#i should read it again because it was so damn good
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breelandwalker · 15 hours ago
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I have adhd and I'm constsntly getting interested in various topics about witchcraft, which leads me to buying books because I NEEDED right now and saving podcasts and YouTube videos and tumblr posts to listen/watch/read later.
And then I get paralized. I feel like i'm never developing in the craft as I should because I struggle to focus on one topic and really learning it before going to the next
Oh honey, you are preaching to the proverbial choir. I have ADHD as well and I have the same damn problem. So much information, so little attention span, so much Decision Paralysis.
Saving things to a Watch Later is a really good hack. Bookmarks and Notes To Self are my lifeline when it comes to keeping track of those random little ideas that flit in and out of my head all day. Choosing a thing is indeed the hard part. Sometimes I just pick a random book or saved thing to explore and if it scratches the itch, I continue with it. If not, I try again later (because going back to the Decision part can be too overwhelming).
What finally worked for me was figuring out that I could totally multitask and do things piecemeal as my interests dictated. It meant that I didn't progress in any one thing very quickly, but it meant that I was making small amounts of progress in several things at once, which was better than nothing. Sometimes, I'd sit down with a stack of books and start to take notes on one of them at random. It was rare that I'd get through more than a chapter or so, but having the other options there in case my interest waned was helpful for me.
Also, learning about various topics when they caught my attention helped me start to see connections between ideas and subject matter that made things easier to understand. It was a slow process, but a lot less frustrating than trying to make myself focus on one thing at a time.
The important thing is to be patient with yourself. The progress you make is entirely at your own pace and there's plenty to learn, so there's no need to rush. That way lies frustration and burnout. Pick and choose the things that resonate with you. Do what you can when you can. Small steppy is better than no steppy, as the meme says.
Something else that helped me was sitting down occasionally and reviewing my progress from the previous year. I keep records of the spells I cast and the research I do, and it's surprising how much you can learn over the space of a year without hardly realizing it. If you want, you can check out this list of Witchcraft Exercises I put together. Some of them might be helpful. 😘
Good luck!
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Major Blog Update: Inbox Cleared, Life Updates, a big thank you and More!
First of all the big one:
The deed is done...The Inbox is dead.
Long live the inbox.
To get a fresh start, I've deleted the current inbox of all my asks.
The inbox memes, the nightmares...they're finally over...
ANYWAYS, feel free to send in any request you may have as per usual, just figured I clear that damn thing finally out considering I've had asks that are three years old in there.
Right now I'm really getting into Honkai: Star Rail since Natlan kinda killed my enjoyment of Genshin, but those gals I will still love and write for (I mean, I'm sure as heck not changing the blog url) so don't feel discouraged if you came to this blog because of my Genshin content. And of course my other fandoms are still good to rock and roll!
One last thing before the cut:
I want to thank EVERY ONE of you for following this blog and sticking around with my goofy ah for so long.
I genuinely get excited to read any message or request you put under my posts or inbox, whether it be feedback or joking around! And I know we have the memes going on about me being drowned, please know I do genuinely take the time to look at every single one that comes in everyday, even if I didn't say anything or respond. And it means the world to me that ya'll like my writing enough to continue asking of me.
You all are the reason I even put the effort I do in this blog for so many years, from my newer followers to those who have followed me since my first blog. I could not ask for a better group than ya'll.
From the bottom of my heart, thanks, and let's have a great year together!
ANYWHO: For those who care enough, this is what's been going on with me for the last few months.
Work:
As for why I've been absent for a while: simply put because I work a retail job. Thankfully nothing too bad, it's just normal scheduling and it IS work I very much enjoy and get paid relatively well. My love for writing is still very strong as is my simping, so no worries, I don't plan on going anywhere.
I DO greatly apologize for making everyone wait for literally ANYTHING, doubly so if you had an ask I didn't get to yet. I wanted to honestly save everything into my drafts, but alas I could only choose some select ones.
You're more than welcome to send it back in, and since things have calmed down I SHOULD be getting to them a lot faster.
Genshin:
In regards to what I said earlier about Genshin: Natlan kind of killed any enjoyment I had playing, characters were REALLY unappealing to me, it made my friends stop playing so therefore I stopped as well as that was the major reason I still had it installed. I don't really plan on adding anyone from Natlan or anyone else from that game in the future, so apologies if you were looking forward to that from me specifically.
Star Rail has been filling the hole in my heart and honestly? I have a lot more writing freedom writing the gals from there, but again, don't feel afraid to send me any genshin request! I still simp for my Mondstadt women after all.
Other things I've been doing/Ideas for the blog:
I've also been playing games (and getting distracted) with my irl friends and trying to catch up on my hobbies to prevent myself from burning out, Minecraft has been a big thing lately for me again: specifically Pixelmon LMAO.
For 2025 though, I plan to at least post an imagine once a week starting next week since things are still settling down and I have to get my work schedule.
I might also start posting (Eventually) my personal writing projects here to get feedback and possibly go to AO3 to post my crossover series since Tumblr isn't really the place to be doing so (Chief among them my FE3H AU: House Isekai), or if demand is high enough I'll post it here.
Oh, and with this major update I have once again updated my banner, not that it's really important, just that I put a good amount of effort in it, more than you'd think for how simple it is. I also want to see if anyone even gets my reference LMAO
Once this post goes live, I plan to add a few new characters, starting with the Commander from Girls' Frontline but we'll see how it goes.
I think that's all I got for right now, so see ya soon guys!
- Chris
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rubyvhs · 4 hours ago
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who’d believe? | dean winchester
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summary. dean finds you six years after you ‘died’. tags. wc 2.3k, car sex (just fingering), angst, mentions soulless sam. lailas notes. actually got inspired by @little-diable ‘s not a ghost fic. so so beautiful and i think everyone should go read it! additionally this is for my 500 celebration, so happy i got to it so quickly && the title is the translation of the song title. and most importantly, beta’d by the incredible @copperboom82 who made it much more readable and enjoyable.
You were never really a bar type of person, mostly because of the loud noise and smell, other than that, you liked a good party. But you decided you needed to celebrate getting your dream job, or, okay, whatever, your friend is forcing you to. 
"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said, handed you your outfit and went outside to get the car started, not even giving you time to reject the idea. Though the second you stepped foot in the lively place, you were glad you came.
The drinks and music were exactly what you needed; a nice night out with no responsibilities. And especially no men (at least none like those you work with, you're honestly over them). 
An hour into dancing with your friend, two more strangers join you. When the last song ends and another less 'pop' and more 'rock' one starts, they suggest going out to smoke for a second. Despite not once in your life trying it, you agree. 
You should really work on saying no.
Thankfully you're sensible enough to refuse when they try to hand you one, just standing next to them, linking your arm with your friend's. "Where do you work?" You ask one of the girls. She has shorter red hair that almost reaches her shoulders, black eyeliner and a septum piercing. In other words? Fucking sexy.
"Police." Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter. "Oh, stop it! You're fine."
You laugh but shake your head, "No, no, that's not what I meant, you're just so— cute, I guess. Wouldn't have taken you for the assertive cop type."
"Yeah, well," she shrugs, dismissing the thought. It's obvious she gets it a lot. "Saw the hottest guys today, by the way—"
Her friend interrupts, beautiful brown pin-straight hair, pale skin, a gorgeous smile; "God, he was pretty. And his brother too…”
"Oh yeah. Agent something and Agent whatever, I don't remember, I was too busy looking through the shorter one’s shirt." You all laugh, a sway in your demeanor. You're pretty sure it's the alcohol that's got them saying all this but it's funny either way. 
"Yeah, he was amazing. Like, those green eyes, honestly—" Your smile drops fast. Green eyes had always been somewhat of a trigger for you ever since Dean, especially that specific beautiful shade. Then again honestly everything's been a trigger: hunting, black cars, vintage cars, food, pie— you could go on.
"Oh and the way he walks? The little outward bounce of his leg, so cute!"
You shift, a little uncomfortable. How many guys do you know with bow legs, green eyes and are cops? They're probably not allowed to tell you he's FBI. 
The red-haired girl touches your arm making you jump. "Shit, you okay, honey? You seemed out of it."
"Oh, no, I'm sorry, just reminded me of someone. Old…" Dean. 
There he is. Alive and in the flesh. You don't become a hunter and not hear about the Winchesters, you, on the other hand, fly under the radar. Especially since you try to stay away from any and all hunters.
But you heard nothing of how gorgeous he has grown up.
The girls catch your drift mid-sentence and look back to see what you're staring at. A dumb-struck Dean. "Oh! Agent…" Her friend elbows her stomach and Dean doesn’t peel his eyes off of you to speak.
"Right, yes. Hi, Officer." 
She blushes under the dim light but Dean apologizes before breezing past them and holding your arm roughly to drag you away behind the bar. Your friend makes sure to motion to you if you need help before you let her know she should just get back inside. It’s pretty damn obvious you know the guy.
"Are you fucking serious?"
You let out a shy smile, "Dean, hey, how are you?"
"'How are you?'" He mocks, letting go of your arm aggressively, "'how are you?'"
"Is that not what they say anymore?"
"Are you serious?" He seems to enjoy repeating sentences much more than when you last saw him. "I looked for you, I mourned you." You mourned him too, in a way. 
You and Dean were acquaintances, occasionally hunting together until you stayed at Bobby's place for a week and he came to visit coincidentally. You both started talking more that night, exchanged phone numbers and became somewhat friends. 
Sam left for Stanford and you guys stayed together more frequently. Sam came back and you 'died'. Not on purpose, obviously, but Dean thought you died. You did, for a second, before you were brought back for some twisted, fucked up reason. Not that you knew it but if you did you're sure it would be fucked up.
By the time you woke up Sam and Dean had been long gone and your body had been buried. Didn’t burn your bones like he should’ve, no. He buried you. You're not sure which is worse.
"Look, I don't know what happened—"
"What does that even mean? You magically come back to life; you fucking call me! Ever thought of that?" A thousand times. 
But Sam had finally decided to come back and hunt with Dean, Dean buried you, and so, you'd reasoned he was fine. You knew that if you were Sam, your body would've been preserved in the Impala for months before he'd ever allow himself to do that, to put you six feet under. The fact that he didn’t hold on to you had to mean he was okay.
But neither of you deserve more guilt. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"That's really rich. Real rich comin' from you. Grieved you for goddamn years. Six." Huh, that's a lot longer than you’d have thought. You were sure it would be six minutes. You knew he cared about you, but Deans also a 'what's done is done' kind of man.
"I'm—"
"If you apologize, I'll kill you. Again." You're about to crack a joke but his glare sets you off. Oookay, tough crowd, whatever. 
"I wanted to call, I swear I did," how do you explain to the king of 'I don't deserve good' that you don't deserve him. He'll think it's a cruel joke. "I didn't know if you'd want me to reach out, I thought you were moving on with Sammy, okay? Going on with finding John. Me calling wouldn't have made a difference."
He scoffs, shaking his head. "I went to hell." You bite your bottom lip between your teeth. He sighs, a mix of emotions on his face. "You knew?" Your nod makes him turn around in anger (disappointment? hurt?), kicking the cardboard box as far as it'll go, another plastic one breaks and you flinch at that one. 
In your defense, everyone knows.
"I couldn't do that to you and Sam, you moved on, Dean, I heard about you and Lisa and Ben—"
"Where the hell did you hear that?" Hunters talk. And he knows it. He turns around in an angry haze. "I didn't fuckin' move on, alright? I did what Sam wanted me to do when I didn't have you. Because my goddamn brother was in a cage with Lucifer, and now he's walking around without a soul!" He raises his voice until it gives out and so does his breath. You can't help the way your heart clenches, not even because of the words, but the tired look behind Dean's eyes. 
Subconsciously, you move forward until you can hug him, and like he always used to: Dean throws himself into it, his head in your neck as he breathes you in. "I missed you." He whispers. 
You don't believe how easily he's adjusted to this. If you were in his place you wouldn't hesitate to kill him, thinking he's a demon or a shifter.
He chuckles, his whole body rubbing against you. "Haven't hugged anyone like this in— ever. Was waiting for you." 
He's never been safe, always made everyone else feel protected, you could only hope you built a safe place within yourself for him. You're at least close.
"I missed you too, De. Every single day, I swear."
You don't know what about the sentence sparks anything in him, but it does. He pulls away to smirk and push you against the hard wall. You gasp, doing nothing but turning him on more and giving him an entrance to your mouth. 
He kisses you like he's lost his mind. He has.
His touch is electric as he pulls you closer, the heat of his body searing your skin, the raw intensity of desire saying more than words ever could. The kiss evolves, turning feral, almost carnal. He holds you, firm but tender, and rediscovers your mouth like a starving man. He is, he hasn't tasted you in… ever. 
This is your first kiss with Dean, but the explosive chemistry between you makes the blood scream in your ears. It was never a secret that you and Dean were more than just hunters to each other, and it seems you dying was his last straw. 
"We— Dean, can't here—" 
He agrees. Or he doesn't. He's still kissing you and you're not sure if either of you are breathing. 
Eventually he lets go. "Yeah," he whispers against your lips, moving for another kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, leaving a peck and panting out, "right." 
"'M sorry." God, why are you apologizing? Why are your bodies so far away?
He shakes his head, moves away (even if it looks like he's struggling to do so), "it's fine, what— you were here with friends? Are you staying?"
"Are you asking me to not stay?" 
He smiles, leans down for another kiss and you decide to say goodbye to your friends now or else you're never getting the chance. 
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"De, someone can see—"
"Don't overthink it." He says, burying his head between your breasts, kissing, biting, licking and loving all the noises you're making. He groans into your skin, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot that has you moaning out loud. "God, sweetheart, love that sound."
He moves his hands to your waist, thrusts his hips once, checking your reaction. A little tremor passes through you. Eyes hood over. 
"Can't believe you're here, and all for me." 
"Yes," you breathe, resting your forehead against Dean's, overwhelmed by his words and how close his hand is to your inner thigh. "Please."
"If I slide my hand up your skirt, will I find you dripping wet for me?" Another shudder shakes you gently. 
"Yes."
When he grips your knee and your neck, closing your lips with a kiss while his other hand travels higher, you start feeling your pulse hammering in your ears. The windows start misting over, giving you privacy— not that you particularly believe Dean cares. 
Dean moves his seat back, then pushes you until your shoulder blades hit the steering wheel so you're more comfortable, your legs bent on either side of him, hands braced against the door and his chest. 
"Dreamed about this," He says, his voice low and husky. The way his eyes are raking over your body, you're not even sure you're supposed to hear him. "Thought about this everyday for six years, sweetheart. Now I get to have you." 
He glides one finger between your lips, sliding up and down slowly. “Such a pretty pussy,” he groans, eyes focused between your legs and you fall over, your head on his chest, before he pushes you back against the steering wheel, "nu-uh, wanna see it. Wanna see how wet you are for me, baby."
You have so much to say— a lot of apologies and 'I miss you's’ and so many more beautiful words and kisses and you want to tell Dean that you care about him as much as he does you and why you left—
He dips two fingers inside you. Curls them immediately, and just like that, he finds your most sensitive spot. 
You half pant, half moan, the words 'Dean, oh my god, please' a jumbled drowned-out mishmash because he starts torturing your clit, his thumb rubbing perfect circles, hard and fast, reducing your bones to liquid. But when you're right there, he eases away, lazily pumping two fingers in and out. 
He smiles, exhaling a content breath as his gaze zeroes between your thighs, ignoring your pleas. "Yeah? you wanna come, darlin’?" the pet name and the question both bring out a loud moan you didn’t know you were holding, your hips involuntarily moving against his fingers until he stops you. you’re about to whine again but he increases the pace, crooking his fingers inside you while his thumb rubs your clit, and that’s all it takes.
The orgasm rips through you, powerful, relentless, so intense you think you might just black out. You’ve never felt so boneless in someone's arms, until your head falls right into his chest as he works your pussy, the sensation easing off and then coming again like waves crashing against the shore.
Dean doesn't stop. His fingers are rough, his thumb still being put to good use, and the release lasts so long. So fucking long you think you have an out-of-body experience. 
It takes a minute until you're able to breathe anything but his cologne. When you can, you sit up slightly and move into the seat next to him, thankful for the lack of a console to separate you since you don't get very far, just lay your head on his chest. 
He kisses your head. You can even feel his smile against the kiss until you notice the bulge of his pants and frown. You quickly get up and Dean's entire face falls. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—" 
Dean grabs your wrist before it makes it halfway to his dick. "This isn't an exchange, sweetheart." Your entire body is like jelly, you can't move and you're pretty sure if you try sucking Dean off, you’ll pass out. But it feels… rude. "You're spent. I'll get you home so you can take a hot shower, and we'll pick this up again when you're ready. How about that?" 
You can't fucking believe your luck. Dean wants an 'again'. 
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scripts4dreamers · 1 day ago
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Leave a light on pt. 4
AN: Aaaaaand we have part four! The next two chapters are a little shorter, but only because I'm ramping up to the Fade Jail thing. Hope you enjoy!
Part One, Part Two, Part Three One of the things Solas hated most about mortal bodies was hangovers. It was his own damn fault, of course. He could not reasonably expect anything else after drinking into the early hours of the morning with Amala but still he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself as he sipped his coffee and tried to focus on the book he was reading. It was nearly noon, by his reckoning. He had woken an hour or two earlier feeling more hopeful for the future of his relationship - if that is what he and the inquisitor had - than he had in years and had started the process of going about his day. He could hear movement from Amala’s room, so he knew she was awake as well and he found himself anxiously waiting to see how she would behave when they saw one another again.
The night before had been…intense. Some parts were clearer than others. Solas was still admonishing himself for the way he handled some things but, amongst the chaos there had also been moments of tenderness, brief flashes of intimacy that burned like a fire whose embers had never truly gone out. She had looked him in the eye! He had touched her, held her, told her he loved her. It did not fix everything. The ghost of Varric, of Lace Harding, of Corypheus, of a thousand little deceptions still lay between them, but it was something. He hoped that they could build on that. In fact, he had a plan to ensure that they did.
“Good morning,” Amala greeted, as she always did, her hair still wet from the bath.
He looked up and smiled at her, feeling the familiar stab of regret when she let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Every morning the routine was the same. She didn’t think he noticed or, if she did, she didn’t think he understood its significance, but he knew what that sigh meant. It meant that, just for a moment when she was walking down the hallway, some part of His Heart had been convinced that he wouldn’t be there, that he’d snuck away in the night and left her. Again.
It was a valid fear. He would be lying if he said he had not considered leaving, that he had not considered slipping away into the fade and freeing her from the blood soaked anchor that was tying her to this place, but he could never bring himself to do it. Not again. What had once felt like a selfless act, protecting her from the misuse he had suffered, now felt like the ultimate act of cowardice.
“Good morning, Vhenan. How are you feeling?”
“Ugh,” she complained, taking the seat beside him and stealing a strawberry from his plate, “Like death warmed up, you?”
“Better than Elgar’nan is feeling right now, but not by much,” he countered, pushing his plate closer towards her. Another part of their routine. “Do you have plans for the day?” he asked.
Her eyebrows shot up midway through her biting into a strawberry, a perfect picture of surprise.
“Um, no, I suppose not.” she said, “Do-did you want to do something together?”
Gods, he should have kissed her last night. He should be kissing her right now. If he just leaned forward he could pull her chair close and-
“You needn’t sound so surprised,” he laughed, “I merely thought we could visit that island you were telling me about last night.”
She perked up and his heart wanted to melt at how excited she looked, “The one with the bottomless pool?”
He nodded, “The one that is, what did you say exactly? Quite beautiful once you get past the Mythal of it all?”
She flushed, “I never said quite.”
“We do not have to go. We could stay here if you-”
“No,” she interrupted, “no, that would-I would like that very much.”
“Good,” Solas said with an internal breath of relief, “I’ll put together some provisions for us and we’ll leave as soon as you are ready.”
She nodded, still smiling to herself and they lapsed into comfortable silence as she finished her breakfast. At that point he knew reading was pointless, but he kept up the pretense so that she would feel comfortable. As soon as the last berry had been consumed she bounded back up the stairs to her chambers, and Solas couldn’t help but chuckle.
The walk to the island Amala had described was fairly daunting. Perhaps not to a highly trained assassin with years of experience balancing on rafters but for Solas, a mage who’s ribs had only just stopped actively hurting, it took a great deal of his concentration to navigate the intricate series of wooden planks, ropes and strategic jumps she had set up without plummeting into the ether. She tried her best to help him out but there was only so much she could do. It was worth it though. Not only was the island beautiful, but Solas had a legitimate reason to stare unabashedly at his Inquisitor as she did the thing she was best at. At one point Solas slipped and Amala grabbed his hand to keep him from falling. Once he was stable and she’d finished laughing at him, she’d laced their fingers together and they’d continued on their way, their joined hands swinging between them.The planks of wood could have been 3cm wide and no one would have caught Solas complaining.
Once they had made it to the main body of the island, Amala excitedly showed him some of her favorite places and they settled on a patch of thick, soft grass on the edge of the pool. Solas did remember this place. He and Felassan had spent many long afternoons sparring here, cooling off in the water and discussing their plans for the future and the things they would build together. His heart twinged. Oh, Felassan. Amala had also been right, there were a lot of statues of Mythal scattered around the place. He remembered those too.
They spoke about nothing of note for a while, reminiscing about their travels through the Hinterlands, swapping stories from their time in the fade and commiserating about how wrecked they both were after their night of drinking. It was so normal. It was almost perfect, but Solas could still feel the tension simmering just below the surface. He let it be for a time, settling down in the grass with his sketchbook while Amala tried her hand at scaling the crumbling walls. He traced the familiar lines of her body in charcoal, using his fingers to soften the edges and show her movement. There was something almost meditative about the process of seeing something, envisioning it on paper and then executing that vision. When he couldn’t describe the way he felt about something in words alone, he had found that he could usually depict it through his art, or through some combination of both. It was rare for him to go anywhere without a sketchbook. He had many full ones that he kept stored away to return to when he felt particularly nostalgic. He had burned many more.
Some amount of time must have passed, Solas was far too enraptured in his sketches to keep track of exactly how much, because when he looked back up, His Heart was naked. Alright, not quite, but before he had had the chance to process anything beyond the bareness of her stomach and the smooth line of her thighs, he had pointedly looked away, feeling the familiar lick of warm desire shoot through his stomach like an arrow.
Amala, who had removed her clothes in favor of a simple breast band and undershorts, laughed at his discomfort, though it wasn’t a truly mocking sound.
“Oh come now,” she teased, “I feel as though we’ve covered this already. Nothing you-”
“-haven’t seen before.” They finished in unison.
“It has been ten years, Vhenan,” he pointed out, “and you always did have a way of making me shy.”
She sat down at the water’s edge and slowly slipped in, making a sound of pleasure when the coolness hit her sun warmed skin that was so erotic that it bordered on torturous. She submerged her head under the water for a moment before popping up again and swimming over to the rocks near where he was sitting.
“Come swim,” she encouraged, “the water’s wonderful.”
“So I heard,” he said with a pointed look.
His instinct was to pull away, to politely decline and continue his drawings, but what was the point? Who did that instinct serve? So, instead, he got up with a sigh and started to remove his clothes, not bothering to fold them as they slowly came off, one piece at a time until he was only in his underclothes. Solas could feel her eyes on his back, tracing his spine, taking note of the places that were still tender and healing, cataloguing his new scars. He felt a slight twinge of insecurity, wondering what he must look like to her, if he measured up to her memories of their time together. He briefly felt the ghost of her hand brushing his stomach and sliding over his hips, but he pushed the feeling away and focussed on not twinging his ribs as he moved.
He slipped into the pool beside Amala, doing his best to look nonchalant and sighed with relief. The water really was magnificent. The water was also clear. Very clear. He had to fight to keep from staring at the flashes of Amala’s skin just beneath the surface. Her thighs were especially tempting. His mind helpfully providing him with the memory of just how soft they were beneath his palms, how her skin broke out in goosebumps when he ran his thumbs-
“Come, let me show you something,” he suggested quickly, crossing the pool in long, steady strokes.
There was a place, right beside the small, babbling waterfall, where the rocks formed a natural bench of sorts. It was long enough for several people and allowed them to sit in the water without needing to expend energy treading.
Amala gave him an impressed look, pulling herself onto the bench beside him and admiring the view it gave them “This is lovely. You must have come here often to remember it so well.”
“I did,” he admitted, “with Felassan. It had been so long since I had thought of it that I didn’t even remember until we arrived. It was part of a larger island that we used for training at the time.”
She hummed, shooting him a look out of the corner of her eye that told him she wanted to ask something. His chest tightened. His Inquisitor was a smart woman. She would have put it together by now that he and Felassan had been close. That Felassan had been an agent of Fen’Harel. That Felassan was not around anymore. He ought to just tell her. There was no sense in hiding from the truth, but still, Solas shrank away from the idea. Something of his discomfort must have shown on his face, because Amala let it go and changed tack.
“So, what prompted this little outing?” She asked, her tone forcibly light, “You haven’t asked to spend a day with me since we arrived here.”
“I was giving you space,” he replied, giving her a grateful look, “but after last night…well, I suppose the idea of space from you has simply lost its charm. Plus, I had things I wanted to say.”
She nudged his shoulder with her own, a small supportive gesture that had pulled him back from the edge more than once during their travels together. It said ‘I’m with you if you need me’. It said ‘you’re not alone here’.
“Then say them,” she suggested gently, “I’ll listen.”
They sat in silence for a while, just soaking in the sun and enjoying the simple joy of being together. Solas was painfully aware of her thigh pressed up against his, of the warmth of her body brushing against his bare arms. It was equal parts teasing and comfort in the way only Amala had ever been able to pull off, and the urge to wrap his arm around her side and pull her close was almost irresistible. He glanced up at the unseeing face of Mythal from where she perched eternal, watching over the pool. It would have felt poetic, he thought, to have a real, flesh and blood woman who loved him right under the eyes of a memory of one who did not. But that wasn’t why he had brought Amala here.
“Do you know why I pushed you away when we first met?” He eventually asked, “Why I fought so hard to deny what clearly existed between us?”
Amala shrugged, “Nonsense reasons, I suspect. Not wanting to lie to me and all that.”
He let out a huff of fond laughter and reached out hesitantly, a question in his eye. Amala nodded, letting him take her prosthetic hand in his and turn it over so that he could inspect the palm, “Amongst other reasons, it was because, at the time, you were channeling the power of a foci. My foci. Every time you closed a rift or brushed up against the fade, without knowing it, you were the foci of Fen’Harel. That could have given me power over you, undue power, undue influence. I feared that I would turn you into a tool in my crusade. Like I had done to so many others and like so many others had done to me. I would have had the best of intentions, of course, but it would have been cruelty all the same. I never wanted to use my power to shape you into something you did not wish to be.”
The prosthetic hand was a work of majesty. It was made of silverite and gold and seemed to be modeled off the old elven sentries that used to stand guard in Arlathan. As Solas ran his fingers along the intricate metalwork, he felt the familiar hum of Dorian’s magic. It made him smile. He should have known.
“I was never romantically involved with Mythal,” he continued, “I loved her. Deeply. I know she loved me the same, but it was…different then. The world was younger. The lines between things were not so severe, things defied definition more readily. At the time I felt like I belonged to her, belonged at her side. I did whatever she asked because she was my liege. She was the person I had chosen to follow, come what may, and we were never equals. I was her second-in-command, her guard dog. I excelled at the role.”
Amala nodded. She already knew all of this, but it was clear that he was building to something.
Solas continued, “I never wanted to become, for you, what Mythal became for me in the end. I wanted us to be equals.” he paused, feeling the familiar rush of shame and self-loathing flow through him, “I failed at that. I used you.”
She sighed, her metal hand giving his flesh and blood one a gentle squeeze as she looked up at the statue of Mythal, “People use people, Solas. It happens.”
He shook his head, staring at their interlocked hands “I-I will not attempt to explain away how I treated you. It was unjustifiable, but the point I was trying to make is…” he flushed, suddenly shy, “I am new to this. I have had very few romantic relationships considering how old I am, and the ones I did have happened in less than ideal circumstances so-” he forced himself to meet her eye and let out a breath, “I have no idea how to do this.”
“Do what?” Amla asked with a gentle, affectionate laugh.
Solas gestured vaguely, “This. Be in a normal, healthy relationship where no one is dying or planning a rebellion or deceiving the other person. When last we were together, I was always aware that one day I would have to leave you. Our relationship was always temporary-”
“Not that I knew that,” she pointed out.
He gave her a sheepish look and sighed, “I do not know how to build something with you with the intention of it lasting.” He admitted, “And I do want this to last. I want to do this properly.”
She was silent for a moment. He felt the ghosts that they had both been fighting to ignore rise between them again. Varric, Lace, Flissa, Corypheus, Haven, Redcliff, Adamant. A million moments of terror, of pain and confusion and sacrifice. Every lie by omission. Every betrayal. Ten long years of loneliness. There was so much to consider that Solas instinctively pushed it away, shoved his feelings down into a box in his heart that could be dealt with on some other day.
“Well, I’m not the world’s foremost expert or anything, but usually the people in the relationship know things about one another.” Amala eventually said with forced levity, clearly having made a similar choice to ignore the obvious.
He knew it was wrong. He knew this fragile, unspoken agreement to not have the fight wouldn’t last, that it would only fester and deepen the hurt on both sides but, in that moment, he was so grateful to her for it that it made him dizzy.
“We know things about one another.” he insisted.
“We know the big things,” she agreed, “we know we would die for each other, and the worst things that ever happened to us, and how much pain we can each take before we black out, but life was so chaotic when we met that we skipped over all the small things.”
The worst thing that had ever happened to Amala was a direct result of his actions, he reminded himself, feeling the familiar twisting pain of self-loathing in the pit of his stomach but, again, he pushed it away. He tried to focus on the day, on the sunlight and the cool water and the intoxicating brush of her skin against his. It partially worked.
He nodded, his brow furrowed with concentration as he redirected his attention back to the conversation, “Alright, I suppose I can see the truth in that. What sort of little things should we know?”
Amala shrugged with one shoulder, something playful in her eye, “Oh, I don’t know, anything really. Like, for example, earlier when you said it had been ten years…you meant since you’d seen me without my clothes on, right? Not since you’d seen anyone?”
The tension shattered. The ghosts faded.
Solas flushed, rolling his eyes with faux frustration, “I hardly think that’s relevant, Vhenan.”
Her mouth dropped open, “Solas. No, be serious now. It cannot have been a decade since you last…”
“I have had longer dry spells,” he admitted, “I spent a great deal of my life either at war with the Titans or leading a rebellion.”
“And here I thought battle was an aphrodisiac,” she replied.
“Back then everyone was immortal,” Solas reminded her, “everything felt less urgent. As for my recent…activities-”
“Or lack thereof.”
“Or lack thereof,” he agreed with a chuckle, “it held no appeal for me.”
She continued, sounding genuinely stunned, “I just-I can’t even-why?”
Solas felt his face warming under her scrutiny, but he wasn’t truly uncomfortable.
“What use did I have for desire?” he replied, “I was preoccupied with my plans, and besides,” he let his voice dip low, “it would be unfair of me to lay with someone when my heart and soul had been given to another.”
If he could bottle the look of fond exasperation and pride that that statement brought to Amala’s face and drink it like water, he would.
“I can think of some uses for desire,” she countered, letting her hand rest gently on his thigh beneath the water.
Her touch was light, teasing almost as she trailed her fingers slowly up. Solas felt like a teenage boy, his skin flushing as desire sank even deeper into the pit of his stomach. His mind, desperate for Amala in that way it always had been, eagerly provided him with the memory of what it felt like to flip her onto her back and pin her hands above her head. It reminded him of the way her voice would catch on his name when he slid his thigh between her legs and kissed down her neck, how her eyes would flutter shut even as she fought to keep them open when he-
He grabbed her hand with his own, slightly shaking one, “You’re playing a very dangerous game, Inquisitor.”
She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes flicking to take note of the tremor in his hand before she allowed the moment to pass. Solas let out a breath, grateful for the cold water.
“Alright, you were celibate for a decade” she said, simply, as though nothing had happened, “that is something I definitely did not know about you. Something to keep in mind.”
He snorted, “I assume you were not similarly restrained in your affections then.”
“Of course I wasn’t,” Amala replied, still chuckling, “I was alone! I had just saved the world and been dumped by a god, of course I wasn’t celibate.”
A completely fair and valid point, he reminded himself. A truth he had always assumed existed, and yet…he imagined his Inquisitor tangled up with some faceless person, her head thrown back in ecstasy as they kissed along the column of her throat, and felt jealous. It was surprising, in a way, and completely unsurprising in another way. He had always been a possessive man, prone to bouts of obsession and groomed for devotion. He did not like sharing the people he loved. At the same time, he had always assumed that Amala would eventually move on from what they had. In those first dark days after he had left the Inquisition, Solas would lie awake and imagine her slowly falling in love with someone new. He would imagine their first tentative kiss, the flowers they would buy her, the ring they would use to propose. He would imagine their house and their children, and the smile lines by His Heart’s eyes deepening throughout years of joyous, blissful matrimony and partnership. He would imagine himself fading from a wound, to a scar, to the ghost of an old memory and comfort himself with the idea that that was a sort of death, a sort of apology for a millennia of mistakes.
So, yes, in the greater scheme of things, his jealousy surprised him.
“Who was your first?” Amala asked curiously, “I had always assumed it was Mythal but…”
Solas scrunched his nose, banishing the thought of the faceless partner to the back of his mind, and replied, “Her name was Valina. She served Mythal, like I did. We were both new to having physical bodies and the desires and urges that came with them so it was…a learning experience, to put it mildly.”
She groaned sympathetically and nudged his shoulder with hers, “So not even the immortal can escape that core experience. Good to know.”
“And yours?”
“Leonid,” she answered, “we had just gotten our Vallaslin and we snuck away in the middle of the night. It was quick and fumbling and very sweet.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Solas replied gently, “you deserve sweetness.”
“So do you.” she countered, equally softly,
“Maybe someday,” he conceded, slightly uncomfortable with the idea as he stared out over the endless fade, “but right now my sins are too numerous for that.”
Amala sighed and, before Solas could do anything to soothe her disappointment in him, he felt her lips press softly to his cheek. His heart stuttered. Time slowed to a crawl.
Touch starved. That was the phrase he had heard bandied about by soldiers, too long away from their wives, families and friends. Like so much else in his life, it had never made sense until he met Amala.
The kiss should have been nothing. It was quick and chaste, the kind of thing she had once done instinctively if they were going separate ways on a mission, or if one of them was heading out without the other. Instead, after so many years of solitude, it felt like the very first time. Warmth spread from where her skin touched his, his every nerve ending felt alive and he recognized that this kiss felt meaningful. It was a promise, a dedication to treating one another softly no matter how scared or broken they both may be from years of constant battle. It was an offering of better times ahead.
But what use is a general in peacetime? How could he give her better days when all he had to offer was dread?
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screamingpotatoes · 2 days ago
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'ew gross. oh well, not my business' is an important phrase to employ.
I understand why you would post this, and this isn't to say you cannot have an opinion, but that you should probably not express in such an aggressive way. It's alright to hate tomarry because you do not like the themes, and I'm not asking you to like it either. Just, please don't attack people over it?
I'm not attempting to erase free speech or whatnot. You can, of course, express your distaste for the ship in such a way: 'I don't like it because it is strange/ there's a large age gap/ poor Harry had his parents killed by Tom and you want them to kiss(????)/ it is one fucked-up relationship.' and leave it as that. And that's alright! You've said that you're not into it, and gave your reason. I understand. Heck, you can even block them! You'd never see them again and enjoy a happy scrolling.
But attacking people for it, however, is calling them 'you freaks' or 'scary'. This is harmful, and deliberately malicious. It hurts people for no reason other than your discomfort.
Besides, attacking people for shipping creates a terrible atmosphere for the others in the fandom. It puts people off, and a fandom can only thrive if there's people in it and like being in it.
It is also important to remember that this is all fiction. Hell, I'd be mortified if my friend started dating the guy who killed his parents, put him through a manhunt, is fucking deranged, tore his soul into seven pieces, tried to kill him many times and, well, the epitome of not being a good bf. I'd sneak into their room on wedding night and throttle that fucker, if I haven't strung him up by the balls in court yet. But reading a fic where that happens? Damn fucking interesting. The tension? Delicious. There's a stark difference between what someone wants in real life and what they want to imagine about. I can see why you would be so horrified at them if you consider those two one and the same.
I'm sorry to have typed so much, and you probably don't want to read through all this either. All these long responses may appear very aggressive and talked down on, but there really isn't a way to explain it shortly.
You just have to remember that what other people imagine isn't your fucking business. If it makes you uncomfortable, just block them. Make internet a wholesome experience!
Do y'all know what is more scary than people who ship Sam with Dean, who are literally brothers?
PEOPLE WHO SHIP VOLDEMORT AND HARRY POTTER. WHAT THE ACTUAL F**K IS WRONG WITH YOU FREAKS!!? 😠😭
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messrsbyler · 2 years ago
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ted 100% meant will when he said "and no sweetie pie" if you even care
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mccnstruck · 1 year ago
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MORNING TEXTS WITH KAZUHA !!
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merverelli · 10 months ago
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👼🗡️ toddiel, the golden sword of the inconquerable dawn. 👼🗡️
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bmpmp3 · 1 year ago
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i will admit i have run up the playtime on a few visual novels in my time purely because the soundtrack was really good and i sat there staring into space instead of reading for 10 minutes straight
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mxdotpng · 1 year ago
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i think the whole "miles is ALSO spider man" debate becomes worthless when you realize miles is in fact referred to as spider man in every single rendition of him..... except for the ones aimed at 4-8 year olds. which at that point makes your argument mean nothing
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dawei-s · 7 months ago
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Close to my grandma's age when she had my dad literally wtf
#*p#She gave him up for adoption good for her#Side note she is my favorite grandparent#Been thinking abt it a little more recently as I'm staying with her rn#Also rlly been thinking about how my grandma is losing her memory and whatnot but she is still just as kind and enjoyable as before#But when this happened to my (non biological) grandfather he was so fucking nasty. Hmm okay rant incoming once again just need somewhere to#Is been resting inside me for years and I think maybe I should just get it out finally so like don't read. I mean you can if you want but..#recently I realized that he hit my dad when he was a kid and so now I hate him hate him#My mom's always hated him too because of the way he treated my dad's sister versus him#She's so spoiled god#Once my mom told me how they both came to the airport and when my dad arrived he didn't even get up but when she arrived he got up#Before she even was there and greeted her with open arms like hmm okay#And the his computer screen savers was just a sideshow and ofc most if not all of them were her and not one was my dad#Back to the she's so spoiled comment she literally just took whatever she wanted when she came to my grandparents house#I'm not even kidding it was even their cars#Oh she took all of my dad's legos without a word to him. He wanted to give them to my sister so he went to find them and they just weren't#Like you couldnt have even asked ??Think she took his chess set too maybe. Yk lots of things like that#And this is kind of why I was born now that I think about it#My mom felt that my dad didn't have anything of his own so she wanted him to have a kid. Like she wouldn't have had a child if she didn't#Think that#Why did she tell me this anyway#I dint mind but I think lots of parents would not tell their kids that#But yk there are some things she could keep to herself. Like did I need to know where and after what meal I was conceived. No not really.#Wait no I'm literally in the exact room right now aren't I....#How did I get here in my rambling damn it I did not need to think about that
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zanyzendraws · 2 years ago
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NO WAY DEAR EVAN HANSEN RELEASED SIX YEARS AGO
NO WAY I WAS IN EIGHTH GRADE WHEN I LEARNED ABOUT IT
WHAT THE HELL IS THE PASSAGE OF TIME
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tuiyla · 2 years ago
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"#and people can be so fucking performative about mertina but that's another topic"
can you talk more about that? I have noticed some people on reddit resenting Faberritana’s popularity because three of them are white (and one is viewed as the epitome of pretty privilege) and another is a slender, lighter-skinned and mixed-white Afro-Latina (aka Hollywood’s “acceptable” version of a black woman, akin to Zendaya) and while that’s a discussion to be had, imo some in the fandom take it too far and suggest that racism, colorism and fatphobia are the main reasons why they're the four most popular female characters on Glee in general and idk that also rubs me the wrong way.
Yes of course, because it can be a controversial topic but honestly fuck whoever takes issue with me saying this.
Like, let's start off with this: I get that the Faberritana thing can be annoying. I myself find it grating, particularly when I see stuff from the height of the Glee fandom 2011-2012 and it's very clearly centering on Faberritana, at the expense and exclusion of the two other main girls who are less conventionally palatable for, let's be honest, racist and fatphobic reasons. And Glee itself was very, very bad at centering them. So like, I Get It. Faberritana feels like elevating the three white ladies of the group and "allowing" Santana to also take on that fan favourite role. I'd wager, because of the queer storyline and yes, Naya's undeniable conventional attractiveness. Although I do take issue with the baffling backlash people like Zendaya face because shifting the blame onto women of colour for Hollywood deeming them more screen appropriate is in itself fucked up. Particularly in Naya's case because her mixed heritage was constantly ignored to boil it down to something more easily consumable, such as in the context of Glee her being the token Latina and her Blackness all but erased. But anyway.
The answer to this being this, like you say, taking it too far and creating a counter movement is just all wrong. To me. Not only because putting some women down to elevate others NEVER should be the fucking case oh my god it's 2023, but because appreciation for Mertina being born out of spite towards Faberritana enjoyers is... not real appreciation. I could start stanning St Berry sooo hard but if it's just because I find Finchel more and more repulsive, that ain't gonna be the great win for St Berry I sometimes see people posit Mertina appreciation as. I know this sounds strange but it's the fandom equivalent of trying to make an ex jealous via your rebound. You're not actually taking the rebound's feelings into consideration. Alright okay out of left field simile but you get where I'm coming from.
I think that's what annoyed me the most in my reddit days, which, *shudders* are thankfully over. This childish need to counterbalance to take extreme. X ch is popular? Well I don't like them so there must be a moral reason as to why they're The Worst, actually. Y ship is well-liked? I'm going to passive-aggressively show appreciation for Z shit all while implying that all who support another ship hint hint wink wink are Wrong and basic. I think all who spent time on the sub will be able to relate to this. But like I say, that's not real appreciation. If you feel like showing appreciation for, say, Mertina because they're statistically less like to be talked about with the same fervor, good! Please do that. But make it come from a place of authenticity or I, for one, will not be able to get fully behind it.
It's slightly different on tumblr. One, because you curate your own dashboard and experiences and I've fortunately seen the love get spread around a lot more. There are entire blogs I associate with loving Tina (hello tumblr user @tina-cohen-chang) and though Mercedes love is less "centered", I guess, it's ubiquitous as far as I see. And sure, some chs will always be more appreciated than others, but I don't see people throwing a hissy fit about Artie not being even close to being as popular or Klaine, or similar things. Liking the Glee boys is basically synonymous to liking Klaine + Sam + Mike but people never used the term Klainesike so I guess that's okay. And to be clear, it is okay! Like who you like, call it what you want. I'm happy to see things like Tina week or the relatively smaller but constant portions of Mercedes love. It's never the people complaining about Faberritana supplying it, though, which is why it's so performative. You don't have to be a content creator, no one does, but also no one owes you anything and supporting less fan favourite-y chs out of pure spite just makes you look like an ass.
Circling back, even with all this said I too find the unironic use of the Faberritana portmaunteu cringe and I do think Mertina deserve more appreciation. And I think there are layers of racism as well as the show's own issues playing into why that isn't the case. They were less featured and that in itself is a problem. And that's worth investigating within fandom circles. But that's never what happens when the people of reddit complain about Faberritana's popularity and instead it just becomes this resentment party where no one wins but they give themselves brownie points for even pretending to like the Black and Asian women of the show. Congrats I guess, real win for intersectional feminism right there. Really kicked racism in the gut with that.
Basically it just becomes grating, far more grating than unironically using the term Faberritana, when people get into petty passive-aggressive counter-movements in fandom. It becomes not about love for Mertina but bitterness that chs they happen to not like are popular. And I know I just said in my reply that I don't vibe with what I perceive to be inauthentic appreciation of chs, but I also don't like when fans start policing within fandom. So I'm not doing that with anything I'm saying, in fact what I'm trying to get at is to enjoy and let enjoy. Heaven knows I don't have the energy to spread all my Glee love equally and that's okay. I do try to express the love I have for chs other than Santana, or other than my usual suspects but at the end of the day, I know what I like and I like it because I want to enjoy it. Getting sort of off topic, anyway, so just like stop be an ass about people's love for things and mind your own business. If your own business is liking thing X then that's great, enjoy the fandom content and create your own if you wish, but why be mad about what people like about a 10 year-old show, particularly if you're too lazy to actually have those discussion about race and gender and other larger societal issues. You know?
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our-lady-of-mcr · 8 months ago
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#also god bless my friend who pointed out that im moving up and im going to be in a salon soon and will actually be doing something good with#my life vs the friend who did me this way pretending shes still in high school that freaks out and loses all her friends every 6 months#i wish it didnt bother me. and i know in 2 months im going to have brushed it off and move on like i always do when bad shit happens#but for the wound being fresh this shit just fucking sucks i hate it i hate it i hate it#i made a very very very vague post on reddit just asking for advice#and the more popular reply was someone more on my side who basically said i should tell her to go fuck herself pretty much#and the second one was someone who v obviously did not actually read the post who said it was all fluff and basically defended her even#when in my post i am saying i defended myself while still listening to the shit she says#and i fucking hate reddit bc people are so.....quick to be hateful and judge#and i knew to expect people being hateful but god DAMN like you yourself are basically saying theres not enough info (yes there was) and you#still are quicker to assume im in the wrong#meanwhile everyone who knows her is like bitch we told you to not forgive her last time and now look where you are#and i am not a perfect person i have flaws the same way everyone else does. literally everyone has said and done shit they regret#and i have fucked her over before because she lost her fucking mind on a campus manager and an educator and she told me to find my own ride#home because i didnt defend her losing her shit and screaming at everyone and ended up having to write an incident report (so did the other#girls who watched it happen so nOT just me) anyways now she uses that as an excuse for treating me like fucking trash because she finally#found out about the god damn incident report which made it so now anyone can say i said anything and she just believes it#its such a fucking joke to me because like ????? girl if we were in opposite positions you would have filled out the fuckin report too#granted it was a handwritten letter and not a report but it was basically the exact same thing as an incident report#my bad that a year ago i wrote a letter saying i was scared you know where i live and that youre mentally unstable. funny how a year later i#feel the same way all over again! except i dont because im not scared of her anymore shes a fucking theater kid who needs to get a grip#i cant wait to look at my self tag again in 2 years and be like DAMN REMEMBER WHEN THAT HAPPENED#every single person who knows her that isnt friends with her (i am basically refusing to text her friends bc i dont even want to know)#keeps telling me i didnt do anything wrong and ive given her too many chances and she fucks me each time#i just wish she would go get help bro there is something so wrong with her#self
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hueseok · 3 months ago
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it was always you.
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for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.
so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.
or at least, that’s what you think.
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pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 13.2k
rating: 18+
content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts
warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)
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MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken
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opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗
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“Any questions?”
A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”
You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.
You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”
More than half of the class raises their hands.
“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”
A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.
“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”
“I love you, Ms. ____!”
“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.
“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”
The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.
There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.
Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.
“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.
“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”
He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Is that how you greet an old friend?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”
You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.
“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”
“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”
“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”
“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”
“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”
“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”
“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”
“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”
He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”
“You didn’t?”
He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.
“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”
“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.
Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.
It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.
It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.
At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.
“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”
“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”
“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”
Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.
“He meant well, ____.”
You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.
“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.
He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”
You wince.
“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”
“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”
“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”
“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”
“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”
“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”
“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”
“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”
Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.
“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”
“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.
“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.
He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”
“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”
“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”
“An apology?”
“For being the last person to know about your condition.”
“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”
“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”
Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.
“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”
“I can make space for you.”
Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?
You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”
“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”
“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”
“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.
“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”
“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”
Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.
“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.
“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”
“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Fine.” You deadpan.
This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”
“Okay.”
****
When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.
He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.
And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 
He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.
Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.
“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.
Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”
“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.
“You’ll do it then?”
He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”
“Even as crazy as marrying her?”
“Sure.”
Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”
“I don’t like her.” 
“You’re in love with her.”
“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”
Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”
He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”
“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”
“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”
“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”
“That can work.”
“What?” Jungkook laughed.
Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”
He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”
“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”
“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.
Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”
Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.
“Noted.”
****
It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.
You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 
“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.
You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.
“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.
Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”
He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.
“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”
The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”
“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”
“Precisely.”
“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”
“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”
 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”
“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”
“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”
“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”
You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”
“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.
He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”
“Hell no.”
“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.
“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”
He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”
“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”
The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.
You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.
When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.
After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.
“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.
He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.
“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 
“That’s no need, Kook.”
“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”
So, you allow him.
It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.
“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”
“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”
Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”
“Agreed.”
You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”
Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.
“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.
“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”
“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”
“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”
“It’s not as bad as you think.”
“That’s not convincing at all.”
“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”
You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.
You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”
There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”
“I can’t promise that either.”
“You have to.”
“Why do I have to?”
“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”
You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”
“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”
“Misunderstand what?”
“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”
“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”
“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”
“You should be.” You grumble.
Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.
“What?” You hiss.
He swallows hard.
“I want you to marry me, ____.”
You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.
****
Jungkook was your first kiss.
It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 
He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”
You blushed.
Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.
5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.
“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”
You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”
“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”
Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”
“So, it’s not true?”
“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.
It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”
You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”
“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.
He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.
“Okay,” you told him.
“Huh?”
“You can kiss me.”
“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”
You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”
“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”
“It is?” Hope sparked within you.
“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”
You cackled. “Deal.”
56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 
****
You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.
“What’s up?”
“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.
A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”
The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.
“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”
“Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”
“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”
“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”
“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”
“Why not?”
“It just won’t!”
“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”
You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”
“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”
“It’s a sham marriage!”
“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”
“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”
Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”
“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”
“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”
“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”
“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”
Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”
“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”
“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”
“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”
“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”
There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.
“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.
“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”
“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”
“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.
You hang up and glance at the door.
You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.
He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.
As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 
Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.
Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack
You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.
You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw
Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first
You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you
Jungkook: oof that’s harsh
You: sorry not sorry?
He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.
However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.
Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind
You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.
You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey
Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣
****
It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.
He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.
Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.
“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.
“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.
You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”
“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”
“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”
“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”
“Ah.” You nod in understanding.
You two continue walking forward.
This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.
“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.
You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”
“Busy day?”
“Yep.”
“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”
He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”
“Why not?”
“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”
“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”
“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”
“The assurance you’re taken care of.”
“That’s cheesy.”
You share a laugh and he grins.
“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”
He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.
Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.
“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”
You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.
“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.
“Glucometer.”
He halts. “What does that look like?”
“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.
He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.
“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.
You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.
“Let me do it,” he says.
You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.
“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.
Another sigh. “Better.”
“Does this happen a lot?”
You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”
“____—”
“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”
Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”
“Thank you.”
He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”
Before you can protest, he closes the door.
****
Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.
In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.
“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.
“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”
“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”
“It’s not.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.
Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?
“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.
“Four months, I think.”
“Four months? And you already brought him home?”
You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”
“You must really like him then.”
“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”
“Does he treat you well?”
You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”
“What’s with it?”
“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”
Fuck, thank God, he thought.
“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.
“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”
“But I’m not your brother.”
“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”
“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”
“Oh, so you don’t?”
He pressed his lips into a tight line.
“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”
“Instead you implied it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You kinda did.”
He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”
“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.
He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.
“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”
“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.
“He might not like it. You’ll see.”
That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.
You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.
****
“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.
Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.
“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.
“Jungkook—”
“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.
You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”
“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 
“That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”
“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”
“I’m not willing to take the risk.”
“I’m not willing to see you die.”
You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”
“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”
“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”
“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”
“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”
“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”
“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”
“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”
“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”
His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”
“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”
Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”
“That won’t make me feel better.”
“Then what will?”
You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.
Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.
Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.
You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”
He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”
“For one, I grew up.”
“Ouch.”
You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”
That piques his interest. “Anything.”
“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”
“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”
You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.
“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.
It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.
You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”
His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!
He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.
“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”
That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.
“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.
“What?”
“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”
Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.
“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.
Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.
“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”
“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”
And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.
It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.
However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.
“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.
You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.
“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.
It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.
“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.
You grin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”
You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.
“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”
You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.
He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”
“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.
He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”
You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.
It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.
Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.
“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.
You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“I’m going to take you up on that.”
“Please do.”
After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.
“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.
You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”
A boyish grin erupts on his features.
Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.
“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.
You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”
He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”
“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”
“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”
****
“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.
The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.
“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”
“I don’t care.”
You laugh. 
He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.
Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.
“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”
You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.
“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.
“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”
“Of course.” You kiss him too.
His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.
“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.
The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.
Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.
Jungkook unwillingly places you down.
“I think I need to go,” you say.
He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“Call you tomorrow?”
“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 
He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”
“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.
“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.
“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”
“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”
“You,” he answers without missing a beat.
You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”
“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”
You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”
Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.
You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.
“What?” you ask.
“Please never do that in front of me again.”
His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”
“Want what?”
“Me and Jungkook to be together.”
“When on earth did I say that?”
“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”
A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”
“We’re not—”
“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”
“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”
“Wait, so the two of you have?”
Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”
He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”
You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.
You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”
You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.
A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”
You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”
When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”
You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.
You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.
“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.
You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.
Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.
You: look how cute we look 🥹
You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.
If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.
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neverendingford · 10 months ago
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#tag talk#watched “it follows” and I shouldn't have. didn't know it was horror going in but after a few minutes I did and I should have stopped#I'm apparently still not 100% past self-terrifying as a form of self harm. I knew I shouldn't have and I kept watching anyway#you know. most people don't know what terror is. they know fear. they know worry. they know anxiety.#terror is something different. I wish I could describe it but you really only know it when you have felt it.#that freezing up of your body. I guess some people get terror in different ways though. I freeze. others fight or flight. I just freeze.#that sense of helpless anticipation as you experience the certainty that the object of your terror is approaching. inevitably.#why fight it? you fucking can't. no matter what you do it'll always get you. it's stronger. more powerful.#hmmm. csa moment oops. I am tempted to make a joke here but I don't want to deflect from my issues.#I have trauma and I wish I didn't. I have hurt that I don't even consciously remember but my body does.#I do not have emotional trauma in the way that people have survivors guilt and feeling like it was their fault. any of those surface emotion#not calling it shallow. but like. it's like when you don't look at the needle and you don't even notice the skin prick but you feel it#you feel it hit your vein and you feel that deep body response that Something Is Not Right.#like when I got my wisdom teeth pulled and I elected to not go under for it so I was numbed but conscious for it.#part way through my body started uncontrollably shaking (well. sort of controlled. I'm good at that).#I didn't feel the pain. I wasn't afraid. but my body was feeling objective physical trauma and I had the response anyway.#I don't remember really. I don't have the surface level pain responses to the trauma.#but deep down my body knows something is wrong and I can't stop my bones from shaking even though I don't feel the pain.#hmmm. I should talk to my next therapist about this.#Lear chased off our last therapist when I was having my dissociative week after watching The Hunt.#which. tbh good riddance she was not equipped to handle us in the slightest. and we're talking to our friend/gf(?) again which is really nic#she and Lear had a few solid conversations too. which was funky cause before he snapped he didn't want anything to do with her#but we kinda had a moment where he realized he's just as fucked up as I am just differently.#anyone reading these tag talks might remember so I won't go over it again.#anyway. I'm not sleeping tonight. I think I should start taking the full pill instead of just the half. but it's just suppressing symptoms#I'm acting up because of my inner state. or maybe my inner state is tumultuous because of my outer condition? idfk#either way I'm suffering over here#not a sui risk but damn#I'm gonna finish patching the pair of pants I've been not working on for the past months
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