#me every time i hear someone mention one of my ocs: no quite .. . .

[spideyjimin]

Wait for your love | jjk

—  pairing: firefighter!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: kind of exes to lovers, parents au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: sixteen years ago, your life was turned upside down when you surrendered to the temptation — none other than jungkook, the star basketball player on your school’s team. today, after all that time, you reunite under tragic circumstances; a car crash where he saves your life.

—  words: 17,383

—  warnings: strong language, car accident, blood, mention of pregnancy, mention of cheating, mention of divorce, mention of sex, sever injuries, mention of death, crying, mention of heartbreak, mention of breakup, oc suffers quite a lot, mention of unprotected sex, mention of fire, mention of fighting, kissing, pain struggle, tattooed!jungkook, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, praising, oc and jungkook are needy, choking, a bit of fingering, a bit of handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, morning sex, slow sex (is it even a thing?), and creampie

—  author’s note: so here you finally have this fic 🤗 i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve adored writing it! To be honest, this is my fav jk that i’ve ever written 🫣I truly hope you’ll enjoy this fic as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it ✨ don’t hesitate to let me know what you think of it ❤️

—  playlist: supernatural | forget about us | standing next to you | bed chem | juno

MASTERLIST

The sound of the sirens echoes in your ears.

Your eyes are completely shut, your entire body hurts, and you put your hand on your head as if you’re trying to stop the pain you’re feeling. Slowly you try to open your eyes, and you see the completely broken windshield of your car. You take a look around to notice how damaged the inside of your car is.

It’s pretty bad.

Your eyes flutter shut once more, the effort to keep them open too much to bear. Gradually, you feel yourself falling asleep. As you slip into slumber, your mind is drawn back to a painful memory — the day you gave your son up for adoption.  

Being a teen mother wasn’t on your plans. Even though you really wanted to become a mother, it simply wasn’t possible then. Having a kid at sixteen wouldn’t be easy and for sure, you wouldn’t be able to offer a proper life to that kid. It wouldn’t be fair to him to keep him only because you wished to become a mother. He deserved to have a good life, to have loving parents, and to accomplish all his dreams.

On top of that, the baby was living proof that you cheated on your then-boyfriend. Definitely, you weren’t proud of yourself. The father of your baby was a bit of a jerk, but, when he found out about your pregnancy, he showed nothing but support. It was surprising, but it felt great to have him by your side.

Giving your son up for adoption was devastatingly hard. But it was the best for him. After that, you spent the last sixteen years wondering what he had become. Every boy you met that’d match his age; you’d wonder if it was him. And sometimes, you’d regret abandoning him. In those moments, crying was the only solution.

As hard as possible, you resist the urge to fall asleep, but the headache is making this battle hard to fight.

“Ma'am,” you hear a distant voice.

Those words echo in your mind, and strangely, it feels like this voice is a familiar one. The pain must be causing some hallucination, you think. But as hard as you can, you try to find out who could be the owner of that voice.

While you think, your eyes open a bit before closing again. Your hand remains on your head, and suddenly, you remember who it is. It is the father of your firstborn.

As you realize who it might be, you shake your head. It’s impossible to be him. After the birth of your baby, you went separate ways and never heard of him anymore. Sometimes, you hope to meet him again to check what he has become.

That man was handsome as hell so you’re absolutely sure that he found someone, got married, and had children. From time to time, you think about him and wonder if he also thinks about your baby as much as you do. Maybe he doesn’t since you’re convinced he has new children to think of.

But that’s silly of you to think that because after your firstborn, you had three other adorable children: two girls, Jia and Jiwoo, and a little boy, Jeong. Being their mother and caring about them never made you forget about your first.

On top of being a mother, you also got married to Minkyu. You met him three years after giving birth, and you were convinced he was the love of your life. However, you ended up divorcing after eight years of marriage. It wasn’t easy, you felt like a total failure. Now, you’re living on your own, sharing custody of your three babies with your ex-husband. Luckily, you remained on good terms, you’d even say you’re friends now.

For the past two years, you’ve been focusing on yourself which means no relationships. But that doesn’t exclude one-night stands. You’re very careful as you don’t want your children to one day stumble upon one of the guys you’ve been fucking with. And you also want to avoid getting pregnant again.

When you planned on stopping the pill to have a child with Minkyu, your gynecologist told you that you seemed to be the fertile type. She was quite right since you got pregnant right after stopping the pill. In three years, you had three kids. So, it explains it all. And it also explains how you easily got pregnant at sixteen, the only time you didn’t use protection.

Now, you’re wondering if this is how your life ends. You’ve last seen your kids four days ago, you’re probably never going to fall in love again, and you’re never going to see your firstborn. This is a tragic way to die. Your mind only thinks about your babies.

Although your mind feels disconnected from your body, you sense a pair of strong arms lifting you up.  Your body is completely sore, and even being held in someone’s arms is painful. The person is talking to you, or at least talking to someone but your brain doesn’t process the words at all.   

Then, the pain knocks you up.

Jungkook and his team got called for a car accident involving several cars, and when they arrived, the scene was horrific.

There are probably five cars pressed and smashed one against the other. There are people injured and bleeding walking around the scene. Paramedics are already taking care of them, but Jungkook is walking to the cars to retrieve the people stuck inside. His captain screams orders and tells him which car he should go to.

His eyes look around, his heart breaking when he sees everyone involved and still stuck in their cars. Visions like this are quite common for him, it doesn’t happen all the time but it’s still recurrent. At the end of the day, his job is to save people in this type of situation.

When he reaches the car, he was assigned to, he takes a look at how many people there are inside. There’s just one person, a woman behind the steering wheel. She has her hand on her head, clearly showing that she might have a headache. She doesn’t really move. Instantly, Jungkook tries to open the door, but it’s showing a bit of resistance.

It feels impossible to open the door, but Jungkook sees the woman’s head falling. He’s getting worrier; she’s slumping into sleep which isn’t a good sign as she was holding her head barely seconds ago. He then proceeds to break the window so he can try to open it from inside. There are other possible ways, but it would be harder and more dangerous to get her out of the vehicle.

“Ma’am,” he says with urge.

Eventually, he manages to open the damn door from the inside. A good part of the car’s front is crashing into her. Before even thinking of taking her out, he places a cervical collar to protect her neck and spine.

“Ma’am,” he repeats. “Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer at all. Jungkook gets closer, his fingers brushing the hair from her face, but when he finally gets to properly see the woman’s face, his heart skips a beat. This woman is none other than you. His mind can’t start to get lost in the past right now. He needs to focus on taking you out of the car.   

You’re in pretty bad shape.

There’s blood on your forehead, you most probably have a wound on top of your head. There’s also blood at the level of your stomach, turning your green shirt into a very dark color. He can distinguish a big fragment of glass shoved into your belly. It doesn’t look good. Your legs are also completely smashed by the front, causing the steering wheel to be very close to your body.  Hopefully, your legs aren’t too injured. He doesn’t even want to start thinking about all the bruises on your body.

Slowly, he places one hand behind your back while his other hand slowly pushes your legs. He’s trying to be as careful as possible to avoid causing any other injury.  His strong arms hold you once he manages to fully remove you from the car. His eyes look down at your face with evident pain. He notices how you’re trying to open your eyes which makes him think that you’re trying to fight the urge to fall asleep.

“Yn,” he says while walking to an ambulance. “Please, stay with me,” he whispers with despair. “I’ve finally found you, and I can’t lose you right away.”

A tear streams down his face as Jungkook begins to run. “Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles when he realizes that you’ve now fallen asleep.  “Help me here,” he shouts to some paramedics.

Two people run in his direction with a stretcher, and he carefully places you there. His eyes never leave you until you’re placed inside an ambulance.

Never did he think he’d find you like this. For the past sixteen years, he imagined the many ways he’d stumble upon you. He thought of meeting you randomly one day in the streets, in a shop, or even in a restaurant. Meeting you after a car crash wasn’t on his mind at all.

Jungkook then proceeds to take care of the other people stuck in their cars. His job isn’t over yet, other people are waiting for his help. Thankfully enough, after so many years of experience, he’s able to focus on what he has to do.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Instinctively, you place your hand on your head since you last remember having a headache, but it doesn’t hurt—at least not anymore. For a brief moment, you close your eyes again while trying to understand what happened.  

Once you open your eyes once more, you look around to realize that you’re lying on a hospital bed. You’re in a room, an individual one. Although you’re alone in a room, can hear many people talking outside.

In the midst of all the noise, you distinguish your sister’s voice. You can’t really understand what she’s saying but she seems worried. Somebody is talking to her, but you don’t recognize the voice. After a little while, your sister opens the door to join you.

A smile appears on her face when she sees you awake. “Yn,” she says before hugging you. You wrap your arms around her, she’s holding you tight. There’s no need for her to speak for you to understand she was dead worried. It also leaves you wondering if you’re really in a bad situation.  When she finally takes a step back, you can see how worried she is.

“I was death worried,” she says. “I thought you died.”

Those words crunch your heart. The simple thought of picturing your sister thinking that is heartbreaking. However, you’re still here. Maybe not in your best shape but you’re still alive.

“Death was too afraid of me,” you jokingly say.

“It’s not funny,” she’s definitely annoyed that you’re joking. “It’s very bad, yn.”

Her eyes don’t betray her, it doesn’t look great. For sure, it’s bad since you remember seeing your car completely destroyed. Memories of the car crash come back. It happened quite fast. The car in front of you didn’t notice the car on the left. Two vehicles in front of you suddenly collided with each other. Due to the small distance and minimal reaction time, you were unable to stop in time, which led to you colliding into the cars. The same happened to the cars behind colliding into you.

“Two people died in the crash, yn, and the doctors didn’t give me many details when they called me,” she explains.

“How long have I been here?” you ask.

It leaves you wondering how long it has been since the car crash happened.

“Almost two days,” she informs.

“Oh,” you simply say.

Your sister then proceeds to explain to you that you went through a couple of surgeries.

When you arrived, you had a glass shoved into your stomach and it caused some damage. You were bleeding internally so you first had surgery to remove the glass and stitch any part of your intestines that needed to be repaired.

On top of that, your knees were destroyed and a part of your hips was broken. So after the stomach surgery, you went through a long surgery to repair your knees, and later on, another one to repair your hips.

Your sister doesn’t know the specificities of the surgeries, but those surgeries are already a lot. She also tells you that you evidently have bruises and scratches all over your body. It definitely sounds bad, but you’re under the influence of painkillers so you don’t really feel anything so far.

“Where are Jia, Jiwoo, and Jeong?” you ask looking around.

“Minkyu took them back home a couple of hours ago,” she tells you.

If your sister was dead worried, you can’t even start to imagine how your kids were feeling. You have such a strong bond with them, and they are still so young; your little Jiwoo is only four years old. You don’t even doubt that they started imagining the worst.

“How are they?” you ask.

“As you can imagine, it’s been harder for them than for anyone else,” your heart aches. “They’ve been crying a lot.”

You close your eyes, holding back the tears. It breaks your heart to have put your babies through this. Even though it’s far from being your fault, you never want to hurt your babies like that. Your role as a mother is to protect them.

“We’ve all been there for them,” she adds.

A tear runs down your face.

“Don’t worry, big sis,” she says before hugging you once more. “They’ll be so happy to see you fully awake.”

You hold her tight in your embrace to comfort you in some kind of way. For a little while, you both stay like this.

“There’s been a firefighter coming to visit you every day,” she whispers in your ear. “A handsome one, actually.”

A little giggle escapes your lips.

“Stop saying nonsense,” you give her a little tap.

She takes a step back with the brightest smile on her face.

“I’m very serious, yn,” she says. “The firefighter that saved you has been coming to check up on you.”

Well, it sounds like he’s kind of adorable. It’s definitely very sweet of him to take the time to check up on you after saving your life.

“He’s extremely hot too,” she adds.

“Stop it,” you say. “You’re exaggerating!”

“I am not!” she instantly replies. “You’ll see when he comes.”

You roll your eyes. She’s definitely unbelievable as always, but she’s your sister. You love her beyond comprehension because she was your very first baby. You have a ten-year gap and you’ve been taking care of her since the very first minute she was born. Your parents had her very late; they were almost 40 years old but the happiest.

When you were around two, they started trying to have a second child. However, it didn’t go as planned. Your mother suffered two miscarriages and after that, it became even harder to have a child. Eventually, when you were around eight, they gave up. They were happy to have you and settled with the idea that you’d be an only child.

But against all odds, a year later, she got pregnant. The pregnancy went to full term, and that’s how you became a big sister.

The gap between you was harder around your teenage years. All you were thinking about was boys, and all she wanted was to play. She also wanted to have a younger sibling, but your parents were already too old for that. Your mum said that she couldn’t handle another big age gap between her kids.

Your sister was the happiest when you announced your pregnancy at sixteen. She was only six back then, and that baby would have been like the little sibling she always desired to have. She was devastated when you explained to her that you wouldn’t keep the baby. Your parents were too but they understood and supported your decision.

Outside your parents, nobody ever knew that Jungkook was the father of your first son. At first, your ex-boyfriend thought that he was the father, that maybe a condom broke and that’s how you got pregnant. But you always knew that he wasn’t the father. It simply wasn’t possible. It all got confirmed when you birthed a baby that looked a lot like Jungkook.

You still remember how heartbroken your ex was, and you couldn’t blame him. The breakup was too hard to handle back then so you never told anyone who the father was, except for Jungkook. He deserved to know the truth. You weren’t expecting much from him as he was the basketball star of your school team. And above anything else, he was a complete jerk.

Nevertheless, he proved you wrong when he supported you. He was by your side for the entirety of the pregnancy. He came to all the ultrasounds and gynecologist's appointments. He was there, and he completely stopped being a jerk to your eyes. Eventually, you became closer, but you refused to be more than friends even though you had strong feelings for him.

Why?

Because it’d be too hard to stay with him after giving up your son for adoption. Jungkook was also supposed to leave for one of the best colleges after that. It was in another city, and you knew he’d stay if you dated. You refused to let him give up his dreams for you. You broke his heart; you could see it in his eyes, but it was for the best. If you were meant to be, you’d find your way back. But it never happened. After that, you completely lose contact.  

There’s a knock on the door. Your sister proceeds to open it, letting the person come in. “Speaking of the devil,” she turns her head to look at you with the brightest smile on her face.

When the famous live-savior firefighter enters, the entire world completely freezes. The firefighter is none other than Jungkook. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet. After all these years, you finally see him again.

A smile spreads on his face when he sees you awake. You can tell that he’s relieved. For an instant, you take a proper look at him. He’s still wearing his firefighter uniform, indicating that he most probably came from a mission — if that’s the correct word to use. His hair is very short and a tiny bit messy. Above anything else, he absolutely looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes betraying him.

“Hi,” he simply says as he takes a step inside.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply.

Your sister is at first taken aback by the fact that you know his name, but as she takes a proper look at your facial expressions, she can tell that you know him.

“I’ll leave you two,” she says before disappearing.

“How are you feeling?” he asks while getting closer.

“I guess fine for now, but not sure, how I’ll feel when the painkillers will no longer have any effects.”   

His eyes scan your face while yours do the same. His beauty is still breathtaking; you’d even say that he aged like fine wine.

“Thanks for rescuing me from the car crash,” you add.

“No need to thank me,” he instantly replies. “It’s part of my job.”

“I still need to. Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Even though it’s part of his job, he saved you, and he deserves to be thanked for that. You would have said it to any other firefighter.

“It’s good to see you awake,” he says.

There is so much you want to say to him, but at the same time, now that you have him in front of you, you don’t even know what to say.

“I just quickly passed by to check up on you,” he informs you. “I need to get back to work.”

“No problems,” you reply. “Thanks for coming.”

“Would you mind if I come back later?” he nervously asks.

Your heart is now racing in your chest. Of course, you want him to come back so you get to catch up and find out how he went from basketball player to firefighter.

“No, I wouldn’t mind,” a little smile appears on your face.

“Thanks,” he says before waving goodbye and leaving your room.

Seconds later, your sister storms inside your room. She has that expression on her face that says: ‘who the hell is this guy?’.

“Who is he?” she asks while taking a seat.

She’s definitely expecting to hear something like: “he’s a guy I slept with after my breakup”, or “I met him at a bar”, or anything of that sort because it was obvious there was something going on between you. The look you both had wasn’t saying we were simply friends. It was a look screaming “something hot and sexy happened between us”.

“The guy that knocked me up sixteen years ago.”

“Mama,” your oldest daughter, Jia says. “When are you leaving the hospital?”

An hour ago, the doctor in charge of you came to explain the extent of the situation to you. Since you now have metal wires in your knees, you’ll have to go through a long recovery, and you’ll have to follow physiotherapy to learn how to walk again.

On top of that, your intestines were stitched, and it will definitely be hard for a moment to eat and drink. So, for at least ten days, you’ll remain in observation at the hospital. There is for sure a very long recovery ahead of you, but what matters is that you’re still alive.

For what is coming, you know you can count on your family’s support, and without any doubts, seeing your babies will help you navigate the hard times. Obviously, you’re also very self-aware that sometimes, it might be too hard, and during those times, even your support system won’t be enough.

“I’ll stay for a little while, boo,” you answer.

She seems a bit sad by your answer which is totally understandable. Briefly, you take a look at Jiwoo and Jeong to see if they also look sad, and they have the exact same facial expression as their older sister.

Your ex-husband, Minkyu is also present. It’s logical since it’s his week with them, and also because you were literally in a coma. When your eyes meet, you give him a little smile. By the way he’s looking at you, he definitely seems worried.

“But you’ll see, time will go by super-fast,” you try to reassure them. “And very soon, I’ll be home with you.”

You can’t wait to go home and be with them even though for a little while, due to the recovery time, it won’t be easy at all. But you’ll be with your babies which honestly is the only thing that matters.

Your babies jump on the bed and hug you. Feeling all this love coming from the little human beings you create warms your heart beyond comprehension. Although the pain is starting to kick in, you pretend like you don’t feel anything because you want to savor this moment with them.

Jeong, your son, shows you what he drew at school for you. He takes the time to explain what it represents. It’s definitely adorable. Then, Jiwoo tells you how her day went by. She played a lot with her friends, she learned to count until 20, and her teacher told her she was an amazing learner. Her face was shining, and you couldn’t be prouder.

Your oldest daughter doesn’t speak much, letting her younger siblings talk. You then try to make her talk about her day, but she bursts into tears, hiding her face in your chest. Your heart definitely breaks while you hold her in your arms.

“What happened, boo?” you caress her back, trying to comfort her as much as you can.

She’s heavily crying, your shirt getting wet with her tears.

“My little boo-boo,” you whisper. “What’s going on?” you add. “Tell me.”

She hugs you even more which squeezes your heart. You don’t like seeing your babies like that.

“I thought you were dead, mommy,” she sniffs.

“Oooh, my boo-boo,” you really want to cry at her words. Imagining her thinking that is one thing but hearing her saying it out loud is something completely different. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all you can say.

Jiwoo and Jeong join the hug, trying in their own way to comfort their big sister. This is a heartwarming hug, and it comforts you beyond comprehension. It’s hard to see them like that, but it’ll get better with time. Minkyu joins you for what is like a family hug now. This right here is the only thing that you need.

After this uplifting moment, your ex-husband and babies leave you alone in this cold hospital room. They need to go back home; the kids need to wash, do their homework, and get ready for bed. You wish they could have stayed longer because you don’t want to stay alone.  

The pain is now unbearable, and it honestly scares you for the long recovery awaiting you. Luckily, right after your family left, a nurse came in to give you dinner together with strong painkillers.

The food is —as imagined— disgusting. There’s nothing you can do about it, but tomorrow, you’ll try to convince your sister to bring you a pizza or sushi or some fast food. There’s no way you’ll survive ten days with this horrible food.

A little later, someone knocks at the door. As promised earlier, Jungkook appears inside your room with a bright smile on his face. You return the smile as it honestly makes you happy that he’s here.

“Hi,” you say.

For a brief moment, your eyes linger on his figure. He’s no longer in his firefighter uniform;  he’s dressed in an all-black outfit that, in all honesty, suits him well. A pair of jeans, a tight shirt, and a leather jacket give him an entirely different vibe from earlier. His hair, now perfectly arranged, makes him look strikingly similar to how he did sixteen years ago.  

“Hi,” he walks closer to you.

His eyes notice the serving tray with the empty plate.

“Was it good?” he points to the empty plate.

“It definitely wasn’t,” a little laugh escapes your lips while you shake your head. “The good thing is that the dessert was a chocolate mousse.”

Jungkook’s smile grows bigger on his face.

“Your favorite dessert,” he whispers.

Now, you’re the one smiling more. When pregnant, you could eat a chocolate mousse without growing tired of it. Due to that, you gained quite some weight during your first pregnancy. Anyway, it was the least of your concerns since you knew you were about to give your son up for adoption.

“You still remember…”

“How couldn’t I?” he instantly says. “You were eating it night and day.”

You giggle as you remember it.

“You weren’t helping too,” you accuse him. “Whenever I’d ask for one, you’d make it, and you’re a good cooker.”

Jungkook was your personal chef. Whatever dish you’d ask for, he’d prepare it. His mousses were so delicious that you found yourself always craving them. The ones from the supermarket simply couldn’t compare to Jungkook’s.

“Well, for my defense, I couldn’t let a pregnant woman starve,” he puts his hands up.

It doesn’t feel like sixteen years happened since you last spoke. It’s great you found each other again. It wasn’t under great circumstances, but he’s here now.

“That was nice of you,” you gently say.

“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he points to the chair near your bed.

“No, no,” you shake your head.

Jungkook sits down before turning to you. He’s incredibly close now, allowing you to get a better look at him. He’s definitely gotten older, the wrinkles on his face can’t lie. The beginning of a beard is also easily noticeable.

“How bad does it hurt?” he seriously asks.

“Is it that obvious?” you say.

Jungkook nods. Honestly, this time around the painkillers aren’t helping much. Your entire body aches, you can’t even say which part hurts more.

“It’s pretty bad,” you answer. “Even with the painkillers now, it hurts like hell.”

“If you want, I can call a nurse,” he suggests.

“No, it’s fine,” you answer. “I’ll probably need to wait a bit more before it really takes effect.”

Jungkook doesn’t really listen to you since he leaves the room. You roll your eyes but with a big smile on your face. It’s incredible how he didn’t change after all these years. He used to never believe you when you were in pain.

A few seconds later, he comes back with a nurse. They are talking, and he’s explaining that I’m in extreme pain. He’s exaggerating a bit the reality. However, the nurse administers you a stronger painkiller and she also tells you that you shouldn’t hesitate to call her if you’re suffering. Then, she leaves. Slowly, you’re finally feeling the pain going away.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you tell him once the nurse leaves the room.

“Yes, I needed,” he instantly says. “There’s no way I was leaving you suffering unnecessarily.”

Jungkook seems definitely concerned.

“You don’t have to play the strong girl after this terrible car crash.”

He’s not wrong, but this is one of your flaws. You’ll only take a painkiller unless you don’t have much of a choice. Most of the time, you don’t take anything as you’re convinced you can handle anything.

You simply nod while Jungkook sits again on the chair. This time, you start talking about what has been going on in your lives for the past sixteen years.

Jungkook barely managed to finish his college years because he honestly had his mind somewhere else. After all, he had become a father, given his son up for adoption, and had his heart broken by the girl he always had a crush on. He didn’t mention the last part. He had tremendous regrets about how everything went down.

Right after college, he became a firefighter; a passion he randomly discovered the summer before. Saving lives, and helping others in need is what truly fulfills him. He considers his job as his own therapy even though it’s not always easy to deal with the horrific visions he might encounter.

Eight years ago, he met a French girl who had recently moved here. They fell in love and had a little boy, Noah. He’s four years old today; the same age as your youngest daughter. His eyes were filled with love when he started speaking about him. He said his boy is a mini version of his mother so he barely looks Korean. He even has blue eyes.

However, he’s no longer with her. They broke up three years ago and they aren’t really on good terms today. She already threatened to move back to France with Noah. They went through a tough legal battle for their son’s custody. It’s a shared one, and Jungkook’s parents are the intermediates between them. They pick up Noah at her place to bring him to Jungkook’s, and vice versa.  

It honestly broke your heart to hear about all that. It doesn’t seem to be an easy situation, and hearing his story makes you feel even more grateful for the good relationship you maintain with Minkyu.  

Then, you proceed to tell him about what your life has looked like for the past sixteen years.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about our son,” you honestly say.

Four months ago, on the 2nd of June to be precise, your son turned sixteen. He’s the age you were when you gave birth to him. Since that day, you’ve definitely been wondering what he has become. Is he also about to become a father? You hope not.

“Well, I always think about him, but lately, it’s been more than usual,” you explain. “And I also imagine him with my other kids, and I wonder what bond they’d have.”

Jungkook only nods. “I get that,” those are his only words.

You refrain from continuing to talk about your son as it seems to affect him in some way. Maybe it’s simply too hard for him to think about that son you didn’t keep. You understand that so you prefer to stop talking. But his next words definitely catch you by surprise.

“I’ve found our son.”

Seventeen years ago

As you step inside the pretty big basketball court, your eyes immediately look for a place to sit. There aren’t many people watching the team’s training. You place yourself in the very last row, almost as if you’re trying to hide yourself —or to hide your little secret.

Instinctively, your eyes look for Jungkook, the best basketball player. He’s the reason for your presence. Quickly, you take a look at your watch. The training should be over soon.

Your heart is beating crazily in your chest. What you have to tell him isn’t easy, especially since you don’t really know what to do. You’re actually even convinced that he’ll tell you to fuck off. Jungkook is known to be a jerk after all.

The man notices you while running in the court. His eyebrows frown, as you’re the last person he was expecting to see here. The past month has been hectic because things have been hot and cold with you. For a while already, he has been having a massive crush on you, but he’s never said anything because you’re in a relationship with Minho.

Even though he’s known to be an asshole, he never wanted to be the reason for your separation. However, last month, you had sex, and you’ve been feeling guilty since then. He can only understand you so he’s stayed away to give you the space you need. Nevertheless, you would sometimes interact and to his surprise, you’d be nice.

“Jungkook,” someone screams.

He grabs the ball that is thrown at him, and he’s focused again on the game. The end comes rapidly. Jungkook walks directly in your direction and you give him a little smile. As he gets closer, he instantly notices the sadness in your eyes. He sits down next to you with heavy breathing. His face is red, his hair is wet, and he’s all sweaty.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” you reply.

Deep down, he’s kind of hoping you’re here to tell him that you’ve broken up with Minho. That’s all he’s ever wanted, especially since he slept with you.

“How are you?” he asks with evident concern.

“Not good,” you bite your lower lip, tears already forming in your eyes.

Jungkook directly pushes you into his arms to comfort you. Tears stream down your face while you hold him tight in your embrace. You hold him as if your world depends on it. Quickly, you start sobbing which breaks Jungkook’s heart. He’s definitely worried now, especially since he would have never imagined you coming to cry into his arms. He gently rubs your back in silence, letting you cry in peace.

This scene seems unreal to him.

After a little while, you take a step back to clean your face, dabbing at the tears that seem to not stop. You’re sure you look like a complete mess right now with your red eyes, face ravaged with tears, and trembling hands. Jungkook is staring at you, his gaze filled with heavy unspoken words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t worry,” he replies.

Jungkook tugs a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s not easy what I have to say,” you admit.

“It’s okay,” he gently says. “Take your time.”  

Jungkook has never been a jerk with you. He’s definitely a tease, and he’s been teasing you for months now. But he has never been mean or rude. Even though it’s been quite obvious to you that he was flirting with you all this time, he’s been nothing but respectful and never crossed the line.

But that was until you couldn’t resist him anymore.

Obviously, he’s a very handsome guy and it flattered you a lot that he was interested in you. However, you’re in a relationship with Minho. He’s been your boyfriend for a couple of months, and you adore him. But Jungkook has shaken everything up. It was obvious that one day you would surrender to temptation.

Jungkook is very good in bed, there’s no doubt about it. Your one-night stand was a memorable one, but you’ve felt nothing but guilt since then. And you also hate yourself. How could you have done that to Minho? He’s been nothing but an angel to you. You clearly don’t deserve him.

“I’m pregnant,” you admit.

Jungkook’s body freezes completely. Of all the things he was expecting to hear, this definitely wasn’t one of them. This is quite a bombshell! This will forever change your life, and he can only sympathize with you. Now, it leaves him wondering if he’s the father.

“Is it Minho’s?” he asks after a couple of seconds. “Or mine?”

“It’s yours,” you inform him.

Although this is a piece of very destabilizing news, he kind of feels proud to be the father of your child. It’s a weird feeling but the chances of him being the father are quite low since you’re in a relationship.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Of course, I am,” you almost sound offended. “I always use protection with Minho,” you whisper. “And if you remember correctly, we didn’t.”

“Right,” he nods.

You were so in the heat that a condom was the last thing you both thought of, but you used the pullout method. Looks like it wasn’t the brightest idea. It would have been best if you had been more careful. Now it’s too late to go back in time. Now, there’s a baby on the way.  

“I’m so scared to tell him,” you admit.

Tears start running down your face again.

“What will I become now?” you add. “My life is ruined.”

Jungkook cleans your face because he doesn’t like to see you in this state.

“Your life isn’t ruined, yn,” his thumb caresses your cheek.

“How can’t it be ruined?” you desperately say. “I’m pregnant; I'll give birth in less than nine months. My life will all be about that baby, I’ll have to drop school, and I’ll have to be a parent when I’m still a kid.”

The man in front of you can only understand your despair. His life will also drastically change from now on. Most probably, he’ll also need to give up on his dream college to work and provide for this baby.

“I’m here, and we will find a solution,” he whispers. “You’re not alone.”

You shake your head. There’s no way you’ll find a solution. It is simple: there’s a baby on the way, and outside that, there’s the whole situation where you cheated on your boyfriend.

“And Minho will be completely heartbroken,” you start crying even more. “Out of all people, he’s the one that doesn’t deserve that!”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. For sure, it isn’t great to cheat on your partner, but he knows he’s very much capable of doing it without having any remorse. He’s perfectly aware that he isn’t the greatest guy on earth when it comes to love. Even though he has a crush on you, he isn’t convinced he’d be the right one for you.

“My life is destroyed,” you repeat once more.

The basketball player pulls you once again in his embrace. His strong arms are comforting, and you realize now that you did great by coming to talk to him.

“We’ll find a solution,” he whispers in your ear.

Little did you know at that moment that he was right. A week later, you both agreed to give your son up for adoption. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the best one. You could feel it inside your bones.

From your room’s window, you admire the landscape that stretches before your eyes. The view isn’t the prettiest but at least, it’s something different than the tv. For the past three days, you could only be lying and sitting on your bed. It’s been horrible.

Jungkook has been coming every day to check up on you, and you’ve been talking a lot. It’s honestly so great to reunite again and to finally discover what he has become for the past years.

Your sister has been very curious about your reunion with the father of your firstborn. She also asked if Minkyu ever knew about him. You never hid from your ex-husband the existence of your first child, but you never told him who the father was. There was no need to do so.  

Your sister informed your parents who saved you, and they already saw him again. They really liked him when you were pregnant, so they were very happy to meet him again.

Jungkook didn’t tell them that he found your firstborn, and you’re grateful he didn’t because you don’t even know what to do. You asked him to give you some time to process the information. He’s been nothing but respectful.

This morning, you started walking for the first time since the surgery. It was beyond painful to even move one leg, but you bear with the pain of walking a little bit. Since the first day, you’ve been having physiotherapy sessions to help with the recovery. At first, the sessions only consisted of moving your legs while remaining in bed. Now, you get to walk a bit.

The physiotherapist handed you a cane today. It’s incredibly glamorous!

The good side is that you can now move from the bed to the chair more easily. You obviously still need a lot of help, but it gives you a bit more freedom.

Slowly, you try to stand up as you need to go to the bathroom. Right there, someone knocks at the door before entering. You expect to see the nurse since you call for her, but you’re surprised to see Jungkook. As he notices you struggling to get up, he rushes to help you out.

“Shouldn’t you be asking for the nurse to help you?” he asks.

“The nurse should be coming,” you reply.

“Is it okay if I place my hands on your waist?” you shake your head.

His hands instantly reach your waist, holding you firmly while you stand up with shaky legs. Feeling his presence around you reassures you, especially with his strong arms holding you. Your eyes quickly glance at him when you’re proudly standing up, and he looks incredibly hot with his red cheeks and messy hair.

At this precise moment, you feel like your teenage self, who was deeply attracted to him. The version of yourself who had deeply fallen in love with him when you were pregnant. That nostalgic feeling kind of warms your heart.

“I’m happy to see you finally out of that bed,” a smile spreads on his face when your eyes meet.

His stare is softer now, and it’s evident that he truly means what he just said.

“Me too,” you admit. “Couldn’t stand being on that bed anymore,” you laugh a little. “It’s been driving me crazy.”  

The nurse finally arrives, but she instantly leaves as you inform her that Jungkook is helping you.

At a very slow pace, you start walking in the bathroom’s direction. Jungkook stands next to you, his hands very close to you, ready to catch you any minute.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start saying as you put your right foot in front of the other.  

“About?” he asks.

It’s extremely frustrating to be walking as fast as a turtle, but there’s not much you can do right now.  You have brand-new knees, so you need to learn to walk with them, which will take some time. Plus, you also need to adjust to the pain these new knees cause.

“About our baby,” you answer.

Jungkook is taken a bit aback; he wasn’t expecting you to bring the topic up this early.

“About Sunny,” you add.

Sunny is the nickname you gave to your son. Neither you nor Jungkook wanted to give him a name, as you knew it’d be too heartbreaking to let him go. The nickname came naturally, and it gave your son a human dimension. When you were pregnant, it almost didn’t feel real that there was a human inside you since you couldn’t see him.

A little smile appears on his face as he remembers how you used to call your firstborn.

“I’d like to hear the story of how you found him.”

For the past sixteen years, you’ve dreamed of meeting your son one day, but it was just a dream. You never thought that it’d actually happen. Obviously, you could have done everything in your power to find him, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. However, you’re now curious to hear how Jungkook found him.

“Well, maybe you should go first to the bathroom because there’s a lot to be said,” you simply nod.

Jungkook is wearing his firefighter uniform, and it suits him incredibly well. It definitely shows off his toned chest which could satisfy any hungry eyes, like yours, for example. Any lady would like to be saved by him.

Once you arrive at the bathroom, he waits outside for you. It takes you a bit of time to pee, wash your hands, and leave the room. It’s painful too, and all you hope for is to go through this terrible phase as fast as possible.

The firefighter helps you to sit on the chair, and his kindness warms your heart. No doubt that he makes a great life savior.

“So, tell me about Sunny,” you say the second you’re comfortably sitting.

Jungkook takes another chair to face you, and he rests his arms on the little table placed in between you.

“I found him to same way I found you,” he looks down at his hands with a little smile on his face. “I was called for a fire in a building complex almost two years ago,” he starts explaining. “It was early in the morning, something like 6 am, and it was a pretty big fire. There was a fourteen-year-old lying on the floor, coughing like crazy so I naturally took him out of the building.”

Jungkook takes a little break, his eyes going from his hands to your eyes. His stare is intense; it unsettles you at first.

“Once outside, I almost felt like I was looking at you and myself at the same time,” his voice is soft. “And one of my colleagues even said that the kid oddly resembled me.”  

You can’t imagine how it must have felt for him.

“I instantly knew it was Sunny, but I kind of didn’t want to believe it,” his eyes clearly show how sad he feels. “If it wasn’t him, it would have broken me. I was already going through shit with my ex, so it wasn’t an easy time for me at that time.”

It’s visibly not easy for him to be talking about the situation with his ex-girlfriend.

“A couple of days later, he appeared at the station with his mother to thank me for saving him. In the daylight, it was more than obvious we shared DNA. Even a blind person could see the striking resemblance, but nobody said a word as if we were all scared to say the truth.”

“That must have been an unbelievable moment,” you whisper.

“It definitely was,” he chuckles. “But looking back now, it’s almost funny. I still remember how shocked his mother was when she first saw me. Sunny looked confused, but his mother’s reaction was extremely funny.”

It eases your heart to know that he looks back at that moment with delight.

“The day after, she came back but alone this time because she wanted to talk to me.”

His right hand grabs one of your fingers to play with it, causing your heart to hammer crazily in your chest. Jungkook is incredibly nervous to be talking about those moments, and he needs to look at something else than you.   

“As you can imagine, she asked me if I was his biological father, and all I could tell her was that I wasn’t sure. I then proceeded to tell her that I had a son at seventeen and that we gave him up for adoption. She naturally asked me when he was born, and then, there weren’t any doubts anymore. He was undoubtedly Sunny,” a smile full of pride appears on his face. “I’ve been in contact with him since then, but I don’t force anything. I’m just happy to see him.”

For a moment, you look at him with wonder. This man is evidently happy to have found his firstborn and to be able to be part of his life. Jungkook didn’t really want to give his son up for adoption, and you knew it. For a long time, you considered changing your mind because it was obvious that he wanted to be a father. Even though you were in love with him, adoption wasn’t about you or him. It was about Sunny.

That baby boy deserved to have a good life. Not a chaotic one where you regretted having him because he was the impersonation of your sin, or because he destroyed your life as you became a teen mom. You weren’t able to give him what he needed, and it was the best decision to have a family giving him what you couldn’t.

“What’s his name?” you ask.

Right now, you don’t know if you ever want to meet your son. It already brings you so much joy to know he found his biological father. But you’re also wondering what his name is. He has always been ‘Sunny’ to you.

“Taemoo,” he answers.

That’s a pretty name. His parents found the perfect name for that little boy.

“It’s beautiful,” you say.

“Not as pretty as Sunny,” he jokingly says.

Your fingers wrap around his right hand. This is a vulnerable moment for both of you. It brings you back to a past where you were confronted with a harsh reality. Nothing was easy back then. You were ripped between your hearts and minds. The heart wanted to keep Sunny, but the mind was being realistic.

The tears shed from the day you had to give him up still haunt you to this day. The heartbreak painted all over Jungkook’s face never leaves your mind. That day was the hardest day of your entire life; it ripped your heart open.

“Do you think there was a possibility we could have kept him?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes look up at you.

“Maybe,” he frankly answers. “If we weren’t that young and stupid, we could have been the parents he needed.”

“I definitely was stupid,” you shake your head.

“You weren’t,” he says without any hesitation. “You made a mistake, but that doesn’t make you stupid.”

“Say that to Minho,” you retort.

Jungkook giggles.

“I would never approach him, even now,” that makes you smile. “My face still hurts from his punch.”

After the pregnancy announcement to your ex-boyfriend, it was pure chaos. Minho went completely out of control due to his heartbreak. Obviously, he insisted on knowing who the father was, but you never flinched. Nonetheless, he instantly understood that it was Jungkook. He had noticed how he was constantly teasing you.   

So, the first thing he did was punch Jungkook in the face. The basketball player didn’t even fight back as he believed he deserved it. After all, he slept with a taken woman with absolutely no regrets.

Minho got even angrier because he wanted the player to respond. He was devastated by what happened, and you could only understand him. The day after, he went to another high school, and you never heard from him anymore.

“To be honest, yn,” he starts saying. “Back then, there wasn’t a possibility to keep him. My soul wanted to keep him, but it was for selfish reasons. I wanted to be a father but couldn’t be one back then. There isn’t a day where I don’t feel grateful for the tough decision you took and stand for. It would have been a complete disaster.”

His hand squeezes yours, and just right there, with his words and touch, you just burst into tears. Those tears just came by total surprise, but deep down, those are the tears you’ve been holding back for sixteen years. Hearing about your son and remembering the harsh moments you faced when he was inside you caused reality to hit you right in the face.

Jungkook instantly pushes the table aside to hold you in his embrace. You place your face on the crook of his neck while your arms wrap around him. It feels like you’re brought back to seventeen years ago when you announced your pregnancy.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” he responds. “You’re going through a lot now.”

There are some words Jungkook is dying to tell you, but it’s definitely not the appropriate moment. This is already shaking you up, so no need to add an extra layer.

Taemoo would like to meet you; it’s been actually one of his dreams. Jungkook has already told him a million things about you, and your son has been beyond happy to hear all those things about you. He also got to see a picture of you when you were sixteen.

So Jungkook definitely wants to tell you that Taemoo would like to meet you, but he doesn’t know if this is the right time, especially since he doesn’t know how you’ll react.

“Sometimes I regret so much that I gave him up,” you honestly say. “Sometimes it’s just unbearable to remember the day I handed him over to the adoption center.”

His strong hands caress your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s normal,” he whispers. “I do too,” he admits. “There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about his birth and when we said our last goodbyes to him.”

You hold him tightly, his strong arms comforting you in an unbelievable way. You don’t want to let go of him. All you want is to cry in his arms until there aren’t any tears left.

“We did well, yn,” he tells you. “Sunny has been having a wonderful life. A life that we could have never given him,” he tries to reassure you. “His parents love him so much, allowed him to follow his dreams, and gave him everything he ever needed.”

As he got to meet Taemoo and his adoptive parents, he can reassure you now.

“They are adorable people,” he adds. “And they’ve been taking good care of our Sunny.”

Jungkook spent most of his life wondering if good people adopted his son, and he would have hated himself if it wasn’t the case. But when he got to meet Taemoo’s parents, he saw how great they were. And above anything, he saw how great they raised him. Taemoo is a wonderful kid with a wonderful soul.

Hearing those words definitely reassures you. It comforts you that Sunny has been doing well and landed in a loving family. At the end of the day, that’s all you ever wanted for your baby.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

The firefighter smiles while holding you a bit tighter. For a little while, you stay like this without saying a word. Reuniting with Jungkook is the best thing that happens in the midst of all the chaos your life has become. It also allows you to think about something else other than the excruciating pain you constantly feel.  

A nurse enters your room while you’re reading one of the many books you’ve had left to read for the past years.

“There is a young man who says he’s your son. Should I let him in?”

You frown in confusion, momentarily wondering if your son has been mistaken for someone else. Nevertheless, you nod.

“Yes, please,” you say, placing your book aside and grabbing your cane to keep it close, just in case.

A soft knock sounds at the door before it opens, revealing a tall, nervous teenager. Your heart stops as you take in his face. It isn’t Jeong—but your oldest son.

As Jungkook described him a week ago, Taemoo definitely looks like the two of you. Nevertheless, his resemblance with his biological father is surprising. There is absolutely no doubt that he is Jungkook’s son. You understand now his mother’s reaction when she saw the firefighter.

“Hello,” he says, his voice tentative, holding a bouquet of bright sunflowers.

His hands tremble slightly as he steps inside. As you look a bit more at him, you can’t help but notice that he’s dressed thoughtfully, a gesture that tugs at your heart.  

This moment feels absolutely unreal. Merely days ago you found out about his name, and today he’s standing in front of you.

“I am Taemoo,” he continues.

As you look at this not-so-little man, you wonder what you could say to him, but you have no clue.

“Hello Taemoo,” you manage, your voice soft and unsteady. “Come in,” you add.

Taemoo—or Sunny as you’ve been affectingly calling him for the past sixteen years—comes closer with some hesitation. He’s clutching the flowers like a shield. Despite the nerves, there’s a quiet strength about him.

“I don’t have much to offer, but I have water, cookies, biscuits, and hot chocolate. Would you want something?” you propose.

“No, thanks,” he gives you a little smile.

“Please take a seat,” you offer while showing the chair next to yours.

For a little moment, he hesitates before sitting next to you. Your heart is hammering in your chest, ready to burst any second. The little man you gave birth to sixteen years ago is now standing before you. The same boy you gave up for adoption merely three days after his birth.

“Sorry, I didn’t properly introduce myself,” he mumbles.

As much as you want to tell him that he doesn’t need to, you need to hear him say it out loud.

“I am Taemoo, your son,” he says.

“Hello, Taemoo,” you gently say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

Tears start running down your face as you look at him. Sixteen years ago, you were holding him in your arms while your heart was completely ripped out. You were looking down at him knowing you’d have to say goodbye.

“I… I brought you these,” he shows the bouquet in his hands.

Your chest tightens as you take the flowers. “Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “They’re beautiful—sunflowers are my favorite.”

“I know,” he murmurs, glancing at the floor. “Mr. Jeon told me.”

Your heart melts; this boy definitely seems to have a big heart. More silent tears run down your face while you look down again at the flowers.

“I have to ask,” you say after a little while. “How did you find me?”

You try to clean your face to compose yourself.

“I was in the hospital for a checkup, and I noticed Mr. Jeon at the front desk asking about you,” he explains. “I also know your name because he gave it to me when we met,” he adds.

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. It kind of warms your heart that Jungkook talked about you to Taemoo, but it aches your heart that this is how he got to meet you. You would have largely preferred you had organized this reunion.

“I’m glad you came.”

Your firstborn shifts nervously in his chair. “I wasn’t sure if I should,” he admits. “I didn’t know if you ever wanted to see me.”

It breaks your heart to hear those words as you picture him worried to come. There’s no doubt that it’s brave of him to come here. He could have stumbled upon a mother who didn’t want to see him; he was for sure aware of it.

“Taemoo,” you start saying. “You have every right to be here,” your voice slightly trembles. “I’ve spent the last sixteen years wondering how it’d be to see you again.”

But you also wondered if it was a good idea to even look for him. You never wanted to shake his world up, especially after giving him up for adoption.

“I don’t want to bother you,” he says. “I just…” he’s quite hesitating to continue his sentence, and you nod, silently encouraging him to proceed with what he has in mind. “I just needed to see you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” you reassure him instantly.

For a moment, silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You don’t add anything else as you let him take the lead. He’s the one who was brave enough to come so you want him to say everything his heart desires.

“I have questions,” he finally speaks. “About why. Why gave me up for adoption.”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat growing.

“Jungkook never told you why?” you question.

“Yes, he did but he never spoke on your behalf. He only gave his reasons.”

This is the Jungkook that you know, and it is very fond of him.

“I couldn’t be a mother,” your voice trembles. “I desired nothing more than to be a mother for you, but I couldn’t give you what you needed. I wanted you to have a life I couldn’t give you at the time.”

It’s hard to tell him why you abandoned him. You’re not even sure he can understand your reasons.

“I was just a girl when I had you; I was your age. I was so scared, but I thought only about your future. You deserved to have a good life, to have parents who would give you everything you needed. In my mind, the best thing for you was to give you up for adoption.”

There’s also the part where you cheated on your boyfriend, but that’s something he doesn’t need to know.

His expression is unreadable, but you notice his hands unclenching. This might be a good sign.

“Did you regret it?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Every single day,” you confess. You’re unable to stop the tears now. “The day I handed you over was the hardest day of my life. I’ve spent the last sixteen years wondering what you’ve become, but I was too afraid to find you,” you feel extremely vulnerable in front of your son. “I thought you’d hate me.”

Taemoo looks away, staring at the floor while he processes your words. It isn’t easy for him to be here and to know the truth. Jungkook said the same time. He was too young to be a father; he was a total idiot back then, and he tried to give his son the best life he could.

“I don’t hate you,” he softly says, and relief washes over you. “I never hated you because I had a good life, but I’ve spent my whole life wondering if I would have had as well a good life with my biological parents.”

You’re convinced it wouldn’t have been the case.

“Thanks for answering my questions,” he gently says.

Another silence settles between you, but less tense this time.

“Mr. Jeon…” he hesitantly says. “He told me you like books,” he says, changing the subject.

At this stage, you’re wondering what Jungkook hasn’t said about you. First, there are the flowers; now, it’s the books.

“What are you reading?”

You’re grateful he swifts the topic of conversation. It was heavy to be talking to him about your painful past. Smiling, you reach for the book on the bed, and show it to Taemoo.  

“It’s one of the books I bought years ago but never read,” he takes the book to look at it.

“I like books too,” he admits while looking at the book. “Mostly history, and fantasy too.”

Your heart warms as he gives you a small glimpse into his life.

“I’d love to know what you’re reading,” you say. “Maybe you could recommend me something?” you’re hesitant.

“Sure,” he straightaway answers. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” you murmur while holding onto those words like a lifeline.

Taemoo gives you a small smile. Slowly, you reach for his hand, and for a brief moment, he freezes, then lets you hold it.

“Thanks, Taemoo,” your voice is filled with emotions.

He nods with still that small smile on his face. “If you don’t mind, we could exchange numbers?” he asks with hesitation.

“Yes, of course,” you smile at him, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Your phone is on the other side of the bed, so you slowly try to get up with your glamorous cane. Taemoo stands up without any second thoughts to help you out. He’s already as tall as Jungkook; you don’t doubt he’ll be taller than him. You walk very slowly, and your son doesn’t leave your side in case you need him.

Once you’ve reached your phone, you unlock it to give it to him. “You can type your number and save it,” you say.

Taemoo freezes when he notices your background. There are three kids, and he realizes how much they resemble him. Even though he looks a lot like Jungkook, he also takes a lot after you.

“Are those my siblings?” he asks when he glances at you.

“Yes,” you answer. “I had three other kids years after you.”

“They look adorable,” he tells you before proceeding to save his number on your phone.

He calls himself, so he can also have your number. After that, he helps you to sit again on the chair before leaving the room.  The room suddenly feels empty as Taemoo leaves you alone with the flowers and the overwhelming realization that your son—the boy you thought you’d lost forever—is finally back in your life.

Today, Jungkook took a day off because he’s going out with you.

It’s not really a date —at least, that's what you’re both trying to convince yourselves. It’s been like a week that you’re out of the hospital, and he promised he’d take you on a car ride. Even though you walk better than you did some days ago, you’re still very slow. However, it doesn’t change the fact that you want to go out a bit.

For the past few days, you’ve both spent a lot of time together. It’s been great to be around you again. Things are very different now because you’re both grown-ups with kids, and there’s a lifetime that happened since you last saw each other. But he still feels the same around you. He still has that massive crush on you.

Honestly, he thought that with time, it’d fade away, but he was wrong. He understood it the second he pulled you out of that car. Being around you brings him peace. He feels like he doesn’t have to play a role; he simply can be himself.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Somewhere,” he quickly eyes you before focusing on the road again.

Sixteen years ago, he knew he could never have you because of the circumstances. It was obvious to him that you loved him back, but it simply wasn’t possible. However, today, things are different. He still has a crush on you, and he will do everything in his power to not let you go.

“You’ll like it,” he smiles at you.

You look at him with suspicion.

“Let’s see,” you mumble.

Since you’ve been discharged from the hospital, Jungkook has been kind of scared to put you back in a car. So, for this day out, he asked you a million times if you’d be okay. You reassured him because it didn’t really frighten you.

Your baby daddy has been thoughtfully thinking about the place he could take you to. There are for sure hundreds of places, but he wants something special. However, above anything else, he wants to distract you.

He has noticed how you sometimes contort with pain. Definitely, you try to hide it but he can see it through your eyes. Most of the time, he feels sorry to see you in that state. It doesn’t look great at all. Nonetheless, he’s been trying to help.

Taemoo has also passed by once or twice at your parents’ place. Jungkook has never been present because he wants you two to get to know each other without him being in the middle. He definitely wishes the three of you to be reunited, but let’s take this step by step. It’s difficult for everyone.

“How has it been going to come back home?” he asks.

“Not easy…” you admit. “The kids struggle to not be staying at my place, even myself.”

Unfortunately, you can’t stay alone since anything can happen and you need help. So you’re staying at your parent’s place. You’re sleeping in your old bedroom that has since been transformed into a kid’s room for your babies. Your old bed is still there, but it doesn’t feel like your actual bed.

“They cry when they have to leave with their father. They really want to stay at my parents’ place with me, but it’s already very crowded.”

Your sister still lives with your parents, she’s only 22; she’s still very young. Well, she refuses to let you call her young because, at 22, you were getting married to Minkyu.

“They understand the situation, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard for them.”

Jungkook nods as he can only imagine how this situation feels for everybody. Hopefully, things will slowly get better, and you’ll be able to recover quickly.

“I don’t like to complain, but it’s already physically hard, so seeing them like that makes it harder,” you admit.

It leaves you wondering if it will be like that until the end of your recovery.

“Then, it’s a good thing I take you out for a little bit today,” he smiles, trying to change the conversation.

“It is,” you smile at him.

It’s warming your heart that he has been very present for almost a month. There hasn’t been a day where he didn’t visit you, even if it was for five minutes. You feel lucky to have him during this tough time; he’s been quite a comforting and reassuring presence.

After maybe half an hour, you reach a parking lot from a park located on a high hill. It’s a park you and Jungkook terribly loved. You’d come here towards the end of the pregnancy when you couldn’t sleep.

“So, what do you think?”

“I like this place,” a bright smile grows on your face.

“I know,” he says.

This is definitely very thoughtful of him.

Jungkook leaves the car to help you get out of it. As you think you are going to walk for a bit, the man just holds you in his arms, one of his arms under your back, and the other under your legs. You instantly wrap your hands around his neck. Your faces are pretty close, and all thoughts are shut down by the irresistible desire to kiss him.

“Since there’s a lot to walk before reaching our spot, it’s better if I bring you there,” he confesses.

“Always trying to play the superhero,” you mumble.

“Eeh, I’m not,” he straight away answers. “I’m just trying to make your life easier.”

You roll your eyes while giggling.

“I can let you walk if you prefer but don’t blame it on me afterward,” he says while slowly pretending to put you down.

“Okay, okay,” you retreat in defeat. “Take me there.”

A smile grows on his face before he starts walking in the direction of your spot. It’s a bench where you have the perfect view of the city. At night, it’s wonderful as the buildings are lightening up. You spent many nights here sixteen years ago with your head on his shoulder, and your hand on your belly. Sunny would kick quite a lot during those moments, and Jungkook’s hand would rest on your bump to feel his son.

You were young and stupid, but definitely in love at that moment. A month before your son’s birth, you shared a passionate kiss on that bench. It was a highly desired one. You shared other kisses afterward but they never felt like that first one.

Surprisingly, when you reach the famous bench, nobody is sitting there. Usually, back in the day, that bench was always occupied during the day, only being empty at night.

“It almost feels like you booked the bench,” you chuckle.

“I could of,” he answers. “But I don’t have the means.”

Jungkook sits you down on the bench before taking a seat next to you. Gently, he grabs your legs to place them on top of his. He’s aware of how painful it can be for you to have your knees bent. At least like that, they are almost flat.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” your eyes look at the handsome firefighter instead of the pretty view.

The man only offers you a gentle smile, and the two of you now look at the city stretching before your eyes. It is very different than it was sixteen years ago. The city has grown bigger, some buildings were replaced by others or some even were destroyed. Everything is different while still being the same. Like how it feels to be around Jungkook.  

“Can I ask you a question?” Jungkook breaks the silence between you.

Your eyes look back at him, and his expression is unreadable.

“Sure,” you nod.

“Would you have given us a shot if you hadn’t gotten pregnant?” he asks with some sort of hesitation.

The questions catches you by surprise as it is the last thing you thought he’d ever ask.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” you say. “I was feeling so guilty about what I did to Minho, I felt stupid, and I was avoiding you.”

Well, he felt that.

“I avoided you because I really adored what happened with you,” you say. “You were really good in bed,” he smiles at your words. “But I looked at you differently because I got pregnant.”

Sixteen years ago, you never had a conversation about your feelings for him. But it definitely looks like you’re having it now.

“You were by my side every second. You’d cook whatever I was craving, you’d be at every appointment, you’d hold me when I cried, you’d do anything when I was in pain, and you’d bring me here when I couldn’t sleep.”

Your heart is beating fast as you’re about to pronounce the next words.

“I fell in love with that Jungkook,” the firefighter’s heart is also hammering in his chest. “Not with the jerk who’d flirt with me.”

His cheeks are getting red with shyness. After all these years, and even though he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he feels like a teenager falling in love for the first time.

“We were two when we conceived Sunny, so I naturally had to get my shit together and be by your side and help you as much as I could,” he says. “I was for sure a jerk back then, but I’d always assume the consequences of my actions.”

His heart is hammering faster as he takes his courage to speak out loud about how he has been feeling about you. 

“I also had a crush on you so I also saw that as a way to spend more time with you,” now you’re the one blushing.

Anyone observing this scene from outside would instantly get how smitten you are. The person would even bet that you’re together.

“Do you still have a crush on me?” you question.

You’re way too curious, but you definitely want to know because damn, you’d kiss that man right now.

Jungkook gets closer to your face, his hands moving to your thighs to caress them. Not in a sensual way.

“What would happen if I say yes?” he whispers when his face is extremely close to yours.

“You’ll have to find out,” you teasingly say.

His eyes move from your eyes to your lips as he desires nothing but the same as you. To kiss you.    

“Yes,” he says without any hesitation. “I still have a crush on you.”

You bite your lower lip before breaking the small space between you to fervently kiss him. Having his lips finally against yours feels like a relief, almost as if you’ve been waiting sixteen years to feel them again.

The kiss is shy at first as if you’re both scared but it slowly turns into a desperate and fervent one. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck while the other remains on your thigh. Your hands cup his face while you intensely kiss each other. 

This feels like heaven for you two. You open your mouth, giving him free access to it. His tongue doesn’t hesitate one second to find yours. Gently, your tongues meet and it feels wonderful. Inside of your lower belly, thousands of butterflies are freed. Never have you thought that this would happen again although you’ve thought about it since reuniting with him.

When you’re both out of breath, you break the kiss and rest your forehead against his. For a moment, you simply look at each other while you catch your breath. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, and you close your eyes to savor this moment. 

“I’ve dreamed of this since I found you again,” he admits.

Jungkook presses once more his mouth against yours. A soft moan leaves his mouth when your lips meet. He wants to keep doing this forever. He teasingly bites your lower lip which causes a moan to escape your mouth. A devious smirk appears on his face but he gets back to kissing you fervently.

Before the kiss takes a very dirty turn, you break it. “It isn’t the appropriate place for that,” you whisper.

He giggles as he realizes he was ready to take it to the next level in a public place. The firefighter presses a gentle kiss on your lips before you resume to admire the view.

After a couple of hours, he takes you back to your parents’ house. Your mind is filled with euphoria from the kisses you shared earlier, and you can’t help but smile every time you think about it. Kissing Jungkook still feels the same. It still tastes like heaven.  

When you’re home, you notice nobody’s here which is a bit weird, especially since you warned your parents you’ll take a shower today. Maybe they went for a walk since you were with Jungkook.

“Would you mind staying a bit?” you ask. “I need to take a shower, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable alone.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he says.

Jungkook assists you until you reach the bathroom and grabs underwear, a bra, pants, and a shirt from your bedroom.

“You’re sure you’ll be able to be by yourself?” he asks with concern.

“I have a stool and everything I need has been placed at the stool level,” you explain. “So don’t worry.”

Jungkook can’t help but feel worried. Even if it’d be weird to be in the bathroom with you, he’d feel reassured.

“If I need anything, I’ll call you,” you add.

There’s not much he can do, except to leave you alone.

“Okay,” he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before leaving.

You sit on the stool to get undressed. To remove your shirt and bra, it’s quite easy, but to take off your pants and panties, it’s a whole other story. Your mother has been helping you a lot with the shower part, and you’ve been feeling like a five-year-old who can’t do much by herself.

The last two showers, you’ve been able to do everything by yourself, and you’ve been very proud of yourself. However, right now, you’re struggling a lot. It’s frustrating you beyond comprehension, but you remind yourself that you need to calm down otherwise, it’ll only be worse.

After a little while, you simply resign and call for Jungkook. He arrives in a rush, and his heart breaks a little when he sees your defeated face.

“Struggling?” he asks when he notices your pants stuck at your knees level.

“I can’t push them further than that,” you pout.

He walks in your direction, kneeling before you. “Let me help you.”

His hands carefully push your pants down and throw them onto the floor. Then, before even touching your panties, his eyes look up at you, asking for your consent. Even though you called him for help, he wouldn’t want to cross any line. Consent is important, after all.

You simply nod, you don’t have much of a choice here. His fingers brush against the skin of your hips, causing goosebumps all over your body. Last time he touched you there was the day you conceived Taemoo, sixteen years ago. Your eyes are frozen on him.

Jungkook grabs the hem of your panties to push them down your legs, his fingers brushing against your hot skin. You’re now fully naked in front of him, and it feels incredibly weird although he already saw you like this. But at the same time, it feels reassuring to have him here with you.

“Do you want me to help you wash? Or would you be fine now?” he asks while standing up.

“Help me please,” you almost beg. “Not sure I’ll be able to wash if I can’t even remove my clothes,” you laugh a bit.

You try not to cry at this whole situation. It’s better to laugh at it than cry.

“Okay,” he turns the water on. “You’re going to wash your hair?”

“No, no,” you answer. “Just my body.”

The man in front of you nods and hands you the showerhead.

“Let me know when it is too hot,” he tells you.

You’re holding the showerhead with one hand while the other is below to check the water temperature. In the meantime, Jungkook removes his socks in order for him to get inside the shower.

Once done, his eyes look at you with admiration. For almost a month, you’ve been going through hell with everything that has been going on. You’ve been handling things like a champion even though it’s sometimes very clear you’re suffering terribly. He has nothing but admiration for you.

His heart swells with happiness because, in the midst of all that, you chose to let him be by your side. He even got to kiss you.

“It’s good now,” you tell him with a smile.  

Jungkook grabs the showerhead to run it over your body. He carefully executes the task while being extremely focused on not forgetting any body parts of yours.

“With my mum, we always do the intimate parts at the end,” you inform him.

“No problem,” he answers.

Once your body has been fully covered in water, he seizes the shower gel.

“Do you want to do it?” he asks with the gel in his hands.

Usually, with your mum, you do it, but with Jungkook, you’ll gladly let him do it. You really want to feel his fingers touch your body. 

“Could you please do it?” he nods.

Jungkook understands that you simply want to feel his touch, and he won’t complain as he desires nothing but to touch your soft skin.

There is nothing sexual about this moment. The two of you would even say that it’s a very intimate moment, even more intimate than sex.

The man covers your entire body with soap before holding back the showerhead to clean you. Once done, you stand up so you can clean your last body parts, which are your vagina and ass. This time around, you want to do it yourself as you feel like it could take a naughty turn if he touches you down there.

Jungkook leaves the shower. “Where are the towels?”

“In the storage cabinet below the sink,” you inform him.

Seconds later, when you cut the water, he wraps you in the towel before you sit back again on the stool.

“Thanks for your help,” you say.

As you slowly wake up, you feel a warm presence behind you which is something not normal. Since you’ve been back from the hospital, you’ve been sleeping alone in your old bed.

Then, you start remembering what happened yesterday. After the shower, your parents arrived and were very delighted to see Jungkook. A bit later, your sister came from work. Your parents naturally invited him to stay for dinner.

Once dinner was over, you practically begged him to stay the night. You then went to your room, and watched “Enola Holmes 2”, but you instantly fell asleep with your body pressed against his, your head against his chest.  His heartbeat was the little melody that rocked you to sleep.

Your eyes adjust to the light in which the room is immersed. You turn around to see Jungkook sleeping like a baby, and he looks absolutely adorable.

In this quite big bed, it seems like he’s so far away from you as he isn’t close to you. There’s a distance between the two of you that makes you smile; you know he purposely put that distance. He respects you way too much, and he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. 

You turn again before closing your eyes to remember what happened yesterday. It was an intense day, but intense in a good way. As you remember the kisses you shared, you run your fingers over your lips. He still kisses like a god.  

Yesterday, you felt so much alive. You didn’t feel that way for already a couple of years. Hopefully, this is a feeling that’ll stay longer. You don’t want it to fade away so soon.   

Suddenly, the bed moves behind you. A big hand carefully wraps around your waist while a mouth presses a gentle kiss on your shoulder, and a body snuggles up against yours. Instantly, your eyes close to savor this precise moment. 

Both of you snuggle together for a little while, just enjoying the closeness of your bodies together. Waking up with someone and with his arms wrapped around you is something you haven’t experienced in a while. The last time it happened was when you were still married to Minkyu.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispers with his hoarse morning voice before pressing a sweet kiss on your neck. 

Goosebumps rise all over your skin because this is a beautiful way to wake up. Damn, you wouldn’t mind waking up every day to this.

Jungkook feels your shivers beneath his hand, a smirk growing on his face. It feels like a victory to have already made you feel this good so early in the morning.  

“Morning, Jungkook,” you whisper. 

Naturally, your back arches, pushing your ass back to meet his crotch which makes him groan against your skin. Your cheeks instantly turn red and you push your ass away from his intimate parts.

“Sorry,” you say.

Jungkook also feels a bit embarrassed that his little friend down there is already all turned on. But what can he say, he spent the night with the girl of his dreams.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he whispers. “I’m already all turned on.”

Since you’re still flustered, you don’t dare to turn to look at him. He’s also grateful for that; he would hide his face in the pillow if you ever look at him.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you say. “I mean, it’s normal.”

“I know, but it’s awkward for both of us,” he answers.

For a moment, you don’t say anything as you try to find your words.

“I’m actually flattered,” you break the silence. “Wasn’t expecting to turn someone on this early in the morning.”

Jungkook gets closer to you once more, his hard member pressing against your ass through his underwear. That feeling alone causes your walls to clench around emptiness. You also bite your lower lip to repress any moan that might escape your mouth. You’re at your parents’ house, anyone could hear you.

His arms wrap around your waist once more before he presses another kiss on your neck. A very soft moan manages to escape, causing Jungkook to feel some kind of pride. His fingers slip beneath your shirt to caress every part of your body with his cold fingers.

Your back arches at the sensation while one of your hands goes to his head, your fingers running through his hair. Your other hand goes to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your moans. You don’t know exactly what time it is, so you’re not sure if there’s somebody at the house. To be safe, it’s better not to moan like a mess.

Then, his fingers move down on your body, pushing your pajamas’ pants and underwear together. The cold air that brushes against your core makes you grow wetter. Thank god you have your hand in your mouth because there’s no doubt this would have made you moan.

His fingers slowly get closer and closer to your bundle of nerves. By the time his fingers reach your clit, you’re already completely soaked. 

“Someone else is already all turned on,” he whispers in your ear before licking and nibbling it. “Tell me what you want, sunshine.” 

The simple fact that he asks what you want is a big turn-on. Men tend to forget that during an intimate moment, it isn’t all about themselves and their pleasure. It’s about two people trying to give and have pleasure.

Your back arches a bit more, rubbing your ass more against his semi-hard cock. A deep growl echoes against your ear. Your mind is going completely crazy. There’s one thing you desperately crave right now: him inside you.

“You,” is actually the first word that crosses your mind. “You inside me with your hand on my throat,” you clarify. 

Well, the only time you had sex with Jungkook, it was pretty wild. You both discovered how much you adored having his fingers tightly around your neck. It gave a totally other dimension to the sex. It was even more intense, and you loved it.

“You’re sure?” he still asks to be sure.

He doesn’t want to cause any more pain. 

“Absolutely,” you reassure him.

Your eyes close when his free hand finds its way to your neck, his wonderful and delicate tattooed fingers wrapping around your throat. This feels wonderful, and it gets you wetter.

As you feel a moan ready to leave your mouth, you sink your teeth into your lower lip. There’s no way you’re going to muffle all your moans. This is already too wild for you, and you know it’s going to get even wilder.

“I’d give anything to see the way you look with my hand around that pretty neck of yours, sunshine” he whispers in the shell of your ear, his deep voice emphasizing the word ‘sunshine’. 

With your eyes closed, you can perfectly picture the way his hand fits on you. Jungkook can imagine it too, causing chills to run through his skin. 

While his hand caresses your neck, the other one does wonders to your clit. The torture is exquisite, nothing feels as good as having his hands on you. His hand works harder on your core to make you wetter. The man is already desperate to give you what you want. Him inside you. 

Once he feels you’re wet enough, his fingers leave your pussy alone to pull your leg up a bit, this way will be easier for him to push his cock inside you. Quite rapidly, he takes off his underwear.

“At any time, let me know if I hurt you, okay?” he whispers with evident concern.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” you say.  

His lips pepper the back of your neck with kisses. Your hand goes behind to stroke his cock a bit before rubbing it for a little while against your soaked core. 

“Shit, yn,” he groans against your skin. 

You bite your lower lip because, damn, it’s fucking hot to wake up to this.

As you feel him growing harder in your hand, you decide to push his length into your heated core. Your pussy sucks him all in, his head stretching you open as he goes further inside you.

“You always feel amazing,” he hisses once he bottoms up.

Small and barely audible moans and whimpers leave the two of you as you both enjoy feeling your bodies connected. Jungkook doesn’t move for a few seconds, giving your body time to adjust to him.

It’s been a while since you last had sex together, and Jungkook’s cock tends to be quite big. That was for sure something you’d never forget. How could you? If you compare to all the dicks you experience, he’d be the biggest.

But it isn’t the kind of big that makes it painful. It’s actually the opposite. You’d say that his dick is simply perfect.

“Move, Kook,” you give him a small slap on his ass to urge him. 

You need him, in ways you can’t even express. 

The man doesn’t need to be told twice before he starts thrusting into you very slowly and deeply with his hand still around your throat. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as the creaky bed quickly fills the room. 

Jungkook takes all his time, he isn’t rushing anything because damn, he wants you both to enjoy this moment. His lips stay on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to avoid moaning. His other hand holds your leg up while he rolls his hips in a way that you absolutely adore. 

The hand on your neck and his dick deep inside you are the perfect combos to make you come in a snap. None of you speak, only enjoying this torrid moment.

The man behind you feels that he’s slowly losing you, that you’re losing yourself further in the pleasure that only he can give you. So, he lightly tightens his hand around your throat to help you reach your orgasm faster. 

“Fuck,” you swear as his fingers wrap tighter around your neck. 

This is more than bliss for you, you could just come right now because of his hand but you don’t want to let go of your orgasm. You want to let it grow immensely until it becomes too overwhelming for you. You want this orgasm to be like an explosion of fireworks inside you. 

“You take me so well,” he whispers before bringing your face closer to his to press his lips against yours. Your walls clench around him causing his cock to twitch inside you. A guttural groan leaves his pretty lips, a groan that you happily swallow.  

Wanting to bring him closer to the edge, you start moving your hips in circles while he keeps thrusting into you at a very slow and torturous pace. His lips leave yours, his eyes close shut, and barely audible moans keep flooding out of his mouth.    

“Keep doing that, yn,” he pants.   

His cock goes deeper inside you, filling you up fully and hitting all the right spots which causes the pleasure to grow stronger within you. Your moans are harder to suppress, it feels good to be railed by Jungkook this early in the morning. Morning sex is honestly one of the best types of sex.

He groans deeply against your ear, your orgasm building stronger and stronger. You know that in a matter of seconds, you’ll be coming undone, and Jungkook senses it too. Your hips never stop moving in tandem with his but as you get closer to your high, your walls squeeze him harder. 

As he gets lost in the euphoria of the moment, he starts thrusting more harshly. Both of you are chasing your own orgasm while bringing the other closer to the edge. It doesn’t take you too much time to be fiercely hit by that overwhelming wave of pleasure, making you come undone around his massive cock. 

“Jungkook, fuck!” you cry with ecstasy, your hips stopping completely to move but the man behind you never stops moving. 

“Can I come inside?” you simply nod, barely able to make a proper sentence in the middle of this euphoric state.   

Both his hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he releases his thick load inside you. A lewd moan escapes your mouth when he pumps his hot cum inside you, pushing it as deep as possible inside you. 

For a little while, both of you stay in this position, his hands still holding you tight against him while his cock remains inside you. None of you wants to break this moment but you have to since you’ll need to leave the bed.  

Very slowly, you remove yourself from his cock to stand up from the bed. “Can I ask you to help me put on my underwear and pants?” you ask.

Without hesitation, Jungkook stands up while grabbing your clothes. As yesterday, he kneels before you to dress you. A smile spreads across your face as you look down at him. This man is, without any doubt, the kind of man you want to have in your life. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart with you.

“Thanks a lot, Jk,” you say once fully dressed.

The man carefully spreads your legs to situate himself between them.

“No problem, sunshine,” he presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Also, I’d like to mention that I take the pill,” you mention with a silly smile on your face. “So we won’t have any other surprise kid.”

Jungkook smiles and kisses you once more.

“I’m glad to know that,” he whispers against your lips.

Still fully naked, he stands up to assist you to do the same. Once you’re straightened up, you take the glamorous cane. At the same time, Jungkook puts his clothes back on because there’s no way he’s going to leave this bedroom naked. It’d be way too embarrassing.

This impressive man helps you go to the bathroom and, then, to the kitchen. At first, it seems like there’s only the two of you since you don’t hear any noise. However, to your surprise, when you reach the kitchen, you find your sister sitting at the table and eating breakfast.

“Good morning,” you say with evident joy.

“Only good morning to you,” she snaps back.

You frown with confusion. Your sister looks you dead in the eyes, totally ignoring Jungkook’s presence in the same room.

“I really didn’t need to know how you two conceived your first kid,” she explains.

Both you and Jungkook open your eyes wide; you weren’t expecting that at all. But there were chances that someone would have heard you. It’s definitely weird your sister was the one. You wouldn’t want to hear her having sex with someone.

“Hopefully, this time around, there won’t be any other kid,” Jungkook manages to say.  

Your sister laughs a bit. “I like this one,” she takes a sip of coffee. “He seems better than the other ones, and he’s also a lot hotter than them.”

Jungkook starts laughing as he helps you to take a seat.

“She’s funny,” he whispers to your ear.

“Don’t be silly,” you tell your sister. “And please, go find a guy so you don’t drool over mine.”

Although you haven’t defined your relationship for now, he’s flattered you consider him as ‘your guy’.

“How can I compete with a firefighter?” she teases. “Anyone will feel boring next to Jungkook,” she adds.

“If you want, I can introduce you to my colleagues,” he suggests.

“Don’t encourage her in her nonsense,” you tell him.

“Yes, please,” she says with enthusiasm.

You roll your eyes. She’s unbelievable and definitely very crazy, but that’s maybe why you love her so damn much.  

After that, together with Jungkook, you prepare breakfast while speaking with your sister. She leaves a couple of minutes later because she needs to meet with her best friend downtown. And right after her, Jungkook leaves you alone in your parents’ house which breaks your heart. However, you don’t stay very long by yourself as your kids come to visit you with their father.

Three weeks later

You and Jungkook are sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant. Your heart is beating fast with nervousness.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he tries to reassure you while resting his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t know,” you mumble.

Today, you’ve organized a dinner with Jungkook and Taemoo; your first time as a family. It’s weird to even think about it, but Taemoo really wanted to spend some time with you, together. Since he proposed this, you’ve been feeling very nervous. You’re a bit scared of how things will go when you’re finally the three of you together.

“There’s no reason for this to not go well,” he answers.

Before you can even answer, Taemoo joins you with a bright smile on his face. Like the first time you met him, he’s very well dressed.

“Hello,” he says. “I brought you these,” he hands you a tiny bouquet composed of three sunflowers. “It’s one sunflower for each of us.”

Your heart has completely melted now. This kid is so damn thoughtful, just like his biological father. His parents definitely raised him well, and it only reassures you that the decision you made sixteen years ago was the right one.

“Hello, Taemoo,” you say while standing up to hold your son in your arms. “Thanks a lot.”

Your firstborn wraps his arms around yours. This is a heartfelt moment; being able to hug him fills your heart with so much love. It feels like holding Jiwoo even though you didn’t raise Taemoo. Unfortunately, you can’t hold him for a long moment due to your wonderful knees. So he then greets Jungkook before taking a seat in the empty chair.

“Thanks for accepting this,” those are his first words.

Although he seems very happy and relaxed, you notice he’s a bit stressed.

“After seeing you separately, I really wanted to spend a bit of time with the two of you,” he starts saying. “Not sure how this will evolve in the future, but I’d like to sometimes organize this kind of diner.”

For the past few weeks, your life has drastically changed, and honestly, sometimes, you feel like it’s too much. However, having Jungkook and Sunny back in your life is what you consider to be a blessing. In all this chaos, you found two deeply important people that you left sixteen years ago.

The sixteen-year-old version of you was devasted to part ways from them two, thinking that you’ll never see them again. If she could see this today, the heartbreak would have been less painful. But that version of you is beyond happy today to see the three of you sitting at the same table.

This car accident destroyed your knees and stomach, but it has brought you Jungkook and Sunny. All of this would not be happening without this accident.

You also can’t wait to see your three other little munchkins with the man you love and their older sibling. Undoubtedly, that day will be the most wonderful day of your life. Now, you feel like you can finally truly be happy. You now have all the people you need to be happy.    

[taegularities]

colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck. 

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you’re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving. 

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at. 

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?”

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order. 

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, “Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress. 

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[fairysluna]

"look what you do to me" with ye olde cregan I BEG

worthy of you.

Cregan thinks his little brother is not worthy of a woman like you, which is why he takes the opportunity to show you that he is the one for you.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader / (Side) Masc!OC x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — smut (f!oral sex, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, OC is a terrible man, older!cregan, widower!cregan, age gap (early 20s and early 30s). If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — first of all, a big thank you to my gorgeous @bucknastysbabe for being my beta reader and helping me edit this, ily!! i got a bit inspired by this plot and it's longer than i expected💀

Thank you Bel for sending this request because i loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy it!!🤍

WORD COUNT — 4.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

How cruel were the gods when they put you in his brother's arms instead of the ones you craved the most.

The first time that Lord Stark laid his eyes upon you, he felt the air leaving his lungs, and his voice being caged inside his throat. His eyes immediately widened at the beautiful sight of you, bewitched by the way you so politely greeted him, and mesmerized by the way you uttered his name. Cregan was in awe, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut and the quickened pace of his heart as he smelled the sweet scent of vanilla coming from your hair. He wondered if you were some kind of nymph, effortlessly enchanting him with a single glance. 

After the loss of his wife, few were the women who managed to catch his eye. A couple of balls were made, and they all resulted in the same thing; a group of ladies following him around, showering him with shallow compliments and words that he did not wish to hear. 

How lucky he felt when he saw you walking in with your father, Lord Reed, into the ballroom, and how miserable he left that night after learning you were betrothed to his young brother; Edrik, a careless young man who —according to Lord Stark— is not worthy of you. At all. He's ruthless, the opposite of a chivalrous man. Cregan knows that while you were waiting for him for dinner, he's fucking some whores in brothels and paying with gold that he would steal from Cregan's chambers. He despised him. He was ashamed of him, and his behaviour towards you. You were a lady, a delicate and sweet girl who could have found someone better. 

Someone like himself, he would think. 

At that moment, while you were nervously chewing your nails sitting at the small table of your chambers as you drank tea, Cregan was out there searching for his younger brother, and trying to force him back to the Winterfell castle. That very same day was supposed to be your wedding, and the groom was nowhere to be seen. You knew better than to cry, you didn't want to suffer for him anymore; so you just sat there, slowly tapping your fingertips against the delicate porcelain of the cup, staring at the crackling fireplace and thinking about something else. 

At that point, you were just begging for him to be alive and well. Nothing more. 

A few minutes passed when you saw Cregan entering your chambers with his grey eyes staring intensely at you as he walked inside. His heavy boots stumped against the wooden floor, prompting you to stand up a bit too quickly. You noticed the pitiful look in his eyes when he noticed you were still wearing that white wedding dress; his heart shattered for you. 

“Did you find him?” you dared to speak first. Somehow, your voice came out colder than both of you expected.

“We did,” he nodded. “He was in a brothel… drunk and enjoying his last hours of freedom, as he said.” The annoyed tone of his voice was quite clear to hear as he spat every single word with rage and even shame. 

Gods forgive him for this insurmountable wrath towards his kin. 

“Where is he now?” The question slipped out of your lips merely out of habit. 

“In his chambers, being bathed by one of the maids,” Cregan explained, unable to bear the vision of your tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. He sought to look at a place over your shoulder, just to ease the ache in his chest.

It wasn't sadness, not at all. It was ire; he knew it. It was supposed to be your special day, and your betrothed decided to ruin it, though you were not surprised.

“Is it the maid that sucks his cock every morning? Or is it the one that let him fuck her in the arse?” you mockingly mentioned, lifting the cup of tea and sipping it slowly. The knot in your throat was becoming unbearable, too tight and barely letting you utter a word. 

Cregan's eyes softened with sorrow. “My lady,” he started, daring to take a step closer to you. The small rounded table was the only thing keeping you two apart. “Allow me to apologize for the misbehaviour of my brother, you deserve the utmost respect from whoever is lucky enough to marry you. Edrik is childish, and his actions often bring shame to our family name.”

“You shall not apologize for your brother's mistakes,” you softly said, sighing tiredly at this situation repeating over and over again. “You're an honourable man, Lord Stark, it's a pity your brother is not even half of the man you are.” 

Cregan felt his heart tapping against his chest, even under those thick layers of fur, he was still able to hear how fast it was beating. His eyes briefly looked away from you out of shyness, feeling so flustered by your mere presence. Oh, gods, this was excruciating; seeing you there with your beautiful eyes staring up at him, looking so fragile and bewitching. The white dress fit you perfectly, you were radiant that night, and he cursed at his brother for looking down on you. 

Edrik was a dumb boy. Luckily, Cregan was a wise man. 

“It pains me to know he doesn't appreciate you,” he muttered as he took unhurried steps closer to you. “You deserve so much more.” 

“It's the best I can get, I suppose,” you shrugged. “At least my betrothed is indulging his uncontrollable lust with whores instead of forcing himself on me. It could be worse.” 

“But it's not supposed to be bad at all,” Cregan discussed. “A husband has to provide for his wife, and treat her with respect.”

His hand approached your left cheek and he placed it there, cupping your face. Your soft skin felt his calloused fingers and suddenly all the air of your lungs vanished. Your lips parted, and that simple gesture blurred Cregan's mind with the urge to devour them. As he looked down at you, you could see in his eyes that there was a rare sparkle in them. It was so mesmerizing. 

“I guess you're asking too much from your brother, my Lord.”

He scoffed.

“If only the gods had been more merciful of us, you would be my wife instead,” he mentioned with a wistful tone. He took another step, and now you were able to smell the pine scent from his clothes. “We probably would be in our private celebration by now.” 

You sighed delightedly as his thumb went to your lower lip, lightly touching it as he glanced at it. Falling in love with him had been so easy; he was so kind, so courteous and gentle. Whenever his brother was cruel and mean to you, he was always there to make you feel good. Many were the times you imagined this wedding being with him instead of Edrik. 

“I would be looking at your beautiful body as you remove this gown. Only for me to see,” he whispered, his touch going downwards until he grabbed the pearls around your neck. “I would take my time to appreciate every single inch of your skin, touching you… kissing you, making sure you know you're the most beautiful maiden in Westeros.” 

His face leaned towards you, and you felt his nose rubbing against your cheek as you closed your eyes. His deep, low voice sent shivers down your spine while your mind was imagining every single word that came out of his plump lips. His touch reached down your sides until you felt his strong grip on your waist. 

Cregan took a deep breath as he smelled your sweet perfume; he couldn't help but sigh. 

“I would pleasure you in so many ways,” he continued, his voice so raspy it made your knees weak. “With my mouth, my hands… until all that comes from your lips is my name.” 

“Cregan…” you breathed out, and he hummed in delight. 

“Yes, just like that.” 

You dared to open your eyes, meeting his and seeing how they were dilated and glazed with lust; yours were probably in the same state. You were able to feel the heat between your legs, almost causing you to squirm to make you feel something. Something to sate the intense desire crawling around your body.

“I would do so many things to you, my darling,” he murmured. “Would you like me to do them?” 

You nodded.

“Yes?” 

“Yes,” you replied, embarrassingly fast. 

His hands went to your back, calloused fingers finding their way to untie your gown. Your chest was against his, and the closeness did nothing but increase your desperation to have him. 

“My brother doesn't deserve you, does he? He is just a stupid boy, and you deserve a man.” You felt the dress loosening around your body and you swallowed hard at the expectation. “Please, let me be that man for you…” 

You were unable to bear it any longer, the temptation being too much. You closed the distance between you two at the same time he started to slip the dress down your body — until it pooled around your feet. His lips fit perfectly against yours, they were slightly chapped due to the cold, yet they felt heavenly. He moaned against your mouth when you boldly deepened the kiss by grabbing Cregan’s nape and pulling him closer to you, all while his hands pressed your lower back. 

It was slow and passionate, taking your breath away as he claimed your mouth with his tongue, swirling against yours and stealing soft whimpers from you. Soon, he grabbed your thighs to lift you and sat you on the table; the cup of tea spilling to stain your white undergown, you couldn't care less. His lips on yours were all you could think of as his hands gripped your body, pressing you against him.

The thin skirt of your undergown lifted as you wrapped your legs around Cregan’s waist, and his hands began to sneak under it to touch the soft skin of your thighs. He left a heat on your body with his fingertips, one that made you desperate to feel him. All while his mouth was reluctant to leave yours, obsessed with the sweet taste of you. He would unconsciously groan, and as he pressed his hips against yours you could easily notice the effect you had on him. 

He pulled away to take a look at you, he found your swollen lips glistening with remains of your and his drool. Your eyes were sparkling as stars and your breathing growing agitated. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Cregan Stark had fallen in love with you once again at that moment. 

“You should belong to me instead,” he huskily said. “I should be the one who takes your body-”

“Do it,” you interrupted without doublethinking it. Your tone was decided and demanding, it shocked him a little. 

“Oh, my little one…” he murmured with a strained voice as if the thought had left him breathless. 

“I don't want your brother… I never did.” Your confession drew a small smile on his lips. “Since day one all I've wanted is you.” 

He took a deep breath before cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“Look what you do to me,” he murmured as you stared at his face, noticing a rare glow in him. “Believe me when I say your feelings are mutual… you've been on my mind ever since you arrived. It was torturous to see you being disregarded by Edrik while I was sitting there wishing I could just hold your hand. My heart, my body, my soul, it all aches for you. I'm desperate to feel you, and I cannot bear it any longer.” 

The despair in his voice, so clear and vivid. 

“Allow me to do it,” he pleaded, “I'm begging you to let me have a taste of you, at least for a night… so I can finally end this torment.” 

“I will accept,” you managed to say in small gasps. “Only if you promise me this won't be the last time.” 

He nodded. “I promise.”

The time was not wasted, you quickly leaned forward to kiss him again with the same intensity and need as before. Both of you moaned against each other while your hands were swiftly untying his snow-covered coat at the same time his were pulling down your undergown until it fell down your arms. Your breasts were freed and you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed; no man had seen you in such a vulnerable state before. However, all insecurities vanished from your overthinking mind once he laid his eyes on your chest and sighed, enamoured by the view. 

He gave you a single glance at you to ask for your permission and, once you nodded, his fingers travelled down your body until they trapped your nipples. He gently squeezed them between his digits, soft enough to not cause you any discomfort but hard enough to make them peak. Your mouth was slightly parted, allowing silent gasps to fall down your lips as he admired your pure flesh. He leaned forward then, and you instinctively leaned back; before you noticed his tongue was lapping at one of your sensitive buds, swirling around it and nibbling on it from time to time. You held your body up with your forearms, closing your eyes once he sucked on it. A moan escaped you as he pulled apart from it and went to the other one, giving it the same attention. 

His hand was grabbing the small of your back as you touched his hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks and pulling them whenever his tongue made you feel butterflies in your belly. It was so good, and you were blissful thinking that you were doing it with him. Your ever-kind and loving Lord of Winterfell.

Suddenly, his mouth traced a path down your body, licking and kissing your belly until he reached your pelvis. You lifted your hips once his hands started to pull down your last vestiges of coverage, and in mere seconds you were completely exposed to him as your cheeks got warm once again. 

Your legs were spread by his hands on your inner thighs, and Cregan was able to see the mess in your core; you were soaking, and his mouth watered with the urge to taste you. For a few seconds, he was just there admiring you, and then he started to kiss your legs from your ankles, all the way to your hips, shamelessly marking you and leaving red bruises behind; you loved it. 

Cregan gave you a quick look, noticing how you were almost shaking with expectation; your eyes reluctant to leave his frame as his thumb spread your swollen lower lips and exposed that little, throbbing button begging for his attention. He stuck out his tongue, slowly brushing it against your clit. You almost died there. Your hand immediately went back to his hair, pulling it a bit too harshly for his liking. 

“Sh…” he cooed, kissing your inner thighs in the meantime. “Come on, little one, let me make you feel good, I know you want it.” 

Gods, you did. You need it.

“Keep your legs open for me, and let me have my feast,” he murmured before his tongue lapped on your pearl again. 

The way he teased your flesh so sensually made your limbs shake. You were gasping as he licked and kissed every single part of you, lurking around and trying to discover your most sensitive spot. Once he found it, you saw stars. 

Your betrothed was far from your mind when Cregan dared to push one of his long, thick fingers inside your weeping hole. You cried out his name as your legs shook around his head and, as he curled up his fingers to rub your walls, you felt a knot in your belly starting to form and begging to be released. Goosebumps erupted over your stimulated body.

“Gods… Cregan!” you found yourself whining. He hummed delighted with the way his name sounded from your lips. 

His tongue fervently began to flick your clit as he added another finger, pumping them slowly but deeply. The sound of your juices coating his digits was becoming addictive; so sinful, yet heavenly. He was desperate to feel you all. 

As he moaned and whimpered against your soaked flesh, you couldn't help but feel an unknown sensation in your gut; as if you were about to explode. Your heart was beating incredibly fast as you leaned your head back and let your mouth spill thousands of obscene sounds; Cregan's cock twitched in his pants the moment he looked up at you. 

Gods, you were so fucking beautiful. It was not fair that you belonged to someone else. 

Suddenly, with a shout of shock, you felt yourself peak. You gasped loudly and you clenched your eyes shut. Cregan felt your walls squeezing his fingers so deliciously as he drank from you and licked you clean. By the end of it, you were sweating, breathing fast and your hips twitching. You turned into a quivering mess.

Cregan lifted his face, giving one wolfish look before quickly grabbing your cheeks. He desperately kissed you as he groaned in ecstasy. You tasted yourself on his lips as he picked you up and took you towards the bed… the very same bed you were supposed to be sharing with your betrothed that night. 

The guilt hit you, briefly making you feel dirty and sullied. But then, as you saw Cregan slowly removing his attires, you remembered who was your betrothed, and what he was doing earlier that day. If he could fuck a whore, why couldn't you fuck another man? You doubted the lesser brother would even notice. 

Besides, it wasn't just a man, it was Cregan. Your Cregan. 

So, now, as the handsome man in front of you removed his last piece of clothing, you felt your walls clench around nothing as you glanced at his cock. His head furiously red, already leaking and twitching as he started to crawl from the bottom of the bed until he was between your legs. He kissed you again, this time slower… more tenderly. You sighed against his lips.

“You're still a maiden,” he said as a statement rather than a question. You nodded, either way, confirming his words. “Then I'll go slow… though I must warn you, it might hurt for a bit, but I promise you, little one, it'll all be worth it in the end.” 

“I trust you,” you whispered as your hand reached his cheek, gently caressing his stubble. 

“Open your legs for me, my darling,” he commanded, and you did as he said. He looked down at your entrance, “seven hells…” he groaned at the sight, before spitting down to his cock and stroking it a few times. Cregan swiped the ruddy tip of his prick against your folds, teasing them to hear you moan one more time before carefully pressing the blunt head against your entrance. 

You cried out once he started to stretch you out, feeling the slight burn that left you breathless as he made his way inside the tight hole between your trembling legs. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth; Cregan noticed your discomfort, so he brought his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles on it and trying to make you relax. You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving through the pinch.

Your tightness would try to push him away as tried to go deeper, yet he found a way to keep going until he was fully buried inside of you, whimpering your name. Your soft walls felt so fucking good around him, almost making the man drool against your shoulder. His sweaty forehead was pressed against your cheek and you could hear his ragged breathing in your ear, causing chills down your spine. He gave you a moment to forget about the pain, all while he peppered your neck with soft kisses and gentle bites. 

“I think I have just reached heaven,” he murmured, his voice sounding so deep and seductive. “So tight, so small around my cock…” he continued words that left his mouth before he could even think about them. 

“I- I feel so full…” you muttered, feeling his length pulsing inside of you. 

“Shh… I know, my darling, just take deep breaths for me,” he commanded you, and you obeyed. His thumb pushed slightly harder against your clit and you hummed. “Mhm, does that feel nice? My beautiful girl, you're doing such a good job for me,” he praised you, “taking me so well.” 

“Feels good…” you nodded. 

“It does, doesn't it?” he softly chuckled. “Gods, the way your sweet little pussy takes my cock makes me fucking crazy. Can- can I move? Fuck– Is it okay if I start moving?” 

His gentleness and softness did little to make you forget about the way he spoke to you. His dirty words made you clench around his girth, feeling butterflies in your lower belly. You needed Cregan to move and bring back the effervescent heat. 

“Please, do,” you begged, and he wasted no time in obeying. 

His mouth dropped open as he dragged his cock out of your tightness, noticing how it was covered by your slickness. He pushed in again, filling you and causing you to moan in simultaneous discomfort and pleasure. His left hand went to your hip, grabbing your skin and going deeper inside of you. Slowly at first, he started to fasten his pace until the sound of your bodies colliding against each other was mixed with your moans. 

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he hid his face on your neck, his harsh breathing causing chills on your skin as he moved slowly but forcefully; such a perfect pace to make you see stars. Your legs were bent at each side of his body, while he took you and claimed your shaky frame. Soon you realized that he had not lied, it felt magnificent once the pain started to fade away. 

His name would escape your lips as if it was an endless chant, incentivizing him to keep going, to continue his movements until you couldn't bear it anymore. A layer of sweat would cover your body as Cregan's weight was on top of you, it felt as if you were burning yet you didn't want to push him away. You craved to feel his skin on you, loving the way his pelvis would brush against your throbbing clit each time he thrusts into you. 

“Fuck, my darling,” he groaned in your ear, “your pussy was made for me to fuck,” he whimpered, biting your earlobe. You replied with a whine. “So fucking delicious, feeling so tight around my cock.” 

Cregan lifted his face to look at your messy state. The eye contact that followed almost made you reach your peak once again, it was all so intense it made your head spin. Your nails dug into his flesh and he whispered your name; you hummed in response. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

He further quickened the pace, his cock now touching that sweet spot of yours. Your walls would clench around him as you felt the much-needed orgasm approaching. A ring of your juices appeared on his cock, and he changed positions so now he was on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking you faster, rougher. 

He saw your breasts bouncing on your chest as he thrusted into you, the sight so arousing that he felt his cock twitch inside of you. His stones were full, ready to burst at any moment now. However, no matter how much he desired it, he knew he just couldn't release inside you. No risks must be taken if he wanted to do this again. 

With your legs spreaded, his thumb effortlessly reached your exposed clits, flicking it and smearing your wetness around it. Your limbs shook as your mind went numb, and soon your orgasms washed over you. You cried out his name, tightening your grip around his cock. 

That's when he pulled out and poured himself on your soaked flesh, staining your folds with his pearly seed. 

Once he took a quick look at you, he felt a coil of raw pleasure snake around his body. A whine left his lips as he wrapped his hand around his length, stroking it a few times to make sure he would cover you with every single drop. He was overstimulated already; sweaty, breathless and flushed. He looked so beautiful like that.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, caressing your thighs. 

You frown, slightly confused. “What- what for?” 

Instead of answering you right away, he leaned and joined his lips with yours, gently and tenderly kissing you. His hands cupped your face and yours laid on his thick arms. A few minutes later, he pulled away only to leave soft kisses all over your face making you giggle. 

“For giving me the honour of making you mine,” he replied. “Though I must confess that I don't think I will be able to live without having you in my bed every night.” 

You felt a smile appearing on your lips and a familiar warmth on your cheeks. 

“Well,” you sighed, “perhaps, you should do something about it.” That flirtatious tone was a bit odd coming from you, but Cregan loved it. 

“Yes,” he nodded, softly chuckling as he leaned to kiss you once more. “I will definitely do something about it.”

@arcielee

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[suuuupernovaaa]

The Book Seller - Azriel x f!OC (Part 3/3)

Summary: Azriel’s mate decides whether she wants to accept the mating bond, or if it’s all too much.

Content Warning: Adult, 18+, mentions of death and trauma, sexual content

Part 1, Part 2

The next day, Azriel came and fixed the door to my apartment. While he was there, he noticed a few cabinets askew, and fixed those as well.

Afterwards, we made our way down to sit outside the storefront and enjoy lunch by the river, and he noticed a wiggling floorboard, and a crooked bookshelf.

He fixed those, as well.

My heart swelled to watch him pouring energy into the small bookshop that had been my life for so long. It felt quite right, to see him wipe sweat from his brow as he aligned the book shelf just so, and the satisfied smile that crossed his face was enough to make my heart stop when he turned to me.

I laid awake all the previous night, thinking of the bits of information he’d shared with me. His childhood and the pain he’d endured. The way he found his brothers, Cassian and Rhysand. All the wars and trials they’d been through since then. The killing and the torture. The way the peaceful times we were living in now felt like a dream to him.

It had been hard to part ways with just a chaste kiss to his cheek, but I wasn’t sure how fast or slow we were going to move. Some mates took their time, and some took no time at all. I knew at least that he’d be back the next day, to fix the door and so much more.

I set a tray of food in front of us as we sat down to enjoy one of the last warm days we’d see for a while. The food was ordered from a cafe around the corner, as I knew the significance of preparing a meal for the man before me. Preparing and offering a meal was a sign of accepting the bond.

“Thank you for fixing all of that. My brother, I’ve asked him so many times, but he has a little one at home and not much time to help.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded. “You can ask me now,” he said, and a fist squeezed around my heart.

“It’s a little funny that…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Go on,” he said, setting his food down.

“We don’t really know each other, do we? We met last night but it feels, almost, like I could rely on you. If I decided to.”

The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile, and that was his only response.

—

Azriel stopped by every day over the next week. Sometimes when the store was open, just to quickly say hi, and twice after to take a walk along the chilly river and talk, hands or arms clasped together. His company was becoming easy, comforting, and I was growing accustomed to him so quickly.

I wondered, was it because we were mates, or would we have found ourselves drawn to each other otherwise?

Despite the ease and excitement, something loomed over me. Azriel was not a normal fae, not a carpenter or a tradesman, not someone I met down the street or at a bar. He was the Shadowsinger, at the hand of our High Lord, and there were parts of his life I was not sure I would ever be privy to. Would that be a true partnership, if part of himself was kept hidden away?

If our era of peace ended, he’d have to put himself in danger. What did being a Shadowsinger truly entail? Would his duties take him away from time to time?We never talked about it, because I didn’t ask.

I was too afraid to. What if he told me he couldn’t share that? What if he told me something I didn’t want to hear? What if he thought it was too soon for me to ask?

When he stopped in the following Saturday, early in the morning with a tea in hand for me, my father was in the shop.

My family joined for dinner together every Wednesday night at my parents house, and my eldest sister had been quick to announce I’d met my mate this past family dinner.

Though they had all insisted on meeting him, I’d not yet broached the topic with Azriel. My family was loud, boisterous, always in each other’s business, and fiercely loving but sometimes overwhelming. Azriel was quiet, and I was nervous that he wouldn’t appreciate them.

My father, a tall man but still a dwarf compared to the Shadowsinger, did not balk when Azriel entered and strode to my desk, handing me the tea.

“Good morning. I came to tell you -“

“Is this him?” father interrupted, and I chided him with a tisk.

“Father!” I hissed, and Azriel straightened. It occurred to me then that truly, Azriel was older than my parents, but fatherhood had made my father mature in a way that only being a parent can, and he looked at Azriel through those eyes.

The tension grew in the air quickly as the two men stared at each other until my father, who had never been described as intimidating a day in his life, grabbed Azriel’s hand in his and shook it violently up and down.

“Great to meet you, son,” my father said to Azriel, the High Lord’s Shadowsinger, his elder by 100 years, as if he was any other man on the street.

To his credit, Azriel returned the shake with enthusiasm, and tipped his head as a sign of respect. “You as well, sir,” he replied.

Father waved his hand to dismiss the title. “No formalities in family. Will you join us for dinner this week?”

Azriel looked to me, and I tried to communicate my apologies with my expression.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I came to tell you, Holly, I leave tonight and will be gone about a week.”

I gripped my tea in my hands as my father wisely made some mumbled excuse to leave us alone at my desk. I stood from my chair and came around to meet Azriel, perching on the edge of my desk.

“Oh. Um, work?”

He nodded.

“I wanted to ask… how much I might be allowed to know. In the future.”

His face grew dark and serious. “I would tell you anything you want to know, though some of it you may not want to hear. It is not always pleasant, extracting secrets.”

I nodded gravely. “Oh. Right.”

“Which brings me to another point… being my mate, it could land you in trouble. One day. Soon or in the distant future. I’d feel better if you could defend yourself.”

“Fight?” I asked, glancing around at the book store to make sure no one was listening.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never have to, but I would feel more at ease if I knew you could defend yourself. If need be.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of - the danger that came with the man in front of me. It only took a week to bubble to the surface.

“Cassian and Nesta have offered to train you.”

“Why not you?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “Just this week, while I’m gone. I’ll join once I return. I thought you’d be more comfortable, with Nesta there.”

Nervous, I reached out and grabbed his hand. He held mine fiercely.

“Will you be safe? Are you going somewhere dangerous?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to me. “No, no one will even know I’m there,” he replied quietly, and pressed his forehead to mind. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent.

“Do you promise?” I whispered.

To my shock, Azriel’s lips found mine then. For the first time. Soft, warm, and all enveloping, I pressed my body flush to his and opened my mouth to allow him entry, a soft sigh escaping.

I had been waiting, every moment since we’d met, for him to kiss me. Stealing glances at his lips, kissing his cheek with every departure, it wasn’t enough.

He snaked his arms around my waist, and I held his beautifully sculpted face in my hands as his tongue explored.

Every single part of me was on fire in a way I had never imagined possible. I could feel sparks shooting from my toes and the ends of my hair. Azriel groaned quietly as he pressed me tighter to him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him in place.

He tasted like mint tea and I wove my hands through his silky, dark hair, desperate for more.

Too fast, too suddenly, Azriel pulled away and smiled down at me. Only a moment later, I heard my father approaching.

He must have heard him first.

I removed my hands from his hair and smoothed it, removing any traces that I had been there, as we continued to smile at each other.

“Cassian will fetch you at 6am tomorrow, and have you back in time to open at 10,” he said, and my face fell.

“Azriel, 6am? You cannot be serious.”

He was laughing as he walked out the door.

—

The next week was grueling. Every morning, I met Cassian outside at 6am so he could prove to me how weak I truly was. I had no strength, no skill, no balance.

Nesta assured me she had been the same before Cassian had forced her to train, but it was hard to believe, watching her move with such grace and strength now.

Not only was the training draining me, but I missed Azriel. It felt strange to admit it. Two weeks ago, I had only known him by reputation. Now, a day without him was painful.

Near the end of the week, I’d asked the girls to run the shop for me for the day so I could rest, and Nesta invited me to join her for breakfast after training, just the two of us.

Sweaty and tired, I slumped at the table and asked the house for some water and tea. It appeared magically, delighting me as it had every time this past week.

“Can I ask you something a little personal?” I asked once I’d drank the entire glass of water, and Nesta nodded warily.

Though I did consider us friends, Nesta was still guarded, and I wanted to tread carefully.

“Is it hard, to be Cassian’s mate?”

She surprised me by laughing. “In what sense? He is very annoying.”

“I mean, him being who he is. The position he holds.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I don’t know if I can say. I was human before, and all I’ve known of being fae is these people, this life,” she gestured to the grand home around us, and I understood.

Her ushering into this life had been straight into grandeur. She had not lived life as a normal high fae, only royalty.

“I asked you to come here last week because I wanted you to meet Azriel. Something felt right, when I thought of you two together. I can’t explain it. I almost knew. Once the idea occurred to me, of you two together, I couldn’t shake it. It nagged at me until I brought you here.”

Though I had suspected, she hadn’t confirmed it before.

I pursed my lips and looked down at the full plated breakfast before me.

“He seems worth it, to me. Worth whatever… trouble, it could bring. To be his,” I said finally, picking up my fork. “I don’t know if I’m worthy of him.”

Nesta reached over and grabbed my arm. “You are. I would not trouble with you, if you weren’t.” She spoke plainly, stating a fact with no emotion behind it, and nodded in return.

—

I returned home early in the afternoon, greeted my employees, and headed up for a long bath and possibly a nap.

After soaking for a very long time to remove all the sweat and grime, I dressed in a simple tan dress, and pulled a book from my night stand. The bath had rejuvenated me enough to no longer need to sleep, so I sat next to the window to read.

Only ten minutes later, I closed the book, unable to focus on the words on the page. They danced around, always spelling Azriel in my mind.

A scary but not entirely unwelcome thought greeted me then: I was in love with the shadowsinger. With his soft smiles and tight expressions. His attention to detail and need to care and fix. His past and present and hopefully, his future.

I wasn’t just falling in love with him because the living bond between us brought us together, but for who he was. I would have loved him without this bond. Would have been struck by his beauty and grace. The quiet assuredness with which he moved through the world.

As I got lost deeper and deeper into my own thoughts, a knock came at the door. Probably Aurelia or Jessiminda, needing something for the store. I placed my book on the shelf before crossing my small apartment to pull open the door.

Neither girl stood there, but instead, Azriel barreled in, sweeping me into his arms in a warm embrace that I eagerly returned.

“You’re back!” I exclaimed, breathing him in. How fully I missed him really hit me then, as I held him safely in my arms. It was as if something had been wrong the last week, something missing from me, a part of my soul, and here it was, returned.

“I came back as soon as I could,” he said, his face in my hair. The unspoken part of that sentence seemed to be, to get back to you.

“How was training?” he asked as he pulled away, just a few inches to look at me, and I could not stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“I’m sore everywhere. I could not kick anyone’s ass.”

He laughed, a low chuckle. “Give it time.”

“I have been thinking… Jessaminda wants more hours, and the store is doing well. I could have her open every morning for me, so I only work afternoons.”

His smile grew. “You don’t want to train at six am.”

“Of course not. But also, it would mean more time for me.”

For us.

Through the bond, I felt a ripple of joy. Only once or twice before had I felt what I thought were Azriel’s emotions - we wouldn’t truly be able to feel each other until I accepted the bond, and we hadn’t discussed that yet.

“Good idea,” was his full reply, and I beamed at him.

“Are you hungry? I could make a stew.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Are you offering to cook for me? Now?”

I sauntered away from him into the kitchen, gathering the supplies I needed and lighting the stove.

“Sit, and tell me about your trip,” I instructed as I began chopping. He sat at my small dining table, looking as nervous as he was capable of after centuries of skillfully hiding his emotions, and told me of his trip. Simple fact finding and information gathering in the autumn court, where he’d also met up with some old friends. I asked questions, and he readily answered, giving me any information I wanted to know, which brought comfort to my heart.

When the stew was done, I filled two bowls, and turned to him.

“Before I give this to you, I want you to know… I think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met. If you weren’t my mate, I would still find you as handsome, as impressive, as captivating, as awe-inspiring as I do now. I don’t care that we’ve only just met or there’s so much we have to learn about each other. I’m greatly looking forward to that.”

I sat down across from him, and wondered if my family would be upset that we’d done this in private. Many fae made a ceremony of this moment, but I couldn’t imagine that was something Azriel would want, and I didn’t really either.

There was a look in his eyes that I thought might be wonder, or awe, I set the bowl and spoon down in front of Azriel, and waited.

He lifted the spoon and stared at me with such intensity that it made my stomach churn with nerves.

“I have waited 500 years for you. Had I known what I was waiting for, I would have agreed to wait 500 more.” His voice trembled with emotion, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

We were silent as he took his first bite, and finished the bowl in mere minutes. I hadn’t even touched mine, I realized, and took my first bite as he took his last.

We stared at each other then, the air charged, and I felt it. The bond strengthening, solidifying between us, and I closed my eyes and listened.

I could feel him so clearly. His pain, his joy, and drowning everything else out, how badly Azriel wanted me in that moment. How desperate he was to touch me, and the thread he was using to hold himself back until he got a signal from me.

When I opened my dark eyes, his golden eyes bore into mine, passion sparking behind them.

“Yes,” was all I said, and all he needed, to sweep the table aside and pull me into his sturdy, waiting arms.

His mouth found mine eagerly, and his hands roamed my body. I found myself beyond glad I’d had time to bathe before he arrived.

He lifted me up by the shelf of my rear, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He walked the few steps over to my bed and without breaking the kiss, lay me on my soft green bedding, kneeling between my spread legs.

“Azriel,” I moaned, and I felt how badly he wanted me as he pressed himself into me. I arched my back, searching for more friction.

He reached down, pulling at the hem of my dress slowly, pushing it up over my thighs, his fingers trailing over my stomach, and I sat up so he could pull it over my head.

I made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, revealing his broad golden chest and firm abs.

“Gods,” I hissed as he tossed the shirt across the room. This sculpted angel before me was enough to send me into a spiral. He pushed me back onto the bed, and looked down at me as something to devour.

“I need to taste you,” he said, his voice all breath and gravel, and I nodded eagerly.

He started at my neck with lazy, languid kisses, running his warm tongue over my skin, and then down. Over my chest, he stopped to take my nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking gently. I arched my back, pressing myself into his mouth, and we groaned together.

Down, further down he went, trailing his tongue over my naval until he reached the apex of my thighs, and did not waste any time teasing me.

He pulled my sensitive bud between his lips and sucked. I was so swollen, so sensitive, and so desperate for him. I moaned his name and put my hands into his hair, guiding him as he truly devoured me. He slowed and sped, and stuck his tongue deep inside me, causing another loud moan to escape my chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and I nearly came at the sound of it.

“I need you,” I replied.

“Need me where, baby?”

“Inside me. Please. Now,” I panted.

He stood up slowly, torturing me, and removed the buckle from his pants, and slid them down over taught, muscular thighs.

The bulge in his underwear was obscenely large, and I wondered how on earth it was going to fit. He removed his underwear and sprang free, and my mouth watered.

He was on top of me once more, his fingers dragging through my wet folds, circling my clit, as I moaned into his mouth.

I spread my legs as wide as they would go, and reached down to grip his considerable length, and place it at my entrance.

“Please,” I breathed, and my mate’s eyes met mine. I felt him, his love and his admiration and his lust, surging through the bond. “Azriel.”

“Holly,” he whispered, reverently, worshipping my name as he worshipped my body, and slid slowly inside me.

“Gods!” I exclaimed, and dug my nails into his back.

He groaned, stopping to allow me to adjust to his size. “Good girl. You can take it all. Be a good girl for me,” he whispered in my ear.

When he was finally fully seated in me, to the hilt, he stilled again. I felt impossibly full but gods, so good, and I wiggled, encouraging him to move.

He chuckled and placed a rough kiss on my mouth before beginning to move. Slowly, carefully at first.

“More. I won’t break.”

He moaned again then, a sweet sound in my ears, and picked up the pace, sliding in and out of me faster and faster until he reached a punishing pace, and I was making noises in his ear I’d never made before.

“Come for me, mate,” he demanded in my ear, and I came apart around him with a blinding scream, clamping my legs around his waist and scratching my nails down his bag.

He groaned a moment later, finding his release, and collapsed on top of me.

I was thoroughly devoured.

—

We stayed in my apartment for four days together, learning and exploring each other, and I had never felt so blissfully happy.

Or so sore.

The frenzy. I’d heard of it before. It was a dangerous time for newly fated males, but Azriel and I stayed locked up together for the worst of it.

When we were not actively learning each other, we talked, or ate, or slept, or read together. I thought life like this forever might be okay, but of course, it couldn’t last.

On the fifth day, Azriel recommended we might emerge and let our friends and family know we had affirmed the bond, as if they didn’t know. I had sent word to my employees to run the store without me, to my family that I’d miss dinner, and I knew he’d sent word to his family too.

I had not known they’d planned a party, or else I would have insisted we stay locked away for much longer.

As we left through my apartment window, I already wished we were back inside, Azriel inside me and all around me, where nothing and no one else existed.

Sadly, we had responsibilities outside, and decisions to make.

Like where we would live. The thought of Azriel residing with me in my small apartment was cozy, but laughable. He spent most of his time at the House of Wind, but also had a room in the High Lord’s newest home, and his townhome central to the city.

I had suggested it might be nice to have a place all our own. Near the water, and my store, somewhere just for us.

Azriel had liked the idea so well, he’d taken me against the window as we looked out at the city, planning.

We arrived at the House of Wind as the sun was setting, entering through a door in the courtyard that I’d not yet seen. Azriel led me to his room, dark and quiet and without decoration, and I wondered what our new home would look like.

He opened his closet and from within, drew out a golden gown, the color of his eyes. It was beautiful, floor length with a plunging neck line, long adorned sleeves, and intricate bead work throughout.

“For you,” he said, bringing it over to me. “From Feyre.”

I reached out to touch the most lovely dress I’d ever seen. “I can’t accept this.”

He shrugged. “You can,” he replied simply. Money had not yet crossed my mind - what kind of salary did a Shadowsinger draw? Surely more than a book peddler.

I turned and allowed him to remove my dress, and once I stood nearly naked before him, I leaned over the black dresser in front of me, bearing myself to him as I stepped out of my shoes.

His breath hissed between his teeth, and I smiled. I turned and placed my hands on his shoulders, stepping into the dress. He drug it up my body, and stepped around me to zip it up. It fit perfectly, making curves where I’d thought I had none. I turned to look in the mirror, pushing my hair from my face, and decided on a simple, long braid, so as not to distract from the dress.

When I finished, Azriel grabbed my hand. “I also have this for you,” he said, holding out a ring. A thin gold band adorned with one shining purple jewel. Simple, and lovely, and I wordlessly spread my fingers so he could slide it on.

Two weeks ago, I was alone. I was lonely. Time is a funny thing.

—

I expected at most, a handful of people when we entered the dining room, but as we grew closer, the chatter of a crowd was hard to miss.

I gasped when we entered. The hall was decorated beautifully, in purple and gold everywhere, flowers and tapestries and other finery as far as the eye could see.

Everyone in my family was there. My parents, all three siblings and their spouses, and their children as well, five in total.

All mixed in with Azriel’s family, Rhysand and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, Amren and Mor standing with a beautiful woman who had to be Feyre’s third sister, hanging on the arm of a stunning man with red hair.

“Oh gods!” I shouted.

“Surprise!” Cassian hollered, igniting a laugh through the small crowd.

“Aunt Holly!” my youngest nephew ran to me as I entered and continued taking in the scene, and I bent down to scoop him into my arms. Nearing five, I would soon be unable to pick him up and throw him around, and I relished in holding him when I could.

I turned to Azriel, who smiled at me with mischief in his eyes. “Did you know?”

He shrugged, confirming it. “It was Feyre’s idea.”

Well, my mate was nothing if not clever. He knew I could not be mad if it was my High Lady’s idea. She approached then, arms open to wrap me and my nephew wiggling in my arms in a tight hug.

“I don’t know how you feel about surprises, but it didn’t feel right not to celebrate a new family member.”

I tried hard, but couldn’t resist a small bow. “Thank you, My Lady.”

She tisked. “Enough of that today. Just Feyre.”

Aiken jumped from my arms and ran back to my family, and we spent the rest of the night laughing and drinking as our two families blended. The atmosphere in the room was light, joyful, and calm.

I knew it would not always be this way. There would be very hard times ahead, and times of even greater joy and celebration.

Azriel and I were just getting started. It was all so new and fresh, but I was so sure of it too. So sure of him. The mating bond flowed between us, steady and strong, and we felt when the other was ready to end the night. I saw my family off before Rhysand and Mor helped them all home, promising we’d be at every Wednesday dinner we could, and we bid Feyre and her sisters farewell.

We returned to Azriel’s room quietly, hands clasped together, and I wondered if someone could be too happy.

If it was dangerous, to be too content, so quickly. To have so much change come into your life and to be so incandescently happy with it.

Was I asking for something terrible? Was I inviting in chaos and danger, simply by being overjoyed?

If so, I would not have changed a thing. Would not have chosen another mate, another family, another life for all the coin on the continent.

Azriel wrapped me in his arms as we fell asleep a while later, and I listened to his heartbeat in his chest, counting them.

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

A beautiful sound. The sound of my mate, alive and well.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked, sensing my overwhelming emotions down the bond.

“That I love you,” I replied quietly, eyes still closed, heart beating wildly.

I heard his speed up, too.

A confusing mix of emotions came through the bond. Pain, longing, fear, lust, but there under all of that, there was love.

“I don’t deserve you. You are good and pure. You are kind. Faultless.” His gravely voice was strained, and I propped myself up to see his golden eyes shining.

“You deserve every happiness in the world, and I will see to it that you have them, my mate.”

He leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

“I love you, too,” he said, and shouted it down the bond as well.

We fell asleep intertwined in his dark sheets, only love enveloping us.

The book seller and the shadowsinger.

@rcarbo1

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: IDOL EDITION

“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃. “

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! idol! oc (jisoo han) x superfan/manager! reader

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, reader is also yandere at the start, mentions of anxiety and self harm, honestly idol life is its own tw

HAPPY HANA NO SEIIKI ANNIVERSARY YA’LL!!

[ series masterlist ]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“Oh gosh (oh gosh) this is so crazy. I’ve fallen in love again.

I trip so easily.

Adore new things, they sparkle.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“Dunno, just am.”

Your entire life revolved around Yesterday’s Dawn’s ace, Eve. The idol who had been in everyone’s lips. Whose name had been heard throughout nations you’ve never even heard of.

He was your sun, the reason you had the energy to wake up every single day, the light of your life.

Every waking moment you spent it either thinking of him or offering your services for name.

It was normal for you to spend hours looking at his schedule, knowing where he was, being around him most times, or staring at media of him.

Somehow, you were able to land a job as his manager.

You were finally closer to your god.

But you swiftly find out that no man should be likened to one for only disappointment can be found in such a path.

Eve was a lot more . . . burnt out than you expected. A lot less passionate and energetic than he was in camera if not irritable.

It was normal for him to harass workers when they didn’t meet a standard he imposed, as such, after the first few weeks of your employment everyone that you were with have already been fired, quit, and/or paid to keep their silence on the matter.

Yet your feelings for him only stayed; as your employment with the company. Your meticulous and proactive nature as a fan site owner allowed you to take much of the workload he threw at you.

The little admiration you have left for the man kept you standing.

And if only you were a little less stressed you’d notice his scarlet eyes providing stares of amusement, bewilderment, and growing affection.

You never complained (at least, in a place where he could hear you).

Whenever he asked for impossible items or schedules you’ll simply grin and work things out in your little way.

You adjusted to his turbulent temperament as quickly as an experienced pilot in a stormy sky, a sailor of uncharted, dangerous waters.

You were brilliant. Reminiscent of his times as a trainee.

Bit by bit he started lessening your workload. Allowing you to rest. Hell, even giving you his coffee if he didn’t want it. He never gives away his coffee.

You acquiesced to many of his whims but were never a pushover. Always doing your job perfectly. Keeping him in line.

He would have fallen for you already, had he not been in love with someone else.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“Peek-a-boo! It’s only love when my heart quivers.

All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem.

I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine!”

“ For this comeback period, [L/N] will be assigned to Hayate instead. Eve will have his senior’s manager work with him instead.”

“Understood.”

You were assigned to another member around Spring.

Yesterday Dawn’s most hectic time of the year aside from fall as the group’s concept was as the name suggested, focused more on nostalgia and times of youth.

You were relieved.

You never thought you would have been able to say that after being separated from Eve, but now it was the only thing you had on your mind.

No more late night calls about wanting coffee but throwing the leftovers at you the moment he was sick of the taste, no more work being thrown at you and taken away at random moments, no more working around his schedule so that he’ll have time to meet that dear senior of his in private.

You were free.

Hayate was known to be the harsher one in the fandom, but much like Eve his image was a bit different from his actual self.

Sure he was demanding, but he was fair. He wasn’t controlled by whims and impulse. You were finally able to do your job properly til the end, and you didn’t always feel a judging stare from him like Jisoo would always throw at you.

You were finally able to smile.

However, you see, being a manager for another member did not mean you would completely be free of your original client.

Hayate and Eve worked quite closely, and as such, you’d often help with Jisoo’s requests even if you weren’t obligated to.

Eve immediately saw the change in you.

You were, a lot more bright. Less haggard. Your voice less hoarse. Relaxed.

You were already getting along better with his group member than you ever did with him.

Eve wasn’t really the type to show his anger actively. He was always more, passive.

The senior he was head over heels for was slowly forgotten as he’d spent countless of hours pouring his feelings into his music. What was supposed to be a bittersweet spring album turned out to be one of sour regret and frustration.

Of course, it was still a hit. It even scored him a collaboration with the senior he oh so wanted to have their eyes on him. But all he could think of as he went to bed early in the morning was the way you’d laugh whenever Hayate spoke to you.

Hmph, the guy wasn’t even funny.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“Hey you, do you wanna play a game? I already know what you want.

Close your eyes and count to 10. Don’t matter anyways

Cause I am going to find you.”

“Did you hear? Jisoo got his first scandal. Apparently he bullied a bunch of students during high-school.”

“Wasn’t he . . . homeschooled?”

Causing scandals was easy. Dealing with scandals was not.

All Eve had to do was talk to some people, had a few pictures edited and voila, chaos.

It was amusing really, his company superiors would ply him with reassurances and sweet words; telling him that everything will be fine and dealt with while his pr managers dropped down like flies trying to prevent the flames of hatred from spreading too far.

All of them, hopelessly unaware.

All but his stupid senior.

“Why are you doing this now, Ji?”

They always looked down at him almost. Like he was a petulant child that needed to be coddled or scolded depending on their mood.

“We should focus on the track.”

And like he expected, you were brought right back to him. As you should be.

The heads figured out that you were the only one capable of handling the shitstorm without falling into the hands of alcohol or other substances in grief.

And as they expected you did.

After all, you had a timeline of his entire life in a canva document. Even if it was only mentioned once in a concert interview before they went famous. You were an Eve superfan.

All you did was confirm the fact that Jisoo got homeschooled by contacting his parents and teachers, and the rest was easy. You even reactivated your fansite for such an occasion.

If only you hadn’t.

Maybe then Jisoo wouldn’t have a definite reason to pursue you.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“You’ll never get this concept, you might as well forget it

Just play again, bet it all, roll the dice

BLANCA”

Eve thought he was doing well in terms of romancing you.

Ever since he found out about your fansite instead of feeling disgust and horror he felt . . . great, amazing even. A high the stage could never give him.

Of course, you two were destined.

It was only his duty to protect you as your partner, to spoil you, dote on you.

Even if you don’t realize your intertwined fates yet.

. . .

Eve always hovered over you.

Usually managers took shifts with watching over the idols. Half of your time was supposed to be spent planning rather than overseeing his activities.

Yet you seemed to have a never ending babysitting responsibility.

Your past self would have committed several war crimes for the sake of this opportunity. But after a year or so under his ‘care’ you found yourself slowly veering off into the type of insanity you didn’t like falling in.

You felt a bit like Andy from the original Devil Wears Prada book, only that your resentment simmered slowly. Forming into a hideous red sludge of exasperation whenever he randomly wanted to take a vacation. Forcing only you to come with him. Which meant an even bigger workload, and even more people to talk to for flights, schedule conflicts, reservations and all that.

You snapped.

It was a calm afternoon.

The sun was burning you alive as Eve insisted you two would go on a ‘beach date’ for some summer fun.

He shoved a drink in your hand.

And you just broke down.

Tears fell from your eyes, your breath shallow.

You asked him if this amused him. If your suffering was funny to him. If making you fall over just to get his demands on time made him feel fulfilled as a person.

And before he could answer you ran.

A week after that your schedule was finally normal.

Eve kept his distance. Not just from you but from everyone.

You knew of his anxiety attacks and depression before. But seeing those up close and personal scared you.

Things only get worse from here.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“So it’s too late you’re in the game now. If you keep up might not lose it.

The jungle gym of fun, like hell yeah

Makin the moon fall down down down.”

Eve spent most of his ‘hiatus’ watching your posts of him. Edits, fanfictions, photography, fancams.

Of course, it wasn’t to see himself perform again. He already did that on a regular basis to make sure he kept himself up to the standards of an idol.

It was to see your captions.

Your fanatic raving made him feel . . . loved.

Your previous thoughts on his performances made him feel complete. Like he found a missing piece of a puzzle he kept trying to put something else to fill it in.

Another part of his hiatus was spent preparing for his graduation. The termination of his contract.

It was clear you didn’t love him as an idol anymore. It was his fault really. He couldn’t see how he was hurting you with his work and desires.

If there was another thing he can thank his idol work for was the amount of money he had saved.

Now, he had a new home built far away from civilization. It was completely soundproof. The bed he ordered was custom made, tailored to your preferences this time rather than his. Food stocked to the nines. A few instruments here and there so he could compose even while retired.

He can always make a new song, a new life for you two to enjoy together.

“My voice, my body, my soul. It had always been yours. I just didn’t realize it.”

✧ [AUTHOR’S NOTE]:

For more EVE content check out the #hns.eve tag 🩵

Lyrics are a mix of translations from the og song and Mitch Joseph’s cover.

OFFICIAL EVE CHARACTER AI

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 4

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN LESS THAN A WEEK. BRING ON THE GRINDDDDDD. I will warn that my motiviation for each of my fics comes in waves, so you'll probably get chapters in random chunks ngl. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

PART 1: Chapter 4

Unconditional Violence.

Bambsquabbled (Definition): A 19th Century American slang word essentially meaning stupefied or confounded. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 18th December, 1929.

You had expected the additional Tuesday Mr LeBlanc had given you off to prepare yourself for the radio company to consist of you sleeping in until 11am. But dreams are short lived when you have an aunt who insists the ass-crack of dawn is prime time for everything.

You guessed it was fun to climb onto the roof of your relative’s vast home to collect the crystals you had both put out under the full moon, before the energy given to them was whisked away by the rays of the early golden hour. But when nerves settle in like the green spirals of nausea the night before, sleep takes the hand of another, leaving you to lay there with your over-active mind as it drags you through every possibility and event that could end up with you looking like an idiot in front of your new colleagues, or worse. Can’t think of much worse. But the universe will find a way.

It always does.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, it was barely 6am and you already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Your cousins had found you curled up on the bench swing, having dragged your duvet outside as you balled yourself up like a worm, sipping on the iced tea Agnes had bought you the day before in an attempt to settle your nerves. It did. A little.

And now here you were, the first half of your new workday having gone as smoothly as your awkward self could do.

Ethel, who’s desk was closest to yours, had dubbed you the quiet one after spending an hour running her mouth at you with barely a break for you to chime in. You had also already created quite a commotion on the third floor, a few people intrigued by the new ‘foreigner’. Well – as foreign as you can get when you’re from another English-speaking country, in the biggest cultural melting pot of a city had ever seen in your rural life. But they found you interesting enough.

The oddest thing you had experienced that day, however, was a strange request from your new boss – Mr Durham himself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pull off a local accent?” he had asked when showing you the phone on your desk.

All you could do was blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured to the phone. “Since you’re my assistant, you’re gonna be filtering through the calls I get before passing them onto me. Now, there might be an issue if someone calls expecting to hear me, but instead find themselves speaking to a British girl on the other end. Some can be impatient and might end up putting the phone down before you explain.”

Memories of that one very unpleasant phone call flooded your mind. “Even if I answer: ‘Hello W.A.D Radio, this is Mr Durham’s assistant speaking’??” you replied monotonously.

“You’d be surprised.” He sighed. “But do you know how to anyway?”

Frowning, you recalled your time in the cities further in the North. “I guess..? A girl I rented a room from in New York insisted on teaching me for when we went into town, but I struggle to see how it’s important?”

The man put his hands together, pointing them at you in a prayer motion. “Just.. try it out? Talk like your colleagues when you see them, to see if you can get a hang of it – I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Please?”

You gave him a wavering look, but sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, but they can’t make fun of me.”

He beamed, patting you on the back in satisfaction. “I’m sure they won’t! I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

And with that, you sat in your new chair, trying to pointedly ignore the sign at the other end of the room that pointed you to the fifth floor, and began your attempt to settle in.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 8th January, 1930.

There wasn’t much to celebrate when the new decade rolled around. Gone were the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’, when you would join your parents at the parties and balls they were invited to – when it was acceptable, of course; those higher up in the class hierarchy still grasped to the dwindling standard that children should be seen, not heard. The year you turned eighteen ended up being quite interesting, when the older women who had turned snooty at the sight of your teenage self wandering around their stately homes, tried to attempt a 180°, as they congratulated you reaching adulthood with strained smiles. But you paid them no mind, too busy staring at the paintings or statues that lined their corridors – a stark contrast to the more barren and plain wallpaper that coated the walls you grew up in.

But now that was far behind you, the English garden parties in the spring and summer that you adored so much were now a mere echo in the distances of your mind. The noises of tiny forks clinking on fine china as the little birds twittered in the trees now replaced by the sputtering and groaning of automobiles as you gripped the pole of the tram, your arms tight against your chest as you tried your best to not let the swaying of the vehicle toss you about into the crowd of packed bodies around you.

Making sure the scarf was tucked safely around your neck, you grasped the small briefcase in your hand – mentally preparing yourself for you first day back at the radio station after the new year. Unfortunately for Mr Durham, a small hurricane had passed over during the holiday, and radio stations across the city were temporarily silenced as their mechanics desperately attempted to repair the damaged towers. And also unfortunately for you, only the hosts were offered a couple days off as things got back up and running, though some still showed to prepare for their shows; you, on the other hand, were still expected to show up like any other day.

So here you were, pushing open the (now familiar) double doors, giving a small wave to the receptionist, who’s name turned out to be Diana, and the woman barely raised her hand in response as she continued to tiredly shift through the concerningly large stack of papers on her desk.

You were just about to climb the wide staircase when you heard her call your name (something you were very surprised she knew, considering her tendency to ‘accidentally’ throw paperwork in the bin on the daily), and your wedge heels clacked against the tile flooring as you stumbled slightly, turning to face her as her nasally voice echoed around the large lobby.

“It’s best you stay in the shadows today.” She warned cryptically. “Trouble’s in, and the mechanic’s not happy about the damages – Durham’s getting the brunt of it, but you’ll end up in the crossfire unless you hide out during breaktimes.”

All you could do for a moment was stand and stare, a million thoughts running through your mind. Mostly about who ‘Trouble’ was, and why Diana thought you couldn’t handle the guy and the other mechanic. You did handle the radio man at the repair shop after all, and speaking of the radio, you were quite proud to say you had finished the it in time for Christmas, and had shipped it off with a very passive-aggressive note that hinted for the man to basically never return. Luckily, Mr Boudreaux hadn’t replied to any of your letters since you had begrudgingly accepted the object, but you had suspected he had called the shop once or twice, and you had left Mr LeBlanc to deal with it, mostly because he was quite terrified you would call another customer every name under the sun the second they tried to give you trouble.

Glancing back and forth between Diana and the stairs, you mumbled a slow “Oookay…” before nodding your head and turning on your heel to hurry up the steps. Reaching the third floor, you didn’t stop in your path as you neared your desk, instead dropping your briefcase onto the wooden surface as you dashed by, striding towards the door that had the golden plaque engraved with ‘Mr B. Durham’ onto it. Grasping the handle, you turned the knob, swinging the door open, only to stop in your tracks as you were met with a very empty office.

You frowned. It must be really bad if your boss was no where to be seen. Whipping around, you scanned the main room for him, but only saw a few of your colleagues, the rest still yet to arrive – you were normally expected to be in early to handle Durham’s work as soon as he began.

Throwing your coat and scarf on your chair, you strode back towards the stairs, readjusting the suspenders of your wide-legged trousers as you practically jogged up the steps, and ended up rolling the sleeves of your loose blouse to your elbows as you tried to catch your breath.

On the fourth floor, you spent a couple minutes checking all of your boss’s usual haunts or hiding places, even going as far as interrogating a couple of the workers there for his whereabouts. It wasn’t until some blonde guy that came wandering down the steps from the fifth floor that you got your answer, the man looking up to take in your slightly dishevelled and feral appearance with wide eyes as he stammered out that he was in one of the radio booths. To his further horror, you patted him on the cheek with a thanks as you rounded him, ready to take another flight of stairs to reach your – apparently – floundering boss.

Ignoring the embarrassed sputtering of the man behind you, you eye the sign nailed to the wall, the painted hand pointing upwards with a very bold ‘FIFTH FLOOR’ next to it.

“Don’t go up there until I say you’re ready, okay?” Mr Durham’s words echoed through your mind.

Buuuuut, he did say he wanted to discuss the stuff you brought in your briefcase ASAP.

Yea that’ll be your excuse. You can deal with his complaining later.

Reaching your heel-clad foot out, you took the first step, almost like you were expecting an axe to come swing down and impale your forehead. But when nothing happened, you shrugged, and simply continued up.

Recalling the path your boss had taken you on during the initial tour, you managed to find the dreaded corridor that supposedly housed your greatest nightmare.

Extroverted people.

Yeesh.

At that thought, you did consider turning around, but your urge to drag your boss’s arse back downstairs drowned that thought out, and you carried on.

Surprisingly, it was quiet, but at the same time not so much when you remembered that most of them were plating their somewhat wealthy behinds on their armchairs at home as the rest tried to fix the issues of the storm.

Reaching one of the lit rooms, you heard raised voices.

“–really expect me to know? –” “– supposed to be on in an hour! How is that –”

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to try and witness the potential fiasco. And what a fiasco it was.

Wires, cables, and any other random parts that were used for radio technology were strewn across desks, tables and even the floor. Amongst these were two men, and there was only one you recognised.

Just like you had seen him every day for the past month, Mr Durham was stood in his washed-out blue suit and concerningly shiny shoes, and at this point one hand was on his hip, whilst the other rubbed tiredly at his face as whom you assume was the mechanic, was blabbering the poor man’s ear off as he ranted on and on about random parts and problems and he gestured frantically at said random parts and problems. Wait – nevermind, you recognised one and a half.

The man from across the street was here, with his back to you. Again. For fuck’s sake.

This time he was back in the seat you first saw him in, this time with a few strands of dark-brown hair out of place, curling slightly as if to rebel against the intense styling he had put it through. Peeking your head out slightly further, you managed to get a good look at him.

Well for one, he was a triangle. Stupidly broad shoulders that narrowed into a stupidly small waist (triangle), with lanky legs long enough that you could probably chop them off and fashion them into skis. Despite his face not revealed, you could see the semi-light tan on his hands, that were busy turning knobs and dials as he listened in to whatever was coming through the headphones on his head. He was dressed to impress, to say the least, in smart, dark-grey trousers, who’s ironed out edges looked as if they could slice through skin. His high collared cream shirt was tucked away under a relatively tight looking reddish-tan waistcoat, and to top it all off, you could see the back of the black ribbon that was most likely tied in a stupidly even bow.

You didn’t want this guy to sense your staring, so you opted to look back at the other two men who were still chuntering on about god knows what. Stepping into the light that flooded through the glass, you wave slightly to try and get your boss’s attention. A couple seconds passed, and you watched as the mechanic kept glancing at you and Mr Durham, until eventually he nudged the other man on the shoulder, pointing you out.

Turning his head, Mr Durham’s eyes met with yours, and you raised your hand with a questionable thumbs up to see if all was good, only to watch in slight confusion as his eyes widened, and he whipped his head rapidly between you and the faceless man sat at his desk, before marching over to the door and pulling it open a crack, sticking his head out.

“Hey uh,” he half-whispered, surprisingly nervous at your presence. “what’re you doing here?”

You lowered your voice to match his. “You said to come find you as soon as possible this morning, you know, to go over those statistics from that other station?”

Realisation dawned on the man’s face, and he reached up to drag his hand down the side of it. “Shit I forgot,” he cursed, and glanced over his shoulder before facing you again. “I’ll – uh… I’ll be down as soon as I get this sorted. Marty’s givin’ me a run for his money right now and the second Al takes his headphones off I’m gonna feel like I’m entering an early grave.”

Surprised, you eyed the man sat at the desk, who looked far too calm to be threatening anyone right now. “Ok… I guess it can wait. I’ll bring you some coffee up!” you chirped, and Durham went to call out that it wasn’t necessary, but faltered with a frown as he realised you were already halfway down the corridor.

--

Balancing the tray of cups and steaming jug the best you could, you reached the final step, retracing your route to the radio booth that your boss was probably getting murdered in. Walking up, you waited patiently until Mr Durham noticed you, and watched as he reluctantly trudged over to open the door.

Taking your first step in, you were hit with the very potent smell of strong black coffee, as if someone had some brewing every day, and you figured you had made the right call of fetching the same beverage as you placed the tray down on one of the tables.

The mechanic was still going off on one, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as you slowly began pouring the coffee into the cups, listening to the greasy-looking man speak.

“– there’s literally no reason that I can find that’s causing the local outage!” he spouted at your frowning boss. “The boys have already fixed the aerial, and David’s currently on-air and that’s working perfectly fine, so it has to be something in this room!”

During the man’s tirade, you noticed the rustling of papers, and looked over to see the faceless man again, still at his desk, but his hands were fiddling with no purpose, and his head was turned to the left slightly, showing his high cheekbone and the edge of his thin circular glasses.

Looked like someone else was listening in too.

Biting your smile down, you turned back towards the cups in your hand, only to have a glint of light pierce the corner of your eye, and you looked in the opposite direction to a large wooden box, with one of the panels removed, displaying the endless wires and springs that coiled and wound in every direction. But you weren’t looking at that, you were instead looking at the screwdriver that was very prominently glinting in the shine of the ceiling light. This must be the painstakingly obvious problem that the mechanic had painstakingly missed.

Giving a quick glance over at the men, you waited until they faced away, scrapping about the wire pile on the floor, and you reached for the wooden teaspoon on your tray, and inched towards the box. Knowing wood doesn’t normally conduct electricity, you raised your hand, testing it anyway against the hanging wires to see if they were live. Seemingly not, you stuck your hand further in, and began nudging at the tool, slowly loosening the wires around it as you dragged it along the bottom of the box.

When they had deemed your silence as suspicious, the mechanic and Durham turned round, only to see you elbow deep in some very expensive equipment.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” the mechanic cried as he rushed over. “The hell are you doin’??”

Instead of jerking your arm back out and apologising to the man who was slowly turning purple, you gave the screwdriver one last flick, and the three of you watched as it dropped over the edge and fell to the floor with a clatter. Moments of silence passed as you all stared at it, until you decided to explain.

“It was tangled in the wires, which would’ve prevented the electricity flow,” you said plainly. “Plus, if you had tried to power it all up, it could’ve set the place on fire.”

All the mechanic could do was stare down at the tool, but Mr Durham had decided to approach, and bent down to pick up the tool.

“Nice one.” He complimented, turning the object in his hands. Though the warm smile he had put on for you quickly vanished, as his eyes set upon the name engraved on the wooden handle. He pointed at it. “This has your name on it Marty.” He said lowly, his blue eyes turning dark as he regarded the paling man with a look of thunder.

Seeing the outcome, you gestured nervously to the beverages on the table. “Coffee’s there, Mr Durham, I’ll see you downstairs.”

Just as you walked around him, he called your name. “Take ten minutes to yourself and grab some tea, whilst I deal with Marty here.”

Nodding, you curtly took your leave, swinging the door open as you power-walked out, failing to see the sharp pair of eyes following you from where they were sat at the desk.

--

You found the break room housed several curiosities that you were yet to explore in America. Apart from the atrocious fact that the tea station lacked the Yorkshire brand, you found yourself poking at what they called a teabag. Yes, surprise, surprise, the Americans invented something tea related before England or even China did, but you had to admit it was rather useful in helping you not gag at the slimy tea leaves that sat at the bottom of most of your beloved brews.

With the table to your right, you leant your hip against it, your back against the door as you rather noisily mixed the spoon around your large mug, making sure the sugar was dissolved properly before you went to strain the teabag. Lifting it carefully out of the boiling water, you gingerly held your other hand out below it to catch any stray drips from hitting the floor, scanning the room in front of you for a bin that you could chuck it into.

What you foolishly had failed to do however, was hear the footsteps that grew in volume from behind, and you hadn’t realised anything until a very uncomfortable prickle hit the side of your neck, as a very unwanted presence loomed over you. Though, that didn’t last long, as the presence decided to deafen you instead.

“So YOU’RE the new assistant!”

A banshee screech raised from your throat, the teabag flying through the air and onto the floor by your feet as you basically jumped three feet up. Instinctively, however, you didn’t realise what was happening until one elbow flew upwards, slamming into the nose of the man behind you, the other flying round to collide with his ribs. Teaspoon armed in hand, you spun around to face your assailant, only to step on the soggy teabag that was still on the floor, and you cried out again as you slipped and slammed into a very firm chest. Eyes screwed shut, you felt the two of you fall, though quickly broken by the table behind you.

Relieved that you were no longer falling, you swiftly blinked your eyes open, your dark brown ones meeting a pair of equally matching brown. Moments passed as you took in the scene in front of you, and you realised you finally had a face to put to the lanky man from earlier.

Said man was groaning as he rubbed at his nose, his lips twisted into a grimace as he checked for blood. What you noticed however, was the several poignant glances the man took to your right, and you followed, only to see you hand raised, teaspoon in hand, pointing down at him as if you had a machete, ready to stab the lights out of him.

A small gasp left your throat at the realisation, and you quickly pushed yourself off, pointedly ignoring the grunt the man let out as you knocked at his ribs. Taking several steps back, you distanced yourself from him. He had gotten close before, he wasn’t about to do so again.

You watched as he pushed himself up on his elbows, using the table as a support as he stood. To a disturbingly tall height might you add. Looks like you did just reach his nose after all.

“I’m uh,” you started as you eyed him, teaspoon machete still in hand, strangely, you instinctively used the southern accent you learnt – it was the one you used with strangers. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that.” Reaching over, you snatched up a napkin, offering it to him. “Y’haven’t got anything…?”

Dark eyes flitting between you and the outstretched napkin offering, you watched as something seemed to switch in his demeanour, and a natural smile fell across his tan face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He assured, and you blinked at his prominent transatlantic accent. “I figured that wasn’t the best way to say hello to a stranger!” he laughed as he smoothed down his crumpled waistcoat. Reaching his lanky arm out whilst tucking the other behind him, he offered his hand out in greeting. “The name’s Alastor, my dear. And who do I have the most entertaining pleasure to be speaking to?”

You stared at his hand, then flicked your eyes up to him, scanning his grinning face with vigour.

Where, oh where, had you heard that voice before?

Your silence seemed to confuse this Alastor guy, however, and his eyes darted around in confusion as you continued to stare. From what you could see, he had come to a very wrong conclusion about your silence, and leaned over at you slightly, bringing his face level with yours.

“Cat got your tongue, my darling?” His growing cheshire grin reminding you of two very similar people. “You clearly must find me that dashing if your this speechless, haha!” he chortled, the condescension rolling off him in waves.

Oh, you knew exactly where this guy was from.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinised him as you quietly muttered out a single word.

“Boudreaux.”

Alastor blinked, eyes darting around your face, before raising a hand to cup at his ear. “I hate to say but I didn’t quite catch that!” he exclaimed rather loudly.

You felt your brows begin to furrow, so you raise your voice slightly. “I said, Boudreaux.”

Oh you did it now. Sparkles seemed to glitter behind his chocolate eyes as he perked up with glee, straightening up to his full height. “So you do know me after all! I was starting to think you simply had nothing going on in that head of yours!”  he simpered as he tilted his head to look down at you.

Despite his clear mocking, you remained quiet for a moment longer, until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“…You work in a radio station.” You stated flatly.

Alastor looked around, acting as if he had just realised as such. “Yes I am quite aware!” he affirmed in an obvious tone. “Did you want an award for that observation?”

You had to refrain from gaping at this man’s audacity. “… Couldn’t you have just fixed it yourself?”

The man blinked at you. “Fixed what now?”

Oh, this was it. Stepping forward, you didn’t stop until you face was a hand-lengths away from his, and you watched with satisfaction as he shifted at your invasion of his space – talk about a hypocrite as someone who clearly loved to invade the space of others. Staring at the man dead in the eye, you fully dropped the southern accent, your Yorkshire one coming back through full force.

“Your mum’s radio.” You stated simply, raising your brows to regard him with a condescending look that matched his.

You had expected him to brush it off, laughing when he realised who you were. What you hadn’t expected for his pupils to blow wide, his eyes darkening as they narrowed, scrutinising your gaze with his own, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Oh,” he said lowly. “It’s you.”

Keeping your gaze levelled, you gripped the spoon harder in your hands. That is, until your name was called.

The two of you straightened up, you leaning to look around Alastor as he spun on the spot, the both of you facing Mr Durham, who was looking between the two of you rather nervously. He called your name again.

“C’mon.” he said, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. “Let’s go over those papers you brought.”

Without a second thought, you darted for your mug of tea, grabbing it along with an almost empty bottle of milk to put in it as you strode around Alastor, feeling the hand of your boss as he put his arm around your shoulder as he quickly led you away, and the back of your head prickled, definitely feeling the sharp eyes on your retreating back this time around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALASTOR'S HERE RAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Watch me disappear from the face of the earth for a week cuz of my executive dysfunction lmao (Blame my adhd not me she's a seperate entity at this point.)

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 5!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

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[darkbluekies]

OC’s with a reader who gets insecure/jealous a lot? Like they’re scared that Yandere will leave them for someone else, open their relationship, cheat on them, ect.

Alright, I think I’m done, for now

-🦇

Warnings: mentions of killing, Jerry being nsfw as usual lol

[I'm really testing my limits with Jerry's part, I've never written something like that before, but I'd like to be able to write all kinds of stuff and to make Jerry's character realistic i need to go out of my comfort zone! Please bare with me lol]

Silas:

To be honest, this man would he completely dumbfounded. Why would he ever want someone else when he knows he has you waiting at home for him? He barely has time to meet you, so when would he have time to hook up with others? He would think that your worries are a bit silly, but he wouldn't be too mocking about it.

"My God, baby, aren't your sweet, little head getting a little full with all of those stupid thoughts? I only want you. I'd never dream of looking at someone else. Just knowing that you're here waiting for me every night is all I ever need. Come into my arms now, I’ll show you that you're the only one i want."

Dr Kry:

You wouldn't have told him at first. Your relationship is purely professional, he's your doctor and you're his patient. You're not allowed to feel jealous. But you can't help it! Dr Kry is not a stupid man, he picks up on this quite quickly and asks you about it. When he hears how you don't like him being so close to his colleagues, he'd fight the urge to smirk so widely. He'd tilt his head and cross his arms.

"My little Y/N … haven't you understood yet? Who do you think I want? Who do you think I spend the majority of my time with, hm? Who I look forward to meeting everyday? Who I dream about when I'm asleep? Who's my favorite patient, Y/N?"

King Edmund:

You don't understand why you're afraid of him having lovers. You don't like him! You've told yourself that! But still, it stings in your heart when you see him greeting people by kissing their cheeks. One night, you can't take it anymore and tell him your fears. Edmund doesn't care about much, but you're something he really values and hearing about this breaks his greedy, little heart.

"My dear, dear Y/N. Don't tell me you've been feeling like this for a long time! Don't tell me you don't understand how much I want you. I killed for you, Y/N! I got rid of everyone that I've ever fancied to make sure you understood. You have no reason to be scared that I'd keep any people behind your back."

Jerry:

She can read you like an open book. She knows how insecure you are and how much you want her approval, attention and love. Jerry might not be the best one to show her loyalty to you, but she trusts you to understand that she'd always choose you. She tries finding other ways than affirming words and affection to reassure you that you're her one and only. Sadly, that's one part about you she can't read, she doesnt understand just how worried you are. You tell her how you don't like it when she goes out to her clubs because you’re so scared that she'll go home with someone.

"Aw, are you jealous? How cute. Haven't I fucked you enough times to know how much you mean to me? Don't I put you first in the bedroom? I don't show that kind of attention to just anyone. I fucking love you, baby! More than anything! Don't you believe me? Really? Guess I have to prove it to you again, my love. I'll stay home. This time, I'll make sure you understand ..."

Hedwig:

She secretly loves you being jealous and insecure. It reassures her that you still want her. She will go out of her way to hug her friends a bit longer than usual and smile to other classmates a bit wider just to feel you hug her arm tighter. You lean your chin on her shoulder with a small whine. She smiles, pretending not to know a single thing.

"What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well? Why the pout, darling? Come here, give me a hug, that's right ~"

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Burn Bright White - A Niklas Kvarforth/OC Story.

It has begun, besties! Please remember, if you like it, reblog it. You've no idea how important that part is to me, and yes, a little comment wouldn't go amiss either. I love to hear that my readers have enjoyed it!

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,464

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don't like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn't tolerated here. At all. Remember, it's fiction, not a documentary ;) It's also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

He felt his hand begin to itch, a figurative followed by physical manifestation, holding his phone in a loose grasp while unlocking the screen. Two seconds passed and he locked it again. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock. Old habits die hard.  

Learning how to be anything different to who he always had wouldn’t come easily to him, and Niklas knew this intrinsically. The two sides within him at constant war with each other would continue that violent clash unless he fought harder, though.  

“I’m trying to be a better person.”  

His therapist had told him the more he spoke it aloud, the more the notion might sink in. He still scoffed at it, at himself. He heard exactly how it sounded, and it nauseated him without fail every time. How was somebody with as many demons dancing around his brain supposed to truly better themselves? Did he even really want to?  

“Yes. Yes, you do.” He wasn’t about to become something he wasn’t, a faded photocopy of the Niklas Kvarforth he’d been for so many years, whether that be by his own desire, mental illness, or what he’d armoured himself with in order to survive.  

He could, however, become someone a little more mentally sound and fundamentally still remain who he was. Not blacking out or having schizophrenic hallucinations was his primary goal, gladly now achieved thanks to the correct treatment. 

Indeed, he was certainly feeling clearer for his recent self-imposed stay within a mental facility, a carefully balanced cocktail of drugs alleviating his cerebral distress. It was the ones which couldn’t be sought from across the counter of a pharmacy that he knew he’d struggle most with, though. Hence the itchy hand.  

The rush of thousands of neurons racing at a billion miles an hour, pleasure receptors tickled by Bolivia’s finest marching powder was what he craved, now he was free to simply dial a number and have it delivered to his door within the hour. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock... Unlock.  

“Ahh, so you’re alive, then?”  

He half smiled at Miika’s assertion. “Apparently.” He certainly didn’t feel it. A half existence, no drugs, no fun, no hedonism in the excess he revelled in. But at least his brain didn’t feel like it was trying to drown him in morosity. Or worse. Woo fucking hoo.  

“Usual?” An eighth of blow, always. He never deviated. Miika was only surprised his septum hadn’t by now, such was the depth of his habit.  

“Yeah.”  

“Within the hour.” The call ended, Niklas throwing his phone down at his side, lacing his fingers behind his freshly shaven head as he leaned back on the sofa, frowning at himself. Weakness. He couldn’t even be free of hospital for seventy-two hours without needing to call his dealer. Cocaine would very likely fuck up the tentative balance he’d actually put effort into achieving, but the side of him that courted chaos didn’t much care for that.  

Blow was an alluring mistress in that respect, and she always would be. At least weakness would lead to something that felt better than the monotony of an even keel, mentally speaking.  

“You must seek a path to finding your pleasure elsewhere, outside of the endless stream of narcotics and excess, Niklas.”  

Those trite words spoken by his therapist echoed around his head, his brow creasing slightly. Everything else mostly bored him to death. Naturally, his thoughts went straight to another pastime.  

He could simply distract himself with a woman, he certainly knew where to go to have one throw themself at him within minutes, with him having to do nothing more in way of effort other than show up. An easy lay. Oh, how boring they’d become to him, though. Securing a willing woman to bounce on his cock for the evening held no thrill beyond the act itself. They were all so banal. Square one loomed large.  

After zoning out for about half an hour, his long form hauled itself from the sofa with a grunt. A nearby Katze paused in her paw grooming to study her person, Niklas receiving her head thudding against his palm as he reached for her. Moving to the kitchen, he put on some music along the way, then poured a very large drink.  

Incredibly, he was fine to do so on his current medication, but had been strictly instructed that it didn’t give him a free pass to teeter into excess. So far, he’d actually been quite reserved. One the day before, two the day before that, a pleasant buzz tingling through his blood now that a few months of sobriety had vastly lowered his tolerance.  

Mind you, a Niklas-sized measure of alcohol was much, much larger than that of any average person. Unless the tumbler was half full, what the fuck was the point?  

A curt, yet sharp knock sounded the front door on his way back to the lounge, Niklas veering off course to go and let Miika in. Upon opening the door, though, it was not the burly strawberry blonde drug dealer he found upon the other side.  

It took him a few seconds to form words, so startled he was by the sight before him. Sexy just did not fucking cut it at all. “And you are?”  

Of course, he was expecting her brother. Miika had warned his younger sister that Niklas could sometimes be difficult. He’d also asserted that he’d likely come onto her, but then again, most people did. Besides, it was nothing Taissa couldn’t handle, and her brother knew this well. Hence why he’d asked her to cover the drop. 

“Waiting to be let in.” He still didn’t move, the tall man merely standing there with his eyes roving her unabashedly. She was used to it, Taissa sighing. It took little for her patience to wear thin. “Miika sent me.”  

At that, he swung the door open far enough for her to walk through it, the tall, lithe blonde striding through, Niklas feeling his pulse begin to quicken at the swing of her hips. His dark lord below... that was one hell of an attractive woman.  

She looked like a porcelain doll, with her hair gleaming, pale blue eyes, tits that were definitely too big to be hers by nature, and lord, that ass. Those legs. Those legs in those stiletto heeled, knee high boots, too, once of which she unceremoniously lifted to rest on the hallway table, unzipping the boot and pulling out a bag before fastening it back up again with a swift tug.  

All he could imagine was how those heels would feel digging into his ass while he piledrived her against a wall. Yes. He could definitely go in for some of that.  

“Stay for a drink and a line?” he offered, his eyes once again touring her appreciatively. 

“No,” she spoke firmly, holding up the baggie between her index and middle finger, her glossed pout gleaming in the bright light of his hallway. “Money.”  

He lowered his head, staring from under furrowed brows. “You’re rude.” His assertion seemed less offended and more amused, though. Offense wasn’t triggered easily within him. 

“I’m busy,” she huffed, looking agitated. “Stop fucking me with your eyes and pay up.”  

He almost laughed at that. She was acerbic, she had bite. He liked it. “What if I fucked you with my tongue instead?”  

Taissa would be lying if she’d stated her insides hadn’t pinched pleasantly at hearing a man that attractive offer such, but her facade didn’t falter. “As I stated, I’m busy. I want my fucking money. Now.”  

Oh, she was something else, Niklas smiling despite himself as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the required cash, offering it forth. She sauntered to him slowly, all feline glide, except hers was less housecat and more panther, taking the assortment of notes and handing him the bag.  

Giving herself a moment, she let her eyes wander. He was thick without being massively out of shape or overly muscular, very tall, liberally smattered in tattoos, and god, he smelled good.  

“For someone who’s busy, you like to linger,” he noted, the air around them seeming to crackle as they became drunk in the pull of one another’s intense, unflinching stare.  

“Can’t be helped,” she spoke, her eyes flitting to his mouth, her fingernail trailing down over the side of his neck, setting his skin to quiver. “Your beard is just the right length to really enjoy riding your face.”  

Hooking her finger beneath the thick, silver curb chain around his neck, she yanked him close, her mint-scented breath fluttering against his lips, turning her head to place a bite upon his jaw. “Maybe next time, big guy. If you work for it hard enough.”  

She breezed out of the apartment just as rapidly as she’d entered it, leaving Niklas standing there with his cock pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. He’d never ran after a woman in his entire life, but fuck, the urge to at least power walk after the enchanting blonde was a tough one to fight.  

The only enchantress he was to have a dalliance with that night was the cocaine in his hand, though, of which he truly couldn’t get up his nose fast enough. This then left him with somewhat of a quandary; he was high as hell, and only had Katze for company. No. That wouldn’t do.  

Picking up his phone, he called the only other constant in his life, his friend Bjorn, a fellow native of Sweden he’d met a few years ago after he’d done some digital artwork for Shining. He was a good time, unpretentious, and could keep up with Nikas’s heady excess. The perfect partner in crime.  

Except, that was, when he actually answered his phone. 

“Pick up, you fucking cunt,” he spoke tersely, aggravated. “Pick up!” He wasn’t about to be defeated quite so easily, though. Just because he didn’t answer the first time... 

Four more attempts over the space of ten minutes where what finally pissed Bjorn Nilsson off enough to grab his phone from the table. 

“What, Kvarforth?” he demanded, sounding somewhat irate. 

“Nice to hear your voice too, darling,” Niklas teased, lighting a cigarette. “I have an eighth of blow and the urge to go drinking. You coming?” 

He fucking would have been, had his friend quit in persisting to repeatedly call. “Nah, man. I’ve got company. Company who has my dick in her mouth right now.” 

Niklas rumbled a chuckle. “Answering while you’re getting blown? Either she can’t be that good, or you just wanna hear my voice so you can come faster.” 

Bjorn couldn’t keep his laughter in. “Don’t play with me, daddy.”  

“So, are you coming out, or what?” He didn’t immediately reply, making a noise that sounded halfway between a groan and a thoughtful hum. “Out of ten, what is she?” 

“Six?” 

His eyes widened a fraction. “A six? You’re contemplating over a six?” How fucking rude of him. “C’mon, you can come out with me and score a ten. Lose the chick and meet me here in a half hour.”  

He made a point, Bjron supposed. “Alright, see you then.” Needless to say, the girl he was with didn’t hang around for long enough for him to come, insulted at his casual rebuff of her efforts. True to his word, though, just under half an hour later the front door was hammered upon by the pounding of two hands.  

“There’d better be a fat line in there with my name on it, you fucking sexy, bald bastard.” 

Fuck, he’d missed him, Niklas grabbing his face and kissing his forehead. “Of course. Get the fuck in, brother.” 

True to form, Bjorn had snorted one of the two prepared lines before Niklas had even arrived back in the lounge, wiping his nose as he sniffed heavily. Ahhh, quality blow. His friend never scored anything less. “So, rehab worked out well for you, eh?” 

As always, Bjorn was a sarcastic fuck. “It wasn’t rehab, and you know it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Rehab, mental hospital. Same difference. No fun,” he chimed, waving his hand dismissively. “You feeling better though? No more blacking out and seeing shit that isn’t there?” 

“None of that,” he confirmed, sinking his bourbon and pouring another, a measure for Bjorn too before grabbing the rolled-up note and snorting the remaining line of coke upon the coffee table. “Which is exactly what I wanted, to get that fucking bullshit under control.” 

“And the being a better person pledge?” 

Niklas side eyed him, lighting a cigarette. “I can be better and still enjoy myself, brother. Despite what my fucking therapist states. ‘Find your pleasure outside of narcotics and excess’, she said. Blah, blah, blah.” 

Bjorn raised an eyebrow, Niklas continuing. “I’m fucking great now the psychosis is under control. Plus, I’m only really a massive fucking asshole when I get completely wasted, so I won’t. See? Better person.” 

“Remains to be seen,” he grinned, earning a glare he cracked up at. “Oh, fuck off. I love you either way, man.” 

“You’re probably the only person who does. Drink up.”  

Bjorn looked mildly incredulous. “Hey, can you let me have my high hit me properly first?” 

“No. I want tequila and pussy. Stop being a bitch and hurry up, and trust me, if I can’t find anything decent regarding the latter, I’m banging you.” 

“Tease,” he snickered, picking up his drink and sinking it in one. “Alright, let’s go. I’m choosing the location, though.” 

“Fuck, no,” Niklas snorted, “you’ll have me in some fucking metal club. Nah. Not happening.” If he went anywhere beyond a late close bar, it was usually an underground hip hop club, or the Bandidos clubhouse. It was too much like taking his work home with him, frequenting a place where he’d be instantly recognised. Then again, the women there... the fucking women. Little effort, instant reward.  

It would be fair to say his hallway dalliance with the pneumatic, drug dealing blonde earlier had left him feeling somewhat restless there.  

“Where?” 

“Could you roll your eyes any higher, Kvarforth?” 

“Yes. Now, where?” 

“Roadhouse?” It was perhaps the biggest metal club in Tampere, the most obnoxiously loud and the least favourite of Niklas’s. Bjorn, however, loved it. Mainly because it was a meat market and the drinks were cheap.  

Well, if there was any other reason to go beyond scantily clad women and reasonably priced booze, he was yet to discover it. He would, though, for he had no idea that as he and Bjorn left his apartment, they were followed for the duration of the fifteen-minute Uber ride across the city.  

Yes. When Taissa Aho set her sights upon something she wanted, she went to great lengths to ensnare it.  

[xfgpng]

reader description :: petite asian female, 21, 5’0, medium length straight hair + pale skin

reader :: jackie lee

commissioned :: ✔️ (as in a follower’s oc lmao, not my own)

wc :: 3k

warnings :: angst, fluff, feelings realisations, mentions of blood, guns + murder

despite the nagging feeling he had all morning, after seeing jackie in that state, he didn’t really want to think about what would happen if they decided to leave again without her.

for some reason, sebastian felt responsible for her though he didn’t know why or when it even began. ciel was upset and understandably so but they both decided it would be wise to let her join on their new mission. it was further away from the manor and it would be a few days so even if they did try to leave without her, sebastian had no doubts that she would not be too happy about it and he was starting to wonder why he even cared how she felt.

jackie had an unknown hold over everyone in the manor but no one wanted to dwell on that fact for too long. the point was that despite her insistent flirting and the short skirts she’d wear to torment sebastian every other day, she was trustworthy which was important in the phantomhive manor and most importantly, jackie was loyal to a fault.

“you need to stay by my side at all times, do you understand me?” sebastian says firmly, ignoring the warmth seeping through his uniform where she gripped onto his arm.

usually, the carriage ride was filled with a comfortable silence. they’d briefly discuss the mission and then ciel would nod off, as much as the young master denied it.

today, however, was different. the man ciel was meeting was their actual target. he had been kidnapping young women off the streets at night and leaving nothing but a shoe behind.

he was dubbed the cinderella killer and despite the police trying to find him, they’d come up short each time and finally, ciel had to step in. sebastian had found a lead just a few days ago and had secretly been tailing the man under ciel’s orders.

“cinderella killer?” jackie frowns, grip tightening around sebastian’s bicep, “how disgusting can someone be to just do such a thing?”

“it’s pretty normal around these areas” sebastian grins, “humans don’t seem to ever actually need a reason to behave so barbarically”

“not all humans are so cruel” jackie says, “I don’t think i’d have it in me to kill anyone”

“no?” ciel smirks, “not even if it was for me or sebastain?”

she doesn’t answer him. it was no use because she’d never been put in a situation where she’d have to do that and she hoped that if she ever were, sebastian would handle it.

“i see” sebastian chuckles at her lack of response, “he’s only teasing, don’t think too hard and worry that pretty little head of yours”

he was mocking her like he always did but there was no hiding the underlying truth. he was smitten by her and fond of her silly antics. anyone could see that but he was still in denial and she was just happy to be included.

“does he know that we’re onto him?” she asks after a moment, “the killer”

“i don’t think he’s stupid otherwise he would’ve been caught by now” ciel sighs, “but i made a deal with him”

“oh?”

“a fake one of course” he adds, “just to let his guard down”

“a professional serial killer who leaves no evidence behind other than a shoe” jackie says dryly, “even the police can’t seem to catch him. i don’t think his going to let his guard down at all”

“you’re too paranoid” sebastian laughs, “he seemed quite surprised to hear from us and he suggested a place to meet”

“you don’t find that weird?” she asks, raising a brow at the man. she knew they were smart but even a serial killer wouldn’t fall for their antics. people might’ve known who ciel was and most people were eager to meet him but word of his help and good deeds had gotten around pretty quickly.

there was just no way this man wasn’t suspicious of ciel.

“you can stay at the inn and wait for us if you’re so worried” ciel offers, “you could be a distraction if you’re too on edge like this”

“no” she says immediately, “i’m fine, i’m just asking questions, that’s all”

jackie had spent hours watching the show and reading the manga before she ended up here and she’d always imagine herself joining them on their missions. a silly daydream that had suddenly become her reality. she was not about to let them push her aside again.


she wanted to experience everything and prove that she was strong enough to handle these cases with them and that despite being human, strong enough to stand beside sebastian.

he had once called her a fool in love, not meant to offend her but because he truly couldn’t understand loving and trusting anyone so blindly. he was still just a demon after all and things could change over night in ciel said so but that didn’t seem to deter her one bit. it only motivated her to prove him wrong.

november evenings were chilly and wet. she was dressed warm but still insisted on keeping close to sebastian. it felt as though he was a natural furnace and she was drawn to him.

“he’s up in that building” sebastian says, glancing around before they walk across the street.

they were trying it be discreet about this meeting, choosing a time when the streets were quiet and everyone was inside their homes. the cold made sure to keep everyone inside and that worked in their favour, ciel wasn’t sure what would happen but he knew sebastian would handle it.

“young master” sebastian says as he opens the large glass doors of the hotel.

ciel enters and jackie follows, looking around in awe that the beautiful paintings and interior decorations. she wondered if sebastian would ever take her to a place like this when they had some free time.

he enjoyed sex in bizarre places but there was nothing wrong with a romantic night in with candlelit dinner. perhaps she was in over her head but she couldn’t help but imagine how romantic it could be if he just let her plan their evenings.

“this way” a man wearing a navy blue suit says, “my boss is upstairs, 3rd floor room 323”

ciel gives him a curt nod and sebastian steps in front of jackie when he notices the man staring at her.

she can’t help but preen under his attention. he was so jealous even though he denied having any sort of feelings towards her. whether it was just him being possessive or whether he truly cared, jackie couldn’t help but be happy for the attention he’d give her anyway.

these days, if he wasn’t busy in the manor or assisting ciel, he gave his attention to her. she’d heard from may-rin that before, sebastian would fool around with other women. while she wasn’t one to gossip, she knew that was true but she also wondered what else may-rin knew.

“stay close” he whispers and she nods, letting go of his arm. she knew she had to be professional and they were about to meet with a serial killer, something she didn’t think she’d ever do in her life.

“ah, please, come in” the man says. he’s a lot taller than she imagined and he’s dressed professionally, as though he is some rich businessman and upon close inspection, he seems to be someone very important.

an aristocrat of some sort which would make sense. they sometimes seemed to have weird hobbies and his seemed to be abducting and killing young women.

she recognised him from the paper. she’d read an article just a few weeks ago and he was being awarded. he was a big shot in the business world as well as the government.


it made perfect sense why no one would even suspect him, he was too much in the public eye and it was the perfect disguise if jackie could say so.

he was smart too, judging from the way he held the conversation going with ciel.

it was all too perfect really. he had no reason to be worried about the police because they all trusted him and he must’ve had connections.

she glanced around the suite. it seemed to be much larger than a regular suite would be and when she glanced back to him, he was watching her intensely.

“is this your helper?” he asks

“yes she is” ciel says, “this is jackie”

“nice to meet you” he smirks, reaching out to take her hand and out the corner of her eye, she can see sebastian twitch.

“you seem to enjoy collecting jewellery” jackie says, her smile forced as she moves towards a large glass case. it was displayed for everyone to see and from what she could tell, it was all women’s jewellery and the thought made her sick to her stomach.

these were not just any pieces, they were his souvenirs, souvenirs from his victims that he proudly displayed because he was that cocky and confident. he knew that he’d never get caught, not by the police anyway.

“i do wish you weren’t here this evening” the man sighs, “it makes it so much harder to do this”

“do what?” ciel asks

but before he can even ask anything else, a group of men step into the suite wearing black. the point their guns at the trio and the man laughs.

“i do apologise for this but you’ve brought this upon yourself” he shrugs, not looking sorry at all. “you didn’t have to meddle in my business, i wasn’t bothering you with my hobbies”

ciel doesn’t have to say anything before sebastian moves. he’s faster than jackie has ever seen him move and before she knows it, the room is eerily silent.

“what—”

“you didn’t think you’d actually get away with this” ciel scoffs, “in fact, i think you thought you’d get rid of me and continue like nothing ever happened”

the man panics as he falls to the ground but as ciel is talking to him, jackie sees one of the assassins move for his gun and pull the trigger.

she can’t even remember what happened. all she hears is a loud scream, white noise and everything goes blurry.

her left arm feels numb, right where her shoulder is. her eyes seem to droop and the next thing she knows, she’s falling.

sebastian moves quick, tossing a knife into the assassins neck before he catches her. she can hardly focus on anything other than her heavy breathing and the man begging ciel to spare him.

“why the fuck would you do that?” sebastian yells, blood boiling at the sight of her shaking slightly in his arms. there’s a lot of blood, so much so that it seeps into his pants where she’s laying.

“i.. i had to” she coughs, “he was going to shoot you”

“so!” he snaps, angrily, “you know bullets have no effect on me, what on earth were you thinking jackie!?”

“i know but i was… thinking that you look way too hot in that uniform” she says softly, reaching up with her other hand to cup his cheek, “gun shots would ruin that”

“and.. i love you” she adds

“jackie!” he says but her eyes close after that and he feels his whole body going into shock.

he’s never had to deal with this before and ciel beside him, equally as panicked doesn’t help the situation. he couldn’t care less about the man in the room and he knows they have to deal with him.

love? if love makes you do stupid things then sebastian wanted no parts in it. he was right, humans were stupid and they never thought things through.

he doesn’t understand why he’s so mad, why his whole body refuses to move despite him knowing they needed to leave and get her to a hospital or something.

“no hospitals” ciel says, “she’ll be upset when she wakes”

“young master i—”

“everything will be fine” ciel says, remaining calm despite the way his hands are obviously shaking. they needed to leave, to get back to the manor where they were home and safe. where jackie would be safe.

“come” ciel says, “carry her out and be careful not to put any pressure on her arm”

sebastian knows that. he wants to tell ciel that he’s not stupid and that he knows what he’s doing but he can’t bring himself to move or to say anything else.

ciel can feel that something is off so he grabs sebastian’s hand and squeezes. it seems to work because they’re moving out the room and down the stairs, ignoring the elevator.

“jackie you need to stay awake” sebastian says, trying not to shout too loud, “we’re in the carriage so open your eyes for me”

“i’m tired” she whispers, barely registering anything. she knows she was shot and apart of her is glad her body seems to have went into shock because she can’t feel a thing.

“you can rest when we’re home” ciel says

“home?” jackie grins, a little delirious, “i do have a home”

“yes you do” sebastian swallows, “at the manor so don’t sleep until we get there”

“okay” she agrees easily but is already slipping back into sleep, head resting against sebastian’s chest where he holds her firmly against his body.

“stupid stupid stupid” sebastian says, squeezing his eyes shut. he wants to throw her off his lap, scream at ciel and her for putting him in this situation though he knows it’s not their fault.

he wants someone to blame and he knows he should’ve made her stay. she’d be hurt but at least she wouldn’t be shot. she’d be sad but she wouldn’t have lost so much blood.

the room is dimly lit when she opens her eyes. she tries to sit up but can’t, wincing at the sharp pain she feels in her shoulder.


sebastian is immediately at her side, forcing her to lay back down. he’s no longer wearing his uniform, dressed down completely which is something she’s never seen him do.


when she looks at his face, he’s frowning, something else she’s never seen before and she can’t help but smile despite the pain because it’s so obvious that he cares for her.

he could’ve had anyone else take care of her but he stayed even when she was unconscious. he hasn’t even showered, still covered in her blood and the sight shouldn’t make her so happy but it does.

“you’re an idiot” he scoffs, trying to hide how relieved he is that she’s awake.

“yes but i’m alive” she grins, “and you still look sexy, i’d say that’s a win in my books”

“well change the books you read because it’s making you stupid” he says dryly, helping her drink some water before wiping her face off with a towel nearby.

“i’m sorry” she says, reaching to hold his hand and she’s only a little surprised that he lets her.

“you know nothing can happen to me” he says, “but you… you’re different”

“i don’t know why i panicked and moved without thinking” she sighs, “it was stupid but i wanted you to be okay”

“jackie” he glares but he doesn’t let go of her hand

“yes i know” she shakes her head, “i won’t do that again”

“you’ve upset me” he admits, “but you’re okay so i suppose that’s more important right now”


she’s never seen him this upset before. they’ve experienced a few things since her time here but an angry sebastian directed at her felt different.

“i need some time” he says after a while and she looks up at him, eyes widening when he does let go of her hand.

“seb—”

“i need to shower and then the young master needs my assistance” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “you need to rest”

she’s seen him blow up, shout and get even kill but him being so calm while being mad at her makes her heart clench uncomfortably. she knows she messed up and it would be a while before she’d be allowed to go with them anywhere that related to cases.

“you can sleep, i won’t be coming back this evening” he tells her, but he still leans down and grabs her hand again.

he kisses her knuckles gently, avoiding eye contact because he knew now that if he looked at her, he’d give in to those pretty eyes and she still needed to rest and also think about what she did.


if he was being a little petty, it was only because he still needed to understand why he reacted the way he did. apart of him felt closer to her than ever before but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

he knew how she felt about him, had come to terms with accepting that no matter what he did or tried to do, jackie wasn’t phased.

and besides, she was far too charming to stay angry at forever.

“i really am sorry” she calls after him, making him stop just before leaving her room, “you’re right, it was stupid of me and i should’ve been thinking before acting but sometimes we do things we don’t even understand ourselves”

“even if you’re not human, that’s something you must understand right?” she asks and he sighs

“jackie, you can’t—”

“i love you” she cuts him off, “i don’t need you to tell me that you love me, it doesn’t change how i feel and you don’t get to tell me how to feel either”

“i know you do” he sighs, turning to face her and despite being upset, he could never deny how beautiful she was even laying there with an injury she should’ve not had.

“so you can stay mad as long as you need to but i’m not going anywhere” she frowns, looking away from him, “i just need you to know that”

he rolls his eyes but he can’t stop the fond smile even if he tried to.

“no sex for a while but i’ll come back once i’m done” he says and she grins because she knew he’d never stay mad too long.

[mars101]

❝ Insomnia ❞

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☆ PAIRING = ex!seonghwa x ex!reader

☆ GENRE = second chances, ex's to ???

☆ WARNINGS = slight angst, talks of miscommunication, mentions of food, they fall down a hill (😭), the pov confusing and idk either

☆ WORD COUNT = 4.8k

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★ SYNOPSIS = communication or the lack of was the reason that brought you and seonghwa apart, your friends hope that a single conversation in a locked room will bring you two back together.

★ RELEASE DATE = 10/09/23

★ SONG INSPO = insomnia -> yukika

★ AUTHOR'S NOTE = im finally done with this damn oneshot, i cant omg. months of quitting and regaining my inspiration finally payed off… ok pls have fun reading, sunny's an oc btw ok antyways happy reads !! <33

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Act 1: Our Present

"I know you two were once in love."

"So where's the place?"

Mumbles are heard through the phone as Hongjoong starts to walk towards the window. "Turn your stereo down and maybe you'll finally hear me. Are you sure you're actually here?" his words are stretched out as he cranes his neck to look out into the street. The gps on your phone continues to say one minute away, you roll your eyes as it's been saying that for the last four minutes.

"Y/n. There's three cars outside alright?-" 'Okay" "We are the third house from the top of the hill-" "Why so high?" "And then Wooyoung and... oh wait.. Wooyoung and Seonghwa should be outside."

The car goes silent as now the only thing you hear is the soft rumbling of the car and the faint sounds of the music you turned down earlier. I mean you knew you were going to see him eventually but you didn't think it'll be this soon.

"Do you want me to make an excuse for him to come inside?"

Hongjoong's question brought you out of your silence, "No no, I mean it's been a year now, I should be alright." Keyword: "Should". It seems that after he said that, the house your friends had rented popped into view as you see the two mentioned.

"Oh is that you-" "Okay bye." You hang up on Hongjoong as Wooyoung starts to wave at you in the car, for someone who drove for two hours he looks far too cheerful. To his right was him. The smile that kept you up at night plastered on his face as you two kept the eye contact for longer than the eye contact for exes should be.

"Y/n noona!, lower the window!!"

"Wooyoung, you don't need to yell when you are right outside the window" said boy instantly leans into the car once the window is fully rolled down, already making himself comfortable. "So what? I just wanted to talk to you, it's been too longgg" he was dragging out his words as his bottom lip poked out.

You poked his forehead as you gestured him to move away, "Woo, I was at your birthday party two months ago. Now move it's cold, some people want to go inside." Wooyoung let you turn your car off as he went to the trunk of your car to help you bring stuff in. (it was only three things)

As you stepped out of your car you heard another set of footsteps come near you. The breath gets caught in your throat as you already know who's going to be behind you. The soft and clean scent still follows him after a year, oh how much you missed it.

"Do you need any help?" The sparkle in his eyes as he looks down at you has you wondering if this is real or a dream. Even at Wooyoung's birthday you were having a hard time even looking at him from across the room, but now that he's right in front of you it's making you feel as if every single emotion you've once felt with him is coming back like like a storm.

"Oh, I- Uh- I think-" "Hyung, I left the heavy things for you" Wooyoung makes eye-contact with you and he sends a wink your way. As you turn back to Seonghwa you notice he's looking at your necklace. His necklace that he gave you for your first anniversary. "Well uh, I think you can help me with the bag then."

The first few steps you two took to the trunk of your car was so awkward as you both didn't know what to say. "So, how have you been? I would've talked to you before at Wooyoung's party but I was too scared honestly", "You? Scared?" You couldn't help but to stare at him as a small smirk grew on his face. "Wait, I wouldn't say scared then, maybe just nervous,"

As he handed you your smaller bag and pulled out the bigger bag you also noticed something. A watch. The watch you gave him on that same anniversary.

knock knock knock

"Oh god, what are the kids doing up there.." You follow the direction of his eyes which is where the knocks came from as you see the 99's now scolding San for knocking at the window. "I think we should go inside now, Wooyoung started to eat your snacks." His pointed finger leads to Wooyoung inside flailing the bag of chips around as he walks in a circle around the poor boy.

The place they rented was big, but it felt full with the light music that was playing from Jongho's speaker and the sounds of yelling from the dining area.

You feel Seonghwa take your bag from your shoulder as his warm hand lingers just a bit longer than needed. "Y/n, I'll bring this to your room. Ah, Joong told you that you're rooming with Sunny right?" You nod remembering that it was actually said girl who texted you after months, excited that the two of you will be sharing a room.

"Yeah yeah. I'll be over there greeting everyone so.." The words trail away as it becomes silent again but the man in front of you keeps his smile as he turns you around pushing you lightly towards where everyone is.

The noise becomes louder as you step into the room, only Hongjoong and Jongho seems to notice you as the rest excluding Yeosang and Sunny are somewhere else.

"Hey hey!" The younger of the two raises his hand as a greeting as you give the other a hug. "Hi to our Jongho~ and bye to this loser over here", "Loser?? Did you forget who won the race to the rest station?", "Race??? You only said that after you got there!"

Out of all the people here (there's only 10 including you) you’ve known these two the longest. Meeting both Hongjoong and Jongho in the gym class that included each grade during high school. After beating the two in the class run, races for literally anything has become apart of your friendship.

“Alright alright we already have one argument going on we don’t need another…Noona you were the latest to arrive here though..” A smack on the boy’s shoulder followed with a chuckle from him made you realize. Why are those four still arguing?

“What are they talking about?” As you pushed yourself up onto the counter the two had been sitting on Hongjoong puts his arm around your shoulders slightly shaking you. “How San ruined the moment you and Seonghwa had out there” “M-moment, we were just- he was just helping me with my bags.”

He turned his head to Jongho who’s shaking his head in disagreement with the other, “Hyung. That is not a “moment” the two couldn’t even hold eye contact for that long.” “Exactly why it was a moment. The two were so shy after seeing each other they couldn’t look into each other’s shining eyes.” He turns to you teasingly batting his eyelashes.

You push him off you as the three of you are left with smiles on your faces, then eye-contact is shared with the boy who has been scolded for the last 5 minutes. A yelp is let out from him as he finally sees you entered the room. “Ahhh, when did you get in here???”

The three boys freeze then look at where San was looking at. As you wave to them Mingi seems to be startled too when he flinched grabbing onto Yunho's arm for support. “Y/n noona!! It's so nice to see you again!” Yunho said shaking Mingi's arm off heading towards you for a hug.

“I was so worried that you wouldn't come this year, I remember that one year where you didn't come and- Oh, did you hear about what I said about Seonghwa hyung earlier?” His face fell in realization that you were there for most of their banter.

“Oh come on, you know I always used to block out your petty arguements.” he let out a breath as you lightly punched his shoulder. “Noona it's good that you didn't hear what Yunho said because he was always there when Seonghwa-”

Mingi's mouth was covered with a slap by Wooyoung who started to drag the poor boy out of the room. “Oh hey, where's Yeosang? I think we should go look for him, right Mingi? Okay see you guys later”

Silence was shared with you five still in the room until San broke it, “That guy needs to work on his exits.”

As they now lead into a more civilized conversation you head out of the room to where you will be staying. When you enter the room you see Sunny laying on her bed with a half cleared out suitcase on the floor.

“Y/n!!!” The bright girl practically jumps up from the bed to engulf you in a warm hug. “Sunnyyy we were talking not that long ago” the smile on you face being heard as the girl was always so nice to you.

“Hon. I think a month is a long time ago, are you feeling alright here?” She pulls away from the hug slightly keeping her arms around you. “Because like.. you know who is here..”

“Sunny. You can say his name you know? And you were always closer to him than you were with me” the two of you then sit on the bed you were going to be sleeping on.

Her hands are soft as they caress your own, “Yeah I know but..” The breath she takes in makes you worried about her next words.

“Look, I'm not sure what happened to the two of you. But I know that you were once in love, love is something hard to get rid of once its happened and so I hope you'll be comfortable here.”

Act 2: Our Past

"I just reached for you without thinking,"

The next day you all were headed to the ski resort which was near the place you guys had rented out. The 10 of you were split into cars with Seonghwa and Hongjoong being the designated drivers for the 2 cars. During the car ride there, which was only twenty minutes, the two sitting next to you were Sunny and Yeosang. Next to Hongjoong in the front of the car was Jongho who claimed the seat by "falling asleep" as soon as he hit the chair.

"Soooo, have you been dating recently?" the girl to your right says as you pick your head off the window. "Not really," "Why?", Yeosang then pokes his head out from his spot next to Sunny as the two now look at you as if they're scheming something. Hongjoong looks back through the mirror as his eyebrows furrow at the two, "Why are you two so-", "Noona's been single for too long" Jongho cuts him off as he talks in a sleepy voice.

"Jongho you're awake?" Sunny leans her head to the front trying to see him. "I'm sleep talking."

Before Sunny can react to his statement Yeosang puts his arm in front of her to pull her back as he tells you, "Noona, it's been too long since we've talked to you so we just want to catch up!". As he says that, Sunny leans on you making herself comfortable on your shoulder, "Yeah hon, a lot can happen in 10 months."

"But then again nothing can happen in 10 months too," you lay your head on hers as Hongjoong starts to pull the car into the place. "It's been hard finding someone new, because these days no one is... what's the word..? Uhhh-"

knock knock knock

The knocks on the window startle you as both you and Sunny jump. "AH JUNG WOOYOUNG!" He waves behind the window as everyone else starts to exit the car. Wooyoung opens the door for you and Sunny acting like he didn't just startle the two of you.

As Sunny starts to chase him like they're kids again, you head over to where a majority of your friends are. "Ah, Y/n noona, what do you think?" Yunho asks as he bumps his arm on your side. "Do we eat first or should we go and snowboard?"

"Eat? But we just ate breakfast earlier?-" , "Guys, you see that! That's why we should go snowboard first!" You anticipate the upcoming debate between the group as you look around for where the usual peacemakers are.

Both Seonghwa and Hongjoong are taking pictures by the entrance as you decide to walk towards them. Seonghwa watches your every move towards them as a smile grows on his face, "Seonghwa!! Good smile, this picture will turn out perfect"

By the time you reach them Hongjoong is on the ground getting the perfect angle and Seonghwa waves you over to come next to him. Hongjoong notices this and turns his head, "Oh Y/n join the picture, I just got the perfect angle"

The man on the floor makes you feel as if you're on the cover of Vogue with the way he seems to snap a pic every split second. The blinding flash from his phone is as bright as the white snow everywhere. "Alright alright, you took a lot of pictures already." Next to you Seonghwa brings up a hand to block your eyes from the light.

"Ah wait wait. Just one more..?"

You held the hand in front of your view bringing it down to look at your friend but something behind him takes your attention. "Oh not again.."

The three of you looked at each other before you went over to the booming crowd of your friends. Their voices carrying through-out the entrance (which you're all still in by the way).

"No! I'm telling you, eating first is better before skiing!!"

"Wooyoung-ah I love you but no-"

"Ah ah kids be quiet. What do you guys think?"

Seonghwa looked at you as you shrugged at him gesturing him to just answer, "uhh I think we should just go ski or snowboard first because we already ate earlier."

"Wow of course the two love birds say the same thing."

...

....

Sunny....

The once noisy group of friends were now silent as everyone stared at Sunny who now seemed to realize what she said. In a panic she bursts out in a laugh at the awkwardness that she created, the others joined in slowly as they look around for something more interesting.

Hongjoong, who was deep in thought the whole time broke the awkwardness, "Why don't we just split up? The ones who want to eat go eat first and the others go skiing and snowboarding first." Murmurs of agreement went around as some felt embarrassed because of the simple solution.

"Okay then byebye~~" Sunny was the first to head inside the building to eat dragging Hongjoong with her. You felt something (or someone) get pulled away from your hands as Jongho put himself between you and Seonghwa, "You young people are so cute holding hands"

A smack on both of his shoulders from the two of you came after his comment with the tall duo snickering at the side. The three of them went on forward into the place as you and Seonghwa were left side by side.

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"Did you ever want to see what'll happen if you fall off this swing?"

"Ask another stupid question and I'll push you off your seat."

Your foot that isn't connected to the snowboard you rented knocked into the boy's foot next to you. Jongho was seated in between you and Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho were in the row in front of you guys and kept on turning around occasionally to wave at you three.

Behind the seat your arm and Seonghwa's kept on bumping into each other. In a way, they were like magnets wanting to stay together. "Oh my what is this?"

The younger one put the two of your arms together as he then layed on it, "My arm rests are back," His comment made the two of you scoff but the proud expression on his face was too cute to make you mad.

Seonghwa made eye contact with you before the two of you made a silent agreement. "Oh is the baby happy??" Seonghwa ruffled the boy's hair as you pinched his cheek, "Aww, our baby is so so happy"

"Alright alright, I'll get off," his pouted look made you lean him onto your shoulder. Another wave was sent towards Mingi who turned around again as a squeeze was felt from Seonghwa's hand which was still on your arm.

Jongho let out an exaggerated sigh as you locked eyes with Seonghwa, "Honestly.. I missed this," he mumbled into your shoulder. "Missed what?"

"Well, this. I missed when you two would act like my parents." you used your other hand to pat his head while your eyes stayed locked on Seonghwa's. "I missed it too Jong."

The eye contact was broken as you heard a loud laugh from Yunho after it seemed Mingi fell forward when getting off his seat. "Man I hate this part the most." With a grunt you jumped off the slow swing with the other two following.

While pushing yourselfs forward Jongho proposed an idea. "Let's have a race down the slope," Yunho was the first to answer with a nudge of his arm, "Okay~ I'm in!"

Mingi puts his arms around the two boys pushing his head on theirs, "Loser pays for food later, right?", "Of course loser pays!," your voice is a bit muffled as you're leaned over with your hand on Seonghwa for support as you put your other foot in the board.

"You guys can do your race and I'll just pay later."

"Oh, hyung why? Is it because you're the only one who picked skiing?"

"What? No, I'm just too slow so-"

The things that happened next were so quick that you could miss it if you weren't paying attention. And you were definitely not focused on the conversation happening.

“Ayyy Seonghwa hyung that doesn't matter, you can still— OH NO!” Jongho paired his words with what was supposed to be a light punch on the shoulder but the boy forgot his own strength.

Your hand still holding onto Seonghwa was pulled as he fell from the impact of Jongho's “light” punch. A wave of profanities escaped your mouth as the two of you rolled down the hill. The male wrapped his arms around you tightly as he repeatedly apologized while keeping a protective hand behind your head.

Luckily your fall stopped before you made the halfway mark of the hill. As you got off of Seonghwa and sat up the words that were going to come out of your mouth halted as his hand slowly ruffled the snow out of your hair.

“Are you okay?” his question snapped you out of your trance as you slapped his hand away, “Of course I'm not.. you didn't need to drag me down with you…” Despite the harsh slap from you he continued to help brush the snow off you.

You let him as the silence engulfed the two of you again, but this time it felt comfortable. The sounds of your breathing was all you heard as you stared at the man in front of you. His features are still as beautiful as they were the last time you admired him.

As his hand went from your hair to your cheek, the two of you locked eyes. “W-why did you pull me down with you..?” The intense eye contact made you nervous as the two of you slowly leaned in.

His nose was eventually touching yours and his warm breath which contrasted the cold air around you radiated on your lips. Before the small gap was closed between you he used his other hand to hold yours as he answered your question.

“I just reached for you without thinking..”

Act 3: Our Future

“More like too late.”

"So..?"

"So what?"

“Oh come on, you think I wouldn't notice when two of my best friends all of a sudden become awkward and nervous with each other, well.. again.”

You and Hongjoong were in the small office that the rented house had, it was late and after the ski resort him and Sunny noticed your mood changes. The couch you two were sitting on was small, meaning there was no space between you two during the conversation.

“Jongho pushed Seonghwa and he dragged me with him down the hill.”

The couch started to shake a little as the man next to you tried to hold in his laughter. Eventually his shakes became giggles and giggles became a full on cackle.

“Are you done yet?”

“No of course not, that's hilarious,”

His laughter continued for a bit until he finally calmed down, manually breathing in and out to control himself before he loses his composure again.

“Alright okay, is that it? I mean falling down a hill together can be embarassing..”

“We kissed.”

The slow fade from a smile to a shocked expression on Hongjoong's face almost scared you with how his whole body melted as his hand even grabbbed onto you for support.

He shook his head to get his thoughts back together as you started to get nervous.

“Well it wasn't really a kiss kiss though, it was only a few seconds because I heard the others coming down the hill after us and-”

“OH MY GOD.”

Your rambling was cut off as Hongjoong now started to freak out, “YOU KISSED?? HOW? WHY? WHAT?”

“Joong. The kiss was probably an in the moment action. It probably meant nothing to him.”

Your voice drifted off as you unknowingly held onto your necklace. Hongjoong notices this and recognizes the necklace that Seonghwa gave you.

“But it meant something to you didn’t it?” he took your silence as an answer as he asked another question, “You still love him don’t you?”

“Of course I still do, we were together for over two years and known each other for longer but our relationship ended in such a regretful way.”

Just as Hongjoong’s hand was about to comfort your shoulder there was a knock at the door. Sunny’s head poked through the door as she smiled at you and gestured for Hongjoong to come out the room, “Oh, I’ll be back Y/n.” when Hongjoong left the room another person was pushed into the room.

The door behind Seonghwa was slammed shut as he was in panic because of the forceful entrance. You watched in confusion as he tries to jiggle the door knob that is being held on the outside by Sunny. Seonghwa gives up with a sigh and turns to you, eyes full of longing as are yours too.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

…..

The room was filled with silence, the only thing heard was the sounds of your breaths. Seonghwa walked closer and sat right next to you. His scent engulfs you as there’s little space between you two. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry about that kiss earlier. I think I just.. missed us.”

You can’t help but to stay silent after his statement, your head was now lowered as your eyes shut.

“Y/n.. why’d you leave me?

“Because you left me first.”

The words were barely audible as they came out of your mouth, but you know he heard it as Seonghwa looked at you with a mixture of sadness and regret in his eyes, and you felt your heart ache at the sight. For a moment, it was as if you were transported back in time to the day when everything ended between you two.

Seonghwa's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, his confusion evident. "Left you? What? It... it was you who ended things between us, Y/n."

“Seonghwa.. did you not realize how much you distanced yourself from me? The last few weeks of our relationship was filled of you practically ignoring me at some points.” Seonghwa's eyes were glimmering in confusion and guilt.

Your gaze softened, and you let out a sigh, leaning back against the couch. The words seemed to hang in the air, a mix of memories and emotions swirling around you both. "I guess we remember our last months together differently..."

Seonghwa kept his eyes on you even when the eye contact was broken as his words were filled with sincerity. “Y/n, I love you. But I was second-guessing myself and thinking I was too clingy and too pushy with you. I was distancing myself to make you less uncomfortable.”

“Why didn't you just talk to me..? Even when I broke up with you, you could have at least said something” You feel your voice waver as it starts to get hard to get words out of your mouth.

“I just wanted what you wanted..”

“But all I wanted was you.”

As those words leave your lips, you feel a few tears run down your face. At the sight of them Seonghwa lets his own tears run free too, he brings his hands to your face to wipe them away and at his touch you break down on him.

He pulls you into a hug as your tears start to soak his t-shirt and his own get lost in your hair. Your arms wrap around him, longing for this feeling again for months. “I never wanted to leave you hwa..” Seonghwa plants a small peck on the top of your head, “I know y/n, I know darling..”

“I should've just talked to you.. I don't know why but I was so scared, I didn't want to lose you. But turns out not even saying something made us break up anyways…” You feel Seonghwa’s hand caress your back while he talks which makes you melt into his touch.

“I'm sorry hwa, I still love you. Never stopped..” You stay quiet after saying that, wanting to bask in the feeling of being close to him again. In a cold room there's the embers of the flame growing again between the two of you.

“Y/n… would you let me take you out again after this trip? On a date.. we can wait a few more days of talking again before you say—”

“I'll go on a date with you Seonghwa and we’ll hold hands and hug and kiss and-” Before you can finish your sentence he pecks your lips, “Too soon?” Seonghwa looks into your eyes with stars in his.

The tears in your eyes from earlier faded away as the grin on your face replaced them. Your hands go to rest on his cheeks as they start to glow a pretty pink. Your noses start to tickle each other as you pull him closer, breath feathering on each others lips.

“More like too late.”

★☆★ AUTHOR'S GOODBYE = AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!! i took so long to write this one-shot that i literally got into and out of a relationship twice… and omg i was supposed to finish this by January but its october now ;-; but anyways thank you for reading! YAYAYAY

☆★☆ TAG LIST = @loonaluvz @sanasour @boomhoon

[imnotkosmic]

The Way, oneshot: "Fearfully and Wonderfully Made."

A short oneshot of Little James and my OC, Jaycee, inspired by this qoute: "You were born with an ability to change someone's life. Don't ever waste it."

Every step he took made the ache in his joints worse. Even though they had just stopped to rest and to eat second meal bearly fifteen minutes ago, his legs and even his back started to hurt even more then before. "James!" He heard his name being called. He turned his head around at his friend, Jaycee, walking toward him with a smile and a quick wave. "Yes?" He asked, he briefly closed his eyes as his leg throbed. Jaycee fiddled with one of the bags she was carrying. "Do you want me to carry that?" She asked, mentioning to the bag James had on his back. "Uh- no, I'm alright. Thanks." James said, forcing himself to smile at her. He didn't want to be more of a burden then he already was. Jaycee and their other freind, Thaddeus, had stayed behind the rest of the group with him just incase he needed a rest. "You sure?" Jaycee asked. "Yes, really. I'm fine." Jaycee nodded and ran back to Thad.

~~~

"Alright!" The Master clapped His hands together as they walked into a large clearing. "This is where we'll stay for the night. Sons of Thunder, take everyone's bags and start setting up the tents. Matthew, Phillip, and Little James, please gather some firewood and bring it to Mary, as she will be in charge of cooking tonight. Everyone else, please help in any way you can." They all nodded. With Matthew, Phillip and Little James going into the forest to get some firewood, and the Sons of Thunder setting up the tents, it was quite peaceful for once, with everyone in small groups. Jaycee, Nathaniel, Aamani, Mary and Thomas were setting up the tables and getting last meal ready, the Sons of Jonah were helping the Sons of Thunder, and Zee, Judas, and Thad were unpacking, and Jesus had gone off to pray, saying He'd be back later. In the forest, Matthew and Phillip were talking about Torah so intensely that they hadn't noticed that Little James was lagging behind. Finally, Phillip turned around to see James limping. He quickly tapped Matthew on the shoulder and noded his head toward James. They both stopped and waited for him to catch up. "You didn't have to do that," James said, "I'd eventually catch up." Phillip waved a hand in the air to dismiss James' statement. "That's alright," he said, putting a hand on James' back. "We wanted to wait. And besides," he pointed to James' small figure, "if we left you behind, we'd have to face Thaddeus's wrath." That made James laugh. Phillip grinned. "Whoever collects the most fire wood is excused from cleaning up after last meal." He said. And with that, he ran ahead. "Cheater!" Little James laughed.

~~~

Jaycee was in a little world of her own. She didn't even even hear when Big James called her name from across camp. "I think someone's calling you, Jay." Mary teased. Jaycee's head snapped up to look at Big James annoyingly waving his hands over his head, "Jaycee!" he called. Jaycee sighed, "I'm coming!" she yelled. She walked over there (slowly, just to annoy James), "What is it?" she asked. James looked at John and said, "We've noticed you've been a little.. how do I put this? Stressed? Lately. Just wanted to check up on ya." Jaycee paused. In the little over two years that they've known each other, they all have become like family, even welcoming a Gentile like Jaycee. She smiled, "I'm fine, big guy," she said. "Just a little overwhelmed with everything that's been happening." John grinned, "Somehow it was quiter with John the Baptizer." he laughed. "It was," Jaycee agreed, remembering her short time with the Baptizer. "I miss him." John put his hand on Jaycee's shoulder, "I do too," he said, pulling the Gentile he hated when they first met but know loved like a little sister, into a hug. James joined the group hug, "What's going on?" they heard a voice saying. They looked to see Nathaniel with a bowl in his hands. He raised his eyebrows. James grinnied and quickly pulled Nathaniel into their group hug. "Ah, James!" Nathaniel said. "Your squishing me." John, Jaycee and James laughed. When Matthew, Little James, and Phillip returned from the woods, everything was suspiciously quiet. The women were making last meal, and the men were talking quietly near the fire place. Phillip rasied one of his eyebrows, "Everyone's quiet," he laughed. "Unlike them." Little James smiled, "Unheard of." he agreed. They walked over to where the women were making the food. "Delivery of fire wood!" Phillip exclaimed. Aamani smiled, "It would do much better over near the fire place the men have set up then here, don't you think Phillip?" she teased. Jaycee grinned. "I can help. I'm no use here anyway," she said. Back home, her family had a cook, so she wasn't really a chef. "Thank you." Phillip said, giving Jaycee some wood to take over to the fire place. "I can help cook instead," he said. Unlike Jaycee, Phillip was actually a good cook.

~~~

After last meal, when Mary and Matthew were cleaning up, the rest of the group were talking around the fire place. But Little James had wondered off to the side, and sat on a rock a little ways away from camp. He looked back at his friends and smiled. They were having yet another one of their arguments, about Adonai knows what. Jaycee noticed that James was gone and walked over to where he was, "Shalom." she said, grinning. "Your getting good at saying that." he teased. When they first met, Jaycee couldn't say 'shalom' if her life depended on it, and the others liked to tease her about it. "I know," she said proudly, sitting down next to him on the rock. "Matthew's been teaching me." Matthew was teaching all the women how to read and write, and apparently been teaching Jaycee how to say 'shalom' correctly. "Why did you come out all the way out here by yourself?" she asked. "It's dangerous to be alone at night, that's why Zee made that border of torches around camp. It's supposed to scare anything away. Apparently." Little James folded his hands in his lap and thought for a second. "Guess I just wanted to be left alone," he said. "It's been so busy lately, with Jesus preaching nearly every day now." "Oh," Jaycee stood up. "I can go-" James smiled up at her, "Its fine," he said. "I like your company." Jaycee smiled and sat back down. A few minutes of small talk later, James' hip started to hurt. It had been playing up all day, but tonight it was worse. Jaycee tilted her head to the side, "What's wrong?" she asked. "It's nothing." Little James said. Jaycee raised her eyebrows. "Alright, but you know you could tell me if something was wrong." she said. "I'm really okay," he said, "Don't want to be more of a burden." he murmured. Jaycee heard that and immediately said, "Your not a burden, James." James turned his head around to look at her, suprised she had heard him. She smiled, seeing the suprised look on his face. She leaned in, "Your bad at whispering," she whispered. James forced a laugh. "Stop saying stuff like that," she said. "It's fine, I hear it all the time. I'm used to it." "You shouldn't be 'used to it'." Jaycee said. "No one should." She put her hand on James'. He looked down at their hands and pulled his out from under hers. "It's fine," he repeated, a bit quieter then before. "I'm fine." he sniffed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "Your not 'fine,' James. You can talk to me if you want." Jaycee said, pulling her friend into a side hug. "I asked Jesus why He hadn't healed me." he said quietly. Jaycee raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything. "He said he trusted me with it. He said He and Adonai trust me with it. But.. it's just hard sometimes. I know how easy it is to quote the Pslam of David: that I'm fearfully and wonderfully made, but it doesn't make this-" he gestured to himself- "any easier." "Oh, James," Jaycee said, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry. I should have noticed." "It's alright, I tend to keep it to myself most of the time." James said. Jaycee looked up into the starry night sky and said, "I get that. I used to think I was being a burden if I brought up something that make me uncomfortable," she looked back down at James. "But I wasn't. And neither are you. If your hurting, tell us. That way we can stop to rest," she smiled. James looked up at her, "You sure?" he asked. "I'm sure," Jaycee said, hugging him. "I think the others would like to take a rest on those long walks, too." They both laughed.

[dizzybee03]

Something Sinful Happening on Sunday

A Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x OC (Ryan Reagan) story. #3 in the series

Warnings: slight smut (dry humping)

6 weeks, 42 days, 1008 hours, that's how much time had passed since Ryan and Beau’s first date. In that time the two had been together as much as they possibly could- between life as a police officer and Navy admiral that looked a little different for them than most couples.

 True to his word, Beau had been nothing but a gentleman and they had taken things slow and not rushed into having sex. Sure there had been lots of cuddling and making out like teenagers but there had also been many hours just spent talking until the wee hours of the morning.

Ryan’s work schedule was not normal and made it hard to plan normal dates since one week she may be off on Wednesday and Thursday while the next she may be off Friday and Saturday . Beau didn’t mind, he understood better than most what crazy schedules were like and was willing to meet up whenever Ryan was available. That meant the two met for lunch (almost everyday in fact) and a few evenings a week Beau drove to Ryan’s house to spend an hour or two with her after her shift. This week Beau had invited Ryan over on her Sunday off-he wanted to impress her with his culinary skills.

As Ryan pulled her 1970 black and gold El Camino into the driveway of Beau’s 2 story bungalow she felt the weight of the work week lift away. Work had been extra grueling this week and she was having a hard time shaking it. An evening with Beau was just what she needed though and she couldn't wait to get inside and be in his calming presence.

“Honey I’m home” Ryan said as she walked in the front door without knocking and closed it behind her.  “I’m in the kitchen '' Beau hollers in response. Ryan kicked her shoes off, placing them neatly under the bench in the entryway before heading towards the kitchen at the back of the house. Everything in Beau’s house had a place and Ryan tried to respect that when she was there.

“Smells heavenly in here” Ryan said, walking up behind Beau and wrapping her arms around his waist.  He turned around in her embrace kissing her softly on the lips before taking in her appearance. The circles under her eyes were dark and her small smile wasn’t quite as bright as it normally was when she said “try to ignore the fact that I look like a hot mess.  I had every intention of wearing something cute tonight but couldn’t find the energy to do more than throw my hair up and change into these old sweats.”

“Sweets you take my breath away no matter what you have on. Did you get your errands done this morning like you wanted?”

“No, not at all, I had every intention of getting up when my alarm went off and pretending to be a productive member of society but instead I slept until noon and then binged The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I didn’t move off my couch until it was time to drag my lazy ass over here.”

“ I think you’re allowed to have a lazy day after the week you had. I know you're tired and stressed out.  Did you end up saying anything to Sgt Hollon about your concerns for Officer Roberts not being cut out for patrol?”

“I’m not sure she wanted to hear what I had to say but yeah I talked to her. I get that his dad is a big wig on the city council, but that shouldn’t matter when the kid continues to make big mistakes. I asked him twice last night if he had searched the suspect we were getting ready to transport to the jail. He told me twice that he had and yet when I searched the guy I found 2 crack rocks in the toe of his sock. Not to mention the fact that twice this week he failed to do an inspection of our squad car before our shift started….I’ve taught him to do this not only to CYA (Cover Your Ass) but for officer safety.  Luckily I didn’t trust that it had been done and went ahead to check the back seats. I’m glad I did too because someone had ditched a knife under the bench seat. It’s bordering on an officer safety issue. Not to mention the fact that he sucks at building rapport, can’t write a report to save his life and instead of de-escalating situations has a way of making them worse.  Last night  I thought about leaving my gear in the driveway and telling command to just come get it cause I quit.  Shit I’m sorry for just throwing that all at you.”

“Don’t apologize, that’s what I’m here for. Sometimes it helps to just get that stuff off your chest even if it just comes barreling out in a jumbled mess. ”Beau said while running his hands up and down Ryan's back.  I’m just sorry your week has been so stressful and that the department seems to be showing so much favoritism because this douchebag's dad is on the city council. Maybe…..”Beau started to say before being interrupted by Ryan’s mouth covering his own in a kiss that was meant to stop him from talking.

“I don’t really wanna talk about work anymore tonight” she said before kissing Beau again quickly.

He chuckled saying “what DO you wanna do then?”

“Well…..first I wanna eat whatever yummy goodness you’ve got in the oven and then I wanna cuddle up on the couch with you…….and maybe make out like horny teenagers”.

“It’s chicken parmigiana and garlic bread and you definitely make me feel like a horny teenager. I’ve taken more cold showers in the last month and a half than I care to admit” Beau said while fixing a plate of food and handing it to Ryan.

“I’d apologize but I’m really not sorry” Ryan said, smacking Beau’s ass before taking the food and sitting at the small table in the kitchen.  “How was golf with Solomon?” She asked.

“It was alright, like usual he kicked my ass. I’m honestly not sure why I keep agreeing to play with him. Sol wants to have you and I over for dinner with him and Muriel one night soon. I told him I’d talk with you and see what your next nights off looked like.”

The conversation continued to flow while they ate dinner and once the dinner mess had been cleaned up they settled in the living room. Beau turned the TV on changing it to the NFL RedZone channel saying “Chargers are playing the Steelers tonight, mind if we watch for a bit?”

“Nope, I don’t mind” the two spent the next half hour sitting side by side on Beau’s couch watching football. Ryan was absent-mindedly running her fingernails up and down Beau’s thigh. Twice Beau’s breath hitched as Ryan’s hand got dangerously high. Ryan shifted closer to Beau on the couch, his arm behind her back and his hand caressing the side of her breast. Silently Ryan turned and straddled Beau’s lap. Her hands went to his hair as she whispered “I’m gonna need you to kiss me.”

“I think I can handle that.” Beau said, his voice thick with lust. His hand that was  tangled in Ryan’s hair  pulled her head down so that their noses were touching, their lips seeking each other out in the most sensual kiss. It was as if their tongues were dancing the tango. The kiss was slow, but intense. Beau’s other hand was kneading Ryan’s firm ass. The sensation caused her to rock her hips back and forth. There was no denying how turned on they both were. Ryan could feel Beau’s impossibly hard erection underneath her as she continued to rock her clothed hips back and forth over Beau’s. Kissing down his chin and neck  Ryan moaned “God Beau I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it baby, you've got me close too” he said as the hand that had been on her ass came around and started palming her covered pussy. His thumb stroked her clit causing Ryan to rock her hips in a frenzied manner, Beau's own hips jerked up the faster that Ryan went bucking up one last time as he climaxed while Ryan leaned back slightly squeezing her covered breasts as she rode out her own high. Ryan slumped over Beau’s shoulder, tucking her head into the side of his neck chuckling. “What’s so funny?” Beau asked.

“Oh just the fact that it’s been long enough since I’ve had sex that you barely touched me and I came like it was my first time. Can you imagine how good it’s gonna be when we do this with our clothes off? God it’s almost sinful the way you make me feel.”

“Honey I think about it all the time. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go clean myself up and change my pants because you aren’t the only one that came like it was your first time.” Beau said, rising up from the couch.

“Don’t take too long Admiral, the football game is almost over and then it’s my turn to pick a show.” Ryan said, pinching Beau’s ass as he walked off towards his bedroom. “Aye aye ma’am” he said, giving her a mock salute.

Ryan settled back on the couch chuckling to herself “we are such horny teenagers.”

[phantomyre]

RULES + MUSE BIO + PORTRAYAL (temp)

I plan to do a more complete list once I get time but this will be pinned until I get a more thorough list up. Please bear with me as this account is still under renovation. About Mun: I am 30+ years old. I've been roleplaying for about 15+ years, Vincent being my first and longest ongoing muse. People call me Phantom, Phantomyre, or Vinny (close friends). Yes, I've played all of Rebirth and am eagerly awaiting part 3. I am a Tumblr RPer from the early 2000s, took about a 10 year hiatus, and now I'm trying to feel my way around again. Pronouns he/him Roleplay Counter Queued Drafts: 4 | RPs Replied: 21 | Starters Owed: 0 ALL RP MUTUALS Please read below for rules, shipping, nsfw, dark content, and how I portray Vincent.

RULES Please understand this is a multipurpose blog. Not just a roleplay blog. I will post art (mostly my own unless stated otherwise), FF7 discussions and lore/theories, FF7 news and updates (anything Vincent Valentine related), and of course roleplay. I'm currently creating a tagging system so if you can choose what you do or don't want to see.

Mun is not the muse. I think we should all understand this. Vincent can be an asshole, cold, and distant, but that doesn't mean that I am. I can be blunt, but I mean well and am quite friendly/open to everyone. I value communication very much, so I highly encourage it.

I am open to OCs and any fandom outside of Final Fantasy 7. Please have an 'About' page if you have an OC.

Do not reblog any of my RP blogs if you are not the one the roleplay is for. This is between me and my RP partner only.

I am here for roleplay, presenting lore bits and discussions for FF7, and posting art. I'm a very private person and will avoid engaging in anything outside of what I just indicated above.

No god-modding or powerplay. Every character has a flaw or weakness. If you have a muse that is ultra powerful, be mindful to allow my character to react or have an option for escape. No one likes to be god-modded so let's keep it fun for both of us.

I'm perfectly fine with reminders, within reason. For Asks, if I do not reply within 7 days, feel free to ping me. For extensive roleplays, I do try to reply within 1-2 weeks timeframe. But if you don't see a reply within that time frame, please feel free to send me a reminder. This might change depending on my work-life balance as I have a very fluctuating lifestyle. Some days I will dedicate to art or work even though I'm online, so just bear that in mind.

I will wait up to 1 month for a roleplay reply. If I do not hear back from you within that time period, and I do not see any update that you'll be out for a duration of time, I will very likely drop the RP and soft-block as this tells me you are not interested to interact, and I do not want to be a number on your follower count. All I ask is that you communicate with me. I am more than happy to accommodate as I know we all have lives outside of RP. This is just what helps me stay organized so I can channel my energy and time appropriately while I'm here.

If we are mutuals, I expect us to roleplay together. If I follow you first, I will message you first. I expect the same from you if you follow me first. If I send you asks, try to interact with you, and you never reply to them, I will very likely soft-block and move on.

Please keep me out of targeted drama. I have had to call out art-theft from time to time, but it is not something I enjoy or want to do. I am an artist, and I will look out for my fellow ff7 artists. However, I will not participate in any sort of drama, call-outs, etc outside of what I mentioned. I'd rather keep this blog informative, fun, and entertaining (in a good way).

Do not interact with me if you are younger than 20. Please have your age in your bio. Not only do I have NSFW content, but I am also over 30 years of age. I prefer to interact with someone in the same wave-length as me. Nothing against those younger than 20, but I find that I cannot vibe with someone many years younger than me when it comes to the type of Roleplay that I do and what I'm looking for in a RP partner.

Please do not dismember, disembowel, or decapitate Vincent just because he's immortal. Yes, I've had this happen one too many times during my RP career. This is a form of god-modding and will not be tolerated which may result in a block.

All muse interactions are kept exclusive to their own verse. I will not crossover roleplays. What happens with one muse does not affect another.

SHIPPING + NSFW and DARK CONTENT I will not ship Vincent with minors or animals. I will interact with muses who are minors, but I will NOT ship with them, smut with them, nor will I tolerate anything that promotes pedophilia.

I am open to ship with pretty much any muse, fandom, OC, etc. HOWEVER-- understand that chemistry has to be established first. I will also do toxic ships. Unless your muse is Lucrecia, please do not assume or force a ship. The one main party FF7 character I refuse to ship with is Yuffie. I don't care if she's in the DoC timeline. I just don't enjoy that pairing. I'll happily RP with Yuffie as a muse, but do not expect any romance. In my eyes and in Vincent's eyes, she's a child. That being said, I am SHIP AND SMUT TRASH.

I will multiship, and I don't mind shipping with multiples of the same character as they are all unique. However, the one character that I will exclusively single-ship with is Cloud. I have a close friend who plays Cloud and his Cloud is the only Cloud my Vincent will ship with. I apologize to anyone playing Cloud and wanting to ship with Vincent. I'm just not comfortable doing so and I'm happy with the current Cloud I have. That doesn't mean I won't roleplay with other Clouds, however. I'm more than happy to RP with other Cloud muses, so long as it's not with the intent to ship.

This blog will contain explicit NSFW content. I'm not shy with my writing. I can and will be very detailed. If this bothers you but you still want to smut, please communicate with me or have it written in your rules page. I also don't mind doing fade to black if that's your preference.

Dark themes will abound. Vincent is a very dark character with a disturbing past. Things that you can expect would be topics that include (either explicit or implicit) violence, blood, gore, death, human experimentation, genocide, rape/sexual assault, body/medical horror, suicide, emotional manipulation, trauma, torture, etc. I will do my best to add trigger tags but I am human and will sometimes forget. However, I will always list NSFW as a tag and will put my reply under 'read more' as I understand not everyone is okay seeing that sort of thing.

I'm open to a wide range of kinks. If you really have a thirst for a particular kind of kink and would like to roleplay it, feel free to ask me and communicate what you would like or want to avoid. I want to make sure both parties are having fun and are comfortable with what's being written.

Kinks that I will NOT do include bestiality, pedophilia, wound-fucking, extreme torture (Medieval torture machines for example), gore, vore, vomit, toilet-play, incest. Will likely add to this. If I mentioned a new fetish you never heard of, I'm deeply sorry you had to read that.

WHO IS VINCENT VALENTINE Gender: Male Age: 27 (physically) | 57 (chronologically) Species: Human (modified) Height: 6ft Build: Athletic/lithe Franchise: Final Fantasy Weapons: Guns, magic and martial arts (sabatons and gauntlet) Abilities: Transforms into hideous monsters-- Galian Beast, Hellmasker, Death Gigas, and Chaos Other attributes: Immortal Personality: Deeply loyal, stubborn, fearless, brooding, cold, enigmatic, old-fashioned, chivalrous, dark humor, lone-wolf, kind, wise Backstory: Vincent Valentine was once a Turk, a member of Shinra’s elite security force, tasked with protecting the scientists of the Jenova Project-- an alien with corrupt powers from another world. He fell in love with Lucrecia Crescent, a scientist working on the project, but their relationship was complicated by her ties to Professor Hojo, whom she eventually married. Vincent's father had been killed in a scientific experiment lab where an accident broke out, lead by Lucrecia. Feeling that Vincent would never forgive her for killing his father, she denied Vincent's affections and chose Hojo instead. Nevertheless, Vincent never blamed her.

Hojo and Lucrecia ended up having a son named Sephiroth. This child was created for the sole purpose of scientific research, to which Vincent protested against. When Vincent objected to the unethical experiments, Hojo shot him and used his body for experimentation. Vincent was infused with four monsters including Chaos, a powerful entity connected to the Planet, and given immortality through the Protomateria. After awakening and discovering what had happened, he retreated to a coffin in the Shinra Mansion basement, overwhelmed with guilt over failing to protect Lucrecia and stop Hojo’s work. His body had stopped aging, and not being able to die, Vincent decided to entomb himself for the next 20+ years. When Vincent is discovered many years later by a group of people trying to save the planet, Vincent's demeanor had changed from that of a caring tender-hearted young man to one of callousness, darkness, and self-abasement. He joins the party for the sole purpose of meeting his arc nemesis, Hojo, to exact revenge. He also seeks to put an end to Sephiroth's existence who has been terrorizing the planet, feeling responsible for Sephiroth's cruelty. His ultimate goal is to find redemption for his past sins.

HOW I PORTRAY VINCENT VALENTINE I will default to Rebirth Vincent. However, I will also roleplay OG, AC, BC, and DoC's versions of Vincent upon request. I will also roleplay Turk Vincent or Chaos with Vincent personification.

I like to portray Vincent with as much canonicity as possible, this includes his personality, backstory, etc. In places where there are gaps, I will interject my own interpretations accordingly. These will be in the form of headcanons which I will provide later on. Vincent does not have any children. He is not Sephiroth's father. If you have an OC who is portrayed as Vincent's child, or you play Sephiroth, please do not assume that my Vincent will adopt or treat your muse as their offspring. The way I play Vincent is that he has never had sex with Lucrecia. I am open to playing with the idea of Vincent having kids of his own, but that must first be developed through roleplay. As for Sephiroth, again, I do not subscribe to the Vincent-dad fan-theory. However, if you play Sephiroth as a child, I'm open to the idea of Vincent adopting Sephiroth in an AU scenerio. But in no-wise will Vincent see Sephiroth as his biological son. Vincent has the Protomateria in his chest, and he is not conscious of Chaos' true power (yet). This will be my default version of Vincent, unless our RP causes him to become aware of Chaos and transforms, or if we are roleplaying in the DoC verse. Do not assume that he knows he has Chaos yet. He is aware of his three other beasts-- Galian, Hellmasker, and Death Gigas.

The only character Vincent will have an automatic romantic connection with is Lucrecia. Please do not assume he will have any romantic feelings for your muse until chemistry is created FIRST. If your muse is flirty, do not expect Vincent to flirt back. He is disconnected with his emotions. The most you'll get the first few rounds is either a cold shoulder or he'll have signs that he's shy or nervous. He's a very hard shell to crack if you want him to connect with your muse naturally and in a romantic way. It's not impossible, but expect to put in some effort. I'm more for the slow-burns, anyways. Whatever you do, please don't jump his bone and expect him to be immediately horny. I play Vincent as bisexual-demisexual. If he doesn't trust your muse, he will not have any desire to pursue your muse emotionally. I may like our muses together and want them to ship, but the chemistry must first develop. Vincent is a switch/seke. Depending on your muse and Vincent's level of sexual attraction towards your muse, he will either become more dominant or more submissive. Underneath all his garb, Vincent has a monster arm under his gauntlet, a very faint scar under his Chaos-eye, and an equally faint scar on his sternum. He may have the face and body of a handsome young man, but Vincent has a warped image of himself and therefore will be dismissive if someone says he's attractive. He has a number tattooed on his forehead, given by Hojo, which he has attempted to burn and tear off with no success. Thus he keeps his headband on as much as possible. Vincent is capable of warping into his cloak in order to escape an attack, but can only do so in short distances and in short spurts.

During certain fights and situations, Vincent may use a scythe.

Vincent is naturally good with children and enjoys both cats and dogs. Cats and children in particular are naturally drawn to him. His only fear is harming the ones he cares about. By way of connection, he is therefore also afraid of losing control over his demons. If Vincent loses his Protomateria, he will have little to no control over his demons (Chaos in particular). If Chaos takes control over him, Vincent will likely have no recollection of what happened. Since Vincent is immortal, Vincent does not have a need for sustenance. His body is constantly regenerating itself, and therefore cannot get sick, degrade, hunger, thirst, etc. He can fatigue, and will experience extreme exhaustion whenever he uses Chaos, often leading him to faint or become debilitatingly weak.

Vincent has a high tolerance for chemicals, pain, drugs, alcohol, etc. However, they can all still affect him. The only thing he is immune to is anything created by tainted Lifestream aka Nero's abyss, and he is also immune to Geostigma. (More to come later)

[nrdmssgs]

A heart full of pity (part 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (final)

Masterlist Angst, hurt/comfort Pairing: Nik x unnamed afab OC

Summary: He is a fixer, but there are some things, he can never fix. Things like past traumas. He wishes, he could make it better, take her pain away, but he can't. And can't leave her be either, as for now he is her fixer.

TW: Description of physical injury (burns). Inaccurate description of medical operations and military operations, swearing.

Authors note: This is deeply personal. I do not urge anyone to love Russian culture, and I understand how traumatic any mention of it can be in the current realities. I also do not urge anyone to have a positive attitude towards the FSB. Nikolai is a unique character, he does not represent any realities of life in Russia or work in the FSB. I don't romanticize Russia or FSB in real life. This is just fiction. I don't intend to harm anyone with it.

Thanks: I would like to thank a million times absolutely beautiful soul @homicidal-slvt for opening this character from a new perspective for me. I would also love to thank dear @sofasoap for creating absolutely beautiful Lastochka series, that took my mind on this journey.

“Then, oh Lord, wipe us off the face of the earth and create anew more perfect ... or even better, leave us and let us go our own way.”  “My heart is full of pity,” Rumata said slowly. “I can not do it.” ‘Hard to Be a God’ by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

“Captain, are you absolutely sure, there is no one else, whom you could send with me?” With each next word, her voice became lower and more muffled - a sure sign that she was growing furious. “I mean, I`ll need someone, who can easily blend in, someone discreet, fast thinking, but most important: someone trustworthy.”

“In other words, you need a fixer. And Nikolai is the best one.” Price remained unrelenting. Her persuasion, bargaining and even threats had no effect on him. “Now how about you quit trying to burn a hole in me with your gaze and start working on the plan?”

Price proceeds to explain her goal and timeframes for every part of the mission, but she is too deep in her thoughts. Her hands clutch in fists and slam against the table. “You can't trust that man with a critical mission. You know his origins!” For the first time in her life, she raises her voice at Price, but he completely ignores it, only adding a subtle remark “I trust him with my own life” before going on with a briefing. And that's when she makes her final attempt to make her point to her captain. “The man works for the FSB. And before you tell me once again, he quitted - they never quit! I know it better than all you here!”

Price raises his gaze to her, but doesn't respond. Instead she hears a familiar voice from behind her back. “Hochesh chto-nibud` skazat` - skazhi eto mne v litzo…*”

She could call Nikolai anything but narrow-minded. Even his insults were constructed so carefully, only them two could actually read into it. Her own origin was no secret here and others thought, it would only make it easier for her to connect with Nik, but in reality it turned out quite the opposite. His background was now his experience, hers - burning, aching open wound. Coming from the same place, each of them brought different baggage to their present life. So earlier she acted like Nik was never around: they barely talked, she never touched him, not even shook his hand, never mentioned him on conversations. As if he hasn't existed. 

But that was until he was assigned to help her with the mission. As much as she didn't like it - Nikolai was the only option she got and that meant, they must talk, learn, how to work together. So later that week, sitting next to Nik on the night train, she finally pulls herself together and finds the courage to apologize for what she said earlier in Prices` office. “Captain is right: that was… unprofessional of me to judge,” she talks quietly to not draw unwanted attention, so Nikolai has to lean down to hear what she has to say. Despite her hesitant voice, she sounds genuinely sorry. “That's ok, little one. I know, you don't hate me for real. Not personally.” He smiles softly, as if just a few days ago they weren't ready to start a real fight. “Hey, I know, it's not my business, so feel free to ignore this one. But you seem to have a reason for all that rage. Care to tell?” She doesn't say much, just names a year. There is no need to elaborate: it was on the news everywhere. And it was ugly. By that time Nik already lived his another, new life far from the Motherland, but of course he and the whole world witnessed, how quickly things escalated, and all hell broke loose. Nikolai slowly nods and calmly asks. “Who?” 

She sighs, looking deep in his eyes, as if searching for something. Maybe for the slightest reason to not trust him right now. "My older brother. Then my mother went to look for him on the streets ..." Nikolai curses under his breath and looks away to calm his nerves down. He doesn't need to hear the context - he knows, how bad it was. When he first saw it on the news, he thought “that's how they'll get a new angry generation, hungry for blood, growing up in shuddered families, witnessing silent disappearances of their loved ones.” So now, he sat in a hand-reach of one of those outcomes. 

“What, you're going to say, you weren't there? Or maybe that you're sorry? I'll save you time: don't bother, I don't need anything from you,” she was tense, angry once again. But this time it felt different: she was actually scared, she slipped too much personal information out.

“My heart is full of pity.” He looks at his reflection in a train window. And just before she snaps back at him, Nikolai turns back to her and adds: “‘Hard to be a God’? Read it?” She doesn't answer, but it's obvious, how she recalls the quote and her rage gradually fades away. 

***

If anyone asked her, where did they take the wrong turn - she wouldn't be able to answer. Her plan was solid and Nik was doing his part incredibly efficient. She got anything she needed even before she asked for it. Nikolai seemed to go full mind-reader mode on. He learned every step of the operation by heart and provided her with the most detailed plans of every location of their future mission. He did nothing wrong… And yet there she was, distracting the enemies, who rounded him up. It wasn't easy, but Nik and her made a pretty good team. What really bothered her was the timing: with that unexpected skirmish, they were now running late. And in her line of work, every second could be critical. So when they were finally done with an ‘obstacle’ - she rushed to her next point. 

Nikolai was still somewhere behind, when she passed a group of teenagers, who seemed to be absolutely unbothered by the sounds of gunshots coming from the empty building from which she had just taken off at full speed. She heard the click of a lighter and a drawn-out whistle from somewhere on the side. She slowed down, but didn't even have time to turn around at the sound when she was thrown forward and engulfed in heat so strong that she couldn't even breathe in, let alone scream. And then the world around her descended to fire.

Nikolai was running behind her, when it all happened. He registered every single second of it, and that only made the whole experience more painful. He saw a bottle with a brownish cloth sticking out of the neck, saw how they set fire to the wick, swung and launched the bottle in her direction. It seemed, he even saw the smallest fragments of glass flying off to the sides when the bottle collapsed on the ground at her feet. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, as Nik saw every single detail of her agony. At first she ducked and fallen to the ground in attempt to roll over and put the fire, that caught on her, out. But the formula, that kids had in their bottle seemed to be more nasty, that an average Molotov. So the fire grew. And what was even worse: by the time Nik reached her - the flames were already clearly pale-blueish - a solid sign of some cheap synthetic being burned. The whole scene was quiet to the point, where it was unsettling: she was frantically rolling around, beating herself against the ground, yet not a single scream left her lips - she was only desperately gasping for an air. With one swift motion Nikolai unzipped his jacket, took it off and covered her back, beating lightly the spots, where the flames still appeared. For a few painful moments as he helped her fight the flames, they were both enveloped in thick smoke and the repulsive smell of burnt flesh, textile and hair. Her flushed face was smeared with dust and blood. She tried to cover her eyes with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sh-h-h-h, sh-h, sh-h, I got you, I got you, you're ok!” Nikolai heard his own voice and realized how pathetic his lie sounded. She was anything but ok: shuddering and convulsing limbs, swollen eyelids, sporadic breaths and muffled whines. But he kept calming her down, holding her so that she did not touch the ground with her wounded, burned back. “C'mon, little one, breathe in. Look at me and take a deep breath. Just like that, good job!” Nik looked around: it wasn't safe to stay there any longer and no matter how hard she tried to stay quiet, every her next whimper was more potent as the pain shock washed out. 

***

In other circumstances, Nikolai would be proud of himself. Never has he ever before found a ride, a safe place to hide in and a medic, who won't ask any questions that quickly. 

He had taken all the lamps he found in the apartment into the living room and was now wiping down the old dining table with a rag soaked in alcohol. “Nik, please… I need to report on my status back to the base.” Her voice was weak, raspy and shaky. “It is done already. They're waiting for an update on an operation.” Nikolai pours a glass of water and brings it her. “Here, you need to drink, little one.” He returns to wiping the table when a glass flies past his ear and smashes against the wall. “Tvoyu mat`! Kakaya naher operatziya, ya yeyo provalila!*” Nik doesn't even flinch, he calmly walks up to the opposite wall, bends down and picks up the pieces of the broken glass. The sharp edges gleam predatory in the light of the lamps placed around the table. She usually avoided speaking her native language, no matter how hard he tried to initiate the talk. But right now, she must have been too furious and upset to choose her language. "They're waiting for your status update. Our operation... is not as important as the one you are about to have." Her eyes widen. “Who said that? For fuck's sake, Nik, I'm ok!”

She tries so lift her body off the couch, but fails, cold compresses slide down her skin and her face contorts in pain. “Doctor Nikolai said…” He comes closer, leans down and replaces compresses with new ones, trying to not look at what was beneath them for too long. It is no longer human skin - it is a dark crimson field of terror and concentrated pain. “Now lay still, little one, save energy.”

In a few hours, she doesn't feel anything but pain. Shame was gone first. When two men carried her to the table as a lifeless puppet, when the cold blade of the scissors barely touched her skin, when the cheap textile that had partially molded with her skin was cut at the seams and the lamps illuminated her vulnerable body - she had already ceased to be ashamed of her weakness, to worry about the fact that her sight could bring them disgust. Then the fear disappeared. The caustic "medical" smell of alcohol, the basin that Nikolai for some reason placed on the floor under her head, the doctor's remarks in a language that she could not make out - all this no longer worried her.

Pain is the only thing left, it consumes her, draws out screams, beats her like a hammer. Nikolai holds her face, brushes thumbs against tear trails, keeps talking to distract her. “Nu-nu, moya horoshaya, nu poterpi eshe, eshe chut`- chut`, umnitza moya.*” He looks tired, disturbed, and so deeply worried. She understands, that something is wrong, it's written all over his face. “Ne mogu dok je ne smiriš! Mora dublje disati!*” - snaps the doctor from behind her back.

Nikolai quickly nods at him, looks back in her eyes and makes the least expected  suggestion. “Ok, my dear, let's sing a bit together.” And before she can figure out what Nick just asked her for, he starts humming softly into her face. “Pust` begut neuklyzhe peshehodi po luzham, a voda po asfal`tu rekoi…*” She looks at him in disbelief for a second. A freaking soviet children song about a ‘Birthday, that comes only once in a year’? Now? Here?! But then she feels a tremendously intense pain, as the medic begins removing a particularly huge fragment of smelted synthetic textile from one of her wounds. So she opens her mouth and start half hissing, half moaning the next line of the song. And it works: even though it doesn't sooth the pain - the measured rhythm of the song makes her breathe more evenly in time to sing the next line. “U-umnichka moya, molodetz kakaya!*” - cooes Nik and keeps singing along. 

The scene is absolutely bizarre to every single person taking part in it. The flickering light of floor lamps directed at the table, the heavy smell of alcohol, blood, sweat and singed flesh, swearing in Croatian, English, Russian, a children's song, barely audible in the sobs.

When it all ends, the medic is escorted outside the flat. "Nikad nisi bio ovdje.*" Nikolai pairs it with a nice stack of banknotes and a gaze of a man, who isn't joking around. 

***

She falls into a feverish dream, when all medical sedatives finally kick in. She doesn't know, how long she lies on a table, and how she ends in a bed. She doesn't hear her own screams, when she accidentally turns on her back while sleeping, but wakes up, when she feels his fingers brushing over her face. Maybe it's just another part of her dream, where she mumbles him something in their mother tongue, and he answers, a low voice reverberating in his chest, to which she is pressed in order to not roll back again. She is yet to realize, what exactly happened and what challenge is she now facing. But what she is certain of - there is an ally right next to her. Not a faceless sum of his past deeds, not the embodiment of everything she hated since childhood, having fled her country. No, there was a friend next to her now. “Nikolai? Why didn't you let Price simply extract us? Just call it my failure. I mean, since I've treated you like shit previously - I deserve to learn my lesson…” “Go to sleep, little one… My heart is full of pity.”

*Hochesh chto-nibud` skazat` - skazhi eto mne v litzo… (Russian) - You have anything to say - say it to my face…

*Tvoyu mat`! Kakaya naher operatziya, ya yeyo provalila! (Russian) - Fuck! What bloody operation are you talking about? I've just failed it!

Nu-nu, moya horoshaya, nu poterpi eshe, eshe chut`- chut`, umnitza moya. (Russian) - There-there, my dear, hold on just a little bit longer, my darling.

*Ne mogu dok je ne smiriš! Mora dublje disati! (Croatian) - I can't do it, till you steady her! She needs to breathe deeper!

*Pust` begut neuklyzhe peshehodi po luzham, a voda po asfal`tu rekoi… (Russian) - first line of a famous soviet song from a cartoon. Full version with English subtitles here.

*U-umnichka moya, molodetz kakaya! (Russian) - My darling, well done!

*Nikad nisi bio ovdje (Croatian) - You have never been here.

[callsignspark]

•intertwining fingers when making love

Marry Me

hi anon! thank you for sending this one!!

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

the ninth of January

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut (explicit language, unprotected p in v sex, he teases her and it's a little mean but not unwelcome, like the tiniest hint of dumbification, mentions of getting pregnant), this is set once they're already together so offscreen conversations have happened regarding kids/protection, so many goddamn pet names, baby's first time writing real smut so we are being kind, also you don't need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this, but (shameless plug) I think you should anyway

word count: 1.4k

“Bradley!” She can feel his smile get bigger; he loves it when she moans his name.

“What, Mary? What’s wrong, honey?” He teases as he pulls away from the sensitive spot near her collarbone, flexing his hips up to meet hers as she bounces on his lap for the sole purpose of hearing her breath hitch.

She’s honestly not quite sure how they got here.

The evening had been moving along like every other night since they moved in together three months prior. They enjoyed the dinner she made - tonight was chicken parmesan with roasted green beans - and Bradley did the dishes, talking and laughing the entire time. Migrating to the pink couch, she claimed the chaise while he flipped through their combined DVD collection.

Actually, she does know how they got here.

He holds up a case with a dark cover. “How about this? It’s Skyfall… And you need to go to the optometrist if you can’t recognize your man.” He teases when she squints to read the title.

“I can see perfectly fine! It’s dark in here because someone hates watching movies with any sort of light on.” She protests as he pops the disc into the machine and hits enough buttons to make the DVD menu appear.

“First of all, that would be a better excuse if I had already turned the lamp off. Second, it’s like being in the theatre, but I don’t have to wear pants.” He dramatically shoves his sweatpants down, leaving him in just an old t-shirt and his blue boxer briefs that hide nothing. “Hey, you know what today is?”

Her brain ignores the question, distracted as her eyes drag over him, stopping to admire the thickness of his thighs. She knows she’ll never tire of his body, no matter what it looks like, but he’s looked extra good lately, and she can’t help but stare.

“You know what today is, baby doll?” Mary nods, her heart thumping as she presses her thighs together at the pet name. One he only uses in private. “Answer my question then.”

“It’s Monday.”

“More specifically?” He pulls the UVA t-shirt over his head, muscles everywhere flexing at the movement.”

“It’s uh-” She gulps, he’s not playing fair. “It’s January 9th.”

Bradley hums, running his hand over his abdomen, playing with the band of his briefs. “That’s right, which means it’s been two years since the last time we watched this movie, and we almost fucked right where you’re sitting.”

“I- how? Wha-” Mary stammers, confused and amazed at how he remembers that. She knew it was early January, but she had forgotten the exact date.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” He sits on the couch, the movie forgotten as he tugs her across the cushion into his lap.

She enthusiastically returns his kiss, letting her hands roam his broad shoulders until she suddenly pulls back. “What anniversary? We didn’t even do anything that night.”

It takes him a minute to respond, busy pulling her sweatshirt over her head. “Anniversary of the first time I jerked off to the memory of you wriggling around in my lap.” She can’t continue with her questioning, preoccupied by her boyfriend sucking and pinching her nipples.

Which got them here.

Mary, riding him on the same pink couch where she almost did exactly two years earlier, shifted one cushion to the right so Bradley can plant his feet on the floor.

“Bradley!” She can feel his smile get bigger; he loves it when she moans his name.

“What, Mary? What’s wrong, honey?” He teases as he pulls away from the sensitive spot near her collarbone, flexing his hips up to meet hers as she bounces on his lap for the sole purpose of hearing her breath hitch.

“Fuck! Do that again!” Her thighs are burning, and she’s so close it’ll hardly take anything to send her over the edge.

“Do what?” He stops all movement, smile turning a little mean when she lets out a desperate whine and pulls at his hair. “No, that’s not gonna work this time, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Bradley.” She’s almost begging, and she will if that’s what it takes.

He smirks. “So keep moving, honey, I ain’t stopping ya.”

“I can’t; my legs are too tired. Feel like jello.” She leans forward, tucking her face into his neck and rocking her hips a bit, hoping to entice him into taking over. “Need help.”

Her tone is sad enough that he pulls her out of his neck to check-in. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, just can’t keep riding you right now.”

He gently kisses her. “Okay, I got you, baby doll. Let's switch ourselves around here.”

His plan for tonight is to enjoy themselves the way they didn’t get to before, not tease her to the point of tears.

He helps her move off his lap, the squelch of them parting making her face burn as she stands between his legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet, honey.”

Bradley scoots to the edge of the couch, tapping her thigh and pressing a kiss to her stomach when she complies with his silent request to spread her legs. He can’t help but grin and laugh when, a second later, her nails are digging into his shoulders. An instinctual reaction to her knees buckling as he plays with her clit.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

“Would feel better if you were inside of me.” The effect of her snark is negated by the breathlessness of her voice.

He stands up, nudging her back to make room, and groans when she wraps a hand around him. “I thought you wanted me inside you. Can’t do that if you don’t lay down.”

She reluctantly lets go and lays on the chaise, shimmying back to make enough room for him to join her. “Can’t help it, you’re just so hard- oh! Bradley!” She moans as he rubs the head of his dick against her clit.

“I gotcha, I gotcha… fuck. You always feel so good for me, baby.” He moans as he slides back inside her. “You still close?”

She nods, breath escaping her as he starts moving. He grabs her left hand, intertwining their fingers and supporting himself on his elbows so he can drop down closer. He focuses on hitting deeper spots, moving slower than usual so he can continue kissing the love of his life.

“Bradley… I need to-” She cuts herself off at a particularly deep thrust, moaning into his mouth.

“Whatever you need, honey. Do it.” He doesn’t blink an eye as he feels her free hand drop from his hair and slip between them. “That’s it, you’re almost there, huh? Can feel it; you’re so tight. Play with yourself for me like a good girl.”

And that’s all it takes.

Her body tenses as she cums, mouth dropping open in a silent moan and her left thigh twitches against his side. Bradley slows down but doesn’t stop, working her through her orgasm until she squeezes his hand tight.

“How was that?” He drops down completely, letting his weight ground her as he noses against her pulse point while she comes down.

“Fuck, Bradley. Give me a second, and I’ll help you finish. How close are you?”

“Take your time, baby. Not going anywhere.”

“C‘mon. How close are you, handsome?” She pulls him to her face, murmuring the question against his lips.

“Close.” She wraps her left leg around his hip again, holding him as close as possible, and starts purposefully clenching around him. “What are you doing?”

“Want you to start moving.” She pulls her hand from his and sinks it into his hair, knowing how much he likes it when she pulls it. “Want you to cum in me.”

After those words, it only takes a few minutes for him to finish, hips stuttering and grinding against her when he feels his cum start to leak out around his dick.

“Fuck, Mary!” He huffs out. “I thought we weren’t trying to get you pregnant.”

“We’re not trying. But we’re also not, not trying.”

“You’re gonna kill me, baby doll.” Mary giggles when he all but collapses on her chest, rubbing his back while he catches his breath.

“Stop giggling, or I’m going to get hard again; between you squeezing my dick and your tits bouncing, it won’t take a lot. And then I’ll have to fuck you again.”

“Oh, no. What a shame that would be.” He looks up from her sternum, her smile making his heart skip a beat.

“It’s a good thing I find your sarcasm sexy.”

She grabs his hand again, linking their fingers and pulling him in. “I am a very lucky lady to have you love me like you do.”

“I do love you, Mary.”

“I know. I love you, too, Bradley.”

only tagging a few friends since this isn't an actual update. have a great weekend!

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @roleycoleyreccenter | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @sometimesanalice

fic tag | credit for dividers here

[somegirlontheinternet135]

With Diabolik Lovers content still being made, I'm surprised no one; and I mean NO ONE has dappled into rewrite!

For those who don't know, earlier this year, I've fallen down the neverending hellhole that was Diabolik Lovers and MY GOD WAS IT AWFUL!! The writing, the character designs, the characters themselves! It was edgy, thirst bait for the generation at the time(2012)

I say with confidence that if you wanted to torture someone, you'd have them watch this series. . . It'd hurt even more when you realize the previous versions of the story were actually good. .

The more I fell, the worse it got. . . Thus Diabolik Lovers: The Glass Labyrinth was born!✨ A Diabolik Lovers Future/Rewrite AU where Yui learns to become a witch & slowly comes to terms with her trauma!

Part 1

Part 2

I go into more detail in these posts but the story focuses on Yui, roughly 5 years after the events of season 2; having just escaped the Sakamaki & Mukami brothers with the help of The Painter Witch, Niji Shikisou. Taking her to her new home, The Kame Isles, a living mass of islands housing the world's biggest coven!

I've made this post announce three things:

1. Rather than doing rewrites for the Sakamaki and Mukami brothers, I decided to take a step further & instead do full overhauls, essentially making new ocs from the rewrites as a whole. The reasons I'm doing this is because I'd be struggling with them in terms of redesigns, I had a lot of ideas for redesigns but the ideas always fell flat.

What I'm trying to say is that their og designs were far too constricting, and I felt working with a blank slate could help. Not to mention, it opens to many new possibilities when I design them! To cut things short, overhaul ocs will be taking the places of the Sakamaki and Mukami brothers; with Rewrite!Yui being the only exception since I love her🥰🩷

2. Every time I've talked about my rewrite, I've had a lot of support for the fandom, which I appreciate; I love how we can all agree that the show is terrible & needs to be fixed, but I've had people tell me that they've seen other people rewriting, and that I say

"WHERE!?"

"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE!? WHERE ARE THEY HIDING!?"

Listen, I loved hearing that people were rewriting the show, I think it's amazing & people should do it; but I have not seen a single rewrite of the show other than my own. And so PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DIABOLIK LOVERS REWRITES TwT🙏 I would love to hear about them; so don't be afraid to share!

3. Since I'm starting my research for overhaul ocs + other ocs, if you have any ideas, questions, or suggestions for Diabolik Lovers: The Glass Labyrinth🦋✨, don't be afraid to ask/share! I'm writing this story entirely on my own, so any sort of help counts!

But anywho, that's all I've got for now. Sorry I haven't been active as from recently, I'm quite busy with life at that moment & I hope to get some things done during my last few days of break.

Be on the lookout for my other projects. . .

And as always stay tuned^^✨