#my ego will be on cloud 9 all day thanks to this!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jjk♡#jeon jungkook #mine

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jisungsmochi · 3 years

Text

confessions - park jisung

jisung x reader / jisung being whipped / fluffy, lil angst / hope it makes you feel something lmaoo

word count: 8.7k

mini playlist:

Cloud 9 - Beach Bunny

Falling - Chase Atlantic

Enchanted - Taylor Swift

summary: confessing to your crush was always daunting. but how else were you supposed to let them know how you truly feel? y/n has learned the hard way, always being the confessor rather than the one being confessed to. oh how she wished that one day, someone will have the courage to tell her how they feel, without her always having to make the moves...

“i like you”

“ew, you’ll give me cooties”

y/n was barely seven years old when she confessed to her very first crush, lee donghyuck. he rudely rejected her offer to play marbles during lunch, but she wasn’t fazed. she plastered a bright smile on her face, calmly nodding at the little boy,

“cooties aren’t real, it’s probably just germs from not washing your hands!” she snickered, turning on her heel as she made her way to a shaded area in the quad. she left donghyuck speechless that day, slightly bruising the young boy’s ego. how could she be so calm when her very first crush had harshly rejected her? she always tried to display a cheery exterior to her peers, she found it embarrassing if people caught her crying over some boy. so she pushed her feelings aside until she was alone.

when y/n was twelve, she had grown a crush on her desk mate, jeno. he was quiet most of the time, only speaking to her when he needed answers for homework, but she was whipped nonetheless. he was undeniably handsome, especially for someone their age. how was that even possible? she would intently watch him play soccer with his friends on the school oval, softly cheering every time he made a goal. jeno had noticed when she attended his games, often smiling at her from the field.

after weeks of innocent stares in the hallway and short conversations during class, y/n decided it was time to confess to lee jeno. she came up with the cute idea to write a small note to him during class, it read:

hi jeno!! i think you’re really cute, and a great soccer player. i also have a crush on you...would you go out with me?

tick yes or no

she had written the letter in sparkly pink ink, folded it gently before sliding it over to jeno’s desk. the confused boy swiped the card over to his side, slowly opening it. her heart was beating out of her chest. jeno started scribbling on the paper, causing her to furrow her eyebrows, all he needed to do was leave a tick?

jeno returned the note to her, a soft smile plastered on his face. her eyes scanned over the note, landing on his answer. the ‘yes’ box was ticked, followed by a short sentence under it,

would this mean you’re my girlfriend?

tick yes or no

she couldn’t help but smirk at his charms, immediately ticking yes. from that day on, jeno and y/n began dating. but when you’re going through your pre-teen years, things get really dramatic. jeno ended things with y/n after only three months of dating, which seemed like forever for a twelve year old. he dumped her over text, as many pre-teens did back then. she put on a brave front, acting as if she was okay with it all. it wasn’t even a serious relationship, but it was still her first. of course it hurt. but she continued to suffer in silence, no one needed to know.

when y/n was fifteen, almost turning sixteen, she befriended huang renjun. they were always aware of the other, often hanging out in the same cliques. it was the school’s swimming carnival, when she began getting closer to him. after donghyuck had accidentally pushed her into the pool, too caught up with chasing mark around, renjun came to her rescue. he offered her his towel, wrapping her up tightly as he sat and chatted with her while the others scolded donghyuck. he was a great conversationalist, always having something new to talk about. y/n adored that about him. from that day onwards, she would message him back and forth, almost becoming a daily occurrence. they would skype call after school, catching eachother up on any drama or daily events in their early high school lives. she started falling for him, fast. but there was one downfall to renjun. he would never acknowledge y/n at school. whenever he was with his friends, he pretended like he was merely acquaintances with the girl. it hurt her to see him act like nothing was happening between them. word got around that renjun had a crush on somebody. as usual high school gossip goes, the signs led back to y/n. her friends would cheer her on to confess to him, so would his friends. they believed they would be a strong couple. so she decided to take measures into her own hands, opting to confess to huang renjun.

y/n approached the boy during lunch, interrupting his conversation with jaemin.

“can i talk to you, uh privately?” her voice wavered as she spoke, but she stood her ground. renjun looked over at his friends, jaemin raising an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to go with her. he eventually gave in, keeping a slight distance from the nervous girl as they walked around the school grounds together.

“what did you want to talk about?” he coughed slightly, feeling an immense amount of awkwardness around them.

“i wanted to tell you something” she started, now stopping in their tracks. renjun gulped, a guilty feeling beginning to rise in his stomach.

“i like you, renjun. more than a friend” she finally spat out, trying to read the reaction of the boy across from her. but renjun remained silent, eyes avoiding hers. y/n felt deflated, why the hell wasnt he saying anything?

“i-thank you” he stuttered, causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. thank you?

“i mean thank you for telling me, it’s nice that you’re so honest” renjun tried to smile, but she didn’t budge. he wasn’t taking this seriously at all.

“you know what, just forget i said anything, bye renjun” y/n rolled her eyes, fed up with this constant rejection that seemed to follow her around. why couldn’t she get a happy ending? just for once. why did she have to settle for less than what she deserved? not only did she get rejected by a crush that day, she lost a great friend. y/n swore that she would stop focusing on chasing other’s affections. what was the point? she was just going to get rejected anyway. atleast that’s what she always told herself. those memories always stuck with her, and she refused to ever feel so dejected in life. she wouldn’t let this happen again. she just wanted someone to confess to her for once, would that really be so hard?

park jisung was a simple boy, cruising through life with little to no worries. all he wanted to do was finish high school, he dreaded it more than anything. everyday was the same for him, waking up to the same alarm, riding his skateboard to school, sitting for what seemed like forever, then going home to rest and repeat. he never took notice of those around him, why would he? it’s not like he was going to stay in touch with many of them after school finished. except for his best friend, chenle, he could never escape him no matter how hard he tried.

it was the first day of junior year, when jisung found himself placed in a seating plan for his modern history class.

‘is this really necessary?’ he mumbled to himself, shuffling to his assigned seat. atleast it’s by the window, he thought to himself.

y/n strolled through the halls, making her way to her first period class, modern history. a new year, a fresh new start. she waltzed into the room, noticing students gathering around the seating chart. she found her name, whipping her head around the classroom, eyes landing on a messy haired boy next to the window. she shrugged to herself, not recognising him at all. as she made her way to the desk, jisung suddenly perked up. she was stunning. it may have only been nine in the morning, but seeing her was enough to completely wake the previously tired boy up.

“hey, i guess we’re deskmates” y/n greeted politely, taking a seat right next to the timid boy. jisung was thinking of something witty to say, but nothing was coming to mind.

“y-yes we are” was all he managed to let out. y/n just nodded at him, eyes focusing on their teacher who had called the attention on the room. but jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off her. how had he never seen her before? she was practically glowing, her soft features accentuated by the light. he was breath taken by her, despite only having shared simple greetings.

y/n felt the boy staring at her, but decided not to call him out on it. she promised herself to not get involved with anyone this year. it would only bring her eventual rejection again. so she tried her best to ignore park jisung, it was the only way to get him to lose interest.

“i don’t think she’s too fond of me” jisung confides in his best friend, chenle as they sit under the bleachers, munching on their lunch.

“can you blame her? you probably ask her too many unnecessary questions” chenle smirked, teasing his pouty friend.

“no, i don’t even talk to her much, she just refuses to acknowledge my existence” jisung lets out an exhausted puff, thinking back to his numerous attempts to atleast become acquainted with his desk mate. firstly, he tried greeting her brightly each morning, in which she would only raise her eyebrows before pulling out her books for the class. secondly, jisung attempted to ask her questions about class work, in which she shushed him, pointing over to the teacher who was speaking. even after class, she would immediately pack her things before he had the chance, rushing out the door as if she was the flash or something.

“sounds like she just isn’t fond of people in general. does she even have any friends?” chenle questioned, trying his best to pull his friend out of his solemn state.

“i-i’m not sure, i mean she has to have atleast one friend...right?” jisung started thinking to himself. if he couldn’t get her to talk, maybe her friends would.

“you might be playing with fire here, is she really worth getting to know?” chenle scoffed, slightly admiring jisung’s determination.

“you never know unless you try, right?” jisung took a bite of his sandwich, there has to be a way for y/n to open up to him.

“i heard that park jisung has been going around, asking about you” one of y/n’s longest friends, ningning, suddenly brought up. y/n looked at her as if she was crazy, what is up with this park jisung dude?

“what does he want with me?” she rolled her eyes slightly, flipping through her history textbook.

“maybe he likes you? or maybe, he just wants to be friends. why are you so harsh to him anyway?” ningning sighed, memories of seeing her friend cry over boys now cluttering her mind.

“i don’t need any more friends. i have you, and like...sungchan” y/n shrugged, continuing to take notes as she read.

“i think you’re being unreasonable, he seems really nice. give him a chance” ningning tried persuading her friend but y/n was stubborn. she wasn’t going to get wrapped up in any unnecessary drama. maybe she was being a little rude towards jisung, she could cut it down a bit. but being anything more than classmates was not in the cards for her at all.

the following monday morning, jisung entered the classroom, skateboard attached to his hip.

“mr park, the skateboard stays at the front of the room, we’ve been through this” mr kim warned the tired boy, earning a subtle nod from him. jisung gently placed his skateboard against the wall, before making his way to his desk. he was surprised to see that y/n was already seated, scribbling down all sorts of things in her planner. jisung let out a soft cough, signalling her to raise her head to face him.

“could i uh get to my seat?” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. he was more shocked to hear her response,

“oh of course, sorry jisung” he froze after she finished speaking. was this real life? was y/n really acknowledging him right now?

she scooted closer to her desk, allowing space for the tall boy. jisung quickly snapped out of his thoughts, rushing to sit down. she couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle at his antics. it didn’t go unnoticed by jisung.

“may i have your attention? as you all know, it’s now the middle of the term. to test your knowledge, i want you guys to pair up with your desk-mates and make a presentation on a historical topic of your choice. please refer to the assessment outline for more information”

jisung was practically beaming after hearing ‘pair up with your desk-mate’. his eyes shifted to the girl next to him, who seemed quite pleased. she looked over at him, simply nodding, acknowledging their future partnership. did he wake up in some type of alternate universe?

“uh jisung, i really want to do well in this subject. so we should probably get started as soon as possible” y/n gently tapped the side of his desk, drawing in his attention.

“oh yeah, for sure. w-when did you want to start?” he stumbled over some of his words, catching her off guard, making her softly smile.

“maybe tomorrow? do you have a free period?” she continued the flow of the conversation, making jisung feel more at ease.

“uh yeah, just before lunch” he responded, watching as her face lit up.

“oh great! me too, we can work at the bleachers, barely anyone goes there anyway” she confirmed, writing down the extra details in her planner. jisung couldn’t stop staring at her, how could she do such simple tasks, yet look so beautiful?

all he had to say was, thank you mr kim.

y/n patiently waited for jisung to arrive, typing up random notes on her laptop. she was onto her second paragraph when she heard the huffing and puffing of someone next to her. jisung hurriedly sat down next to her, needing to take a deep breath.

“a-are you okay?” she questioned, shutting her laptop, turning her body to face the boy. jisung just nodded, holding up a finger before speaking.

“i just had chemistry with Mr Jung, he wouldn’t let us leave until we could recite the first twenty elements on the periodic table” jisung finally felt relaxed, taking out his water bottle, consuming a concerning amount of water. her mouth created a slight ‘O’ shape, grasping the situation.

“i had to sprint here, i always get stuck past Sodium” jisung continued rambling, allowing y/n to simply stare intently. she didn’t mean for it to seem creepy, but she couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his constant ramblings.

“a-ah sorry, we should probably get started” he shook his head, pulling out his own laptop from his bag. y/n nodded at his words, unsure of how to continue a conversation with him. it had been a while since she spoke to someone outside her inner circle of two people.

after about forty minutes of hardcore work, y/n’s eyes started wandering around. she caught sight of the boys soccer team, who were preparing for their lunch time practice. jisung’s eyes followed hers,

“you like soccer?” he blurted out, trying his best to start a conversation with her. she nodded softly, the side of her mouth curving upwards.

“yeah, i do. i’m no good at it, i just like watching. do you?” she questioned him back, eyes now focusing on him.

“of course, my parents weren’t so subtle, naming me after a famous soccer player and all” he joked, watching as the girl across from him started hysterically laughing. oh how he adored her laugh.

“oh my god, i didn’t even realise! they must have been onto something! why aren’t you on the team?” she furrowed her eyebrows, jisung bit his lip nervously,

“ah yeah, contrary to popular belief, i suck at soccer and didn’t make the team.” he sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. y/n paused momentarily before opening her mouth,

“ah who cares! we can just watch together from the stands then” she shot him a soft smile, relieving some of the tension jisung had previously felt. the bell for lunch rang through the field, signalling that their free period had come to an end. jisung was about to pack up his things, when he noticed that y/n was still sitting, eyes glued to the players on the field.

“hey, it’s lunch now” jisung gently tapped her shoulder, snapping her out of her mini trance. y/n just nodded,

“oh i know, i was just going to watch them practice and eat my lunch here” she explained, turning her head back to the field. jisung held the strap of his bag tightly, thinking to himself momentarily. chenle can wait, he thought to himself. jisung plumped his bag to his side as he returned to his seat right next to her.

“what are you doing?” y/n questioned the boy,

“what does it look like? i’m keeping you company” he just smiled, pulling out a packet of chips, offering her some. she couldn’t hide how entertained she was, kindly accepting his offer. they continued to watch the soccer team practice, eyes scanning for the best players.

“that jeno guy is pretty good, i’m kind of jealous” jisung pouted, causing y/n to start giggling.

“am i wrong? like who wouldn’t be jealous of lee jeno? he’s got like everything! he’s athletic, and good looking and probably gets lots of chicks” jisung praised,

“wow jisung, sounds like you have a crush!” y/n teased the boy, softly nudging him. jisung froze at the sudden contact, he liked how playful you started being with him.

“don’t you? he’s kind of a catch, i thought girls would be all over him” jisung shrugged, watching as she slowly became quiet. he was startled by her reaction, feeling heat rise to his cheeks immediately.

“d-did i say something?” he muttered, unsure whether or not she was upset.

“n-no you didn’t. i mean, lee jeno was my first boyfriend, so i can say i’ve been there and done that!” y/n let out a small scoff, she noticed that jisung had now grown concerned.

“it was nothing though, we were like 12, and he dumped me over text. hasn’t spoken a word to me since though” she sighed, eyes scanning back to the boy in question. jisung was unsure of what to say next. y/n knew she had just over shared, she couldn’t help it. once she started, sometimes she couldn’t stop. she knew it would make jisung feel uncomfortable, part of her regretting it immediately. but when she saw the boy shoot her a cheeky grin, all her worries washed away.

“it’s good to hear that one girl at this school doesn’t have a crush on lee jeno” was all he said, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“why’s that?” she curiously questioned,

“because that means i have a chance” he just smirked, head turning to focus back on the field. y/n was speechless. was he really being serious? or was this just some playful joke? she chose not to respond, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks. since when was park jisung such a flirt?

“come on, it’ll be fun” ningning whined as she sat with y/n and sungchan at the bleachers.

“yeah, you’ll get to see me play for the first time since i got on the team” sungchan begged, watching as y/n debated to herself.

“okay fine, not like i have three assignments to do that night” she sighs, giving into her friend’s peer pressure to attend friday night’s school soccer game. ningning and sungchan high-fived eachother, slightly surprised by her response. y/n’s gaze drew to the one and only park jisung, who was currently trying to do some weird skateboards tricks with chenle. she couldn’t pull her eyes away, finding it amusing whenever he made a mistake and tried to awkwardly cover it up. ningning snickered, catching onto the entire situation.

“park jisung huh? guess it’s finally time for you to put yourself back out there?” y/n snapped out of her trance, now glaring at her friend.

“n-no, what are you talking about? i wasn’t even looking at him” y/n immediately became defensive, sungchan deciding to step in.

“you totally were, in fact i’m sure you have a little bit of drool at the side of your mouth” he playfully teased, pretending to wipe off ‘drool’ from her face. y/n shoved his hands away from her, softly pouting.

“guys, he’s just a classmate. i said i wasn’t going to get involved with anyone, remember?” the annoyed girl reiterated to her friends, who weren’t buying the act at all.

“you can’t shut off your feelings, you know? it’s clear that you’re interested in him, even if it’s the tiniest bit. and you already know he’s interested in you too! why can’t you see that?” ningning sighed, feeling sorry for how hard y/n was on herself.

“because things will get messy. i’ll end up falling harder and ruin everything. it’s not going to happen again, i won’t let it” y/n looked down at her hands, gripping her water bottle tightly.

“maybe he’s different. he’s not going to be another jeno, or renjun, or donghyuck even. just keep an open mind, you have to start lowering your walls” sungchan pulled his arm around y/n shoulders, allowing her to rest against his side. ningning held her hand in y/n’s, gently stroking the back of her hand with her thumb. inside, y/n knew her friends were right. but something kept telling her that she was going to end up broken by the end of it. she really hoped that park jisung would be different. she needed him to be different.

y/n and jisung were halfway through their assignment, sitting next to eachother in the school library during their free period.

“damn, we are doing pretty well, way ahead of the schedule you had planned for us” jisung teased, eyes shifting to the page of scribbles, indicating the tasks for the assignment. y/n let out a scoff, pulling her planner towards her,

“don’t diss my planning okay? it’s just a rough outline!” she pierced her eyes at him, watching as he just smiled back at her. why does he keep doing that?

“you going to the soccer game tonight?” jisung nervously stammered, trying to play off as if he didn’t care too much about it. y/n only smirked at his words, placing down her pen before responding,

“may i ask why you’re asking?” she leant back in her chair, watching as jisung shifted his position so that he was directly facing her. she held her breath for a moment, not realising how close he actually was to her right now.

“because i’m going, and i was wondering if you wanted to watch it together. you know, since we are just the spectators rather than the players?” y/n wasn’t sure why she felt so...flattered, he really was unknowingly charming.

“oh yeah, i’m going, but i’ll be sitting with my friend” she tried to push the idea of her and jisung sitting alone for two hours in the cold, out of her mind. but jisung wasn’t going to back down so easily.

“oh great! i’ll bring chenle too, we can all sit together” he smiled widely before returning to type on his laptop. y/n let out a soft sigh. it doesn’t look like he will be giving up anytime soon.

y/n and ningning were both cozied up together on the bleachers, eyes on the lookout for sungchan. they locked eyes with the tall boy, waving at him erratically, causing him to respond in the exact same manner, gaining looks from his team mates.

“oh i sure hope they win, otherwise we’re making him buy us hot chocolate, i’m freezing!” y/n huffs, her breath now appearing infront of her.

“someone say hot chocolate?” the familiar voice rang through her ears. jisung was now seated next to her, two cups of hot chocolate in his hands. her mouth was agape, watching as the boy handed her friend one cup, then offering her the other. ningning kindly thanked him, gently nudging y/n’s arm.

“and one for my favourite desk mate” jisung snickered as she gently took the cup from him.

“hey! i thought i was your favourite desk mate!” chenle, who was on the other side of jisung, whined. jisung let out a scoff, softly shoving his friend,

“that was three years ago, things change” chenle continued to sulk, jisung not paying any attention to him. y/n couldn’t hide her amusement, taking a small sip from the warm cup of goodness.

“thanks jisung, i’ll pay you back” she offered kindly, reaching for her bag, but jisung stopped her, his hand wrapping around her wrist. y/n’s eyes shifted from his hand, to his face. jisung quickly removed his hand from her wrist, placing them into the pockets of his large coat.

“it’s on me, take it as a thankyou, for being such a great partner” a soft grin was plastered on his face. y/n just nodded, continuing to sip on the drink. the game had finally started, cheers of their fellow classmates echoed throughout the stands. sungchan played his best, assisting jeno in scoring the winning goal. the group of four in the stands, wailed at the top of their lungs, gaining the attention of those around them. y/n couldn’t stop laughing, continuously slapping jisung’s arm as she did so. jisung couldn’t stop looking at her. all he could think about was how gorgeous she looked in this light, the state of pure happiness she was currently in. it was enough for him to fall harder for her. along with her, not so gentle, slaps to his arm, jisung could swear he was in heaven.

“i-i’m sorry, jisung” she quickly calmed down, now realising how hard her slaps actually were. jisung shook his head,

“its okay, i’ll be your human punching bag any day, if it means you’ll hang out with me more” he smirked, causing her mouth to open slightly. was this guy even real? how could he come up with such cheesy lines?

“you’re an odd character, park jisung” y/n slightly shook her head in amusement, allowing her arm to brush against his as they sat closer together.

“it’s one of my best qualities” it sure was.

after the game ended, sungchan ran up to the group, jumping up and down, still pumped from his win.

“you did amazing!” y/n engulfed him into a warm hug. jisung watched the interaction unfold, part of him wishing you would be comfortable enough to embrace him like that one day.

“thanks for coming guys, i really appreciate it” sungchan smiles over to jisung and chenle who were aimlessly standing.

“anyone wanna get milkshakes or something? on me” chenle suddenly pipes up, watching as everyone’s face lit up.

“and this is why you’re my best friend” jisung pulled the other boy by his shoulders as the rest followed the pair. it was short drive in sungchan’s car, to the nearest diner. y/n was slightly shivering whilst in the car, jisung immediately noticed. he debated on whether or not to offer her his coat, but didn’t want to seem too persistent about it. as y/n stepped out of the car, she felt strong shiver throughout her body. jisung pushes his prior worries aside, immediately slipping off his coat, draping it around her shoulders.

“o-oh you don’t have to do this, jisung” she tried to decline, but the boy refused.

“nope, you’re cold and i’m already warm in this hoodie, just accept it” he convinced her, not taking no for an answer. as the five of them stepped into the diner, ningning made a beeline for her favourite booth near the back window. she slid herself into the booth, with sungchan next to her. y/n slide herself in the seat across from her friends, jisung quickly shoving in right next to her, chenle on his other side, once again. ningning gave y/n a playful smirk, eyes scanning over the overly large coat she had on. y/n raised her eyebrows, eyes straining, warning her friend to not mention it.

y/n’s eyes shifted over to jisung, who had started a conversation with sungchan and chenle about some new video game that was coming out soon. she watched as he threw his head back in laughter, continuing to argue with chenle about who was the best avatar in the game. she then noticed how he balled hands into fists, gently rubbing them against the surface of his pants. he would occasionally blow on them, trying his best to get some warmth. she felt guilty for taking his coat, but knew he would do anything in his power to have her wear it. so she swallowed some of her pride, reaching for his hands. jisung froze at the sudden contact, trying to not make it obvious to the rest that he was now disengaged from the conversation entirely.

“w-what are you doing?” he muttered, moving closer to y/n, which made her slightly blush. she pulled his hands into her lap, wrapping them in the excess material of the oversized coat.

“they looked cold, i’ll warm them up for you” she softly smiled, and jisung swore his heart was about to burst out of his chest. was this real life? it couldn’t be, it had to be some crazy dream he was having.

y/n noticed the sudden shyness from jisung, heat now rising to his ears. she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him adorable. her heart racing as the close contact.

the rest of the night was spent chatting away between the five of them. from how lee donghyuck got suspended for putting shaving cream in the soccer coach’s cap, to the dreaded mid term exams that were approaching. y/n wished she had participated more in the discussions, but her thoughts were too preoccupied by park jisung. his hands still rested in hers, her fingers slowly beginning to smooth over his own, making his heart skip beats. he felt himself lean in closer to her as the night went on, practically crushing her against the window, but she didn’t mind.

“we should get heading home now, our parents are probably wondering where we are” ningning pouted as they all raised from their seats. jisung didn’t want to pull his hands away from y/n’s, making the bold decision to intertwine their fingers as they left the diner. y/n’s eyes widened at his actions as he smiled down at her. they sat in the back of sungchan’s car, as y/n felt her head lean on jisung’s shoulder, her hand still holding his. her eyes slowly became drowsy, ready to fall asleep.

“you two are really cute” ningning whispered, not knowing that y/n was listening intently,

“t-thanks” jisung whispered back, trying his best to hide how happy he was by the comment.

“so are you confessing?” chenle snickered, causing jisung to roll his eyes,

“i want to take things slow. i want her to like me back first” jisung sighed, reaching to brush some of y/n’s hair from her face.

“oh trust me dude, she likes you. she just won’t admit it yet” sungchan smiled to himself, happy to see y/n finally start opening up again.

“good, cause i’m in it for the long run” oh park jisung, who wouldn’t fall for him?

when jisung got to school the following monday, he saw y/n standing at the front gates, swaying slightly. she was wearing black stockings with a plaid skirt and a creme coloured sweater vest. but she was wearing something else that caught his eye.

“goodmorning jisung” she greeted the boy, fast paced walking to meet him. jisung smiled softly at her, pulling his skateboard to his side.

“goodmorning, y-you’re wearing my coat” he pointed out, causing her to freeze slightly.

“o-oh yeah, do you mind? it’s been pretty chilly lately” she wrapped herself tighter, eyes facing the ground. jisung felt a swarm of butterflies emerge in his stomach, she really had that effect on him.

“it’s totally okay, you suit it better than i do” he softly chuckled, beginning to walk alongside her, arms brushing against eachother.

“you gotta stop saying stuff like that” y/n sighs, waltzing through the school hallway, to their history classroom.

“and why should i?” jisung playfully teased, tugging on her sleeve, turning her to face him. her hands instantly went to his chest, not realising how close he had pulled her to him.

“b-because” she spoke barely above a whisper. jisung’s eyebrows furrowed at her,

“because it’s making me feel things” was all she said as she pulled away from him, rushing to her desk. jisung couldn’t help but admire her awkwardness. he was slowly getting there, she had partially admitted to having feelings for him. but he knew she wasn’t going to fully admit it anytime soon. he had to make the first big move...but he needed some outside help.

“is there a reason why we are hiding from y/n right now?” ningning whispered, face to face with jisung.

“i want to confess to her” he blurted out, ningning’s eyes widening in shock.

“you want to confess to her?” she repeated, mind still trying to wrap around the situation.

“uh yes? is it so hard to believe? i thought i made it pretty obvio-“

“no no, i know you like her. it’s just that, she’s never EVER had a boy confess to her before. it’s always been her making the moves” ningning explains, jisung’s mouth pressing into a firm line.

“she’s not used to this type of attention. like where the guy is genuinely interested in her as a person, and the things she likes. she’s used to always getting to know the guy, doing everything in her power to gain some type of feelings for her. then she ends up hurt after she realises that she fell harder than they did for her” jisung would be lying if this wasn’t hurting him. how could they do that to someone as caring and loving as y/n?

“how do i show her that i’m different?” jisung stammers, nerves slowly taking over. ningning just giggles,

“you’re already half way there. trust me, she knows inside that you’re not like the rest. you just have to hit it out of the park with a bomb ass confession! here’s what i’m thinking...” ningning continues to whisper to the boy, jisung stringing along to every word. operation confession for y/n was underway.

“hey, are we ready to hand in our assignment?” y/n approached jisung just before class. he responded with an affirmative nod, pulling out the ten page report from his backpack. her eyes widened at his efforts, admiring how prettily he presented the report.

“j-jisung” she stuttered, flipping through each page.

“i had some spare time last night, don’t mention it” he winks at her as she felt heat rise to her cheeks. she quickly moved to her seat next to him, trying her best to hide her face with her hair. but jisung noticed, smirking to himself. could she be any more adorable?

“there’s another soccer game on friday! did you want to sit together again?” jisung turned over the the girl next to him, catching her completely off guard. y/n looked over to jisung, his face completely softened, his eyes practically begging her to say yes.

“y-yeah i’d like that” she nodded, silently cheering that she would get to spend another night with park jisung. the plan was now in motion.

jisung was standing under the bleachers, awaiting y/n’s arrival. chenle approached him, giving him a slight pat on the back.

“you ready, buddy?” chenle whispered, a cheery expression on his face. jisung slowly nodded.

“yeah, the worst she could say is no” jisung tried his best not to psych himself out, reviewing his confession in his head.

“they’re here” chenle announces, eyes drifting to y/n and ningning. jisung took a deep breath, moving slowly towards the pair of girls. y/n was the first to notice him, shooting him a small smile, meeting him halfway.

“good evening ladies” chenle greets, making ningning giggle.

“oh please, we are barely ladies” she sighs, stepping past groups of people to find a seat for the four of them. chenle followed her in suit, with y/n and jisung straggling behind. jisung nudged y/n’s shoulder, giving her a small nod. she returned the gesture, feeling slightly awkward. but she pushed it aside, happy to spend another evening with jisung. she noticed that throughout the game, jisung’s leg kept bouncing up and down. she sensed he was nervous about something, it was either that or he was just really cold.

“do you want my coat to cover your legs? i brought an extra blanket with me” y/n whispered to jisung, causing him to halt his movements. he looks over at her, as she was halfway to taking off her coat.

“why don’t we just share the blanket?” jisung slyly comments. now it was her turn to freeze. she looked over at him, lips pressed in a firm line. as she placed her coat back on, and pulled out the blanket, jisung could feel his heart pumping faster than it had ever before. this was a good sign, right? she must like him back...right?

y/n gently placed the half the blanket over his knees, moving herself closer to him to gather warmth. she didn’t say much to him after, too focused on the game they were watching. but the position they were in right now, was all that was on jisung’s mind.

the game ended with a close win by sungchan’s team. although everyone was celebrating, it was noticeable that sungchan was not proud of how he played.

“dude don’t beat yourself up about it, it happens to the best of us” chenle tried to comfort. sungchan just nodded, not wanting to talk much about it.

“okay grumpy pants, let’s go get some food” ningning pulls the sulky not by the arm, chenle on the other side of him, doing the same.

“you two coming?” ningning calls from behind her. before y/n could answer, jisung reaches for her wrist, stopping her in her path.

“c-could i steal y/n for the night?” jisung didn’t let go of her wrist, watching as their three friends all had identical smirks.

“sure thing, see you two tomorrow” chenle winks, rushing off with the others. y/n’s face contorted into utter confusion. the feeling of jisung’s warm hand wrapped around her wrist made her nervous. he let out a short cough before letting go.

“what did you want to talk about?” she questioned, allowing multiple students to pass by her. jisung didn’t respond immediately, pulling her to sit at the bleachers again. he reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a pink folded piece of paper. her eyes were immediately drawn to it, but part of her was still wondering what this entire debacle was about.

“i-i don’t want you to read this yet. well until i tell you what i have to say” jisung mutters, hands becoming sweaty. this was such a different jisung to watch y/n was used to seeing. he always made witty jokes out of any situation, and was barely ever...nervous.

“go on” she urged, eyes still glued to that piece of paper. jisung cleared just throat, eyes finally meeting those of the girls across from him.

“i have a crush on you” those words had y/n stunned. her mouth became agape, no proper words able to be formed. jisung decided to continue,

“i know that you aren’t looking for a relationship or anything. and you’ve been hurt before. but i just had to tell you. i couldn’t keep it inside anymore” he finally admitted, shoulders now slouching. his eyes wavered from hers at times, but they were now drawn to his hands. y/n wasn’t sure how to respond. this was her first ever confession. the first person to actually have interest in her first. she wasn’t used to this at all. jisung was a nice guy, she knew he was. but was he the guy for her? or was she just struck with the idea of him confessing first? did she even really like him that way?

jisung noticed the mini debate occurring in the girl’s mind, part of his ego becoming bruised. y/n wanted to say something articulate back to him but she couldn’t find the right words.

“uh t-thanks for telling me, jisung. it must have taken a lot of courage” that wasn’t the way he expected things to go, but he continued listening to her.

“but are you really sure you like me? like really sure?” y/n questioned, the idea still not wrapping around her head. jisung was in disbelief, was he not obvious enough?

“i’m more than sure. i’ve liked you ever since i’ve met you” he mutters, feeling completely dejected.

“t-that’s not possible. you didn’t even know me then” she shook her head, eyes drifting to the hurt expression that was now on jisung’s face.

“i didn’t need to. you were so beautiful to me. i had to get to know you. i thought i made it pretty obvious that i liked you. but i guess i should have done a bit more, maybe save myself the embarrassment” he mumbled the last part to himself. his words striking her right in the heart. she didn’t want to come off as rude or unappreciative. but how was she meant to know this wasn’t some kind of joke, or if his feelings were true.

“is it really that hard to believe that i like you?” jisung tried his best to remain calm, but he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and lay in it.

“yes. it is. because guys don’t confess to me. they just don’t. they don’t fall for me first” she continued to tell herself, watching as jisung’s face flatten.

“you can keep thinking that. but it’s not true. i’m living proof. i really thought you liked me too. i must have misread this entire thing” hearing those words stung her heart. she did like jisung. maybe not as much as he claimed he liked her, but she definitely had feelings towards him as more than a friend. but she didn’t feel ready, for any of this.

“jisung, it’s not like that. i like you too, i just don’t think i’m ready” she whispers, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. jisung could barely look at her, an overwhelming wave of embarrassment washing over him.

“when will you ever be ready? because by the looks of it, it seems like you never will be” jisung shook his head, forcefully brushing through strands of his hair. y/n moved closer to the boy, placing her hand onto his shoulder. she felt him tense at the contact, his eyes finally coming back up to meet hers again.

“i-i don’t know when i’ll be ready. i just need some time to think about it” she sighed, not wanting to rub more salt into the wound. jisung only nodded in response. there was no use trying to convince her any further. jisung accepted her reasons, even though he held resentment towards her for initially rejecting him.

“i’ll give you some space. let me walk you home atleast” jisung stood up, offering his hand to her. y/n cautiously took his hand in hers, slowly walking alongside the tall boy.

silence filled the air on their walk home. the only sounds being heard were the hoots of owls and screeching of cicadas. jisung had let go of her hand along the way, which pained her to admit, she missed his touch immediately. as they made it to her front door step, jisung was in a rush to get home, ready to sob his eyes out. but y/n stopped him.

“i understand that you’re upset. trust me, i know how it feels. but i hope you can see where i’m coming from” she mumbled as jisung nodded along to her words.

“it’s fine, i get it. i’ll just give this to you now” he pulled out the folded paper from earlier, handing it over to her.

“if you still don’t believe i like you, that should give you a sign about how much i actually do. have a nice night” he shrugged at her, turning his back to walk away. she watched as he left her driveway, head hung low. she shook the thoughts out of her mind, opening the door to her house. she didn’t bother looking back at jisung, closing the door behind her. but just as she entered her home, jisung’s gaze lingered on her. how could she have hurt him so much in such a short amount of time, yet he still felt the exact same about her?

park jisung, you are a fool. he thought to himself on his way home. how would he move on from this?

after the long night she had, y/n wanted nothing more but to sleep her problems away. but as she held onto the pink paper in her hands, she knew she wasn’t getting any sleep. she seated herself on her bed, carefully unfolding the paper, her heart racing.

“dear y/n,

if you’re reading this, i’ve just confessed to you. and you’ve most likely rejected me. i understand why you did it, i really do. i just couldn’t hold it inside any longer. i know you aren’t looking for anything serious at the moment. but i want you to know that i’ll be waiting for you. i hope that one day you realise how amazing you really are, and how i would be the luckiest guy in the world, to have you reciprocate my feelings. i honestly feel like you’re out of my league. i mean, you’re so confident in yourself. and you never let people bring you down. you’re so optimistic about such trivial things, it’s started to rub off on me a bit. i appreciate the sweet moments we’ve had together, and i hope you do as well. i don’t want to lost hope, that’s something you’ve taught me. you’re now nearing the end of this awfully structured letter, and i just want to say, that you deserve the world, and i can be the guy to give it to you. if you just give me a chance.

- park jisung (you already know who it’s from i just wanted to sound formal okay bye)”

y/n suddenly felt tears stream down her cheeks. for once in her life, she felt truly appreciated and cared for in return. of course she could see herself with jisung. it wasn’t a hard decision for her to make up her mind about it. but her constant doubts always held her back. it wasn’t fair to jisung at all, to keep him stringing along. she needed to make a decision, quick. there was no way she was going to hurt this boy.

the following monday morning, jisung patiently awaited y/n’s arrival in class. he nibbled on the side of his lip, tapping his pen rapidly on the desk. other students asked him to stop, as they were getting annoyed at the sounds but he couldn’t help it. he was praying she read the letter and didn’t just discard of it.

just as he was slipping into his own thoughts, he felt a sudden slam of books on the desk. his eyes met y/n’s as she sat down next to him. his quickly broke eye contact, flipping through his textbook as if he was studying. but she caught on to the boy’s antics, tapping him on the shoulder. jisung froze at the contact, looking over at the girl, who was still wearing his jacket.

“this is for you” she pulled out a small jar of origami hearts, sliding it over to his side of the desk. she felt heat rise to her ears, slightly embarrassed at the sweet gesture. jisung was practically speechless, his heart beating at a rapid pace.

“wow thank you, i love it” he gave her a gentle smile, eyes suddenly disappearing. she only nodded back, unsure of how to continue.

“i read your letter” she got to the point, jisung’s attention fully attended to her.

“i didn’t realise you felt so deeply about me, jisung. i thought you just had a silly crush, maybe that’s why i thought it would be easy to push you away. but you never let it go. and i’ve never had anyone do that for me before. so thank you” y/n barely whispers, feeling her palms begin to sweat. which was only something that happened when she was extremely nervous.

“what i’m saying is. you’re not like the guys i’ve liked before. you like me for me, and you genuinely want to be with me. so would you consider going on a date with me to the movies this weekend?” she cautiously suggested, watching as the boy’s face lit up in utter glee. he wanted nothing more but to pull her close and swing her around as he hugged her. but they were still in class, he needed to be tame...for now.

“i would freaking love that” he chuckled, causing you to smirk at his response.

“i’m glad you accepted my confession, i would have given you the silent treatment if i really tried” jisung pouted, making a fake angry expression, crossing his arms. she gently slapped his shoulder, laughing at the boy’s ridiculous antics. if this what it was like dating park jisung, then bring it on.

[ three months later ]

“come on! sungchan shoot!!” ningning’s voice echoed through the stands, the whole crowd geared up for the school’s soccer grand final. y/n and jisung were bundled up together, sipping on their hot chocolates, silently praying for that grand final win. there was only a minute left, jeno passed to sungchan and...he scores!

all the students from their school

jumped up, screaming endless cheers at the team. ningning waved her mini flag she made with sungchan’s face on it, as y/n and jisung hollered with the crowd.

“you did so great out there” y/n complimented her friend, like many times before, pulling him into an embrace. she saw how jisung slightly pouted, missing her warm touch. she slipped perfectly back to his side, his arm instantly wrapped around her waist as the crew made their way to the diner. jisung held y/n back, offering to meet the rest later on. y/n was yet again confused, following her boyfriend’s steps to sit on the bleachers.

“what’s up, sung? everything okay?” she pouts, watching as jisung nervously looks up at her.

“i love you” he blurts out, hands covering his mouth once he does. her eyes widen, not expecting those three words to leave his mouth at all. she pressed her lips into a firm line, her mind comprehending the situation. jisung was left worried, trying to read her expressions as best he could. he hoped he didn’t scare her away, it would completely ruin him.

“you’re just in luck” jisung’s head whipped up and met her. “because i love you too” y/n whispered, inching closer to the boy. his hands gently stroked her cheek, it was slightly cold but she didn’t mind. her lips fanned over his, ready to press them together. as she did so, jisung smiled widely into the kiss, hands coming to squish her cheeks together. it made both of them giggle for a bit, breaking the kiss momentarily. before jisung pulled her back in.

y/n soon realised that she didn’t need to live in fear of rejection any longer. because jisung gave her every ounce of reassurance she needed. the boys from her past slowly fizzled away from her memory, jisung now taking place as the one boy who truly loved her.

a/n: pls let me know what you all think!!

#nct imagines #park jisung imagines #park jisung fluff #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct scenarios #nct writing #jisung fluff #nct jisung fic #park jisung #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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unholyobsessions · 4 years

Text

the good side

Pairing: former Luke x fem!Reader, Julie x Luke

Description: In the end, you ended up hurt and Luke ended up happy

A/N: this is kinda all over the place but i actually really like it

Warnings: heartbreak, alluded depression

Word Count: 2.0k

Prompt for jatp song fic february: week 1 Romance. A failed relationship based on The Good Side by Troye Sivan. @jatpsongficfeb @dream-a-little-bigger-x @bright-molina

Masterlist

Happiness

That’s the one word you would have used three months ago to describe your relationship with Luke. When seeing his smile made yours grow wider, and looking into his eyes made you fall more in love.

Complicated

The word you would have used two months ago, when the fights were a little more common than you liked to admit and both of you were hurt by words you couldn’t take back.

Crumbling

Is what it was a month ago, when you would roll over in the morning to find Luke already gone and the silence in the apartment rang louder than the screaming matches that followed.

Over

Is the word you use now, as Luke packs what is left of his clothes and slams the door behind him, leaving you to fall to your knees and cry at the loss of his arms around you. The weight of the promise rings in your hand is too much and you throw them at the door.

Heartbreak isn’t an emotion you’re unfamiliar with, you’ve had your fair share of failed relationships. But you never expected to feel this with Luke.

Luke who told you he was going to marry you one day. Who would hold you close and whisper lyrics of love songs he had written for you, proclamations of adoration that he promised to sing to the world one day.

You stay in the empty hallway, loud sobs racking your body until the sun starts to rise over the horizon, showering the room with a golden glow from the window.

Your throat is burning and you can barely feel your legs, but you force yourself to get up. You head to the shower, letting the burning water pelt against your skin until it turns cold.

Your friend comes over later that day but you can’t bring yourself to explain. She holds you close against her chest, promising that everything will get better, but you’re not sure if you believe her. There’s too many memories, too much love still in your heart that you don’t want to let go off. Letting go means accepting it’s over and deep down, you don’t want it to be.

You stay in bed for a week, not having the strength nor the motivation to get up. Other friends come over, forcing you to eat and you do so robotically. Life doesn’t feel real. You feel as if this is all some terrible dream and when you wake up, you’ll be in Luke’s arms again.

. . .

Luke is on Cloud 9. His fingers sting from the long hours of playing his guitar and his throat feels sore from months of singing lyrics into a microphone, only to hear people sing them back to him.

The last not of the last song echoes in his ear and he turns around, grinning at Alex who is holding the cymbal with the tips of his fingers. Julie holds the note longer than any of them, her voice blending with the screams of the fans. Reggie is bouncing, still full of adrenaline and Luke admires him, because he is exhausted and can barely stand on his feet.

“Thank you L.A. for making our last show one of the best, we’re Julie and the Phantoms-“

“Tell your friends,” the three guys join Julie for the last statement. With a final bow, they all exit the stage and in a flurry of excitement, Luke jumps on Alex’s back. This has declared the end of their first world tour and although Luke loved it, he is sure he could sleep for the next twenty years.

He met them, the band, shortly after breaking up with you, at an open mic night. Right as his set ended, he was ambushed by his now bandmates, Alex, Reggie, and Julie, all of whom started rambling and shooting him rapid-fire questions until his head spun. He clearly remembers putting his hands up and yelling “Shut up!” Causing all three mouths to snap closed. He proceeded, “What exactly are you asking me?”

It was Julie who spoke, “We want you to join our band.”

Everything seemed fast paced from then, it started with him meeting with them, trying out writing songs together and things just clicked. Every thought was finished by Julie, every melody completed by Reggie, every idea supported by Alex.

And, caught in the moment, he didn’t find the time to be heartbroken, to miss you. He got over you before he even realized it and suddenly, he was falling in love again.

Luke naturally gravitates toward Julie, orbiting around her like the earth does the sun. He can’t help it, and he’s not sure he understands it. He just finds himself longing for those small, unintentional touches, the intense eye contact during a song, the proximity of sharing a mic with her.

Then it happens. Julie is playing a melody on the piano, and Luke is sitting next to her, eyes closed and envisioning the lyrics forming before him. Julie shifts and now her thigh is pressed against Luke’s. His eyes snap open and he turns to her, finding her already looking at him. His eyes shift down and he registers a small nod of her head, and before he can think himself out of it, he surges forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that takes both their breath away.

They smile lovingly at each other when they pull away and then they continue writing the song.

. . .

You haven’t heard from Luke. Not since the door closed. You haven’t heard his voice for over a year but you recognize it as soon as you hear it on the radio.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story 'bout a girl

You hadn’t been paying attention to the station, or what the radio host was saying. But you know, you are so sure that it is Luke singing the song. Your heart clenches as you listen to the lyrics, ones you had never heard in your life, which means that he had written this after the breakup. Your chest aches with hope, could this be about you? Is there still some part of him that wants you back? Still loves you as much as you love him?

It takes only a few seconds for your hope to be crushed, because a new voice starts singing, a woman’s voice.

Here in front of me

Shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

And it’s stupid, because you can’t see them, the song isn’t even live. It’s a recorded studio version, most likely recorded separately, but somehow you can still feel it.

Love. Pure unadulterated love, that this girl feels for Luke, your Luke. And that Luke feels for her.

It crushes you. Tears starts streaming down you face and a heart-wrenching sob cuts through your throat. You pull over, ignoring the honking of the car behind you as you merge into the next lane. Straight from a movie, it starts to rain, and you change the station, not bearing to listen to the love of your life fall in love with someone else.

The tears don’t stop coming and you turn the volume up, not wanting to hear the sound of your own anguish. You stay there for an hour, until you’ve run out of tears, and your throat feels raw.

You somehow make your way home and as soon as your head hit the pillow, you cry yourself to sleep.

. . .

Luke saw you once, two years after you parted ways. You didn’t see him, too busy staring down at the street as your friends dragged you to a store. It was clear to anyone, but especially to him, that you were miserable. And Luke didn’t want to believe that it was because of him, despite what people say his ego isn’t that big. So he followed you, calling out to Julie, Alex, and Reggie where he was going.

He stayed hidden, not wanting you to notice him. He was about to give up after fifteen minutes of finding out nothing, when one of his songs started booming from the store speakers.

Luke sees you freeze and then sees your friends immediately lead you out of the store. He hides behind a rack of clothes when you walk past him and he spots a trail of tears falling down your cheeks.

He doesn’t want to believe it, he thought you would be okay. He never expected you to not get over him. He wanted you to move on, find happiness. Just like he did.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, and is shocked when he feels a hand on his arm. Whirling around, he comes face to face with Julie, who has a worried look on her face.

“Luke? You okay?” Alex and Reggie are a few steps behind her, both equally confused.

“Yeah Jules,” he presses a kiss to her temple for good measure and she smiles up at him. “I’m just thinking about a new song.”

. . .

It takes Luke a few minutes to register that the fans are still screaming.

“One more! One more! One more!” Echoes through out the arena. They all look at each other, wondering if they should go out there again, and play one more song. Eventually, the love for their fans beats their tiredness and they bound back up the steps and to the stage, their instruments still there.

“Alright L.A. we’ll give you guys one more song.” Alex says into his mic, twirling a drumstick around his fingers. Luke pulls the strap of his guitar over his body along with Reggie and Julie goes to sit on her keyboard.

Luke leans forward on his mic, and he realizes that they didn’t discuss what song they were going to play. He turn his head and it seems that his bandmates are all thinking the same thing because they start sending each other looks. Luke is about to give his own input, but for some reason, decides to turn his head.

What he sees knocks the breath out of him. You’re standing there, in a worn out pair of black jeans and a random t-shirt. He feels himself lean forward again, starting to speak without even consulting his band. “This next song is one that we’ve been working on,” he pauses to look at Julie. They all know what song he’s talking about, because it’s the only song he’s been able to finish in the last few months, as if the universe won’t let him write another song until he achieves closure. His girlfriend nods at him and starts playing the melody. With a small, shy smile, he looks directly at you, willing you to understand. “Hope you like it.”

I got the good side of things

Your friend dragged you to the concert. Not telling you whose it was until you were already inside the arena. You wanted to run away and there were tears already welling up in your eyes. She pulled you to your seats and promptly scolded you, telling you that this was your chance. Your chance at closure, to finally write the ending to the Luke chapter of your life. “You won’t get over him unless you confront him,” she said. And knowing that you would never talk to him, going to his concert seemed like the best way.

You hate to admit that she’s right. At first, you had to bite down tears and force yourself to stay, but then you find yourself getting lost in the music. You enjoy yourself and as the concert came to a close, you felt that maybe, it is possible to move on.

But then they came back out. And every word, every lyric, every note change struck deeper and deeper within you, and as you meet Luke’s eyes, which are looking only at you, you know who the song is meant for.

And baby, I apologize

But you can’t do it. You can’t forgive him, not yet. Maybe not ever. You can try to forget about him but the scars he left behind will always be there, as a reminder of what you lost. And as the last note comes to a close, Luke’s voice drowned out by screams, you shake your head.

Luke’s shoulders fall but he nods, he understands. You walk away and he lets you, because what he wrote, what he just sang, still holds true.

#jatpsongficfeb #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms #Julie and Luke #julie molina #jatp #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke x oc #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson fic #luke patterson fanfiction #juke #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones

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karasunology · 4 years

Text

MORNING KISSES + ❝ AM I YOUR LOCKSCREEN? ❞ & ❝ YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT. ❞ with MIYA ATSUMU !

✎ . . . hi! can i request from the prompt list you reblogged lazy morning kisses + “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” with atsumu? thank you!

❝ ― submitted by @ nonnie <33 ❞

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ miya atsumu <3

-ˏˋ ✉️ REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

⇣ please read the RULES before requesting.

✎ . . . PROMPT LIST YOU COULD REQUEST FROM. PROMPT LIST O1 | PROMPT LIST O2 | PROMPT LIST O3

[ ♡ ] in my drafts for awhile just in case i got no motivation to write and post. surprise! my drafts isn't all about me crying over skz and twice. send requests because i use them as a motivation to write🙈

MIYA ATSUMU.

➜ miya atsumu's favourite thing in the morning was waking up next to you, either you clinging onto him or vice versa ─ he didn't really mind as long as one is attached to the other.

➜ but in this case, you were the one clinging onto his torso, mouth slightly agaped ─ a drool from the side of your lips which he used his thumb to wipe it off, rolling his eyes before silently chuckling at this sight to behold in such an early hour.

➜ you were a sight to behold, one that he would like to keep to himself and only to himself; seeing how you drool, snores that were cute or snores that were not;

➜ your skin still radiant as the sunrise's illumination passed through the window shades, elicited a different angle of the auriferous extracted from the rising star ─ passing onto the shades, kissing your bare face raw and gently as all he wanted was to take a picture of you.

➜ but maybe he'll just wait for awhile

➜ in these situations, there's thre plausible scenarios that could happen

➜ one, he'll let you sleep in for a bit while he'll sit back against the headboard on his phone, usually mindlessly scrolling through the team's imessage group or tiktok.

➜ two, duh he'll eat you out HSSSJS is that even a question??

➜ three, he'll start playing with your hair; combing the strands of hair which framed your face and would then start peppering kisses all over your face softly.

➜ usually would end up with you groaning, telling him to wait for five minutes ─ like literally only five more minutes to let you sleep until he can do whatever he wants with you

➜ no, not in that way

➜ well ─

➜ and that's where MANS WOULD BRING IN THE BIG GUNS

➜ he'll kiss your neck, just to hear a small moan that wow, he just drawn out from you??

➜ but you would still never let him kiss your mouth unless he brushed his teeth this morning

➜ because unlike him, you keep a regular habit of brushing your teeth while waking up; so when you went to the bathroom at 4 am in the morning, you bet you brushed your teeth unless you wouldn't be able to fall asleep once again.

➜ and when you do tell him to brush his teeth first, he'd be highkey offended thank you very much um ,,

➜ would also earn you a grumble and groan, before childishly stompting and sulkting to the bathroom you two shared because he's a huge ass big baby dork that just wants to kiss you ─ why won't you let him kiss you? :(

➜ and expect when he comes back he'll have a puppy pout tugged on his lips as he went back to the safety of the covers. wanting to go back to your warmth but was too prideful and lowkey hurt that you didn't let him kiss you when you woke up.

➜ i told you, c h i l d i s h.

➜ but ig you love that man😔✋

➜ and when you do initiate something physical with him, he'll just be a stubborn ass bitch and deny you of it.

“ humph! ” he'd usually say, puffing out his cheeks as he furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms while his pout still rested in his lips.

➜ but this is atsumu y'all, he may be hard headed but he just couldn't deny you for more than twenty minutes and after that he'll be right back into your arms.

➜ like honey ,,, marupok siya ok AHHAHAHA

“ love, i told you i don't wanna kiss you when you have that stanky ass morning breath. ”

“ loVE, i tOLd yE i dON'T wAnNa kiSs yE whEn yE hAvE thAt stAnKy ASs morniNg breAth ”

➜ ugh we love a petty ass bitch💅

“ baby, 'tsumu, i love you ” you looked up at him with puppy eyed, copying his puppy pout as well AND MANS JUST CAN'T RESIST IT ANYMORE

“ hmm . . ”

➜ he'd hum, showing you that he was contimplating his answers but you know most of the time he'd be nuzzling his face onto your neck, pressing his body against your back with his arms around your waist or torso as his chin rested in your shoulders.

“ i love you too. ” he'd mumbled, before probably kissing your ears

➜ Shawty👧🏽like a💫melody 🎶 in my ⏸ head😩that I 🙈 can’t 😰 keep out 🚫 got me😛singing 🎤 like 😳 na na na na 🤪everyday 🌈 got my ipod 📱 stuck on replay🔄...𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦...😔

➜ and you bet he'll be getting his kisses that you denied him of earlier, but times ten folds

➜ he'd kiss you with so much passion, you didn't notice the slight roughness in his actions.

➜ and he'd definitely hit you with a:

“ good morning, beautiful. ”

➜ and finally after he calms tf down, he'd be watching tiktoks on his phone while he'll be in the same position as he was before

➜ loves inhailing your scent

➜ but then his phone's battery would be dead and you got no choice but to get up

➜ until, atsumu had a great idea of using your phone to watch tiktoks on it since he knows you have it installed

➜ he was kinda weirded out when you didn't want him to open your phone, your excuse being that you guys need to eat breakfast now but mans probably wasn't buying any of it

➜ you weren't hiding anything were you?

➜ you weren't cheating on him right?

➜ hee knew you weren't that type of person at all but his insecurities got the best of him

➜ as cocky as this man is, he'd usually cover his insecurities with half-hearted confidence.

➜ again as i said he's stubborn so he wouldn't let you out of his grasps just yet

“ no :< ”

➜ and once he's got enough of play fighting, he'd simply just reach onto you, pulling you into another kiss so you wouldn't notice him taking the phone from your hands.

➜ honestly a HUGE win-win for the both of you, you = breathless, him = has your phone

“ atsumu no ─ ”

➜ his eyes slightly widened at the picture before him, both of his eyebrows rising up before looking back at you with a smug smirk tehee🙈

“ is this ─ is this why you didn't want to let me use your phone? ” he couldn't help but let a teasing grin explore his face, he didn't know that you were actually that type of person

“ haha no ─ ”

“ ─ am i your lockscreen? ” he asked you, a teasing smile accompanied by one of his eyebrows which he cocked up

“ you weren't supposed to see that. ” your face in a deep blush because oh my god after all these time you guys were with each other ─ he has never failed to make you a flustered mess

➜ after that incident, he wouldn't let you go that day. while cooking breakfast, he'd he so clingy with you that you almost burnt your pancakes

➜ just very overly touchy with you because wow was he in cloud 9, like that boosted his ego so much that it was ASTRONOMICAL at this point

➜ but ngl whenever you'd pry him off of you to go to the bathroom, he'd ALWAYS secretly look at your phone's lockscreen until the image of both him and you as your lockscreen was imbedded in his brain ─ making him giddy every damn time

#haikyuu social media au #haikyuu smau #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu x reader #inarizaki x reader #mbsy black jackals x reader #miya atsumu smau #haikyuu!! social media au #hq headcanons #hq imagines #haikyuu fluff

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Inukag *warning this chapter might hurt*

Staring out through the windshield of his car, his darkened home was the picture-perfect mirror of the pain settling into his soul. Inuyasha had no idea how he’d even managed to make it home without driving off a cliff or plowing himself into a stone wall, because his body and mind were completely numb.

‘Read’ but not answered…

Was it a good sign that the woman at least looked at it? Inuyasha rested his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. He’d fucked up… again— just like the night of the accident. His eyes squeezed tighter shut as the emotional pain of everything slammed him with the force of a freight train. This was bad… bad, bad, bad… “FUCK!!” He roared into the still night air. With Kagome’s memories coming back, she’ll remember everything, and it was over. He’d had this second chance to reverse all the damage and he went and fucked it up again.

Not surprisingly, Kagome didn’t respond to his first text, so he typed out a final message for the night: ‘You’re mad at me. I get that so I’ll give you some space but I just wanna say good night Kagome. I love you -Inu’

‘Read’ but not answered…

It was all he could do for now, his only solace knowing Kagome had her mother to comfort her. Inuyasha sighed, long and deep as he pulled the keys from the ignition and dragged himself into his home. His body felt heavy with exhaustion. A weight crushing him down like a boulder. It took all he had to just drop his keys to the floor beside the entrance and shuffle into the bedroom instead of falling right then and there. He didn’t want to move anymore. He deserved the silent darkness of this tomb-like home along with its judgmental echoes of the life it once held.

The next morning after a restless sleep, Inuyasha called out of work. When would he be back, he couldn’t answer them? Part of him didn’t care anymore. Fire him, it wouldn’t matter to the walking dead. Miroku called in concern for his friend, but Inuyasha let it go to voicemail. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now, not when he knew it would have a ring of ‘I told you so,’ mixed in. That wasn’t necessary. Didn’t he feel bad enough?

A good morning text sent… left on Read…

An apology text….

Another apology text…

Voice messages left randomly through the day…

All left on Read and unanswered.

The anxiety filled hours ticked on with Inuyasha left curled up in a ball under his blanket. He’d done a number on his living room to physically release the anger he felt at himself, and now he was just dead to the world. All the drapes were tightly closed to the sunlight outside and he only left his bed to attend to bathroom matters. He didn’t wanna give up all hope, but with his mind in tatters and thoughts only of despair, there was nothing left to cling to.

By nightfall Inuyasha was convinced Kagome had truly given him up and he couldn’t blame her for it. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid big mouth. There was no denying it. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Just like before, instead of using his ears to listen, he responded with ego when he had no right to chastise her over not telling him something. The whole reason he was in this mess is because he never listened to her when it mattered the most— and there in lay the heart of it all. Neither of them had the opportunity to talk about what caused the original fight or process what drove Kagome to leave. Inuyasha thought he’d understood its origins and accepted responsibility for it, but clearly, he was wrong, and this new situation is most certainly what would have taken place if Kagome hadn’t crashed her car— a debilitating depression.

If Kagome didn’t want him anymore, then there wasn’t anything left for him in this world as far as Inuyasha was concerned. His yoki called out for her, wept for her loss, and with it all the energy in his soul to care slipped away. He was simply empty without her. No appetite or desire or thirst, just an ocean of dread, and waves of numbness dulling all his senses.

How much time had elapsed, how many days gone by? The clock ticked away hour by hour like a death knell with Inuyasha simply waiting for a release to come. All the messages left on his phone were from everyone other than the one person who could have brought him out of this funk. But her ringtone never came. It is what is it. Was it day four? Five? Six? Inuyasha couldn’t tell, but feeling his body starting to let go, he decided to send one last message to Miroku before shutting off the phone for good.

At the Hoshii residence, Miroku and Sango were on edge dealing with the crisis. Sango had been doing her best to help Kagome to cope with her pain, but Miroku was growing frantic over Inuyasha’s refusal to answer him. He’d driven by the man’s home and knew the car was there, and that was it. No one answered the door and with all the curtains closed he couldn’t see inside. Finally, on day five while they were visiting with Kagome, Miroku heard his phone ping with a message.

Inuyasha: thanks for being a good friend. Tell her she was the only one I’ve ever loved

“What the hell?” Miroku blurted out as he mulled the message over and over in his head.

Sango rushed over at the concern in her husband’s voice. “What is it?!”

“I think that idiot is planning to kill himself— I better… I better go.”

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Higurashi also came out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about a message Inuyasha just sent,” Sango explained as her husband was digging around in his small pouch and grabbing his car keys. “Miroku is gonna check on him.”

“What did it say?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

So, Miroku showed the woman his phone. “It doesn’t sound good.”

“Oh, dear!” She reached for a jacket near the front door. “I’m coming too! Sango will you stay?”

“Of course, I’ll be here with Kagome. You two go.”

It was a good thing that Miroku had held onto a spare key to Inuyasha’s home that he’d been given and simply forgotten to return. When he and Mrs. Higurashi walked through the door, chills crawled over his skin. It was evident that the house had been closed-up for several days, no windows opened, or ventilation, just a silent graveyard feeling with a fog of musty air mixed with the scent of rotting kitchen garbage and body odor. It was revolting and only heightened the pairs concern for the occupant.

“Inuyasha?!” Miroku yelled as they made their way through the dark home but received no response. The man wasn’t in the living areas or bathroom, so the logical option was the master bedroom at the far end of the hallway. ‘Please be alive,’ he prayed.

Once inside the room, they could see an unmoving body underneath the blankets and if the buildup of body odor told a story, it was sure to be his friend underneath those covers. “Inu?” Still no response.

Mrs. Higurashi turned on the bedroom light, and the brightness finally caused the blanket to shift ever so slightly. “Oh, thank heavens,” she gasped out in relief as she held a hand to her chest. He was still alive.

Miroku rushed over and yanked the blanket off. “Inuyasha!” Tears instantly gathered in the panicked man’s eyes. The state of his friend was heart breaking. Inuyasha had lost weight. His skin was gaunt and pasty white, hair matted and dirty. “Oh, fuck, we— we should call emergency!”

“No…” Inuyasha croaked out and buried his face deeper under his arm. “Let me die.”

“Fuck no, you idiot! Kagome still needs you!”

“Better… off… without me…”

‘Seriously?!’ It was rare for Miroku to get so upset, but in that moment, the anger that bubbled up to surface took over and his arm flew up ready to strike his friend. “You stupid—!!”

“Don’t!” Mrs. Higurashi yelled at Miroku. “He needs help, not anger right now.”

That seemed to snap Miroku out of his emotions, but the tears broke free. It was hard to see his friend in this position, just so frail— nothing like the tough hanyo that he’s known for years. Even after the death of his mother, Inuyasha didn’t break down this badly. Miroku grit his teeth to his own pain and pushed forward. “You idiot. Dying isn’t gonna help Kagome. So, whether you like it or not, we’re gonna help you.”

Mrs. Higurashi now moved around the bed to where she could sit beside Inuyasha. Her own eyes were clouded too, but the woman pulled on all the strength she could muster to hold it together. She placed a hand on the arm he was using to cover his face. “Inu, Miroku is right. Kagome is hurting just as much as you, and I don’t think you’d want to cause her anymore heart ache by going out this way.”

“But she hates me…” Inuyasha whimpered weakly. “Please just let me go.”

Mrs. Higurashi had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold back her tears. Her heart broke for the man. Gently, she pulled his arm down, her voice shaking as she spoke. “Inuyasha, you’re like a son to me, and I won’t let me son die. We’re gonna figure this out, but you need to live please, for her, for all of us that cares about you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes cracked open just a tad. “I’m so, sorry,” he mumbled. “So… sorry…”

She kept her voice as soothing as possible. “I know, and so does Kagome.” Mrs. Higurashi then turned to Miroku. “Do you think you can get him into the shower and clean him up? I’ll make something for him to eat. He needs something in his stomach immediately.”

“Y-Yeah, I think I can do it.”

It took both of them to help Inuyasha into the bathtub. He was so emaciated and dehydrated, that he had no strength left in his body, just dead weight. While Mrs. Higurashi left them to deal with the kitchen, Miroku stripped his friend of clothing and ran a bath to bathe him. Inuyasha offered no resistance, just a few tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Inuyasha kept repeating.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save it for Kagome. I can’t believe you’d think we’d be okay with you dying! You’re my best fucking friend you asshole! I want my kids to grow up with their uncle!”

“But I keep screwing up.”

“And that’s life. It ain’t the end of the world yet.”

“Feels like it.”

“Whether you believe us if not, Kagome is hurting cause she in love with your stupid ass too. You can still fix this.”

“Don’t know how.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Thank you…”

Inuyasha’s eyes started to roll back, so Miroku slapped him hard in the face. “Oi! Don’t you be dying on me now! So, wake the fuck up!”

“So… tired…”

“Gonna clean you up and momma Higurashi will get your strength back, so hang on just a little longer…”

Now cleaned up and dressed in something comfortable, they prop Inuyasha up in a recliner since he was still struggling to hold up his own body weight. He simply had no reserves left to draw from and under human standards wouldn’t have lasted this long. A hospital was better equipped to deal with this kind of situation. Inuyasha should have been put on IV fluids to hydrate him faster along with special supplements pumped directly into his system because after this long, the organs would have started to shut down, and his stomach would struggle to process anything. But Mrs. Higurashi made due to honor his request, starting with a bland rice water chicken broth of starch, proteins, and vegetable nutrients to re-prime it slowly. She also sent Miroku to the store to purchase drinks with electrolytes given to infants when they are dehydrated. It was a painstaking process to feed Inuyasha spoonful by spoonful.

“I need you to help me fight Inuyasha,” the woman coaxed the weakened hanyo. “So, you can live through this and see Kagome again.”

Tears flooded Inuyasha’s eyes at the mention of Kagome’s name. “After everything, why would you still want me around her?”

“Because you love her, and she loves you, and as long as there’s love it can find a way. Son,” she placed a hand on his, “I know it feels like the end of the world, but it will get better if you want it to. Do you want it to?”

“Yes,” he sobbed.

Her hand now gripped his tightly as her expression grew determined. “Then fight for it!”

It took several bowls of soup before gradually Mrs. Higurashi started giving Inuyasha fish and small pieces of chicken meat to eat. She had to stick to easily digestible foods, but at least his coloring was improving, and he could feed himself now. The sun has already set, by the time Inuyasha could finally stand up on his own.

“You’re lucky you’re a hanyo. That’s what’s probably saved your life.” Miroku expressed to his friend.

“I know.” Inuyasha could feel his demon half working harder to regenerate his physical body. Though while his body was recovering, his heart still felt broken. They kept telling him that Kagome still loved him so there is hope, but a part of him struggled to believe it. He’d already hit such a low point, to suffer rejection now was almost too unbearable to even comprehend.

Miroku continued talking. “Inuyasha, you’re not gonna do this alone. We will be there to support both of you, but it’s time you confront this. You and Kagome need to talk… about everything— even though she may not remember, a lack of communication is exactly what triggered this whole situation.”

“I know…” Inuyasha sighed.

“All couples go through struggles,” Mrs. Higurashi added with a comforting tone in her voice. “A strong relationship doesn’t come from a having a perfect one, Inuyasha. It’s developed through adversity. How well a couple can take the challenges thrown at them and grow from it.”

“You remember what happened with me and Sango, we almost didn’t make it because of my bad behaviors…”

“Your damn womanizing,” Inuyasha cut in.

“Yeah, that,” Miroku grumpily agreed. “She had to give me a harsh ultimatum to wake me up. But I did, and now look at us. This is your harsh moment, and you can choose to wake up, or loose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s your choice.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Inuyasha ran a hand down his face. “Of course, I don’t wanna lose her.”

“Then are you ready to see Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

Inuyasha exhaled slowly. “Ready? No…” he was terrified to face the woman. “But I’ve gotta do it.”

#inukag #inuyasha #inukag au #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #kagome higurashi #missing memories #ch 11 #petri808

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silverwhiteraven · 3 years

Text

Wings of Broken White - Ch. 10

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 9 ] [ Chapter 11 ]

[ Summary: End of School picnic preparations! ]

To celebrate the class’s successful final project, they were putting together plans for a large picnic in the park at the end of the last day of school. The last day wasn’t mandatory for students to attend unless they had work to catch up on or tests to make up. So Marinette was spending that time at home, busying herself in the upstairs kitchen, preparing food and treats.

A faint knocking sound distracted her a couple hours in, and after making sure she could walk away without anything burning, listened for the source. She gasped and smiled when she realized it was coming from above her, from her own room. The balcony! Chat must be here!

She ran up to her room and up to the lost, and sure enough, she could see Chat Blanc, seated on the balcony floor next to the trapdoor. She pushed it open quickly, and he perked up, his tail flicking and wings spreading out behind him excitedly.

“Princess! You came!” He smiled wide.

Marinette giggled and pulled herself up to sit next on the edge of the hatch. “But of course, I can’t just leave my Knight outside like a stray now can I?” He laughed at that and she hid her smile behind her hand. “So what are you doing here, gryphlet?”

“Well you see,” he flourished a hand dramatically as he spoke, “I heard that today of all days was your last day of collège, and I wanted to congratulate you. So here I am.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You sure it’s not because I'm cooking? If you heard about it being our last day, then there's no way you didn't hear that we’re planning a picnic later, too.”

He gasped dramatically, setting a clawed hand to his chest like he had been hurt. It did nothing to erase the cute smile on his face, though. “You doubt my intentions, Princess? Well, you are right to do so,” he sighed dramatically. “Indeed, I am not just here to congratulate and shower you in praise, but to rob you of your goodies. Forgive this dashing rogue of his glutinous ways?”

He fluttered his eyes at her, and she couldn't help but laugh. “You are forgiven, on one condition,” she raised her hand, index finger raised to indicate her one condition.

“Name it,” he leaned in, looking ready to do anything.

“Help me with the baking and cooking for later,” she stated simply with a coy smile. “You can eat a portion of anything you make yourself. That’s the means for you to get fed. Deal?”

“Deal!” He hopped to his feet with a big grin and she gently laughed, happy to see his energy. She led him back down into her room and then into the kitchen.

She quickly checked on everything, making sure nothing had burned while she was gone. Satisfied, she waved Chat Blanc to join her at the counter. His previously excited mood was replaced by slight nervousness. He looked unfamiliar with the layout, though his eyes sparked with curiosity. Marinette tried not to stare as she cleared her throat and started introducing him to the ingredients and tools. “Now, don’t touch anything just yet,” she added when she finished showing him around. “Cooking has ground rules you should always follow.”

“Like a chemistry lab?” His ears flicked and wings shuffled, and she giggled, nodding.

“Yep, just like a chemistry lab. First, let's get you an apron.” She grabbed one of the hooks by the stairs, and as she went to toss the neck strap over his head, she noticed the decal on the front. Kiss the Cook. She blushed and turned it backwards, swiftly putting it on Chat before he could see. Now the decal was hidden from view and she wouldn't have to think about it. She then went behind him to tie the waist strap, but paused as she looked at his wings in the way.

“Something wrong?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Your wings...These aprons are usually for my parents. I only use them when my wings are bound,” she said quietly, a bit awkward and unsure.

“Oh,” he replied softly. Her breath caught and she stepped back as his wings moved. They dropped slightly, only to completely fold up, pull against his back. He smiled at her gently over his shoulder. “Better? As long as you don’t tie it too tightly, I’ll be purrfectly comfortable like this.

Dropping her head to hide another blush, she nodded, coming closer and tying the apron. “So, uhm, next thing. Always keep your hands- uh, talons, washed.” He chuckled at her fumbled pun but nodded and went to the sink. She mentally facepalmed, knowing it would be awkward to wash gloves.

She carried on instructing him, meanwhile trying to keep to the edge of his vision until her flustering calmed down. She made sure he knew never to cross contaminate foods, to always clean the work area as they went, and continue to wash hands frequently. She scolded him when the oven timer went off and he almost reached in without proper hand protection. He was sheepish about it, but to her satisfaction, he didn’t make the mistake again.

At some point, she hadn't noticed the amount of flour dusting him because of how well it blended in. She only realized it when he had patted her head in reassurance that he could do a task without help now. The pat left a white handprint in her midnight hair, and she guffawed indignantly when she noticed it in her reflection on a mixing bowl. She didn’t bother trying to get it off, though, knowing it was pointless.

Finally, with quiche, pasta salad, croissants, and macaroons all done after a few more hours of working together, they were now sitting on the floor, waiting for the bread rolls to finish. The dishes and counters were already clean, the aprons were back where they belonged, and Marinette had even let out her wings to stretch them out alongside Chat Blanc’s. She tried not to think about their feathers brushing as they sat shoulder to shoulder, watching the oven like a pair of tired but happy hawks.

Chat started humming as they sat in comfortable silence, and she listened to the gentle sound. It was enhanced by a subtle purr, and she had to hold her breath to keep from giggling at the cuteness of the moment.

When he stopped, she asked in a whisper, “What song was that?”

“Hm? Oh,” he smiled softly and rubbed his neck. “A lullaby my mother used to sing. ‘Robin and his Maiden’. I made my own little parody of it not long after I got my Miraculous. Well, I only managed to do the first line, really, I'm stuck on the rest.”

Marinette sat up, attention caught. “Tell it to me, I want to hear.”

He hesitated, a blush under his mask indicating it was from shyness and not from doubt. “The original first line went like this: Little Robin on a roof, without his Maiden. The story is about Robin Hood and Maid Marian. Now I say it like this: Little Kitty on a roof, without his Lady.” Marinette giggled, realizing the comparison to her alter ego. “I’m stuck on the rest, because the story doesn't seem to quite fit with the changed names, you know?”

With a nod of understanding, she nudged his shoulder with her own. “Art is hard, I know. It’s okay to be stuck. You should try playing with the names a bit, maybe the rest will come to you along with fresh inspiration.”

He nodded and looked away, back to the oven as he began to hum again. Soon, the hums turned to words. “Little Gryphon on a roof, all alone without his Princess,” he gave a cheshire grin as she burst out in laughter and a fresh fluster. She pushed him over and he laughed as he flopped on the floor. She stood up and huffed, hiding her smile as she checked on the bread. The timer went off just in time, and, feeling satisfied with their golden brownness, she took them out and set them to cool on the counter.

She glanced at the clock and sighed. “Everything is done in time, that’s good. The picnic is in an hour.” She turned to Chat with a soft smile. “Without fail, I always end up late to meet-ups because I put way too much on my plate right before hand. Looks like I’ll be on time this year. I couldn't have done this without you, Blanc.”

He smiled back at her from his place on the floor, looking perfectly content to be there as he practically basked in her thanks. She laughed, feeling light and newly carefree. When they lulled back into comfortable silence, he sat up and looked at the clock himself. A sad smile replaced his normal one.

“Looks like I need to go before then. I have somewhere to be later, too.” He stood, brushing the last of the flour off his white suit, his wings fluttering as they too shook out little puffs of powder. Marinette nodded and joined him, leading him back upstairs and out onto her balcony.

“Thank you for stopping by, gryphlet. I had fun,” she looked away, smiling to herself. “And don’t forget these, your promised treats for helping.” She handed him a cardboard pastry box, containing a few of the goods they had made together.

He beamed at her as he accepted it, and then took her hand in his and bowed. “It was my pleasure, Princess.” He kissed the air above her knuckles and she giggled, struck breathless by his action. He straightened back up and let her go, smiling wide. “I’ll see you again soon.”

And just like that, he was leaping from her balcony and gliding away on wings that matched the sky and clouds.

It took her a little while to go back inside, having taken her time to be dazed as she processed the last few hours. Tikki had broken her out of it with barely restrained giggles and a reminder that they needed to get ready for the picnic with her class.

As expected, the hour passed by quickly after that, and with a little help from her parents, all of Marinette and Chat Blanc’s efforts were brought to the park and set out on tables alongside everyone else’s contributions.

Everyone in their class made it to the park, and a few had even dragged along some family members who were willing to celebrate with them. Many of them spent the whole picnic talking about the school year, and all the random moments that stuck in their minds. Hawkmoth and some Akumas were brought up at some point, and almost half an hour was subsequently spent on everyone acting out each other's Akumatized versions in light and welcomed jest.

When it all started to dwindle to a close, everyone spent time making summer plans together and discussing which lycées they were going to. It was sad to think that their group, together for four years strong, was going to be split up. Luckily, everyone had plans to join extracurricular school groups that were likely to have them meeting up just as often as before. Even their humanitarian projects like planting public trees and gardens was something they were excited to continue.

If anything, they all knew that distance wasn’t going to make their bonds any lesser.

And so, all in all, Marinette had a good time, and she felt ready to keep going into the future.

#marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat blanc #ml wing au #wing-binding #willowbendt

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gothic-safari-clown · 4 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 19: Hands Off

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18

Word count: 2587

TW for self harm

"So you're tellin' me absolutely nothin' is goin' on between you two?" Between sessions, Harley had come to visit Elianna in her office for a chat. "Aren't you still staying at his place?" It seemed that the blonde still had yet to give up on the idea of El and Jonathan together; the only difference now was that she had ended up being right (a fact that the redhead had made sure to remind him of as they laid in bed catching their breath the day before. He hadn't found it quite as funny as she did).

"Yeah—wait, how did you know that?"

"I was pullin' into the parking lot behind you guys this mornin'."

"Uh-huh, we drove separately, stalker." El quirked an eyebrow with an expectant smile.

"Right, so you just happened to arrive at the same time? Just 'cause you didn't take the same car doesn't you're not comin' from the same place."

"Alright, alright," El laughed. "He's got some errands to run after work, so I promised to make dinner."

"Aww," Harley exaggerated the syllable, knowing it would get under her friend's skin.

"Oh, cut it out." El rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I already told you, nothing is going on." The blonde just laughed in response. "Hey, how's your big case coming along?"

As Harley enthusiastically began to tell whatever she could about her sessions with the self-named Poison Ivy, El used the distraction as an opportunity to recall the day before smugly to herself.

Already, the recent change in their relationships had its ups and downs. On the one hand, it almost seemed like a dam had burst; their dynamic flowed more smoothly, and for her part, she felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. On the other, when he had told her that morning that he had to oversee the handling of that night's delivery personally (since Batman had effectively put Falcone out of commission), her usual worry for his safety had doubled.

Something that Elianna and Jonathan had in common was a lack of experience with real relationships. As such, they shared a sense of profound importance in regards to the new arrangement. It would take some work to balance the now heightened concern they held for each other.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was in his office trying in vain to occupy his mind by shuffling through the stack of administrative paperwork that the warden's office couldn't be bothered to sort through before sending it to him. Between the unexpected hitch in the master plan and trying as hard as he could to not think about El (on that count, Scarecrow was actively working against), he was struggling to make it through even the very basics of his job.

At that moment, for example, he was grappling with his schedule for the day. Falcone had been taken to Blackgate and apparently had been asking to see him for a few days. Jonathan had been putting off visiting the mobster since he had found out; he had been caught by a civilian in a cape and a mask; what could he possibly have to discuss with such a disappointment to the underworld? Today, however, he had received word that the older man had cut his wrists, and the administration at Blackgate had sent for him specifically.

As if that weren't enough, he had already had to clear his schedule for that night to oversee the shipment, given that Falcone was now indisposed.

There was no getting around it, though, he supposed, and found himself back in the car en route to Blackgate. However, the drive wasn't nearly long enough for Jonathan to quell his frustration in Falcone's incompetence, and before too long was meeting with the mobster's caseworker.

"Doctor Crane, thanks for coming." There was a thinly disguised urgency in her voice as she greeted him.

"Not at all," he replied, barely remembering to keep his tone patient. "He cut his wrists?" How irritating it was to fake concern.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea," well, at least the woman was pragmatic, "but if anything should happen..."

"Of course, better safe than sorry." He nodded as they approached the door to the private room that Falcone had been brought to. With that, the caseworker unlocked the door to let Jonathan in and let the door swing closed behind him.

Falcone didn't skip a beat. "Hey, Doctor Crane, I can't take it anymore. It's all too much; the walls are closing in, blah blah blah," the old man rambled dryly. "Couple more days of this food, it'll be true." Jonathan found himself steeling himself against the urge to let Scarecrow come out as he settled into his chair.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut." The ego of a powerful man is truly something indigestible, isn't it?

"About what? You don't know anything about the operation."

"Maybe not specifics, sure, but I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized. I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse." Jonathan listened and watched as patiently as he could as the tiresome man continued to talk. "See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." At this point, Scarecrow was banging against the proverbial walls of their brain, desperate to retaliate. "Those goons you used. I own the muscle in this town. Now I've been bringing your stuff in for months. So whatever he's planning, it's big. And I want in."

Can you believe the balls on this guy? Let me out, Jonny.

Not yet; he still doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Well, I already know what he'll say. That we should kill you." Just because we haven't yet doesn't mean that we won't, old man.

"Even he can't get me in here. Not in my town." Jonathan was growing tired of this conversation very quickly.

"Your town." The psychiatrist repeated, not a question—a mockery. The older man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, did I forget to ask? How rude of me, I forgot the most important part. How is your little lady friend from the asylum?" here the mobster leaned in threateningly, "Does she know what you're doing? What's gonna happen to her once you go down, I wonder. Maybe I'll send some people to make sure she's not alone, huh?"

Now that caught Jonathan's attention. The rest of Falcone's little threats were easily avoided; even he didn't have the power to endanger Ra's Al Gul's plans. He did, however, have the power to have unspeakable things done to Elianna. That would not stand.

Jonathan made his decision from there quickly. Scarecrow was overjoyed that El had been brought into the discussion, knowing that Jon would have to take it seriously, and was raring to be in control.

Jonathan sighed and removed his glasses, hearing the straw man begin to cheer in the back of his mind. "Would you like to see my mask?" He asked, opened his briefcase without waiting for an answer, popped open the false bottom, and reached for the mask, ignoring the several full syringes waiting to be used. He had added a new rig to the case, and it was as good a time as any to test it out. "I use it in my experiments. Now, I'm probably not very threatening to a guy like you," he continued, holding up the mask for emphasis, "but these crazies? They can't stand it."

With that, he made to put the mask on and let Scarecrow take over.

He could barely hear Falcone's quip about the nut taking over the nuthouse over the ever surreal feeling of taking the backseat in his own brain.

Once his face was secured, Scarecrow took great pleasure in pressing the button to release the cloud of toxin. The screams of terror began almost instantaneously, much to his delight, and he rose from his chair to loom over the mafioso.

"They scream, and they cry," he teased with menacing glee. "Much as you're doing now." Jonathan allowed Scarecrow a few more seconds of enjoyment before regaining control. They still had to leave undetected, and Scarecrow couldn't be trusted to be professional. As much as Jonathan enjoyed hearing the man who had dared to threaten El scream, he was more trustworthy when it came to subterfuge.

"Well, he's not faking," Jonathan cleared his throat as he reentered the hallway, greeted by the caseworker's concerned face. "Not that one." He was still a bit flustered by the rush of inflicting such horror upon someone. Move on, Jonathan, act normal. It was a bit of a blur after that, promising to talk to the judge and get Falcone transferred to Arkham before making his way back to the Asylum himself. He still had a few patients to see before he could punch out to oversee the shipment that evening.

However, once the rush wore off, Jonathan found his mind wandering back to what Falcone had said about El. Who knew what he could have told his people already? He stopped by El's office before returning to his own and was surprised to find her no longer there. A quick phone call to the secretary at the front desk told him that she had already left for the day—another phone call to find that her cell phone was dead.

Shit.

Jonathan forced himself back to the matter at hand, telling himself that she was fine, but the lingering worry stayed in the back of his mind.

For about an hour and a half at least, when he decided that he was done with work for the day. The sooner he could take care of business, the sooner he could rush home to make sure she was there.

In the car on his way to the meeting site, Jonathan tried calling her again to no avail.

I really need to get a home phone for the apartment; he cursed to himself.

He found himself unable to focus on the task at hand as he parked his car and got into the one being driven by the goons provided by Falcone. Any of them could have received orders at any point to take El, hurt her, anything. He had no way of knowing if instructions had already been given or what liberties were allowed should anything happen to her.

Behind his impassive expression, Jonathan was operating almost solely on autopilot, getting out of the car and entering the old apartment that served as a drop point. This one had already been used twice before, and given how close the end date was, he had already decided to eradicate any and all evidence once the job was done.

He looked disinterestedly over the pile of stuffed bunnies, appraising the shipment's size, doing quick calculations in his head to the best of his ability. After concluding that it was, in fact, the correct amount, he gestured to the goons to retrieve the substance from inside of the toys. "Get rid of all traces."

Jonathan couldn't help the disgusted look around the dilapidated apartment. He couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be less at that moment. Distracted by the sheer quantity of distasteful thoughts swirling in his mind, he was almost startled when Scarecrow spoke suddenly.

There's someone else here.

That statement froze all other concerns as he tuned in to his environment. He barely registered one of the thugs telling the others to torch the apartment as he noticed a prickling on the back of his neck, as well as the open window.

Jonathan remained calm and in control as the other men began to douse the furniture in gasoline while he moved to examine the window.

Are you sure?

Before the straw man could answer, the sound of shattering glass from the other room stole Jonathan's attention from the window.

Yes, came the smug response. Wasting no more time, Jonathan let the other goon move to investigate and instead moved into the shadows to retrieve his mask.

You're up again, Scarecrow. Do it fast; we have to get home.

Yeah, yeah, you've been annoying me for hours; she's fine. Would you shut up about it? Retaliated Scarecrow as he forced Jonathan out of the driver's seat and took over, relishing in the drama of wearing his face again.

That moment didn't last for very long before his suspicions were confirmed, and the Batman himself burst into the room, swiftly incapacitating the leftover thug. Luckily, Scarecrow's reflexes were just as fast, and he released a cloud of toxin from their sleeve rig, which hit the caped crusader squarely in the face.

The effects were almost instantaneous, judging by the wide eyes behind the cowl and the erratic, flailing movements. Scarecrow stifled a laugh as the armored man toppled backward away from him.

"Take a seat," he taunted, thoroughly enjoying his playtime, "have a drink." Here he seized a bottle of vodka abandoned by his now useless goons. The staw man snarled mentally, understanding Jonathan's intolerance of incompetence. They would be eradicated along with the evidence of their crimes. Splashing the booze on the caped man in delight, he continued to tease him.

"You look like a man who takes himself too seriously." Scarecrow abandoned the now empty bottle and replaced it in his hand with a zippo lighter that El had left in their pocket.

Wait, she loves that thing-

We'll buy her a new one, pipe down.

He had corraled Batman in front of the window and sparked the lighter, extending it in front of him menacingly. "Do you want my opinion? You need to lighten up." With that, he tossed the lighter, which ignited the caped crusader and the old rug in seconds.

This allowed them a swift escape, as Batman threw himself out the window and plummeted with the rain onto the pavement several stories below. Wasting no time, Scarecrow had them outside and in the getaway car. Luckily, there was a spare key in the visor, and they sped down the street in the direction of where they had left their car.

Slow down! We're attracting attention; we don't need that.

You're the one who's been bitching about getting home for the past few hours.

Not letting up for a second, Scarecrow turned a fifteen-minute drive back to Jonathan's car into a five-minute one before finally retreating to his place in the back of their mind. Of course, on principle, Jonathan was still irritated with Scarecrow for behaving so recklessly, then leaving him to deal with any potential consequences. Still, he was glad for the saved time.

By this point, Jonathan was so frenzied with panic about El's wellbeing that he couldn't even think about their own run-in with the Batman. Still ten minutes away from home, he tried to call her cell once again. Still no answer.

Why the fuck won't she pick up?

Scarecrow didn't respond, finally picking up just how agitated the whole situation had made his counterpart. Best not to rile him up further.

Jonathan nudged the car faster. Only a few minutes away, but it felt like forever. He was so frantic to get home and see Elianna safe that he couldn't even think of what he would do if she weren't. No game plan, not even a shadow of one because she's okay. Or so he kept telling himself.

#the mind's power over the body #Attraction To The Insane #series #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Nolanverse #batman begins #Elianna Montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #jonathan crane fanfic #multi chapter fic #slight au #cillian murphy scarecrow #cillian murphy #tmpotb chapter 19

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henryobsessed · 4 years

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The Widow and The Witcher Chapter 9

Summery: Geralt is sought out to fight a monster and Julia has to face losing another.

Word Count: 2800

Warning: Fluff :)

Chapter 9

Julia was sitting on her day bed enjoying the view while waiting for her last client. It had been a long day and she was ready to put her feet up. Outside the sun was just starting its descent, heading to begin what looked to be a beautiful sunset with light streaks already beginning to turn golden. The Garden was in bloom, Spring had been wonderful, the bare trees were getting there foliage back and the flowers were beginning to show their colour. The view she was admiring right now, however, was not of nature or was it? the fluid movements of father and daughter sparing with each other. Their bodies moving in succinct rhythm and movement as if it was a choreographed dance. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

The weeks following the great upheaval had been peaceful, Yennefer had left the day after stating she had business to attend to, and if Julia was correct nursing a bruised ego. Ciri had stayed not phased by the movements of her elders, as she was used to the turbulence that surrounded Geralt and Yennefer's relationship. That week Geralt had moved a cot into Cirri's room and began sleeping there. Even though the village and surrounding areas seemed safe he was not willing to risk her life.

This had been a blessing to Julia. It removed the temptation to keep asking Geralt to stay with her. Allowing some distance, some time to sort through her feelings without it being clouded with his presence. Now her days were full, she worked in her clinic till dusk, then after dinner spent time teaching Ciri and reading with Geralt. The Library had become a social place with Tobias and Renee joining them several nights a week. Julia loved seeing how much they doted on Ciri and she hoped that one day soon the unnamed God would bless them with a child of their own.

Renee walked up and placed a hand on Julia's shoulder, "Your last client has arrived" taking a breath she stood up. Her last client was a young child who had burned his hand in his mother's cook fire. For the last few months, she had been tending the scaring tissue with salves and healing balms. Today would be their last apt. Seeing the young boy of 5 she smiled, he was a beautiful child with hair rich red and white skin with thousands of freckles. Kneeling down in front of the child Julia greeted him, "Hi Tommy and how are you today?"

"Good" Tommy gave her a shy smile. The little boy was standing with his good hand behind his back he looked at his mother and asked, "can I give it to her now?" smiling his mother nodded. Pulling his hand around from his back the little boy held out to Julia a small bracelet made of polished shells. "This is for you Mistress Julia" taking the precious gift Julia pulled it over her hand onto her wrist, smiling she stood and took his good hand and lead him to the examination table.

Lifting the little boy up on the table she said, "shall we have a look at how your special hand is mending?" Tommy held out his hand to Julia to inspect. The tissue was healing well but the scaring would always be there as a reminder of his accident. Thankfully, no infections had set in and he had not lost any of his fingers. "Now Tommy can you squeeze my fingers?" Tommy looked with concentration at his hand and slowly wrapped his fingers around Julia's. "That's good Tommy" giving the boy a huge smile. Looking him in the eye she spoke with a quiet conspiratorial tone, "have you been doing the exercises I gave you?" smiling eyes echoed her own and he nodded his head. "Ok then I think Mrs. Renee might have a special treat for you from Miss Nessie." Turning she saw Renee walking up with one of Nessie specialties a big chocolate chip cookie.

Leaving Renee to entertain the little boy Julia took the young mother aside. The young woman reached into her basket and pulled a letter out "The Alderman gave me this to give to you. A man arrived in town three days ago looking for The Witcher. No one admitted that there was one here, but he seemed confident that he would find him. Said a trader was drinking in a local pub sprouting about how he sold a Witcher to a lady in Wolnosci. Eventually, he left this with the Alderman and said he would be staying at the local pub. He is going to stay until he gets word back."

Julia took the long envelope a sense of heaviness settling around her heart. Should she give it to Geralt? He seems so happy, spending time with his daughter, and with Julia. He didn't need the money as all his needs were met. So, the only reason he would go would be his sense of honour, and the knowledge that he could help in a bad situation. "Thank you" Julia turned to look back at Tommy who was giggling as Renee was pulling faces at him. Julia walked to her table that held all her oils, touching a few and turning labels until she found the one she needed. Picking it up she handed it to Tommy's mother "Tommy will need you to massage this oil into the scar every night. He will always have the scar but it will fade a bit with time" taking the bottle the young woman pulled Julia into a hug "Thank you for all you've done" Julia felt the relief in the young woman's hug, Tommy was her only child and she had been very worried for Tommy over the weeks of treatment.

After Renee and Julia had cleaned up the room and reset it for the next day they headed outside. The days were warming up after the cold winter and even though the sun was setting it was pleasant. Tobias came up and put his arms around Renee as the three of them continued watching Geralt and Ciri practicing. Julia's mind was preoccupied with the letter in her pocket. The main concern was Geralt, she didn't want him to be put in harm's way. Fear began to twist at her stomach, she didn't want to lose him, but also another concern was Ciri. How would they protect her if someone did find her here and how would she feel if Geralt did not survive the job?

Julia was so preoccupied with this line of thinking that she missed that Geralt and Ciri had finished their training. She missed that the sun had set, and it was not until two large arms encircled her from behind and pulled her into a hug that she was moved out of her worrying.

Geralt had enjoyed his afternoon, the weather was wonderful and training with Ciri in such a beautiful environment gave him a sense of joy. Ciri was becoming proficient at the sword which was important for her safety. Most people would think that she was a lightweight princess easily overcome. However, if today was anything to go by she would give them a run for their money. As the last rays of light were fading away they finished, and turning to head inside saw they had an audience.

Tobias and Renee stood tucked into each other, their contentment and comfort with each other evident in their faces. This was contrasted by Julia who stood slightly apart from the couple her brow was lowered in a concentrated almost worried look. Geralt moved towards his precious lady, even in a worried state she was beautiful. Her soft brown red curls pulled into a sof bun accentuating her neck and todays dress of a soft olive green fit her to perfection. His lips begged to touch hers and his arms ached to hold her.

Coming up behind her Geralt put his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest. Resting his head on hers he could smell the honeysuckle that he had become so familiar with. He felt her relax in his arms. The last few weeks since Yen had left, and he had expressed his dedication to Julia things had been easy. Well, kind of easy, if this had been a causal relationship they would have slept together by now, and Geralt struggled to not let his mind travel to how nice it would be to take Julia to that place of pleasure. They had spent more time talking and spending time with the household than on their own.

Geralt had also moved into Ciri's room, it was under the pretense that she needed protecting, well that was true, but his alternative motive was to remove the temptation to keep sleeping in Julia's room. He knew how important it was to show her respect and honour, this was a special relationship and he wanted it to last longer than just a few months.

They stood for several moments just enjoying the warmth of the evening brease, and then the stars as they began to show in the sky. It wasn't long before Geralt realised that they were the only ones left outside as Tobias, Renee, and Ciri had headed back inside. Turning Julia around to face him he looked down into her blue eyes. "Hi," he said smiling as Julia looked up at him the worried look he had seen earlier had disappeared from her face. "Hi" she replied blushing at there closeness. Looking from her eyes to her lips, unable to help himself Geralt lowered his head and kissed her gently on the lip. Pulling back to keep the kiss pleasant but not to passionate he asked " how was your day?" at that question he noticed the worried look return to her forehead.

Wanting to erase the look that had come back into her face he leaned his head against hers. "Are you ok?" Julia had closed her eyes relishing his closeness. Pulling back, she looked into his eyes, "Today has been long. My last client was fun, I saw Tommy for the last time, and he bought me a present." Holding up the bracelet for Geralt to look at. Scrunching up his face as he looked at the fine piece of jewelry Geralt said "Tommy huh, should I be concerned that he's going to steal your heart away from me?" Keeping a straight face Julia looked at her arm, shrugging she said "I guess so, he is shorter than you though. He is also younger than your many years." Giggling she looked at his frown and pulled him close again. "He is a 5yr old Geralt, yes he has stolen my heart but not in the same way you have" at that comment she captured his lips in hers. They stayed that way enjoying each other and the privacy until Renee popped her head out the window announcing dinner.

Dinner was delicious as Julia had come to expect from Nessie's cooking. The meal in front of her smelled divine and her taste buds dance with each bite. The duck fell apart as she took her fork to it and the spices were mild but full of flavour. Looking at her family surrounding her she once again thought back to the letter. She would have to let Geralt know, it was the right thing to do. Her mind made up she joined in the conversation that was dominating the table. There was talk of war again, thankfully last time Wolnosci was spared the path of the soldiers. Tobias was holding Renee's hand as he spoke "The North is moving as is the south, as long as Temeria holds the line we will be safe like last time. Julia, we will need a plan if we have to evacuate, maybe Geralt you could give us some advice on this as you know more about where a safe place would be to flee?"

Geralt who had been savoring his mouthful of duck stopped chewing and looked at Tobias. If the war was raging so close to the North, there would be no safe place to flee. The only places he could think would be Dol Blathanna with the elves, only if he could negotiate acceptance of the refugees or to the Brokilon Forrest again this would be dependent on them accepting Julia and the others she was responsible for. Geralt never had to worry about war, he took no sides and was not interested in the politics of men. Now however it might impact his new family and that was a problem.

Tobias cleared his throat, "Geralt?" the voice broke into his thought process. Geralt looked around the table eyes landing on Julia her sweet smile looking him, but it was marred again by that worried look. Was it the war that was sitting heavy on her heart? Looking back at Tobias Geralt responded "There are two places I can think of that we could go but both places are predominantly inhabited but nonhumans. I would have to negotiate your safe travel to be amongst them and even though they have accepted me they may not accept you. It's risky. We need to hope that Temeria holds its line for the North and that once again the war will not reach us."

The table sobered at this knowing how devastating it would be if Nilfgaard breached the Yaruga river and took the North. It was a quiet group that retired to the library that night. Everyone had something on their mind. Ciri sat on the single sofa with a book in her hands, she realised she had read the same line over and over. Her mind kept going back to the last war where she had lost her grandmother, grandfather, and her kingdom. This had led to a long journey fleeing the Nilfgaard army and seeking the man her grandmother had told her was her destiny.

Ciri looked across at Geralt who was currently sitting on the rug with Julia. They were facing each other deep in discussion. The chemistry between them was so strong that it made Ciri smile, Geralt could be hard, stoic and very sarcastic. Ciri had experienced another side to Geralt a softer loving and protective side. Since arriving at the estate Ciri had only seen this side of Geralt. It was a testament to how much he loved Julia that he was lowering his walls and allowing her to see him in this soft mannor .

From the moment they met Ciri knew she would be safe with Geralt. They had developed a father-daughter relationship and even though they were not blood-related, nothing could be closer than the relationship they had. She hoped that if she was to stay here that her relationship with Julia would also develop, already she felt loved by the older woman but was yet to get to really know Julia well. Reminding herself that Geralt, Julia, Tobias, and Renee were all there to protect her she relaxed and went back to her book.

Julia sat on the rug, face to face with Geralt. They had been discussing options for a plan in case they had to evacuate. There was a lull in the conversation and Julia knew it was time to bring up the letter. Pulling it from her pocket she handed it to Geralt, Julia took a breath and placing a hand on his knee, "A man delivered this to the Alderman in town, he's staying at the pub and won't leave till he's heard from you." Geralt looked at the envelope then back to Julia "Is this why you've been worried today?" Julia nodded her head afraid to speak. Geralt pulled the letter out and slowly read it. Putting it down he looked at Julia the look of fear radiating from her face. He picked up her hand and pulled her into his arms.

The letter had spoken of a village that was a 3-day journey from Wolnosci where the boys of the village were being killed. So far 9 had fallen foul of the monster that was terrorising their village. It sounded to Geralt like a Bruxa the very monster that had left him wounded before Kias had kidnapped him. The Bruxa was a powerful female vampire whose song and female form entices the victim to follow. She then turns into a terrible bat-like monster devouring her pray and drinking their blood. Geralt knew this was a chance to redeem himself and destroy this creature. The Village would not be able to survive without him.

Feeling Julia in his arms he second-guessed the decision to go. What would happen if the war came to them while he was away? He knew that Ciri could defend herself and that she would defend Julia, but could he leave the protection of his love in someone else’s hands?

Previous Chapter Eight Next Chapter 10

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#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt fanfic #henry cavill #thewidowandthewitcher

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yeojaa · 4 years

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TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy, fluff, slow burn, smut, pining, unrequited love.

rating. ... 18+

word count. ~4000

chapter 9.

FLASHBACK September 1, 2018

"Just post it," you're chiding, indignant and exasperated and still, so incredibly soft. You're prone against his shoulder, bone of your chin digging into the muscle that lines his back and undulates with every breath. He moves forward, not to dislodge you from your position, but enough to shift the sharp turn of your jaw. You say nothing further and settle into the warmth that radiates off him, nose lost to the hood of his sweatshirt.

The mouse sits heavy in his palm, an anchor rather than 67 grams of nothingness. There's too much power in the little black device. It makes his jaw ache and his brow furrow. You can feel the uncertainty radiating off him in waves, invading your senses in an unwelcome assault.

"Kook, come on." Again, softer this time, laced with tenderness and belief. It spills off your lips, buttery and sweet like carnival kettle corn. Your arms find a home around the slant of his frame, fingers locking neatly over his chest, right where his heart lies beneath flesh and bone. The steady thud of it is a reminder of his humanity. "You've worked so hard for this."

This, being his portfolio. His life's work made reality, brushed with the most utmost care and so much talent you're not sure where it all goes.

Gouache portraits, vivid blues and greens splashed over cream; wondrous proportions laid out bare, rendered to perfection with a keen eye and careful hand. Production of stories you'd never be able to express, painted with the most glorious skill and cut to maximize impact. Melodies woven in between and above; the sweetest sound you'd ever hear, awash with the light and shadow.

His finger hovers over the button on his mouse as if it's a Doomsday device. You want to scoff but bite it back, pressing your face into the freshly-washed powder puff that is his hair. It smells of peaches and honey, mingling with the distinctly Jungkook scent that lingers on his skin.

"I can't do it." He whispers the words like they're shameful, yanking his hand away and stuffing his hand into the kangaroo pouch bundled around his waist. You sigh. It's quiet but with your close proximity, he hears it and it's an echo that repeats over and over in his ears. Eyes squeeze shut, dent forming between his brows as he exhales a shallow breath. "I heard that."

"You were meant to," you return easily. Because while you'd always be in his corner, supporting him when he needed it most, you also weren't about to let him rest on his laurels.

Before he can stop it, you've got the mouse in your hand. Click - like it's the easiest motion in the world.

"Did you just—" You're retreating as soon as he's speaking, skittering back five steps and out of reach when he whirls around in his stupid red and black gaming chair. The fury is immediately apparent in the baring of his teeth, the tension in his jaw. It propels him forward and he's so much taller, his strides so much longer, that he's upon you in a second.

"You needed a push!" It's a meagre excuse, squeaked out in indignation as you anticipate death by asphyxiation.

Instead, he's crushing you against him so tightly you really do feel like you can't breathe, though it’s different. Still, it's better than what you'd anticipated and you pat his back where you can reach, arms locked to your side by the intensity of his hug. You think he might squeeze the life out of you but you don't move to untangle yourself from him, instead mumbling soft reassurances against his chest. "There, there."

"Thank you." It's so hushed you think he might've meant it only for his ears, but you feel the way the words ghost over the shell of your own. It sends a shock straight to your toes, rousing an adoring smile along the way.

"You're welcome," you hum in a voice thick with satisfaction. You loved being right. It didn't happen often - at least, not with Jungkook - so you revelled in it at every opportunity, allowing your ego to triple in size and engulf everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Not one to let his defeat go so easily, he huffs. The way he rolls his eyes makes you worry he'll sever an optic nerve. "Still a brat, though."

"Yeah, well—" You're returning his childish petulance tenfold, tongue sticking out from between lips that taste like too-sweet plum wine and Sprite. "—takes one to know one." And boy, did you know one. Had, for the better part of three years. Sometimes you loved it; sometimes, you didn't quite hate it. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The boy snorts from above you, withdrawing just enough that you can breathe and wiggle your arms. He really was a muscle pig - your shoulders thrum with a dull ache. "Shut up."

"Don't think I will," you answer, watching the way his eyes glint and his jaw ticks. He tongues the inside of his cheek as he glares down at you, silent. You know what that means. You brace for the feeling, feet planting into the hardwood like you're an oak taking up root. It's futile.

In a second, you're upside down, suspended over his shoulder like a toddler. Well, not a toddler, because that would be incredibly bad parenting. It's something funnier - a six year old playing airplane. Except you're in your twenties and you've got much longer limbs than a child and they flail wildly, elbow knocking into the back of his head with a painful sounding thud.

"Watch it!" He exclaims, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. He doesn't sound too bothered, though, the words dropping off into a laugh that bounces around the room and pitches higher. "I wouldn't want to drop my precious cargo."

It's a threat that has you stilling, if only for a minute. The last thing you want is to have your face make friends with the floor. That'd happened once - on concrete, even - and you'd felt awful for days after. Of course, he'd felt terrible, too, leaving an enormous fruit tart from Maybell Bakery outside your dorm the next day.

"Go ahead. I've been craving some fresh bread."

"That was one time."

You can tell you've struck a nerve by the way he tenses beneath you, forearm flexing over the small of your back. You can't help but snicker, swatting his sweatpant-covered ass just enough to jostle him.

"I was kidding, Mr. Sensitive."

He doesn't dignify that with an answer, instead shifting into action. His bare feet carry him in a tight circle before he deposits you onto his bed and not a minute too soon. You'd started to feel a strain in your neck, blood rushing to your head the longer you were hung like a rag doll.

"You're a pain in my ass sometimes." Though the words are unkind, his delivery is not. There's far too much tenderness in his eyes, the way they crease and nearly disappear when he offers you one of his trademark bunny smiles.

You return the expression with ease, wiggling your thin, piano-honed fingers at him. "Literally."

"Yeah, literally." With another exaggerated roll of his eyes, he flops face-down on the bed beside you, arms curling around a pillow and dragging it under his cheek. His knees hang off the edge before he's dragging one up, locking it over your legs in some contortionist cuddle. He peeks at you from beneath his fringe - it's just the right side of too long, curling prettily over his doe eyes and obscuring his eyebrows. Despite the eye contact you carefully maintain, he says nothing, merely peering up at you like he's trying to read his future or see the stars.

Finally, you speak, turning your gaze back to his popcorn ceiling as your hands find comfort in the weight of his leg, the tendons flexing in the joint of his knee. Your neck was beginning to kink. "What?"

"Thank you, again." Because once isn't enough. Never will be, when it comes to the two of you. You've always pushed him to do what he needed, even when he wasn't so sure himself. He can't thank you enough for that - or for the fact that you're always there, right at the edge with him.

You smile then and meet his stare again. "You're welcome, Kook. Happy birthday."

"What is this?"

You're half-asleep and groggy, struggling to push past the awful clutches of Sandman and his dreams. They linger in every crevice, coating your lashes in dust and your tongue in cotton. Luckily, there's no ache behind the fatigue, no lurking monkey about to crash its cymbals in defiance of you and God.

Through the frame of lethargy, you make out the familiar slope of shoulders, of a delicate pair of hands. Past that comes his adorable smile, all squishable cheeks and barely there eyes, mouth contorted into that peculiar shape. He's not where he should be - in bed beside you, fast asleep. Instead, he's statuesque, barely dressed in a pair of soft cotton shorts and nothing else with your breakfast tray held aloft. There's a pile of waffles - they look surprisingly good - and two mugs. Somehow, there's also an assortment of flowers thrown into what looks like a water glass.

Had you died and gone to heaven? Surely not.

"Happy birthday," your - yes, your, you remind yourself - golden Adonis sings in a voice so rich, so tender, you immediately feel a lump forming in your throat. He's looking at you like a kid on Christmas morning,0 hopeful and filled with childish wonderment. It stokes the warmth that spreads through your veins, lava in place of platelets. It burns from the inside out but it's pleasant - sitting too close to a fireplace on a chilly winter evening rather than an open flame.

Nails bite into the fleshy underside of your palm in a belated attempt to rouse yourself from the very pleasant daydream. It stings but nothing comes further. You're not imagining things.

You have to applaud your past self for whatever she'd done to deserve this.

"You really didn't have to." A moment after it slips off your tongue, you wish it hadn't. The last thing you want to seem is ungrateful. Luckily, Taehyung is steadfast and unbothered, dropping forward onto a knee to slide the tray over your clean white linens. He looks so good, all honey skin and tousled bedhead, that you can't focus when he catches your lips in a lingering kiss.

His laughter crowds your mouth, along with the taste of peppermint toothpaste and, just behind it, honey and what tastes like tea, floral and earthy. "I wanted to."

A sound most similar to a sigh - maybe a bit needier, filled with adoration - meets the air when he withdraws, settling himself on the edge of the bed with that same heartbreaking grin. He pushes your birthday breakfast toward you, earnest and lovely. He even unceremoniously shoves your utensils between your fingers, forcing them into your grip like a toddler.

"Eat," he commands, though his tone is too light to really elicit any movement from you. It's only the way he looks that prompts you to dig in, cutting a generation portion of waffle loaded with what looks like whipped cream and strawberries. You raise your fork aloft, gesturing for him to take the first taste. He simply shakes his head and with gentle pressure, redirects the forkful back to you. His loss.

The strawberries are surprisingly sweet yet incredibly tart, their freshness breaking up the honey glaze. The fact that you haven't even brushed your teeth isn't lost on you; you can't bring yourself to care when you're melting into the flavours and humming delightedly.

"Is it good?"

"If you'd just try some, you'd know." You answer with hearts in your eyes and affection blooming like roses across your cheeks, sparkling shades of warmth springing across fields of baby's breath. Another forkful is raised and this time you won't allow him to redirect, holding the mouthful aloft and meeting his stare with purpose.

A moment passes, then another. The edge of his mouth ticks higher. Your eyes burn from your refusal to blink.

When he accepts the bite, you allow an exaggerated breath, the sound expelling from pursed lips with triumph. "Yum?" You question, giddy and grateful. You sneak another bite while he chews, tongue feathering across his bottom lip to catch some residual cream from the corner.

"I did good." He sounds so proud, chest puffed like a baby bird that's learnt to fly. You're torn between the intense desire to squish his cheeks or kiss him silly and you stare at him for a long moment as you swallow, the intoxicating flavour of honey and strawberries sitting like a spring picnic on your tongue. It sinks into the spaces between your teeth - a shot of loved-up sugar right into the veins - and you set your fork down.

Free hands find the slope of his jaw and act as a cradle, thumbs smoothing over the soft dry petal of his bottom lip. He peers at you curiously, strands of silk brushing over his gaze as he works to meet your stare.

"What?"

You want to pass all of your affection into the smile you offer and the kiss you press, chaste and light. "Thank you." The emotion in your voice rings true, echoes heavily in the breath you pair it with. "You really, really didn't have to." But I'm really glad you did, are the words you don't say, allowing them to hang between you like a gossamer thin thread - a spider's web interconnecting all the different ways you adore him.

"I know," he hums as he moves in for another kiss - one that lingers and pulls and draws you deeper into the abyss that is him. Careful hands slide the breakfast tray to the farthest corner of the bed, far away from wandering limbs, and then he's dragging you closer, over the soft white duvet. Fingers find a home in the small of your back as you find the same nearly in his lap, knees caught against the line of his side. Like this, he envelopes you, all sharply angled shoulders and imposing, but you don't mind. It feels nice being wrapped in his embrace.

FLASHBACK April 24, 2019

You need to get this done. You can't stop until you've finished because you've been losing steam the entire week and now you're running on fumes, halfway to the finish line and about to collapse. The strain behind your eyes feels miserable, like hot coals have replaced your usual organs, and you've nearly chewed a hole through your bottom lip. It feels like a punishment in and of itself to feel the constant throb and the metallic tang on your tongue.

Why did you always do this? You'd had all semester to work on this and yet, here you were, stark raving mad and exhausted on a random Friday.

No, Saturday now. It was almost five in the morning.

Frustration colours your complexion, marks the tired skin in patchy shades of red, and you blow a sharp breath out under your breath. You know you have no one to blame but yourself but you try to ignore the guilt that licks up the column of your spine and settles like a heavy collar around your neck. You can't linger on it too much - you're too busy trying to hack this artist's block to dust.

Lids squeeze shut of their own accord and the heels of your palms dig into the sockets, as if that'll help drive the emptiness from your thoughts or, at the very least, alleviate some of the mind-numbing pressure that's been building since you started this futile task six hours ago. The consistent press helps a little - draws blossoms of light against the back of your eyelids - and you exhale a beleaguered sigh, head dropping ever so slightly. Between the headache that's settled in like an unwelcome house guest and the general tiredness of being up for nearly twenty-four hours straight, you're not sure which is worse.

You also don't have much time to think about it when your phone starts going off, vibrating madly across the flat top of your desk. It's face-down - you'd wanted as few distractions as possible - and you consider ignoring it for a moment.

Only when you consider the time do you decide to answer it. After all, nobody just called at this hour. It might be important.

You hardly hazard a glance at the screen before you're swiping across, dimly noting the familiar silly photo of your classmate and friend plastered across the pixels. "What's up, Jeon?" The words come out scratchy and for the first time, you realize how parched you are. You're not quite sure when you'd last drank or stood up or anything. God, you were a poor excuse for an adult.

"Open the door."

It's equal parts impressive and irritating how chipper he somehow sounds, as if he's just woken up from the best sleep in the world and powered his way through a strongman's breakfast. Chapped lips twist, descending into a pout you know he can't see, and you force yourself to focus on what he's said and not how you'd give anything in the world to trade places with him and his sunny disposition.

Wait— what? Open the what?

"What did you say?"

You can practically imagine the lines at his nose and around his eyes, the dimples that you're sure are carved into those cheeks of his. "I said open the door!"

Before you can think anything of it, you're rising from your chair - nearly knocking over your neglected glass of water with the movement - and allowing your slipper-wearing feet to carry you out of your bedroom and to the front door. You bump into the table in your hallway, earning a grunt and sharp inhale of breath as your fingers soothe what you know will be a bruise in the morning. Maybe you should've turned on the light. Maybe you should've stopped at the washroom to make sure didn't frighten him with your insane hair and sleepless pallor. Maybe you should've done a lot of things.

Instead, you slide the lock, open the door, and nearly shriek when Jungkook’s upon you faster than you can react.

"Happy birthday!" A single solid arm is crushing you to his chest, his breath warm against your temple, before he engulfs you fully. You feel your feet leave the ground momentarily, fuzzy slippers clattering to the floor as he squeezes you with just enough force to steal your breath away. It might be why you're not reciprocating - you physically cannot - or it’s the fact that your brain is playing catch-up and your limbs are already a little boneless from lack of sleep.

"What are you doing here?" You manage to squeak against the smooth fabric of his jacket. It's the same one he always wears - black with Yohji Yamamoto embossed across the left-side of his chest - and it smells intoxicating, a familiar blend of his cologne and laundry detergent. You inhale the scent like it'll sooth your half-asleep, ragged nerves. It does, a little, and you're grateful for that. You don't even pull away when he finally releases you, stepping back just enough to let you slide back into your slippers and peer up into his face.

He really had no business looking so good. Despite the early hour, his dark hair is neatly styled or at the very least, freshly washed. It's fully dry and surprisingly fluffy, falling over those big doe eyes in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. It's a little longer than usual, too, and you reach a hand out to smooth strands behind a silver-adorned ear.

"It's your birthday," comes his response, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

A brow quirks - tries to, at least - and you regard him with something not quite suspicious but definitely confused. It plays across your features in shadows, peeking around the fan of your lashes and the frame of your mouth. "It's also... four in the morning."

"Five, actually." There's that stupid adorable smile of his, presented like a gift and topped with squeaky laughter. "And I told you I was coming over."

"No, you didn't." You'd have remembered that - right?

"I did." As if to drive his point home, the glaringly bright screen of his phone is all but shoved into your line of sight, artificial light burning your retinas. You shift away, swatting at his wrist as he watches in barely concealed amusement. He thinks you're frustrated by his very 'I told you so' smile that fits snug over his mouth and wrinkles the delicate skin around his eyes; he's surprised when you take the device back in your hands and peer at it like it's the strangest thing you've ever seen.

Well, he certainly hadn't lied. A handful of texts - maybe more than that - mock you, text bubbles indicating he had indeed sent you messages all throughout the night. Little one-liners asking what you were doing, followed by a gentle head's up much later that he'd see you soon. Of course, you'd ignored them all, far too engrossed in making near zero progress on your semester-end project. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth - equal parts tentative embarrassment and residual fatigue. Lips purse, straighten into a firm line, and arms fold over your chest. It's reminiscent of a spoiled child and frankly, beneath the burnout, you know it's not a good look. Unfortunately, you can’t find it in yourself to rearrange your expression into something more socially acceptable.

Luckily, he's seen you like this enough times to not mind - you always fell into ruts like this when your procrastination met a hard deadline - the irritation seemingly unable to penetrate the sunny turn of his mouth and slope of his wide, open shoulders. "So, are you ready?"

"Ready for..." You trail off, partially out of confusion and partially out of a lack of capacity to consider the question.

"We're going on an adventure."

Again, so simple and yet so cryptic. It draws your eyebrows into a little knot, consternation setting into every thread. "I have a project to do, you know." Despite this, there's a pearl of longing that dangles from your syllables.

He zeroes in on it without hesitation, drawing you easily against him. "I'll help you with it later," he says, as if that's a good enough excuse. You suppose it is. "In the meantime, go get ready? You look like you have a rat living in your hair and I don't want you getting mistaken for a homeless vagrant on the train." Despite the mockery, his expression is soft, smile sweet and playful as it always is.

It's impossible to deny him when he's like this, cherubic and enticing.

With a sigh that blows past chapped lips and disappears into his chest, you relent. "Fine." You're careful to keep your tone just a little grating, as if you're somehow doing him the huge favour. You know he can see right through it but neither of you mind; it's all a part of your silly routine. "Come in and wait for me and don't eat my cereal."

"No promises."

notes. here, take my weird birthday-centric chapter. i wanted to add more to this but my brain hasn’t been cooperating with me lately.

i swear the next chapter will be better - with more exploration of the present! - but thanks for reading. :)

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thebiasrekkers · 3 years

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Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,498

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland

AN: I have nothing. Nothing except for...I’m sorry... T_T

Chapter 58: Killer

“I’m not Buddha but I’m a butcher. I’ll cut away your skin like a...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Namjoon slowly slid the black cotton mask from his mouth and nose, waiting in the shadows of an alcove outside of the building. The small group of men he had with him, former Golden Jackals, huddled in the darkness. They were able to overtake the side entrance hours ago, before the crack of dawn. He made sure that no one of merit within the Jade Fangs would approach the designated area. Even if they did, Namjoon would have made it a point to subdue them completely. He would leave their bodies for the crows out in the muddy fields if he had his way.

But no, this was the moment where they would turn the tides. This was the beginning of the end.

We finish this today…

Lifting a cigarette to his lips, the orange glow of the flame licked at the end of the stick as a light crackling sound emitted itself from the contact. A few hushed conversations were going on beside him, to which he vaguely tuned in. They were out to prove themselves to the fallen brothers and sisters still imprisoned in the world they were forced to live in when adventuring into the light. But it was a life they deserved; a life they fought so hard for. Whether they lived or died after today, it would all be relevant to their future.

Pulling out his watch, Namjoon immediately flipped open the latch that covered the face. He was old-fashioned, so to speak, and a bit of a sentimentalist. Jimin teased him once about still carrying a pocket watch in this day and age, but how could he let it go?

It was a graduation gift Jungkook bought for him just before he moved to attend University in Seoul.

Time seemingly crawled; all of them were prepared to launch their first assault against the Jade Fangs. Namjoon already planned to be the first to cause the strike. He would need to ensure that the blast counted for something, otherwise it was all just going to get mucked up in the end. He would not have any screw-ups. Not while he was in charge of the first wave. Their offense was cut in half with Jungkook and Jimin pulled from the equation.

Pulling his ball cap down further on his head, he slipped the watch back into his pocket. Namjoon took one final drag of his cigarette, the smoke cloud billowing in his face and partially clouding his vision. However, in the shadows it seemed as if he were a dragon on the verge of breathing out a tremendous vortex of flame. One of the men approached him, nodding quickly. Namjoon grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The gas line had successfully been cut.

“It’s time,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

In sync, all of them slipped their masks over their faces. The cigarette fell to his feet and sparked with the faint light of its embers before finally dying out altogether. They could hear the approaching footsteps growing in time and Namjoon pulled out his hunting knives. As soon as they were in the right position, he disappeared and then reappeared at the front of the room which was in full view of the four different ways that many of the others could enter what was now to be viewed as their battlefield.

Now he had to wait for the show to truly begin.

Yoongi and his team were situated near the back of the factory, hiding in the thick brushes and reeds that were in desperate need of attention and care. Changkyun felt it wasn’t time to tidy up the landscape and that allowed for the perfect amount of camouflage. Namjoon already texted him earlier, telling him that he was in position with his team. Taehyung and his group were hidden within the factory, away from prying eyes. Once all the pieces were lined up, it would be his job to tip the first domino.

He couldn’t fucking wait.

Yoongi felt a dark smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. To think they’d spent the better part of three days planning this out. It almost seemed far fetched and he would never have gone along with something like this. Not until Namjoon convinced him just how solid this counterattack would be. Because they were using Changkyun’s ego against him. He may have broken them by taking their brothers from them and left them feeling demoralized from how thoroughly they’d been ruined. But what Changkyun failed to see was the very thing Hoseok kept hidden away from the Jade Fangs all these years. The thing that he made sure they all kept hidden from them.

Their very own malicious nature.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket and he pulled out his phone, eyeballing the screen. It was time for him to make his move. Slipping out from his hiding spot, he made a point to make as much noise as possible. He wanted to be found. He wanted his path impeded.

His men would remain hidden.

The shuffling of feet reached Yoongi and he was soon surrounded in a semi-circle by Jade Fang lackeys. Pushing his way through the small throng was Kihyun, a curious expression painted over his features. Yoongi pulled out a cigarette and lit the end, slipping the lighter into his pocket. He watched Kihyun place himself in front of him, his back to the window of the factory.

“You should really quit while you’re ahead, Yoongi-ah,” said Kihyun, a baseball bat draped over his shoulder, “those things’ll kill you.”

“My smoking habits should be the least of your concerns,” he replied, cigarette poking out from between his lips.

Kihyun laughed, shaking his dark chestnut bangs out of his eyes. “I thought the meeting agreement was for Hoseok to come. Why are you here?”

Yoongi scoffed. “Did you really think, after everything you guys have done, that we’d trust Hoseok to come here alone with just one of us?”

“And let me guess…” He watched Kihyun as he took a step forward. “…you’re watching the back in case we try to do something underhanded?”

“Nope.”

He tried not to relish in the frown that Kihyun gave him. The heavy thudding of his heartbeat only elevated the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Every square inch of him felt as cold as ice. But he could feel the fire pouring from his eyes.

Yoongi looked at Kihyun, his eyes shifting ever so slightly to the left. He saw the window slowly opening – silent. He would thank Taehyung later for oiling all the windows and doors on every side of the warehouse except for the front.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke at Kihyun. Flashing his gummy smile, his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back slightly.

“I’m in the back so I can blow it up.”

And with a quick flick of his wrist, Yoongi threw the cigarette through the open window.

The explosion that soon followed knocked them all back.

Taehyung’s back hurt.

He’d been perched in the rafters for hours – having arrived at the factory long before anyone else appeared. There was an almost methodical madness to how carefully he oiled all the door hinges and window panes that didn’t come from the front of the warehouse. He was wired from both adrenaline and caffeine, knowing full well that today would be the day that everything would end. He knew his brothers were on edge, both from the planning and from the unpredictable nature that he exuded constantly.

But he had to be. Taehyung knew that if they knew what truly ticked around in his mind, they would do everything in their power to keep him from coming along. They would have left him behind.

And he’d be damned if that happened.

There was a single skylight in the factory situated dead in the center of the roof. Taehyung’s team already made short work of the lackeys that tried to come to the roof earlier that morning. No upper tiered members of the Jade Fangs were on rooftop duty. Taehyung already made a mental note of where everyone else was.

Hyungwon and Jooheon were patrolling the left side of the building; the side where Namjoon and his team were. One of Taehyung’s team was already deep inside of the factory, following the blueprint that Namjoon gave him, taking him straight to where the main gas line was. Once he finished cutting the line, he was to head to the boiler room.

Kihyun and Minhyuk supervised the back side of the factory, in case they were flanked. Yoongi was there with his group. He was the “gunshot” that would start the race. He was the only one who would be able to catch them off guard. Besides, he knew that Yoongi was also a bit of a pyromaniac and wouldn’t have been satisfied if he wasn’t the one to set off the explosion.

Which left Shownu, Wonho and Changkyun on the inside. Hoseok and Seokjin were sent in not as bait, but as a distraction. Then it would be time to bring the entire building down on top of their heads. Blood would be spilt. Lives would be lost.

Taehyung would eviscerate them all.

The building shook violently, causing Taehyung to grip onto the metal rafters. He leaned forward; one knee pressed into the beam beneath him. Shouts of confusion were heard from below him and he flashed a manic grin where no one could have the pleasure to see. Screams of pain resounded as glass shattered from below, his eyes searching for Seokjin. He was already making his way around a set of crates, having swiftly dispatched several Jade Fang members during all the chaos.

More glass broke and metal doors were slammed wide open. Dozens of Golden Jackal members flooded the factory, tangling themselves in a fight. The glass covering from the skylight also shattered, raining down into the factory. Several ropes dropped from the ceiling and Taehyung stood to his full height as his team descended from the open hatch. Some dropped to the ground while others swung from their ropes, landing on top of unsuspecting lackeys. Blood spewed as knives plunged into bodies from both sides.

Taehyung ran, jumping out as far as he could and stretching his arms out. He grasped onto a rope, swinging around until his leather gloved hands allowed him to slide down. He shoved his body around, changing his trajectory in mid-air so he was heading straight for the manager’s office.

His legs extended out as he watched Shownu scrambling to his feet. Taehyung crashed his heels directly into Shownu’s chest, knocking him back. As he straddled the older man’s hips, he quickly unsheathed the large hunting knife from his back – aiming it straight for Shownu’s chest.

He grunted when Shownu used his arms to block the blow – their forearms crashing into one another. Taehyung’s arms shook violently as he tried to force them down, watching the blade getting closer and closer to Shownu’s throat. He could feel the capillaries in his eyes exploding, his vision blurring momentarily, before a scream erupted from his lungs.

Releasing one hand from the hilt of the knife, Taehyung punched furiously at Shownu’s rib cage. The older man attempted a counterattack, using his knee to slam into Taehyung’s back. The force of the blow caused him to fall forward and he felt Shownu’s fingers closing in around his throat. Taehyung continued to punch him even as he felt the air being choked from him.

He punched him one more time, using his fingers to dig into Shownu’s side. He buried them, like he was digging through mud for shells. He twisted his fingers and pulled, tearing through the fabric of the other man’s shirt.

Turning his head and leaning forward, Taehyung snapped his teeth into Shownu’s knuckles. He bit through the skin, blood spraying into his mouth. The older man screamed but he could barely hear it over the noise of battle being waged all around them. He pulled his hand from Shownu’s side, gripped his other hand, and put all his weight down.

The blade slowly buried itself into Shownu’s chest.

Hoseok’s knee crashed into the ground as Changkyun struggled to maintain his own footing. The two men glared at each other just as the noises from outside became more and more prevalent. Hoseok smirked as he saw Changkyun race to the window, peering out to the factory floor below. He managed to get back onto his feet just as the Jade Fang’s leader turned to glance over his shoulder at him. Hoseok took pleasure in seeing the snarl forming on the man’s face.

“You,” he snapped, turning around to face him again.

Hoseok dusted off the backs of his pants, his arms going up into a defensive stance as his hands curled into fists. “Yes. Me.”

Changkyun quickly raced to the other side of the room, his hand sliding under the table. Hoseok narrowed his eyes when he next turned around, a knife held in his hand. He scoffed. Maybe he would have been surprised if Taehyung hadn’t already told him what was hidden there.

“So, you expected me to come unarmed, but then have a knife hidden away?” Hoseok shook his head. “I’m so fuckin’ disappointed in you right now.”

“Shut-up!”

Changkyun ran at him, his arm striking out to slash at Hoseok’s neck. But he was faster because he was thinking clearly. He wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from accomplishing what he wanted to do on this day.

He dodged, side-stepping Changkyun at the last second. Reaching up to his lips, Hoseok pulled out the small razor he had hidden in his mouth. Ducking the next blow, he slung his arm upward and slashed over where Changkyun’s right eye was. A stream of blood sprayed and Changkyun moved to cover one hand over his eye as a trail of crimson leaked from beneath his palm.

Dropping the razor, he closed the distance between them as Changkyun attempted another assault. But with his depth-perception thrown off, he swung blindly. Hoseok slammed his elbow into his chest, aiming a backfist to his throat, and used his other hand to quickly disarm him. Before the knife could fall to the floor, Hoseok was already snatching it out of the air.

Spinning around on his back heel, he roughly slammed his back into Changkyun’s chest – forcing his body to bang against the door. Hoseok pulled his arms forward, then swung them back. A sickening squelch noise followed as he plunged the knife directly into Changkyun’s gut. He felt the younger man struggling against him, but he put all his weight backward – his shoulder blades pressing into his chest so that Changkyun wouldn’t be able to wriggle himself free.

“H-Hyung,” he heard Changkyun choke out, his hand reaching out to grasp onto Hoseok’s shoulder, “don’t do this. We…we can help each other…”

Taking a step back, Hoseok buried the knife further into Changkyun’s stomach – watching the blood forming a small puddle by his feet.

“…you can fucking die is what you can do.”

Seokjin swore under his breath, eyeballing the small cut on his leg. He hadn’t meant to get caught off guard, but there was so much happening around him. Things got less hairy when Namjoon’s team managed to make it inside. Even in the middle of all the craziness, Seokjin was glad they weren’t having to deal with guns. This would have ended bloodier than it needed to.

His eyes darted in every direction and he barked orders when he needed to as Taehyung’s team swept down from the ceiling. Namjoon was in the thick of it with his people and some of Yoongi’s squad managed to make it inside. There was a hint of worry when he hadn’t been able to locate Yoongi, but he knew he had to trust his brothers to be able to take care of themselves.

If he couldn’t at least do that, then what good was their bond?

The door to the manager’s office flew open, the loud bang rattling throughout all the noise of the fighting. Seokjin’s eyes followed the sound and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hoseok stumbling out of the door. He nearly tripped on something, seeing Taehyung catching Hoseok at the last second before he could fall. The two of them exchanged words before Taehyung jumped from the catwalk, his arms grabbing for the ropes so he could swing down to the main floor to join the fight. From what Seokjin could tell, Hoseok hadn’t sustained any injuries.

There was movement in Hoseok’s blind spot. Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was one of their people or a Jade Fang member. Not until the very last second.

“HOSEOK-AH!”

Their eyes locked momentarily, but there wasn’t any time. Running from his hiding spot, Seokjin scooped up a discarded knife. He slid to the center of the bottom floor and flung his arm out and upward. Hoseok jumped out of the way just as the knife buried itself in Changkyun’s throat. They watched the Jade Fang’s leader fall backward, presuming that he would not be getting up a second time.

A grateful smile passed over Hoseok’s lips, but soon snapped to surprise as he looked back at Seokjin.

“HYUNG!”

Suddenly, Seokjin felt his body flung to the side. His head hit the ground and the rest of him followed suit. The pain erupted seconds afterwards, his hand reaching up to grasp at the area where his nerves were screaming at him. Fingers caressed something cold and slender. When he pulled, his pain receptors went off like alarms and he screamed, looking around at who was responsible for the assault. As he craned his neck around to see, he spied the rod-like object poking out from his side. Something dribbled from his mouth and he didn’t have to guess to know that it was his own blood.

When he searched around in desperation, his eyes locked with Minhyuk who was holding a crossbow – watching him already reloading the next bolt.

Bodies moved around him in a blur – all of them screaming and fighting for their own lives. They were distracted. None of them realized what was happening.

No one except Hoseok.

Seokjin grinned, crawling to his knees. He could hear Hoseok’s feet thudding along the metal stairs, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He was ready to face this head on. However, what he hadn’t expected was Minhyuk to shift his aim.

To Hoseok.

Eyes wide, Seokjin quickly scrambled to his feet and lunged forward in Hoseok’s direction. He knew his brother wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him. He was too focused on getting to Seokjin. But by doing so, he was putting himself in danger.

Seokjin knew he had to block his path.

It was like he could sense it. He jumped up and out to the left. Pain blossomed over his back and all feeling from his legs down seemed to disappear. He collapsed into the ground, dirt filling his nostrils, and he cried out in agony as he dug his fingers into the concrete. Soon, he could feel the texture of his own blood mixed with the dirt under his fingernails.

“HYUNG!”

Seokjin couldn’t see, but he knew it was Taehyung’s voice. He blindly reached out, grabbing for what he assumed was Taehyung’s ankle. “H-Hoseok-ah,” he choked out between coughing up blood, “…get him out of here.”

“B-But Hyung—”

“DO IT!”

He felt the ankle leaving his grasp and Seokjin prayed that Taehyung would listen to him. Hoseok had to get out of there. They all had to go. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was going to make it. Not now; not when he was coughing up blood. Something was internally damaged. He was most likely hemorrhaging already.

Curling onto his side, he grasped at the bolt protruding from him and gripped onto it as hard as he could. As he pulled, visions of Anastasia flashed through his mind, giving him pause. For a moment, he forgot about the pain; he forgot about the world around him.

All he could see was the woman he loved standing in the far corner of the factory as she held their beautiful son. He stretched his arm out, reaching for them as if he could touch them. Tears leaked from his eyes as he smiled – the world blurring and getting just a little bit darker.

…I’m sorry, Ana, he thought, the weight of his arm starting to get heavier, …I’m not going to be able to keep this promise…I love you… He felt his elbow hit the concrete, followed by his head.

I’m going to see my brothers now. Forgive me…

Everything grew quiet around him.

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