's captain. "You besmirched his memory!"

"Hey, lady, I didn't de-birch anything!" Luffy fired back with a pout.

"What did you do this time?!" Nami groaned, utterly confused.

"I dunno! I have no idea what she's even talking about!"

"Luffy, remember when you rushed into the market and ate at every food stall?" Robin chimed, maintaining her smooth monotone.

"Yeah?"

"Well, after that you burped, and it was so powerful that it blew over and shattered the statue standing in the middle of the town square. I assume that's the one she's talking about."

"Oh! Now I remember! Yeah, I've never burped that hard before. That food was really yummy!"

"Apologize, you idiot!" Usopp exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah," Luffy nodded, bowing his head so low that his hat fell off his head, "I'm really sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"Is there anything that can we do to make it up to you?" Nami asked, sincerely. "We can pay to get it fixed. Or rebuild it, if you like."

"My father was the hero of our people, and did not deserve to be burped on! What he has done is the ultimate disrespect!" you scoffed, sharply. "You cannot buy our good graces! The penalty for such contempt is death!"

"WHAT?!"

"Unless..." the queen piped up, calmly. "You can assist us with a problem of our own."

At that, your eyes widened, your head instantly snapping over to her.

"Mother, you can't—"

"Silence."

Pausing for a brief moment, you warred with her, eyes meeting in a silent, defiant clash before you finally gave in, taking a tentative step back as she turned to her personal guard, sharing a knowing look.

Without having to say a word, she summoned four servants to the throne room, each of them carrying a handle to a stretcher, which had a very sickly-looking boy sitting on top.

Looking closer, Zoro noticed that the kid looked an awful lot like you and the queen.

"Being pirates, you must have a doctor on your crew, yes?" Calysta asked, more as a statement than a question. "Step forward."

Timidly, Chopper presented himself, nervously fiddling with his hooves.

"The best healers this kingdom has to offer have tried and failed to cure this boy of his illness. If you can... then all will be forgiven."

With a silent nod, Chopper quickly ran forward, meeting the boy as the servants lowered the stretcher to the reindeer's level.

The doctor performed his tests with lightening speed and precision, completing all of which before finally coming to the conclusion that—

"I'm afraid he's infected with White Lotus disease," Chopper stated, removing his stethoscope. "It would explain his paleness, along with his labored breathing."

"White Lotus?" the queen raised a brow, stroking her chin.

"It's a rare disease caused by an invasive plant species known as White Lotus. They appear suddenly in bodies of fresh water, and release spores invisible to humans that are toxic to breathe in."

Rummaging through his bag, he finally managed to pull out a large vial of purple liquid, along with an empty syringe.

"Luckily, we've caught it before it could get any worse. If you'd waited any later, he would have certainly died."

"So you can save him?" you asked, hopefully.

"Mhmm," Chopper nodded with a smile, carefully injecting some of the liquid into the boy's arm, "Give him two shots of this a day, and he should be good as new in no time!"

A wide smile broke out onto your lips as you turned to your mother, the two of you sharing a look of relief.

The joy on your face sent Zoro's heart into a frenzy, flush burning all the way up to his ears now.

Damn, you had a nice smile.

"If you know what body of water he went to, you should definitely close it off to the people. Especially if they use it for drinking. And make sure your men remove the plant with masks so they don't get sick, too."

"Thank you, Dr. Chopper. We will do just that," Calysta grinned, standing from her throne. "As per our agreement, all is forgiven! And for saving my son, it would be my pleasure to make you and all your friends our honored guests at tonight's royal banquet!"

"All right! Party time!" Luffy cheered, the guards standing down at your command and allowing the captain to rise to his feet.

The throne room erupted with roars and whoops of joy, soldiers, servants, and Strawhats alike utterly elated to see that the young prince would be okay.

Among the chaos, your eyes managed to land on the green-haired swordsman once again, something warm thrumming through your stomach at the realization that he'd already been staring at you.

Although you were High General, and the crown princess at that, at your very core you were also a woman.

Hell, you were a person with eyes.

It was clear as day that the swordsman was incredibly, almost bafflingly handsome, and you'd be a liar if you said you weren't checking him out while your squadron perp-walked him through the woods.

Broad shoulders...

Strong chest...

Sexy voice...

Nabisian men were not small nor frail in the slightest, but even still, the man dwarfed most of them in both size and strength—if your clash told you anything.

And now that he and his crew were no longer enemies of the crown, it was no longer immoral to have more... unsavory thoughts about him.

Unable to resist, you flashed the man a smooth, coy smile, relishing in his obvious fluster as his back suddenly straightened, eyes seeming to flick toward everything but you.

Oh, yeah... you were gonna have a good time tonight.

[em-harlsnow]

7x10 Spiderman kiss scene

iconic. so so so so iconic. screamed when I first watched it, because oh my goddd.

it's the way they wake up spooning. how Ian breathes mickey in before detaching very carefully. how he looks back at him when he's calling Trevor, longingly, like he doesn't want to leave.

it's the way Ian wakes mickey up gently, rubbing his back. how he doesn't want to leave without letting him know. without saying goodbye, even a short and quick goodbye.

it's the way that Ian lets mickey freak out about being woken up and doesn't get scared of him flinching because he's used to that. he doesn't comment or make a big deal of it, and I think it's sort of sweet how ian's just accepted that about him and it doesn't startle him.

(although it is equally heartbreaking that a small touch like that can make mickey panic the way he does. it's a very clear, intentional choice by the directors/actors which shows how shitty Mickey's had it)

it's the way that Ian softens when mickey asks (very forced-casually) if he'll see Ian again. how he can't communicate it with words and instead gets back in the van and can't leave without kissing mickey goodbye.

it's the way that Ian grabs Mickey's whole head, hand pressing on his neck and jaw. how he hands up with his hand against mcikey's chest and his other arm under Mickey's head, propping him up.

it's the way Mickey embraces Ian, gripping his shoulders and back tightly and pulling him in like he can't get enough. how he's got one hand on the back of his neck and one on his shoulders.

it's the way that it's upside down !!!! and that must be an awkward way to kiss (never tried it myself tbh) but they both work together so well that they just fit and it's still passionate and cohesive. it's not awkward for them, is what I'm saying.

it's the way that Ian forces himself to pull away and leaves quickly (in my opinion, so that he doesn't give in again and come straight back).

it's the way Ian puts the cigarette in Mickey's mouth because Ian knows what he likes. it's the way it's kind, shows how well they understand each other, shows that Ian wants to leave him with something and give him something. he could have just as easily handed him the cigarette back or just ditched it on the floor but he didn't, which just makes the scene so much better.

it's the way mickey grins when Ian does that, smoke in his mouth, knowing (cockily, smugly, in-love-ly) that Ian will be coming back, they'll at least be seeing each other again. he looks so happy, not at all burdened the way Ian is with the whole cheating thing.

(also kind of tragic that Mickey's just ecstatic about anything he can get from Ian because in prison he got nothing - very touch-starved, very love-starved)

but it's also very happy, because it's like Mickey feels all his love for Ian confirmed, because he knows that Ian still loves him, cares about him. he knows it wasn't all in his head, which he must've thought in the year of silence.

it's the way Ian breathes out heavily once he's out of the car, like he's coming out of a very intense place which he is. it's that feeling of being away from something so concentrated and lustful and addictive.

now, season 7 gallavich is painful, but I'm so glad it happened for the amazing scenes we got. I just wish that I didn't have to see Mickey's heartbroken little eyes again and ian's conflicted face of not wanting to hurt mickey but not wanting to leave his family or burden mickey with his illness or leave his job (sorry, I don't think he came back for Trevor in the slightest - if Mickey had gotten out legally, Trevor would be swiftly forgotten. I don't hate Trevor, I mean I don't particularly like or dislike him because he's not actually a very built-up character, but I don't think Ian would be torn between the two.)

[juststicktoit]

answering all of these i am so sorry op

1. honestly!! not really!! i'm bffs (lie. we're chill though) with the two other introjects from my source and my source is the only source we've introjected from (excluding one of our old friends + a musician) (wow that's a mouthful).

2. this panel comedy game show that i'm hesitant to mention by name because the fandom scares me

edit: just realised OP said fictives. we don't have any fictives, so i think i'm still in the clear, but just for the record we're factives lol -still ster

3. statistically yeah. kian half kept her name and half changed it. graham & i both changed our name (which, btw, massive upgrade for me. tim to ☆ ~ Sterling ~ ☆). mark is the only one who kept his name.

4. me B) no okay assuming i can't just say myself; liinu (see: kian's other name) has the coolest name i think

5. it's v queer & disability inclusive :) mae is probably one of my favourite contestants of that show and the cast using their correct pronouns without commenting on it or making it a thing was so <3 (bare minimum i know). also it's Funny As Fuck

6. too much rpf of my friends. /j

7. my instinctive reaction was "GOD NO" but that feels harsh. listen! they're okay! as far as fandoms go, they aren't often that toxic. they just. i just. i don't know!!!! the show is one of our spinterests and we hardly interact with the fandom haha. idk. maybe it's just my sliiiightly major aversion to fanfiction because god knows that fandom has a lot of it x

8. seen? yes. met? no, and i don't think i'd want to. actually maybe i would. if you find out other TM factives exist from this post, you can dm us, but i'm not making that first call i'm scared LOL

9. "your heart is a muscle the size of your fist; keep on loving, keep on fighting, and hold on for your life" (i laurv that song dearly)

10. popular is subjective here. popular where we live? yes. popular globally? ...kind of? a really good spin off got successful in new zealand and a few other countries have done their own versions too so i'd say that's good enough to say it's popular

11. probably mark - our sources are best friends too :) that's not why we're best friends tho i could batter that kid i tell you

12. literally everyone who was on season 1 of that show. i rewatch it sometimes and my only thoughts are "WOW that was a dumbass move from me" and "oh my god my friends i miss u so bad"

13. despite being a factive very specifically from when my source was on TM, i kinda just look like him back when he had long hair if he shaved his face. this, almost, basically.

14. walking all day by graham coxon :)

15. past as in source or past as in the deep dark days of when i first split off lol? source is whatever i find it funny to talk about. insys past. i was a very stupid preteen don't @ me

16. mushrooms and no it has nothing to do with source i just hate them and they make my skin crawl xo

thank u for reading and i am sorry again op !

Introject Ask Game

(This ask game will probably continue to be updated, feel free to check the original post to see if there's more.)

Are there any in-sys friend groups that wouldn't happen in canon, but make sense to you?

What source do you have the most fictives from?

Do people often change their names after splitting?

Who has the coolest name in your opinion?

What's your favorite thing about your source?

Least favorite thing about your source?

Do you like your source's fandom? Why or why not?

Have you ever met any sourcemates outside of your system?

What's a quote or lyric that reminds you of yourself?

Is your source popular?

Who's your best friend in-sys? Would your sources be friends, do you think?

Do you miss anyone from your source?

What do you look like in the head? How does that compare to your source? The body?

What's your favorite song?

Do you like talking about your past?

What's your biggest fear? Is it related to your source?

[perfectsoyeggz]

Creepy Harley Headcanons because he's a freak of nature

Disclaimer: hes NOT a sexual creep, I despise those hcs, but hes just very offputting in a uncanny way.

- The most agreed one is he does have a staring problem. Like, REALLY bad, he stares at you like he's thinking about something but won't say it.

- Gets very up close and personal when he's talking to someone, does not care about personal space (unless it's his own ofc)

- Very weird smile, it looks too big, too much teeth. Something is wrong with it. Also him smiling at inappropriate moments.

More below:3

- Can come and go without making a sound. He'll suddenly be right behind you without you noticing until he speaks or puts a hand on your shoulder.

- Walks around the factory at night whistling, he always stays after closing, even if he's not really supposed to be there. Also will play classical music from his office at night, sounds terrifying to the security guards.

- Knows way too much about people, its easy for him to remember names and faces, so he easily could put together a profile of information and secrets about almost everyone he's spoken to.

- Will make weird random comments then completely change the subject. Ex: "I'd take caution when leaving today. Never know what may happen." Then talking about experiments again. (He does this for his own amusement)

- His veins are very prominent naturally (not exactly creepy but a headcanon nonetheless)

- Keeps mice taxidermy (I love taxidermy so no hate but he'd definitely have some) I also imagine he'd somehow get a taxidermied human hand. How he got it? Probably best not to ask.

- Talks in his sleep, like, saying "there's someone in the window." Or "They're coming to get me"

[purplxbuttxrfly]

Rin Itoshi :Jealousy ♡

°•°•Synopsis. Rin is completely in love with you and therefore has complete trust in you, but that doesn't mean he isn't jealous.

°•°• Note. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

°•°•cw. Rin Itoshi x Female!Reader!Mention!of!Jealousy!Fluff

Oh my god I'm so in love with Rin that I got a little carried away in this writing.

Rin Itoshi is known for being a cold, insensitive, slightly emo player who never smiles or very rarely smiles, and especially as someone who HATES physical contact. But that's only as a player, and it's also the image he wants to show others. He absolutely doesn't want to show his true personality to everyone, but you're not everyone.

You are his life partner, and you are the only person in this world that Rin lets see his true personality and his weaknesses. It took time, a lot of time, but it was worth it because now he trusts you completely.

Rin loves you so much that sometimes it hurts him. He's in pain because he's afraid you'll leave him to go with someone better than him, because yes, he knows he's not the best companion. He's in pain because he's afraid you won't love him as much as he loves you. He's in pain, he's suffering so much his heart is overflowing with love for you and he doesn't know how to express this love. Rin Itoshi is literally lovesick for his girlfriend.

Rin is cold and hates physical contact, but only on the surface, because all it takes is slipping your hand into his to make him melt with love for you. With you, Rin is like a big teddy bear who exists for one thing: to be kissed and cuddled by you.

Rin is afraid that you'll leave him for someone else, that's a fact. So naturally he became jealous. And especially of Sae. So you don't understand why because the only times you've talked to him are at the Itoshi family meals. And he totally trusts you, but sometimes he just can't help himself. Like that time you went to the nail salon to get new nails done. When you came home with your new nails, all happy and proud of your choice of design, you rushed to the couch where Rin was sitting looking at his phone. You arrive in front of him all smiles and wait for him to see you.

"Yes, what is it?"

He said, looking up at you.

" Look, what do you think?" You say, waving your painted fingers in front of his face.

He stared at your nails with a disinterested look, as he didn't care at all, until a detail on your left ring fingernail caught his attention. On this one, the number "10" had been painted in white.

" Why the number 10? "

You were glad he noticed and asked, because adding that detail just for him had cost a little more.

"Because 10 is my lucky number," You say.

" And since when? It seemed to me that it had always been the 22nd. Why did you change it?"

Damn, he figured you out. You're going to have to tell him the real reason. Honestly, you were a little disappointed he didn't figure it out on his own.

"Well, because 10 is your player number, Rin."

He suspected it a little, but when you confirmed it to him with that disappointed little face, he couldn't help but find you adorable. However, he also felt a certain jealousy.

" Why with an "R" or my first name, it's short enough to be written on your nail"

You're confused by the hint of hostility in his voice.

" Because I've done this the last few times, I wanted something new, and I thought putting your player number would be nice."

" Okay great, but you know I'm not the only soccer player wearing number 10, right? "

He tells you this as if you had done something serious.

" Like who? Tell me? "

" Like Sae..." He said these words coldly.

You sigh. Here we go again.

"But who cares about Sae! "

"Yeah, but it's still his number too."

"But who cares, I had it written with YOU in mind and for YOU!" You say, emphasizing the "you" of course.

" Okay that's all right"

" Rin...tell me why you're looking for enemies where there aren't any? Don't you trust me?"

" No, I trust you, but I don't trust others."

At that moment, you find him cute. You sit down next to him and hug him. And Rin knows at that moment that he's cracked your heart a little with his misplaced jealousy. He places his phone on the table before wrapping his arms around your back. Then, once he's holding you close, he gently lets himself lie down on the couch, ending up with you lying on top of him.

"Sorry if I hurt you," He breathes softly.

"Even if you broke my heart, I would still love you, because you are the only one who has my heart." You answer him.

Your words have the effect of making him fall even more in love with you, and he didn't think that was possible, because he was sure that he had already given you all the love he could offer.

Rin then thinks that all those fangirls who express on social media how lucky you are to be dating him are wrong. He's the one who's so lucky to have you as his girlfriend.

But even though Rin is very jealous, you can't say that you're innocent either. You're even more jealous than him sometimes. And let's be honest, Rin really likes it when you're jealous of another girl who's a little too close to him for your liking.

Once, while you were shopping, you were trying on summer dresses that you liked, not forgetting to show each one to your boyfriend. When you opened the door to your office to show Rin your latest dress, he complimented you before handing you another dress. He had noticed it while you were changing, and upon closer inspection, he was convinced that this one would suit you perfectly.

You take it to try it on and at that moment, you hear Rin's phone ring. He tells you he's leaving the store to answer it while you put on the dress.

After ten minutes, his call ends, and as he hangs up and is about to go back to you, he feels an arm grab his. Thinking it's you, he turns his head with one of those cute smiles he only gives you.

"You are here my lov..."

"Hello, you're all alone."

It wasn't you. It was another woman desperately clinging to his arm.

" I'm sorry, but I have to go meet my girlfriend. " He said with a cold, dark look.

" Oh come on, there's no point in acting. I've been watching you for five minutes and you're alone. Come on, come with me. "

You watch the scene from the store's checkout as you pay for your dresses. You keep smiling despite the storm of jealousy going on in your head. You thank the cashier and wish her a good day, still with a pretty smile, but the moment you step out of the store, your smile falls and you stare at the woman clinging to your boyfriend's arm. You walk towards them, putting on an angelic smile again.

" Rinni, I'm here. We can continue. "

He freezes when he hears your voice. He'd noticed the hint of anger in it. You approach them before grabbing onto Rin's other arm.

" Hello, may I know what you are doing to my boyfrie....my husband? "

Oh my god, if you weren't in a public place, he would have died of happiness right there the moment the words "my husband" came out of your mouth.

"Your husband?" Said the woman. "Yet I don't see any wedding rings on his finger, nor on yours."

She's looking for war, you think.

" What good does it do to you? He is then taken to let go of the pieces and leave it. "

You say, claiming your property (Rin), making sure to place his arm between your breasts. And this gesture cannot leave Rin unmoved when he feels your chest pressing against him. He then takes the initiative to lean in to kiss you.

Seeing this, the woman sighs before leaving.

" It was about time"

You say, taking Rin with you.

" You are pretty when you are jealous "

" Oh my god, shut up..."

Despite your firm words, Rin saw the redness on the tips of your ears appear when he told you that you were pretty.

In most couples, jealousy is only a source of arguments and separation, but for Rin Itoshi and you, each other's jealousy only brings you closer and closer ♡

Do not copy, do not translate

[the-artist-grimm]

Hi, so, um... just discovered this AU, and it's very cute! I love hurt/comfort/healing relationships (especially if said relationships eventually bloom into love), so I'm deeply invested now and can't wait to see more from you (already binge read the entire AU - lore, asks, art and all... I might have a problem). **cough, cough** Aaaannnyyway, that was just a really long winded way to say, I love this, I love your characterizations, and I love your work in general. If I could ask a question, what ended up happening to Anthea's gift/the courtship fleece after the betrayal arc? Did she ever end up giving it to Narinder (and if so, what was his reaction), or did she hide/burn it as it brought up too many old wounds? Apologies if this has been answered somewhere else before, but I didn't see it as I was binging earlier.

It got locked into the hope chest at the end of their bed! Anthea already had it stowed there with the intention of sneaking it into their bag before taking Narinder on a walk the day after he was freed, but when things didn't go to plan they just didn't have the heart to get rid of it. They hated looking at it, but also hated the idea of destroying it, since that'd kinda be like destroying what it had represented; their love, their commitment to him, their dreams of a future together. So it just stayed hidden for the first few months.

Yet as time passed and they slowly become friends again Anthea gradually began taking it out more and more, and suddenly doubting themself about it. It was a courtship sash, that's practically a proposal-what if it had been too presumptuous? What if it had been a mistake, seeing as them working on it was what caused Narinder to fear a betrayal? Such a little thing destroyed so much, yet they still couldn't bring themself to get rid of it.

But once the whole situation with the Bishops is said and done, Anthea decides that it's time to just get it over with. They and Narinder both approach each other with the intention of asking to speak about what happened, and they agree to meet at the fountain by the doors by nightfall. To which Anthea brings the sash, because they might as well show him just what that gift they'd been making was.

Then they just...talk. Narinder talks of his fear of another betrayal, his remorse for not saying anything when he doubted them, his regret in being so quick to judge alongside an apology for how things had happened that day, yet also his confusion of just what gift was so important that Anthea stopped talking to him as much and lied about the reasons why. Anthea talks about how they didn't consider how their actions appeared and apologizes for not explaining, says that they regretted not speaking to him after that final fight and letting things fester till the twins were revived, yet they also stop and admit that there's a reason why they were so caught up in their gift. Why they were so hurt.

They hesitate for a moment, then pull out the sash.

"I was making you a courtship sash. After you said you wished to leave the Gateway together...I had to make it. I've always just done what was best for everyone else...and yet...you were willing to stay trapped even in what I'd thought was the theoretical so long as I left with you. No one had ever been so...so selfless for my sake. And...I realized just how much I wanted that. I kept...having all these thoughts and ideas and fantasies of what a life with you could be, and before I knew it I was planning the sash. I'd never wanted anything like this before...and I needed something physical to reassure both you and myself that it was real."

Which for Narinder, at first it's this sudden swell of shock then elation-like he knows what that sash represents in sheep culture. Commitment and love, woven from the gifter's wool and crafted by hand in a process that takes weeks. To be gifted one is the most serious declarations of intent, and despite everything Narinder had never stopped being hopelessly in love with Anthea.

So he has this brief thought of 'They love me, they wanted to be with me, they love me-', then that heart-plummeting realization what that meant his betrayal had done. It re-contextualizes everything. Anthea's shock, their anger, their avoidance and their hesitation after the fact. Though he hadn't know, Anthea had been prepared to hold out their heart to him, and he'd crushed it. They'd for the first time stepped out of this mindset of hiding their feelings, their wants, their needs and tried to reach for something, and he'd burned them for that.

Narinder basically speedruns the seven stages of grief in the span of like 2 seconds, before deciding that well there went his shot and so be it. Though they're friends again and raising the kits together, whatever love Anthea had must be long gone after him basically giving them the equivalent of a rejection. Like yeah both sides know it was a misunderstanding now, but feelings surely could never survive or return after that. He goes 'Ah I see-' in this not sad way, but in this resigned acceptance, and anticipates that to be it.

But then Anthea starts getting nervous at his almost muted reaction and starts to slip a little. They were being very honest and basically implied their feelings without directly stating them, but they're now worried so they try to play off the sash as this silly, frivolous thing made in the heat of excitement because they think they've made him uncomfortable. That they overthought what he'd said, (see the Bishops Arc section of Anthea's Overview) and shouldn't have taken his words as seriously as they'd had.

"It was mostly intended as a thank you, really! I just let the fantasy of things get the best of me...a-and however you would've had me...that would have been more than enough...I...I know you wouldn't have wanted...that what I felt was... I know it wasn't the same."

And Narinder looks at them and suddenly sees a mirror of himself. Longing, uncertainty, anxiety, and...love. So much love that it hurts. They're playing it off, but a courtship sash isn't nothing. No one puts in all that time in just a 'thank you' gift, if it had been that there are plenty of other things Anthea could've made.

And he realizes there's something still there. Fragile and scared...but it's there, and he's not going to ignore it twice.

"What if it was?''

And Anthea stops spiraling. They look over, really look over, and notice how uncertain he is but also...there's a warmth there-a hope. A tenderness as on the ledge of the fountain he takes their hands and cradles them so, so carefully within his with a brief glance to the cloth folded in their lap.

"If...if you still had the chance...would you gift the sash now? And if not in this moment...c-could you one day?"

They'd seen him tear up once or twice back then, back when they were vessel and god-since then Anthea hadn't seen Narinder cry once, not even when the boys were revived. Not even when his siblings returned one by one. And yet here as he looks at them with a hesitant smile and tears in his eyes, they realize what he's left unspoken.

'Could you love me again?'

It's a confession. Unspoken and silent as theirs had been, but it's a confession.

And it's not the way they had dreamt it-they had planned to take him to their father's stargazing spot and do it there in a field of white flowers and starlight. But that doesn't matter as they all but throw themselves into his chest and hug him tight and bury their sobbing face into his neck.

It's relief and regret and more murmurs of apologies between them both, and it could be minutes or hours that they sit there together in the evening moonlight, but that last weight upon their chests is gone and everything is suddenly so much more clear. When the tears have stopped Anthea sits cuddled in Narinder's lap as they quietly hand him the sash and watch as he traces the different patterns and threads, and it should feel new or different but it just feels like this is what they've always done.

Then he asks them to help him tie the sash about his waist because he can't quite figure out how it goes with the stiffer cloth, and they can't help themselves and just kiss him.

---

(This question is from December dear GODS. Sorry for the wait!!!!)