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onlyswan · 2 years ago

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summary: in which sour and salt could be so sweet when jungkook’s existence reminds you that there is still good in the world.

> fluff, a pinch of angst, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: mention of the doctor bc oc missed their period >:(, allusion to s/x, making out, jungkook doing pull ups must be a warning for the faint hearted like me

note: we’re going through the seasons?! partly inspired by #that live and jungkook for calvin klein <3 we’ve all seen those pictures right… right… i hope the onlyswan prophecy continues with this drabble i need to see jungkook do pull ups at the beach <3 + reblogs & feedback are always appreciated :D

—

jungkook is a sunkissed daydream and a shirtless adonis. his tender hands are on your bare thighs, keeping himself steady on the light brown sand while you sit still and look pretty on a log.

“baby, are you pregnant?”

when a man spits out this question, it usually sounds a little bit something like an anxious and insensitive ‘you’re not pregnant, are you?’ your starry-eyed boyfriend is asking you in a calm tone, joking for the most part, yet genuine wonder is painted on his face as if you’re just supposed to tell him what day of the week it is.

you stare at him with a blank expression, silent for a moment as the fierce waves crash on the shore, finding it difficult to take him seriously. “i don’t know. did you break a condom?”

he breaks eye-contact to space out, pursing his lips as he pretends to be immersed in deep thought.

“uhh, not to my knowledge.”

“then i’m not.” you shrug your shoulders with a cheeky grin, scrunching your nose. “will you steal some mangoes for me now, please?”

“is my baby craving for them that bad?” he coos at you softly, inching closer to press a kiss on your lips. “no but why do you always ask me to steal mangoes for you?”

“what do you mean ‘always’? this is only the second time.” you scoff, offended by the accusation, shoving him lightly but he quickly takes a hold of your arms to save himself from falling.

he chuckles lightheartedly, recounting the first time you visited his hometown and you took a walk around his neighborhood together. you looked at the mango tree with so much longing, and he had so much love for you, it was untameable.

nothing much has changed.

except for the color of the mangoes, perhaps. they were yellow back then, ripe and soft. you ripped off the fragile skin with your bare hands as you devoured the nectar-filled fruit, and the both of you came home to his parents’ house sticky and satiated like little kids who played under the sun from noon to afternoon. today, they’re green and plump, and truthfully, his mouth is watering for a taste.

“you know, since the tree is directly infront of our villa-” he tilts his head to the side, briefly looking at your temporary private residence. “it’s technically ours, so it’s not stealing.”

your eyes are glitter with mischief, and they communicate without words before you burst into a fit of revitalizing giggles, filling your empty tummy with a childlike joy.

—

for a while before jungkook, you’d forgotten people are kind. you chose to live for yourself, and yourself only, because you thought that if you lose sight of your plans for the future because of a impetuous slip within the thrill of temptation, you would also lose the essence of your being that you’re actively fighting so hard to get a good grasp of. you’re in a never-ending, excruciating process of picking apart your identity; detaching yourself from what you learned in the past to make room for growth; and swallowing bitter pills of hard-taught lessons. but when you’re in a relationship, every decision goes through a filter, a need for an answer to the question of how would this make my partner feel?

your friends still ask from time to time, what it is about jungkook that made you bend this principle and compromise your plans when those were the reasons you impulsively ended relationships in the past.

you’d forgotten people are kind.

jungkook is messy. he always leaves behind a fragment of his heart, and you shake your head and you pick up each one to stuff it in the shallow pocket of your understanding of love… until the weight of them destroyed said pocket, and all of a sudden, you have awoken. he opened your eyes to the underlying implication of that filter, how having something sacred to protect is also what makes life more worth living after all.

more than two hours ago, at seven in the morning, he held back your hair while you emptied your guts in the toilet bowl. a week ago, he held your hand in the doctor’s waiting room and didn’t let go until your name was called. that same night, you sulked about the doctor concluding that the reason you didn’t get your period last month was stress again and he teared up when you said i eat well, and i exercise regularly. but in the end it’s all useless because stress is messing up my body and i can’t control it. what do i do? the next day, he cheerfully asked you if you wanted to go see the ocean with him. right now, he’s hanging on a thick branch of a tree, enthusiastically doing pull ups while you peel the raw mangoes he picked out for you.

the familiar sounds of moans and grunts convince you to move the log you’re sitting on, abandoning the view of the majestic blue sky kissing the sparkling ocean in favor of facing your gorgeous boyfriend. he moves on to doing hanging knee tucks, pulling his knees to his chest and gradually increasing his speed and range of motion after gathering enough leverage.

“ah, this is tiring!” his yell ripples across the near-empty beach. he squeezes his eyes shut, laughing through the pain that hurts so good.

you set aside the paring knife on the plain white porcelain plate, dipping a piece of mango in the hill of salt before taking a bite (you played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would call the front desk for salt and you won after jungkook said he lost because his rock was made of paper). this, it’s just what you needed to cure the lethargy that’s been eating away at you. the combination of sour and salty explodes in your taste buds, remedying your awful loss of taste and appetite.

you shudder in sheer delight, smiling sweetly at the man brazenly showcasing his strength infront of you. “i like this a lot. i can feel my stress melting away… like ice cream under the sun.”

“i’m happy you’re enjoying yourself while i-” he cuts off his sentence, letting himself fall on the sand before jumping again to adjust his grip on the rough wood. once again, he hauls his legs upward repeatedly, reaching higher and higher each time. he releases loud huffs of air, grunting raspily with every exertion of force.

you stifle a scandalous gasp when his knees touch his wrists, covering your mouth as you grind the food with your teeth. okay, you know damn well he is flexible and a human-shaped vessel of physical strength, but you mostly witness their irrefutable testaments during intense moments of love and lust… the blissful memories can be kind of hazy.

he heaves a deep sigh, taking a rest as he hangs motionless on the branch. picture-perfect, center-frame for your adoring eyes to feast upon. his honey skin is glazed with a fine sheen of sweat, further accentuating the well-defined muscles of his torso. you only get a tease of his v-line. it hides beneath the exposed white band of his calvin klein underwear peeking above his black swimming shorts. his stomach rises and falls with each breath, and you can’t help but to marvel at his abs with appreciation. beautifully prominent, sculpted not too much. you love that when you touch them, you still feel the tenderness of his flesh, so rawly and so uniquely jungkook.

“you like what you see?” he grins when your eyes meet, winking at you flirtatiously.

“i do.” you sheepishly admit, scrunching your nose before putting another slice of mango on top of your tongue. “keep going. i want to see more.”

“more? you want more?! aish- so demanding.” he complains, thick satoori accent dripping from his voice but still, he gives you more.

you giggle in satisfaction, closely observing the flexing of his muscles and the veins along his arms popping out. one must think you’re used to his tattoos by now, but you’re definitely not. you just learn how to act unaffected, like you can’t write a book of poems about how his body art never seizes to bring you in absolute awe. his eyebrows knit as he pulls himself up, face crumpling with the amount of force and strength he utilizes with every manuever. it’s a seductive scene, but then the dimples on his cheeks make fondness bloom in your heart.

for the love of god, it’s not compromising your plans, but making jungkook a part of your plans. you no longer fantasize about a perfect life. you just want to keep waking up somewhere safe— to be here, standing on the tips of your toes, planting a delicate kiss on the mole at the lower right side of his ribcage. your lips have made one too many sharp mistakes, but they ghost over his skin and he laughs. laughs so joyfully, a majestic string of musical notes from his mouth no other instrument on earth can recreate. it’s a good mistake, the best mistake you could ever possibly make.

“here, drink.“ you offer him a bottle of cold water.

“i’m so tired. oh, fuck-” he does one final pull up before letting go, deliberately falling on the sand and bumping against your feet when he rolls over.

he sits up, warm body vibrating with giggles as he looks up at you.

“did you pack a first aid kit?“

you put a hand over your hip, raising an eyebrow. “what happened now?”

“my hands-” he stares at his palms, sand coating half of the area, before showing them to you. “they sting like hell! seriously!” his little lisp slips out as he rants.

”then why did you keep going?!” you exclaim, grabbing his tattooed wrist to assess the damage. there’s no blood in sight, but his skin has turned a very bright shade of red.

“because it was fun.” he simply answers, and you can’t argue with that.

of course you brought a first aid kit. it’s a necessity, especially when you’re on vacation with your gym bunny boyfriend, apparently. while you grab the ointment in the bedroom, jungkook decides to clean himself up under the outdoor shower situated in a corner beside the swimming pool.

“what’s wrong with this? why are they going at the same time?” he scratches his head in confusion, looking up at the spraying shower head and down at the gushing faucet. he fiddles with the handle in hopes of fixing his problematic water consumption, unintentionally pushing it up higher as he does so. this causes the water pressure to become stronger, sending thin needles to crash down and pierce his fragile skin.

“aw shit-” he reflexively runs away from the rude attack of the silver device. “yah, you punk! what did i to you, huh?! how dare you-”

he clicks his tongue in irritation, resting his hands on his hips. after glaring one more time, he extends his tattooed arm to push the handle all the way down, turning it off. he proceeds to experiment, tilting it to the left, which turns on the faucet only, and then to the right for the shower.

he laughs sarcastically at his discovery, going back under the water. “ahhh, was i the stupid one?”

—

“i missed you!” he declares loudly as soon as you step out of the sliding door.

“me too, babe.” you hum as you walk towards him, standing a considerable distance from the shower.

he wipes his face with his hands to unblur his vision before pushing back his wet hair, droplets of water endlessly rushing down his body.

“why are you so far?” he protests. “come here.”

“but i already took a shower.”

“so what? you’ll get wet again when we ride the jet ski later.”

you pout at him. “i told you i’m scared.”

“i’d be jack if i have to, i won’t let you drown! don’t you trust your boyfriend, hm?” he attempts to persuade you again after failing last night, knowing well that you’d enjoy yourself only if you overcome your fear of the deep waters. “it will be fun, i promise.”

“ugh, fine. only because you promised.” you weakly succumb to his wishes, setting down the small jar of ointment on the ground.

he happily pulls you in for an embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck while your arms wrap around his waist. the only barrier between your chests is the thin and small fabric of your red bikini, thoroughly soaked by the cold water combatting the rising heat of the approaching noon. you can feel the rough grains of sand that were washed away from his skin under the soles of your feet, contrasting the feather-light kisses being scattered on your neck. and this feels so utterly liberating, you refuse for it to end, allowing yourself to be hastily pinned against the wall when his supple lips meet yours.

he cups the back of your head and his long and slender fingers dig into your hair, protecting you from accidentally hitting the hard cement. the small thoughtful gesture makes you smile into the kiss. he is not real, he can’t be. if this is a dream, you’re begging the sun to never rise. his gentle hands slowly travel down the expanse of your back, until they reach your hips, teasingly tugging past the side straps of your bikini bottoms before kneading the soft flesh of your ass. he swallows the strangled whine that escapes you, slipping his tongue past your parted lips. he’s addicted to how your body language speaks to him when you get intimate, how you lovingly caress his face and his arms, slow and sensual, but then unconsciously dig your nails to mark crescent moons on his skin when you begin getting lost in your combined passion.

he wants this. he wants you. he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you and wringing the water from your hair.

—

you’ve deserted the log to comfortably sit cross-legged with jungkook on the lounge chair, under the shade of the brown umbrella rooted in the soil.

“mhmmm! it’s so delicious!” jungkook carefully dips the slice of mango in the salt once more, wary of the ointment from his hand smearing on the food, before muching on it eagerly. “so crunchy!”

you pause from tending to his left hand, looking at the plate between the two of you to learn that he is nearly finished with the second mango. you only have one left.

“damn!” he dramatically curses with his eyes squeezed shut, punching the salt air. without context, a stranger would probably guess that he tragically lost a bet or remembered an embarrassing memory from highschool. but really, he’s just enjoying some pretty good food. this is the fourth time in the past five minutes that he precisely did the same thing, and yes, you’ve been counting.

“is it that yummy?” you chuckle, extremely endeared and contented when he looks this excited around food. he is the only person in the world who can make you say i’m full just by watching you eat and mean it.

“it was your idea!” he bobs his head while energetically rocking from side to side, cheeks round and full as he chews. “i haven’t eaten something new in a long time. i love it… i should give the resort five stars for my review. just for this. i’ll say i’ll come back again for the mango tree.”

“or i don’t know, we can just plant one ourselves.” you propose before lightly blowing on his inflamed palm.

“but, baby, that would take years!” he interjects. “we need to buy another house, one with a backyard, and wait at least five years for it to grow. i’ll be thirty-two by then. are you hearing that?!”

the disgusted look on his face elicits a burst of amused laughter from you, stomach hurting with a reason miles better than earlier’s. he winces at the thought of entering his 30’s in the very near future. it feels odd to think about, but it’s a little less daunting with the tree added to the picture.

he picks up the final slice on the plate, smothering it with a thin layer of salt before devouring it entirely. he whimpers, high-pitched and wide-eyed, clasping his hand over his mouth before the other one you’re holding slips away from the solace of your care. he free falls from the chair, limply collapsing on the sand. and just like that, he’s covered in them again, from his damp hair down to his wiggly toes.

you move closer to look at him, dangling your legs on the edge. “darling, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

he spreads out his limbs like a starfish, dreamily peering into the vast cloudy sky. “oh? i think this is exactly what it means to be alive.”

beyond his words, it’s the way he said them. without shyness, without qualms, without pondering. it makes him sound purely sincere, his mellifluous voice gracefully echoing louder than the nihilistic thoughts in your head, and you believe him.

he abruptly sits up, crawling on his knees to reach you. “baby! it’s too good! i want more!” he cries out, feigning desperate sobs as he hugs your legs. “i want more. let’s eat the third one, please.”

“fuck, okay. calm down. we’ll have it.” you cackle, stroking his hair while he rests his head on your lap.

you drag the plate to your side, slicing the last mango with practiced precision and skill. he, then, closes his eyes and bathes in your presence, his warm breath fanning you. it’s peacefully silent for a while, only the sounds of the knife dragging across the fruit and the waves chasing each other to the edge of the sea can be heard. that is until your boyfriend grows bored. he puckers his lips to brush against your soft skin, insatiable, climbing higher and higher until he’s peppering your inner thigh with kisses.

tingling sensations inevitably spark in your lower region, and you click your tongue to rebuke him. “jungkook, behave. i might cut myself if you keep that up.”

his lips curve into a naughty smirk, shifting a bit further down. “sorry.”

“do you want to get sunburnt? get back up here, on the chair.” you bounce your legs to shake him off, but your efforts prove to be fruitless.

he groans, stubbornly holding on to you tighter. “no, i don’t want to.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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enluv · 1 year ago

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the couples quiz <3

PAIRING! bang chan x fem!idol reader

SYNOPSIS! - back with enluv productions, we have our favorite idol couple to take the enluv couples quiz! - this consist of a multitude of questions asked by each of them to test how well they know their partner! enjoy <3

word count: 3,310 (and it’s all fluff 😁)

genre(s): interview styled writing + video layout chic (?) & so much fluff like it’s so cavity inducing you may need to call a dentist 🤭

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, both idols, profanity, nervousness, and I am pretty sure that’s all! (if I missed something lmk!)

coco’s love note: idea is based off the gq couples quiz videos !! please note that our reader is in an oc group I’ve made :)

[ video preview begins now – our idol couple are shown sitting comfortably in two opposing director chairs ]

Y/N: What’s our contact names on each others phones?

Chan: Oh that’s easy I have her as (he makes quotation marks with his fingers) “Y/N L/N” and in parentheses (he cups his hands to express them) “gf”

[the room falls silent as y/n stares shocked at chan]

Y/N: There’s no way…you’re so lying right? (her eyes are widened with shock)

Chan: Of course I am baby! Why would I ever just have you as your name? I have you as “future ms.bahng” (he smiles proudly displaying his contact name for y/n and her contact photo)

Y/N: I almost threw these cards at you for real Christopher! Don’t ever do that again!

Chan: What’s my contact name?

Y/N: Bang Chan dash Stray Kids. (she stares deadpanned at the camera before giggling at his expression)

Y/N: Now you know how it feels! I have you as “my love” it’s a bit simple but I just really love you.

[ end of preview - the screen cuts back to the couple as they first start the video and it begins ]

Y/N: I’m Cupid’s Y/N!

Chan: and I’m Stray Kids Bang Chan!

Y/N & Chan: and we’re taking the enluv couples quiz!

[the couples quiz logo pops up over them to signify the start of the interview – y/n’s questions are first]

Y/N: What’s an item of yours I always seem to steal?

Chan: Oh that’s obvious, she always steals my hoodies. All the colorful ones go to her!

Y/N: Correct! His fans always tell him to wear color but I think I’ve stolen everything with a decent amount of color on it…oops? Sorry stays!

Y/N: What’s something I always bring with me on tour?

Chan: Hmm well there are a few ways to go about this. You could be asking like sentimental items or like necessities.

Y/N: I wrote a list so if the items you guess are on it I’ll give you a point.

Chan: Oh god. (he shakes his head and looks up to show he’s thinking) I would say probably your first aid kit bag. She’s pretty clumsy and needs to have a band-aid on her at all times.

Chan: Oh also probably our son. Oh! I know the most important one is definitely your headphones. You don’t ever leave the house without them.

Y/N: Channie I think you need to elaborate on what our son means (she laughs pointing towards the production team) because they seem worried.

Chan: Oh right. Y/N and I have matching plushies that we won each other on our…hmm I think it was our fifth date? I took her to an arcade and they had claw machines. She got me a psyduck plushie it’s really big and I got her a bunny plush. We call them our sons and usually I’ll take the bunny and she takes psyduck. We care for them equally though! We aren’t absent parents!

Y/N: Okay you were right about all of those, you’re missing one thing though. This one is the most important one.

Chan: Babe…I thought I hit them all seriously…gimme a hint pleaseee….

Y/N: It’s something you gave me.

Chan: I’ve given you a lot of things Y/N.

Y/N: Can I just tell you?

Chan: No! I wanna guess.

[a compilation of chan guessing is played in x2 speed, y/n continues to answer no as he guesses]

Chan: I give up! Tell me.

Y/N: It’s my bracelet! (she laughs softly at his expression)

Chan: Oh god, I can’t believe I forgot about our bracelets!! (he holds up his right hand so the camera can see) We have bond bracelets!

Y/N: When you touch them it sends the other person a small vibration and it means that we’re thinking of or miss the other. They’re really nice since we work a lot and don’t see each other as often as we’d hope.

Chan: I touch mine a lot.

Y/N: Mhm he does, but so do I so I’d never complain.

Y/N: Have I ever written a song about you? And if the answer is yes, which one is my favorite.

Chan: Yeah, plenty of them.

Y/N: Woah okay no need to expose me sir.

Chan: Babe I’m not exposing anything, it’s kinda obvious…

Y/N: Just answer the question Chris.

Chan: “two souls” is your favorite and I know that because you worked on it for almost three months then gave it to me on my birthday.

Y/N: He’s right. That song is my baby, it’s so personal but I just really love it so much. He kept trying to sneak into my laptop to listen to it but I caught him every single time! He cried when he first heard it though so it was worth hiding.

Chan: I thought we promised not to talk about that sweetie.

Y/N: Next question!

Y/N: What was my first concert?

Chan: Oh man. I don’t think I know this one babe.

Y/N: Channie I promise I’ve told you the answer to all of these questions.

Chan: Okay can you tell me how old you were?

Y/N: No.

Chan: Please prettty? I think I’ll get it if I know how old you were!

Y/N: I was sixteen almost seventeen. (y/n sends the camera a wink)

Chan: OH! I’ve so got it then. I know it!

Y/N: Okay who was it then?

Chan: It was Seventeen sunbaenim!

Y/N: Ding ding ding! Correct!

Chan: I always forget how big of a carat you are seriously. She loves them. The kids are friends with them so it’s wild to see her interact with them.

Y/N: I’m good friends with them now, perks of being an idol, they always tease me too.

Chan: Who did you bias?

Y/N: Some secrets should never see the light Channie.

Y/N: NEXT!

Y/N: What’s my favorite food?

Chan: It’s Chipotle but you get the most mundane thing ever so you always throw in a side of chips and queso because you’re scared the workers roll their eyes when they see your order.

Y/N: That…what oddly specific…why did you expose me like that omg…embarrassing!

Chan: Babe you recite exactly what I just said every time you order Chipotle, literally word for word I know it by heart now.

Y/N: Feels like he’s attacking me a bit right guys (y/n turns to the cameras as if asking the audience)

Chan: I am not! You have said that to me a million times! It’s seriously engraved in my head.

Y/N: NEXT!

Y/N: What’s my favorite song that you’ve written that’s about me?

Chan: I know the answer but if I say it then fans are going to have a field day on twitter.

Y/N: How would you know? Been on twitter recently Chris?

Chan: (he stares at the camera and winks) I don’t have twitter, you know, idol things and all those logistics.

Y/N: Should we answer the question together?

Chan: Stop cheesing so hard, you did this on purpose didn’t you.

Y/N: Yes I did. Ready? 3…2…1!!!

Chan & Y/N: Red Lights

Y/N: What can I say! It’s a good song.

Chan: Is it my turn yet? I need to seek revenge.

Y/N: NOPE! Still me!

Y/N: How many pets do I have and can you tell me in which order I got them?

Chan: This is terrible because she had pets even before getting with me.

Chan: Okay here it goes. You have three pets, first one is Pickles, he’s a greyhound. Next would be Peanut, he’s a fish and he has a brother named Jelly. They count as one because they’re a pair, and finally we have Kimchi and that’s our gecko, I named him. (he smiles proudly at the camera)

Y/N: Four points! Wow babe good job!

Chan: What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t know our kids names?

Y/N: So true like imagine you forgot one I’d be so mad.

Chan: I know that’s why I got them all right.

Y/N: What’s my dream wedding look like?

Chan: I also know this answer, we talk about it a lot.

Chan: You want a small wedding with the most important people in your life, so like family and friends but also people who have helped you in your career as well. You want a summer wedding and want a pastel creamy green color to be the theme. It’ll be inside but you really liked the forest vibe from Twilight so the inside will be decorated to look like the woods.

Y/N: Okay woah. Do you have access to my Pinterest or something?

Chan: You say that like we don’t talk about getting married all the time. (he smacks his lips playfully at her)

Y/N: I am in love with you, seriously like on god dude.

Chan: Stop saying on god after you tell me you love me, we talked about this!

Y/N: He doesn’t like it because he says it sounds like I’m talking to a brother.

Chan: You sound like my nineteen year old sister!

Y/N: and I love her very much! We went shopping last time we went to visit them.

Chan: and you bought her $800 shoes.

Y/N: What can I say, I love all the bahngs!

Y/N: Last question Chris, let’s see if you get this one right! What was my first impression of you!

Chan: Oh you’re going there? I see how it is. (he fixes himself to sit straight up and looks at the camera) Our fans don’t know this story but Y/N hated me.

Y/N: (laughing to herself and gesturing to the crew again) They look so confused! He made it sound so bad, I just thought he was one of those really weird guys because, so basically we met at an award show and his group, Stray Kids, had been seated next to us.

Chan: We were so close we could touch arms.

Y/N: No truly! And it was funny because his entire group, and if you don’t know, they have eight members in total, all got up and went to the bathroom together. All eight of them! It was hilarious, I’d never seen any group do that!

Chan: We like to stay together. Safety in numbers!

Y/N: They came back after a while and almost missed getting their award. It was just so odd to me at the time but after that we started talking as the show went on and I thought he was super sweet and obviously he cares for his members.

[the couples quiz logo pops onto screen as the video depicts chan at the center, he flashes an excited smile at the camera]

Chan: Is it finally my turn? I’ll be honest I don’t have that many questions…but they’re pretty hard to answer. I don’t know if Y/N will be able to get them right.

Y/N: Don’t antagonize me Christopher! I know everything about you.

Chan: We’ll see about that.

Chan: First question! Before we went on our first date I had originally planned something else but it fell through, what was it and why didn’t we do it?

Y/N: Woah you’re going BACK.

Chan: Mhm, answer the question baby.

Y/N: This is a funny story that not everyone knows actually. Chan loves doing crazy things like he doesn’t do traditional dates ever, it’s always something outrageous that you least expect.

Chan: I want things to be memorable, plus if I have free time I don’t want to spend it sitting around, I want to go out and do things.

Y/N: He originally wanted to take me bungee jumping, (the camera pans to a laughing chan and the staff can be heard gasping) can you believe that! Bungee jumping for a first date!

Chan: It would have been memorable though, right?

Y/N: Yeah definitely. It didn’t happen though because he heard from a mutual friend of ours, Minnie, that I was really scared of heights.

Chan: I canceled the day super quick, the date was in two days and I called and had to cancel but I was honestly grateful I found out because imagine if I hadn’t known and took her to it? Memorable first date but not in a good way!

Y/N: I think maybe now I’d do it, but only if he’s with me because I trust him the most.

Chan: Wait really? Wait we’ll talk about this later, finish the story!

Y/N: Right! He took me swimming instead, it was a indoor private pool place and it was so much fun. He actually taught me how to swim.

Chan: It’s one of my favorite memories because I just knew I’d be asking her to be my girlfriend.

Y/N: Stop I’m going to cry if we get into this again!

Chan: I told her this last time we talked, how I knew she was the one for me our first date. She cried and then called her mom to tell her.

Y/N: My parents love him, maybe more than me to be honest.

Chan: What was the first achievement we got as a group that made me feel like I had made it?

Y/N: This feels like a trick question.

Chan: I promise it’s not.

Y/N: There are two answers because your first win is so memorable that I’d pick that one but you also always say you haven’t made it, because you’re still going, still reaching and setting goals and achievements for yourself.

Chan: You worded that perfectly. She’s right. First win on a music show was huge for us but honestly as a group we have a lot of goals and want to achieve them all, I don’t know if we’re ever going to truly feel like we’ve made it but seeing our fans celebrate our achievements always makes it feel like we’re heading in the right direction.

[the camera shifts and pans to y/n running her thumb on the back of chan’s palm, she whispers something in his ear before they continue]

Chan: What was my favorite sport growing up?

Y/N: Easy! It was swimming and you were really good at it.

Chan: Don’t say that they’re going to believe you.

Y/N: Babe I’ve seen those awards your mom has lining the walls of your house, trust me, you were good.

Chan: My dad owns a swim school so I swam a lot as a kid and naturally went on to compete at meets and stuff. If I wasn’t here doing this, I’d be a swimmer.

Y/N: He’s really good at it, and he taught me how to swim so like he’s a good teacher too.

Chan: I can’t believe I taught you to swim that memory is so engraved in my mind.

Y/N: Mine too! I could not learn for the life of me and then suddenly on my first date with him he taught me. That should tell you how good he is at swimming.

Chan: I don’t know if I’m good now but back then I wasn’t terrible.

Y/N: My boyfriend is so humble!

Chan: What’s one thing that you hate that I do but I love it?

Y/N: Sleeping in the recording room?

Chan: (he lets out a sarcastic laugh) Ha Ha Ha. Close but no.

Y/N: I don’t know, I don’t hate anything you do honestly.

Chan: Want me to tell you?

Y/N: You so want to tell me.

Chan: I do.

Y/N: Tell me.

Chan: It’s when I spend too long in the studio, so long that you have to come get me.

Y/N: You’re so….(she’s cut off by chan’s laughter)

Chan: Let me explain before you blast me in front of everyone!

Y/N: Mmm…go on…

Chan: I know you hate coming to get me but some of my favorite times are when you come because then we spend hours together listening to things I’ve made or messing around and recording things. It’s nice to have you so interested in what I do because I love you and I love music, it’s like my two favorite things are interacting and meeting one another.

Y/N: I hate you so much! You know I’m a sap, I’m going to cry you meanie, that’s so cute what even is this!

Chan: My revenge worked!

[the video cuts to the next clip and the viewer can see that y/n now has a tissue in hand]

Chan: Next question, who gave me advice when we first started getting to know each other and dating?

Y/N: Was it not one of the boys? You said you told binnie first no? So I’d assume him.

Chan: Nope! Guess again.

Y/N: No? Hmm I don’t know…maybe one of your other idol friends?

Chan: It was actually our choreographer.

Y/N: What? Really? Why?

Chan: They saw how stressed I was because I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend officially and it was making me distracted so they sat me down and made me spill what was bothering me. Funny too because when I told them they told me to just go for it, and I did and then later on they told me they were glad I had because I looked so much happier.

Y/N: Wow this tissue is being used to its fullest today. I am making a mental note to buy them anything they want right now like wow, imagine if they had never told you to just do it. Where would we be?

Chan: Still sneaking around to hang out as “friends” probably.

Chan: Final question, what’s the title of our new collab song coming out?

Y/N: Oh you’re terrible, did you even get permission to reveal this?

Chan: No but I feel like it’ll, a) this will be out by the time we announce it or b) I don’t have a plan B since I’m hoping plan A is successful!

Y/N: Stay please pray for your leader, he’s so going to get us in trouble for this!

Chan: Don’t say that pretty, have some faith in me.

Y/N: Our collab song is called “Here for you,” and it was written and produced by us.

Chan: It’s a love song if you didn’t guess that.

Y/N: I think they got that one babe.

Chan: Making sure they know it!

Interviewer: Can you tell us a little about the song?

Y/N: Well like Chan said, it’s a love song. It’s about finding the right person and immediately knowing they’re the one.

Chan: Immediately knowing they’re your person.

Y/N: We wrote it one night in the studio after fighting, nothing huge but we both had a bad day and it was intense, when you’ve been with someone for a while you have those days you know? He wrote something down to blow off some steam and so did I. We realized that we’d wrote one half of a song each. Then we put it together, fixed it up and made it that night.

Chan: It’s a really special song to us both, that’s why I’m so excited to announce it.

Y/N: We’re really excited to have you all listen to it.

Interviewer: Well thank you both for coming. We appreciate you making some time for us!

Y/N & Chan: Thanks for having us! (they send a smile to the camera and bow in thanks to the crew)

Y/N: We had a lot of fun today, really thank you.

Chan: Maybe we will come back in like ten years, married, and all that and do it again!

[ the camera zooms out and in fades the couples quiz logo, you can see the couple as they whisper to one another after the director yells “cut” ]

ENLUV EXTRA:

Chan: Why do I love Y/N? That’s a big question to ask, and if I named all the reasons we’d be here for a long time, to put it simply she’s my soulmate, I don’t think there is anyone else in the world more right for me than her. She’s caring, fun, creative, so many more things and it’s like wow, people do exist like her out there and I was lucky enough to find her? She must be my soulmate.

Y/N: Why do I love Chris? Hmm let me think. As a society I know we don’t believe in soulmates, and for a long time I put no thought into them you know? But meeting Chan and being able to experience the love he gives, has honestly changed that for me. I don’t think there is anyone out there more perfect for me than him. I can’t put into words why I love him but I can try to describe it. It’s like when you find a new favorite thing to obsess over, and that becomes something you love so dearly but in the case of me and Chan, it’s that feeling on and on, it never falters and my love for it stays consistent.

[ the video ends with a black screen fading out the image of y/n from frame ]

coco’s <3 note: FINALLY SHE IS HERE! I’ve been talking about this fic for almost three months now 😭 and finally it’s done! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I do :) Thank you @odxrilove for being my beta reader for it! I love you wifey 😻🫶🏽 As always, feedback & rbs are always appreciated!

SKZ TAGLIST! - @cherry-bushes @en-fvr @nikis-mum @bloom-bloom-pow @kyublr @enhacolor @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @vatterie @tytrackfebreze @veryjeongintxtkid @haechan-nahceah @mnwrld @queen-klarissa

— Want to be tagged? Check out THIS post!

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hoseoksluna · 6 months ago

Text

STRAWBERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi & spectacled boy)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 7.8k

summary: when your ex-boyfriend's fury burns you whole, you just might need to let hobi in to pour water over you and save you.

playlist: strawberries

pinterest board: j. / taglist: join

warnings: jungkook is nasty and mean and rly needs a trigger warning, oc is lost in her negative emotions and goes through a lot, sadness, crying, shame, longing for death, minor physical violence, oc and hobi take puffs of a shared vape <3, mental and emotional suffering, fighting, belittling, mentions of sex

note: this was an absolute pain to write as i'm not used to writing this genre of jungkook and i hope it's the last time i did skfskfsk, nah i'm just over exaggerating. i'm so happy i got this done in time. two updates in one week! wow. how did i do that? i hope you like this part. prepare yourselves for this jungkook and i'm sorry in advance..... that's all im gonna say. pls, validate me! asks, comments, anything. pretty please! i love you, my babies. big mwah.

You can still sense the ghost of his touch on your shoulder blades as you’re laying halfway on your tummy upon the crumpled bedding of your mattress. Your phone lights up and shuts off like the flickering of stars and all you can do is watch the wane and the rebirth, numbly, with the knowledge that death will never come, not when you’re still a living, breathing person because Jungkook is not the type of individual who gives up. Not easily, that is.

Hobi left but an hour ago while you slept. Kissed you goodbye. Murmured onto your forehead that he would see you again and you merely nodded amidst the magnetic pulling of your dreamland. Couldn’t peel your eyes open due to the heaviness of your tiredness, which didn’t steal, in all peculiar truthfulness, all of your attention, however. You carried on your shoulders a question way heftier. A question of how your body is still able to submit to slumber, when your blood curdles beneath your skin, when it’s so icy that you’re shivering on top of the duvet.

And the question didn’t leave when you woke up to your empty bedroom. It thumped, vigorously, against the nape of your neck. The very place Hoseok clutched when he poured his affection and admiration all over your body.

You wish he hadn’t left. You believe he would’ve possessed your burden, pretending it was his all along. Believe he wouldn’t need to know the alpha and the omega of it. Would pout his lips the way you’ve learned he often does, take the pain from you as if it were a backpack filled with stones. And it does feel like that, your mistake. Your torso is swathed with a double rope, whose end is tied with a stone that you’re cradling in your hands.

A few hours ago, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands while he kneeled for you, and now you’re anticipating the death that will never come as your stomach hurts.

But the memory of his touch is soothing. While your imaginary wings are flaccid and lackluster on the bed, his invisible hands are the force that pumps blood, feebly, into its membrane. Still warm, though a little less firm. It’s as if he were here in the flesh.

Your body is asking for him, emotionally, however your mind is forbidding you from conveying your need for him to him. Logic is whispering to you that he’s spent the entire day with you, canceled his work meeting because of you. You couldn’t possibly ask for more of his time, for more of him when he had already given you more than enough.

And besides, you can’t let your attachment reach this unhealthy depth. It triggers you, reminds you of the very thing that spliced your heart open almost a month ago. You don’t want to wander there, nor do you want to be pulled there if you were to ever let go of the reins. You can’t afford Jungkook’s life to entwine around your world again. Not when Hobi diligently dug a grave for it, threw its flesh down and covered it back with the soil, his straining muscles the very force that made you forget about… everything.

You can’t do that to yourself. And most importantly, you can’t do that to Hobi.

It’s the latter that propels you to fight. That gives you strength to raise the top half of your body onto your hands. You don’t give a fuck about yourself—you know full well that your life is cursed. Nothing good has ever come out of the events that creeped in until Hobi came along. And you don’t wish to break him out of a selfish intent. You don’t wish to break him because of him. He’s a pure angel, a saint with an honorable heart, a God that has his eye on you. You wouldn’t take it well, if the bane of the ambrosia of your life were ever to touch his lips.

He’s here, and that’s stable. He’s here, and that’s the reason why you need to protect him. From yourself, from the poison, from the rotten apple of your ex-boyfriend current persistence in entering your space all over again.

You don’t want to eat that spoiled fruit anymore, and so you simply won’t.

This decision has shifted the atmosphere because your phone is no longer going off. You sigh a breath of relief, running your fingers through your hair, and you get up, a Virgin Mary that has become a warrior for her God, and you begin to dress yourself.

You need some fresh air.

Clothing yourself in a matching outfit—a light wash baggy jeans, a cropped white tank and a denim jacket with your Nike’s, you grab your phone and keys and drift out into the night.

Your hair has dried while you slumbered and it ripples in the gentle wind of autumn. The street is lit in a darkly yellow tone, also dried from the morning’s downpour and you stop in the middle of the road, where Hobi drove past while you teased him. You breathe in the freshness of the air in effort to inhale your God, in effort to bring him into your system and your chin quivers with weakened emotions, with a weakened wish that he was here with you, holding your hand, giving you the last bit of strength you need. You know his warmth would smooth out your blood, boil it to a temperature that would cook up your joy and bring it to your heart on a silver platter. Bring it to your mind and calm the hurricane within, feed it so it doesn’t wail anymore.

And with another sigh, you will yourself to stop. Will yourself to stop needing. You will stumble and you will fall if you keep going down that road that has never shone brighter, that looks nothing like the one you’re standing in the middle of. And as inviting as it is, you close your eyes to get rid of the blessing reaching out for you—only to discover that it’s waiting for you there, too. A circle of light, of fire amidst a cloud of pure, pitch-black darkness.

You want to scream, and much to your neighbors’ dismay—you do.

It’s a singular, loud stream of your frustration, swaddled with the pulsating energy of your affection. And then your shoulders tremble. And it’s your tears that are louder than that murmuring watercourse in their very silence.

You head to the convenience store down the street with your teardrops dotting the ground as if it were the rain. You don’t want your neighbors to detect it was you, who caused the disturbance, and tell your parents. You have enough fire in your orchard, you don’t need another filling of oil.

You ask the very drowsy guy behind the counter for a strawberry ice vape. His round eyes, behind thick rimmed glasses that make them look even bigger, are barely kept open as he reaches for it with a flabby hand. Your eye catches the glint of a myriad of plan B’s right next to the shelf scattered with packs of lung burners and your heart constricts, a rivulet of emotion cascading down your cheek, caused by the fond recollection of Hobi’s intimate desire and you break—terribly, terribly break. Fruit trees crack in you, collapse to the ground with a horrendous thud and the berry bushes… they wither until they’re mere wisps of blackness. A picture of devastation.

The boy blinks twice when he turns around, regarding you, and he asks for your ID, only to startle when you glare at him. He tells you the price and you pay with your phone, thanking him and saying your curt goodbye.

One he doesn’t reciprocate.

You probably gave him the fright due to the tears marring your pallid cheeks. You hope he isn’t there the next time you’re in the mood to douse your lungs with chemicals.

Your hands are shaking as you’re tearing up the unnecessarily sturdy packaging. And your tears resume in their outpour when your manicured nails make your life harder than it already is. The tape folded over the top of the rectangular box is too thick and you hurt your nail beds when you claw at it. You have to use your teeth and the fucking thing finally gives in.

You furiously throw it out in the bin.

Feel an incoming calmness when you take a deep puff. And you do it over and over again until your cursed world spins, the plump swirls of smoke mingling with the night, never fully connecting. Not like you and Hobi.

And your world tilts on its axis once your phone lights up in your hand and there’s no picture to be found on the screen.

Your heart hammers, threatening to fling out of your throat.

Hobi is calling you.

And the thing is, you don’t really believe it.

Your vision swims as another onrush of dense tears blurs the letters of his name. You stare down at your phone, dumbly, sobbing and not caring at all that the spectacled boy can hear you.

You don’t know who does it—who swipes your finger across the screen and allows you to hear Hobi say the pet name that stole your soul. Who anoints your tears with strawberry-scented mollification while you fail to comprehend that the person you willed yourself not to need in order to not hurt him the way you were hurt somehow heard your cries and answered them like the God he is.

Because it couldn’t have been you. Not when you’ve become a lifeless sculpture in the middle of a yellowly-lit street. A modern, urban art—awakening ugliness in anyone’s first impression.

Not a sculpture of the angel you saw at the museum, the one Hobi took your picture with, though.

You're a sculpture of a road kill. A wounded, small animal, laying on its side with its guts out. And Hobi places them, with gentleness you’ve never felt before, back inside, stitches your belly closed and picks you up, carrying you in his arms. All because he repeats the pet name—with a slither of panic this time.

He acknowledged that something is wrong, validated it.

And somehow, it snaps you out of your vapor of numb sadness and shame permeates your body, cold sweat coats it—something beyond it, too. Something that makes you shiver so hard that your teeth begin to chatter, preventing you from speaking, your tongue twisted, lifeless.

A reality check.

You sent a filthy video of yourself getting rocked from behind to your ex-boyfriend, in which you screamed that your most intimate parts belong to another man.

You’re not Virgin Mary. You’re Mary Magdalene.

You don’t hear your pitiful crying fits, but Hobi does—and it is through his inhale of a trembling breath and his words that you perceive that you’re baring your ugliness to him.

“Pup, what’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?”

You squeeze your vape in your small fist, sensing those words doing something in you—something that untwists your tongue and lets you breathe like him, though in painful, quick staccatos. Your frail legs hurt, not able to withstand your tremor, and they give out. You fall onto your bum, the impact and the gravel shooting a spark of pain up your spine and you whimper, your tears soaking your neckline.

“Hobi,” you call out, the last vowel breaking, teeth chattering, cacophonously. “I made a mistake. A terrible mi-mistake.”

He coos, sorrowfully, his loud breath still trembling—a strong rope nonetheless that you want to hold onto. That cord wouldn’t lead you to your death, wouldn’t scrape your hands with its harsh texture, wouldn’t be wrapped around a stone on the other end.

“Breathe for me, baby,” he says and guides you to do it. You inhale the night air with him, feeling like there isn’t enough of it to appease your lungs, and you exhale.

Somehow it halts the river of your cries and you do it again. Hobi lets you, patiently waiting on the other side, encouraging you and praising you. This time, it doesn’t sprinkle you with the sultriness of sin. No, you sense it cleansing you, giving you the kind of newness you stumbled across in his car this very morning. Your palm, the one that clutches your vape, opens and it rolls onto the ground. You grab it and when you wrap your fingers around it, you perceive that you do the motion around that newness. And your heart, your submission—they’re not letting up. Not again. Not when it’s him.

“That’s it,” Hobi praises, a hint of calmness in his tone. “Can you try and tell me what happened?”

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, the newness gracing you with strength that spreads feeling into your legs and you stretch them out. Blood pumps in them and you can sense the direction it’s traveling to. You tighten your grip, open your mouth to talk.

“I sent the video to the wrong person,” you utter, and along with your grip, your lungs tighten as well. No sobs escape you, no tears. Only gravely stillness, nothingness while your shame stands behind you, menacingly, a demon set out on destroying you, the curse upon your life a bracelet around its wrist, a knife in his hand, to which it’s attached.

Hobi doesn’t say anything for a moment and you can sense his shock, its cold tendrils the ice that courses down your legs. An agony forms in your heart, stretches out an arm of regret and strikes against your ribcage, pangs of guilt and self-disgust seizing your body.

“I’m so sorry, Hobi, I thought I sent it to you,” you continue, your voice splitting, though no external expression of it is evident on your countenance. It’s as if you were telling him the most ordinary of a thing. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a puff of your vape. It is only now that you can taste its strawberry savoriness and it suffuses your lungs with a mockingly sweet, feigned fume.

Hobi hears you exhale and you hear him swallow, dryly. An exchange, most redolent of the one you’ve done many times earlier.

“What are you smoking?” he asks, and it catches you off guard. You didn’t expect him to yell at you, nor did you expect him to scold you. Truth be told, your fragile state of mind didn’t let you expect anything of him, any sort of outcome. Yet this question still surprises you. It flattens lukewarmness upon your skin and you feel like nuzzling your face into it, needing more of it.

You take a deep breath. “I bought a strawberry vape. Scared the guy in the store with what I looked like.”

Hobi laughs through his nose, barely. That’s the real sweetness you know. The original one, from God himself. “I’m sure he thought you were beautiful. Should I beat him up?”

The same sound leaves you and lightness descends upon you. You welcome it in, without a fight, and the sigh you let out is of a serene kind, at last. “Not at all and besides, I almost did it myself. He asked for my ID.”

Hobi coos, the endearment prolonging—wafting through your ear down your throat until it clings to your heart. You snivel, your inkling to nuzzle into the apparition of him lining your body growing bigger until you submit to it. You graze your cheek upon your arm, propping both of them onto your lifted knees. Feel his caress, but faintly. It should be enough, but it isn't. Could never be.

You open your mouth again to tell him to come get you, despite the fight rising in you, but Hobi speaks first.

“I don’t blame him that he did. You’re just my little pup. But my adult, little pup. I’ll talk to him.” You hear a shuffling in the background and your breath hitches in your throat, your heart joining it, ascending. “Where are you? I’m getting in my car.”

Your mind, where the war is coming from, wins. That quickly. Reminds you that if you face him and tell him what you’ve done, you’ll ruin everything. Ruin the connection, ruin the affection he carries for you.

You’re hasty as you scramble your words, but as your heart descends back into your ribcage, it throws you a lifeline. It all happens in an instant and distaste pools on your tongue from the rapidness of it all. You never liked it, and you never will.

The lifeline of your new life, created by Hobi, changes your words, but leaves the intention untouched.

“Can I tell you who I sent it to?” you ask, taking a puff to relax the electricity of your nerves. The strawberry flavor only heightens it, though. Out it must go, then. So you can forget about it the moment you see his face.

The shuffling halts. “You can tell me in person,” Hobi says, lightly, but you shake your head. You know he means well. Know that he wants to reassure you with touch, but it’s a risk you can’t afford. Not when the wrong kind of neediness is at stake.

“I don’t want to talk about it when I see you,” you push, pursing your lips, finding them in a serious need of a chapstick. You begin to nibble on the flecks of skin that stick out. “I want to focus on you. I want to forget.”

No ounce of a lie in your words, though your intention still remains hidden. Rightfully so—him leaving you because of the storm of your mental state and issues is another risk you don’t want to have staining your hands with blood.

You hear him sit down. Hear him play with his keys—and the clanging sound is oddly comforting. “All right. Tell me, then.”

“I sent it to someone from my past,” you start with great difficulty, pause afterwards because a light pours in from behind. The squeak of breaks, the impatient buzzing of a running car. Your mouth dries, your torso turns around. A silhouette exits the vehicle and as the person emerges from the darkness and steps into the bright lights that it’s emitting, the name that slips past your lips is more of an acknowledgement of his presence than a disclosure of information. “Jungkook.”

Jungkook stops right behind you like the demon of your shame did, with his hands in his pocket. You don’t feel warmth radiating off of him. You feel coldness, a wintry coldness so akin to the one that troubled your body before Hobi called. He zeroes his gaze down on you, piercing your irises with a fury that causes the fine hair on the nape of your neck to rise, painfully. The muscles of his forearms are clenched, oscillating as he drums his fingers on his thighs in the cocoons of his pockets. Your breath trembles, terror prickling you profoundly until it cuts your skin open and you whimper—you whimper with a sob.

“Who’s Jungkook?” Hobi asks, softly, and you close your eyes to incarcerate your tears, curling your lips under your teeth, terribly fearful that Jungkook can hear him.

Cursed, your life is.

He shows no sign that he does—merely burns with that fury, patiently waiting for you to end the call. Your heart stills, ache replacing it, and you think it’s been wounded so much that it can barely work anymore.

More than ever, you feel like that Mary Magdalene, face to face with the devil that tempts her to return to her vomit like a dog.

Hobi calls your name, panics, and it’s another lifeline—this time thrown over your torso by his own hands. You have to fight, you have to stand up to this hell and walk the fuck away from it.

“Baby, I gotta go. Please, hurry. Please,” you pule, stressing the last pretty word to divulge to him how grave the situation is that you’re in. Hobi lets out a breath, lowly and shortly, and it’s such a relief that he understood your vague message, that you can hear him scurrying to his feet and that comforting sound of his keys clanging.

“I’ll be there in a few, pup. Tell me where you are. Are you safe? Do you have your keys?” Hobi spews, massaging your heart with his care and there’s no ceaselessness to your tears.

“Down the road, like less than a minute away from my apartment. And I don’t know. And yeah, they’re in my pocket.”

A bang of his door closing. Jungkook begins to tap his foot. You scowl at him, despite your fear. He doesn’t stop. You withdraw your gaze.

Hobi’s breath quickens. “Pull them out and use them when you need to, okay? Have them ready in your hand.” You nod, doing exactly as he says, without a thought spared. “Walk to your apartment building, I’ll meet you there. You got your keys in your hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, pup, I’ll be there soon. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

You do, but you can’t.

“I’ll go to my apartment now, Hobi. Thank you.”

You don’t allow yourself to hear what he says next. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you hang up with a heavy heart. Your sudden, miserable aloneness enfolds around you, rigidly. But not as rigidly as Jungkook’s cold hand around your arm.

The heaviness in your heart grows as its drum speeds up.

“Get up,” Jungkook grunts, hauling you up onto your feet, awkwardly, causing you to drop your vape onto the gravel with the strength and hastiness he uses to do it with.

You stumble before you catch your balance and Jungkook doesn’t let go of his deathly grip on you until you do. Then, before your blurring sight, he bends at the waist and picks up your lung burner, skimming his eyes over it. Hands it to you with a scoff, his touch icy cold as he grabs your wrist and places it onto your palm. You sob, with ugliness that scars you, with such intensity that Jungkook’s narrowed eyes round and you pull your gaze away. You don’t want to see it. Tug your arm away from him, rubbing your wrist to get rid of the ghost of his fingers there, disgust flooding your bloodstream underneath.

And even though he seemingly softened at your tears, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. It didn’t touch his fury, not at all.

“Baby, huh?” he seethes with gritted teeth, letting go of you so harshly that you almost stumble again. “Your pussy is his, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, rivulets of tears rolling down your cheeks, pain compressing your entire body. It’s at this moment that you will death to take you somewhere far, far away from him, because you’re too frozen on the spot to run away.

“You’re covered in hickeys and you’re smoking that shit again. Was it really that good? Did he fuck you so good that you had to send it to me in spite? Did he fuck you better than I ever did?”

Your sobs gain that same agony that prevents your lungs from inhaling. And when you open your eyes, all you can look at is your shadow and his, yours blackened so much that it digs a hole in the gravel, his furling with flames.

And along with death, you will a little strength into your anguish.

And most unbelievably, it slinks in, and your following words come as much of a surprise to you as to him.

“Stop.”

His shadow stills, his tremor following suit.

“You have no business talking to me this way,” you continue, your throat constringing, and you take a big puff of your vape—to spite him rightfully this time. It loosens the tightness and you open your mouth, not finished with your outpour.

But Jungkook stops you.

“I have no business? You crushed my fucking heart.”

Your head whips and the sight of him causes your pain to rise in levels. Palms outstretched towards you, his posture slouches and the breaths he lets out are wretched, the sound of a tumultuous sea at night. One would think he’s the one being inflicted great emotional violence on, not the other way around.

Jungkook raises a finger to his heart, licking his lips before he flattens them, as if the utterance of something so private, so fervent took all of his strength. He pants and you know it’s due to the fact that he can’t catch up to the thoughts rushing in his brain. And you wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t know him so intimately.

“This fucking heart has never stopped being yours,” he confesses and cringes at his choice of words, triggered. Your stream of anguish is silent as you take them in. “And you crushed it. Ruined it.”

There was a time, one that used to be nearly endless during those weeks in August you spent at the beach, healing from the breakup, when you longed to hear that confession. Prayed for it. Sough it when you grazed your fingertips along the sand. And now that it’s here—now that you’re tasting something so great, greater than your entire being, something so burnt as he voiced out your tendency to cause ruination—you wish you never heard it. Wish you never had the ears that carried that message to you.

And there’s nothing you can do. Not as darkness swallows you, confiscating any bit of strength you had left. Your eyes sting from their downpour, face features droop. Your pain is an enormous stone and you can’t carry it. You can only chase away the heft. And you do—you take a puff of your vape.

One that he rips from your mouth and throws it out in the bin, preventing you from doing so. You don’t yelp, you don’t claw at his arm—you merely watch him rid you of your only salvation for the night, watch him exert his power over you all over again, bursting your indignation into flames.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you ask, your voice deathly, uncannily placid, carrying no tendril of the offense and anger you feel. Adrenaline courses through you, asking to be let out.

And you just might.

Jungkook turns around and spits on the ground. “Don’t smoke that shit.”

It’s not hurt, what the expression of his arrogance produced. It unlocked the door, which kept your adrenaline and your darkened emotions at bay, invited them out.

And so you lash out, using that freedom.

You slap him.

And he takes it. Without moving an inch. Still as a grand statue. You yearn to demolish it to smithereens, so you can never see him again, and you strike at his chest with your keys in between your fingers, pushing him. Affected from the force, it causes him to unwillingly take a step back and it feels fucking glorious until you catch stars flash in his eyes.

“You’re hitting me because I threw out your fucking vape?” he asks, his voice coated with a dark bitterness that deepens it. His brows furrow, grimness casting a shadow over his face, hiding the glitter of the stars. “I’m laying my heart out to you. I’m here in the middle of the night because of you and this is what you care about? This fucking thing that harms you is more dear to you?”

You push him again, fuming. Jungkook grits his teeth, takes your wrists and holds them in the air. You fight against it, but he won’t budge. Tightens his grip. And you’re a bird, locked in a cage—but you still have your voice.

“I’m hitting you because I hate you,” you mutter, burning him with the vapor of your anger through your narrowed eyes. “I’m hitting you because I hate the way you think you’re still entitled to have a say in my life. And it doesn’t even matter whether I have a man or not. You let me go and the moment you did that, your control over my life? It went fucking bye bye.”

You let him forbid you from smoking in the past. Needed it at the time, needed a father’s hand—and you liked it because you never had it. Never had a male care about you, about your health, about your actions. Your father never spared you a glance, never gave a fuck about you. He always had your mother handle you, blaming her for the way she raised you.

But during those weeks you healed, being alone by the sea helped you unattach yourself from that, from needing Jungkook to tell you what’s right and what’s not. The moon doesn’t tell the sea which shells to wash up onto the shore—it does it by itself, handpicks them, makes the decision. And the more time you watched it deliver it to you and you collected them with gladness, the more you understood it.

You’re never letting him have that power over you again. You’re your own person, carrying an armful of your right and wrong decisions—your own possessions. And so you will smoke if you want to. You will bring a man home on the first date. You will fall in love. And you will speak up.

You twist your wrists, unrelentingly, until he lets go. You will win, not your mind, not your heart. The raw, brutal, unabashed you.

You take a step back away from him, feel your blood rushing to the places of your body parts that he held, quick to recover them. “You don’t get to dictate my life anymore. You have no place in it. You didn’t have it then when I was by myself, and you most certainly don’t have it now.”

Jungkook takes in your words with a parted mouth, a red mark forming over his cheek, the light shunned from his eyes. The glorious feeling returns, blooming thin, translucent tissues of happiness in you.

“Hoseok is his name, isn’t it?” he chunters, placing his hands back into the cocoons of his pockets, tilting his head to the side.

Hearing him say his name is a taste of spoiled milk and bile springs up your throat, your guts longing to empty themselves out. You stifle it, you have to, clutching your stomach, feeling so horribly faint. Your hatred for him blossoms like that poison ivy you dealt with earlier in the morning.

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” you spit, scowling at him, clutching your stomach harder—just like Hobi did when you brought him home. A sliver of nostalgia forces you to look behind you, in case you catch a glance of his car, but the street remains empty and sullen.

“You can hate me as much as you want,” Jungkook mutters, his words swiveling your head back to face him, and your guts ripple. “Yell at me. Hit me. But don’t send me videos of you getting fucked. That’s not fucking right.”

You bare your teeth, seething. “I made a mistake.”

Jungkook nods. “Yes,” he hushes. “Yes, you did.”

You shake your head. “No, you don’t understand.” Confusion pinches his brows, creating a wrinkle in the middle and he lets you continue. You lick your lips, your face dry from the way your tears have seeped inside. “I thought I sent it to Hobi. I was too tired, I didn’t see. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jungkook scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip swiftly, mimicking you. “Don’t fucking lie to me, little girl.”

You mewl, painfully, at the pet name. It’s as if he sank a dagger in the middle of your sternum. Weariness descends upon you and you rub your eyes, wishing you had your strawberry vape, your salvation, in your fist. And you find no traces of any grit, any determination to convince him that you’re being truthful to him.

You turn around halfway. “Go home.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but the squeaking sound of brakes causes him to close it right away. You know it’s Hobi and the knowledge is more satisfying than the dose of chemicals Jungkook threw out. Relief washes over you, bringing along lightness and something that is kindred to joy. You don’t care that Hobi is about to see your ex-boyfriend. You don’t care about anything at all—you’re just so grateful that he’s here. And you’re willing to let go of your walls, of your war that you tend to be so submissive to. You’re willing to let yourself go and let Hobi take you, handle you, take care of you.

You need it. As much as it pains you, you need him after this encounter with Jungkook.

And when Hobi calls your name and you pivot on your feet to watch him walk, hurriedly, to you, your legs do give out after all. Because he’s caked in blood, a trickle of it flecked and dried on his brow, illuminated by Jungkook’s headlights. You land, awkwardly, on your bum and your wrist, wincing in pain, but it’s not his hands that lift you.

It’s a pair of hands that you know to be cold and, despising the sting of it, you shriek, pushing him away. The motion leads you to stagger into Hobi’s arm that he opens for you, his chaste, feathery touch grounding you, giving you the sense of home, even when the look he gives Jungkook is anything but warm and friendly.

“Hobi, what happened? Are you okay?”

You take his shiny, sweaty face into your hand. Your eyes could fall out of their sockets due to how beautiful he is, even bloodied, alarmed and bestial. You need to know what happened. Need to clean him up. Take him home.

But Hobi doesn’t answer you. Doesn’t look your way, only acknowledges you with his scalding touch. Stares down your ex-boyfriend with such contempt that you’re surprised the man is still standing.

You’re so pulled in, so focused on him and his unwavering expression of detestation, which flatters you and soothes you, that you don’t notice that Jungkook is leaving. Hobi snaps his fingers at him and beckons him to come back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hobi barks, his fingers lowering and hooking around the middle belt loop of your jeans.

Jungkook returns to that space of light, the black tank top he’s wearing making it seem like he’s hollow on the inside. Perhaps he is, he did hand over his heart. Wasn’t affected by your fragile state of mind, by your tears. Wounded you to the point that you will take days to recover. Only a person of complete nothingness would be able to do that.

“I saw you at the museum,” Hobi continues, brows wrinkled. “Who the fuck are you?”

You should speak. You should take this elsewhere, but you can’t. Not when you feel so small, like a little girl hiding behind the leg of her father who’s dealing with the boogeyman. And you’re reminded that this has happened before.

Only the roles were reversed.

In the wine-tinged room this morning while you were confronting Jungkook and his companion found him. She asked the same question, though the hostility she showed you could never be compared to Hobi’s unkindness. He emanates respect while she’s a condensation of insecurity.

“I see you’re the Daddy from the video,” Jungkook laughs, humorlessly, dipping his chin before he lifts it in a very evident effort to reach not only Hobi’s height but his supremacy as well. He will always wish to overpower—it’s in his nature. “Trust me, you’re not the only one she called Daddy. Long before you came along, it was all I heard from her—”

You blink and Jungkook’s face is in Hobi’s hand.

You gasp. You’re a witness to Hobi protecting your dignity as he squeezes his cheeks until Jungkook moans, pathetically, in pain. And all you can think about is how long he had that coming. For throwing out your vape, for his arrogance and now for the way that he spoke about you.

You don’t feel a slither of pity for him.

No—your joy, fully, forms.

“If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, I won’t hesitate to unable to you talk,” Hobi says with concerning seriousness and you shiver, grazing your fingertips along your collarbones after you fold your arms over your chest, touched, flattered, loved. A line of tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, but you hold them back. You don’t want to cry anymore—you’re sick of it. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything. Hobi waggles him before he lets him go and you swear you caught a tinge of whiteness scattering along his knuckles. Your mouth dries.

“Now you’re dismissed,” Hobi finishes, turning around and grabbing your hand, tugging you back home.

Your legs follow him, but your vision doesn’t. It remains fixed on Jungkook, on his heaving chest, on his reddened cheeks, embossed with Hobi’s fingerprints and the lines of your hand. His eyes are smothered with stars, a skyful of them, ones that expand until there’s no darkness left.

And you’re witness to regret taking shape in them.

And something about that tells you that this isn’t the last time you see him.

Hobi had been in a car accident on his way to rescue you. He tells you of it as you’re cleaning him up with a lukewarm, wet cloth and your arm gets stuck in the air, unable to move, as you comprehend the life-threatening danger he underwent because of you. Another driver bumped him from the back while he was slowing down at the yellow light, wanted to race on the almost empty highway. Was under the influence, Hobi found out when he stepped out of his vehicle to grapple with him. Deemed it wasn’t worth it, especially when time was pressing down on him, and with a little manipulation and an installment of fear, the silly guy agreed to pay for everything and Hobi got his number.

You wonder at how he managed to get back inside his car and drive when he hit his head on the steering wheel. You worry that he has a concussion. Suggest to take him to a hospital, but Hobi only shakes his head, reassures you he’s fine and once you completely clean the blood off of his brow, you can see a thin but bulbous scratch right beneath the fine hair, surrounded by violets and pinks. A different bruise from the ones bestrewn over his body from your mouth.

Your heart aches. This is all your fault, the repercussion of your neediness, the finished work of your ruination.

You grow solemn, your features drooping again, but Hobi isn’t blind to it. Cups your chin, lifts it, fondles it with his thumb. Pouts ever so slightly. Why is it a relief that you feel bursting in your chest amidst your lingering pain is something you can’t really understand.

But he’s God. No wonder he’s able to mount such strangeness in you and make it work.

“Did he hurt you?” Hobi whispers, cradling your other hand on your lap. He’s sat in your armchair, with you on his thighs, in the very corner of your dark living room, lit up coolly and solely by your antique lampshade. It’s where you read your poetry, where you recite it to nobody else but you, where you recharge your battery when your world exhausts you. The fact that Hobi chose to sit here instead of your couch speaks volumes, has a great meaning that you’re too weary to decipher and romanticize, but you like it. A lot. To the point that you’re comfortable enough to answer his question, despite the fact you looked forward to Jungkook’s absence in your alone time with Hobi.

“The way he spoke about me was the same way he talked to me,” you say, your voice coated with milky sadness. Your eyes instinctively drop to his hand holding yours, to his fist wrapped around your fingers. “He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t send it to him on purpose.”

Brusqueness clouds his eyes, but he remains gentle with you. “You don’t have to care about what he thinks, whether he believes you or not. You don’t have to prove anything to him. Your one word is enough,” Hobi says, drifting his hand down your arm until it winds up at his other one intertwined with yours and you sob, tearlessly. It’s precisely what you needed to hear without knowing it, the final touch to the closing chapter that had so abruptly opened. You carry it into your minuscule heart, sinking it there, letting it permeate its entirety, and you nod your head. “Did he hurt you physically?”

You lay yourself down on his chest, on his bloodstained blue shirt, on his heart that you missed and Hobi locks you in, taking his hands and wrapping them around your form. You could fall asleep like this, forget and become the happiest girl in the world.

“Not that much.”

His heart quickens and you regret your words.

“What do you mean not that much?”

You’re quick to fix your mistake, not thinking it through.

“He was rough with me. My legs gave out on me before he came. He found me on the ground and he lifted me up. Then held my wrists when I hit him—”

“You hit him?”

You stammer, jumbling your words, deciding on just one. “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, squeezing your arm, and this is the death you longed for.

Never in your life had you ever experienced praise from a man in a non-sexual context and not gotten lustfully affected by it. The purity, the newness is so healing, so consequential that you can’t help but to stroke his clothed ribs in side to side motion, in appreciation and even a faint smile of fondness curls your lips, one that Hobi can very well see from above. He caresses the trace of it while it is still there, causing your smile to blossom, and you sense the orchard in you gaining life.

“You went through so much emotional suffering today and yet you’re still able to smile. All because I praised you. You react so beautifully to it,” Hobi comments and you blush, his thumb skipping over to it, giving it the same attention, collecting it like keepsakes. You’d wonder at it, too, if you haven’t already acknowledged yourself, intimately, with his sovereign power of erasing past events.

And you tell him, peeling your torso off of his chest.

“It’s your doing. You make me forget about everything when I’m with you. It’s like it never happened at all. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hobi smiles, the corners of his glimmering eyes crinkling. “If it’s my doing, then it’s yours, too. You should know how you do it.”

You soften into liquid and it’s your heart that quietly weeps now. “You remember the poem.”

He nods, gliding his hand up and down your side. “How could I not? It’s all I can hear in my mind. I kept hearing it on my way home and then on my way back to you.”

That alone takes the unfateful events of the night off of you like a layer of clothing, dressing you in strength. You need a giant puff of your vape, just to recuperate from being drowned in the sea of your past longing for this. And you reach into the pocket of your jeans, only to be reminded of what happened to it.

It feels like a distant memory. So much had occurred that it slipped from your mind. You frown.

“What’s wrong?”

You purse your lips. “I thought I still had my vape.”

“You don’t?”

You shake your head. “He threw it out.”

Hobi seems as offended by the information as you were when you watched it happen. And as much as you bonded over your sexual desires, the same connection clicks over this.

“He’s such a dick. Let’s get you a new one.”

He pats your bum and then you’re on your feet, tugged back outside, with a smile quivering your lips. And this time you follow him with your vision, too. Your eyes sail over his strong imaginary wings, on which the pink dominates the black, and you feel your own being upheaved, slowly gaining the vigor that they lost.

And Hobi scares the spectacled boy in the convenience store. Not with his stained shirt, but with the way he provokes embarrassment in him by asking him if he wants to see his ID as well, staying true to the words he said to you over the phone. The boy didn’t even so much as peek at you, too afraid to do so.

It made you laugh.

Hobi double checked with you if it were the strawberry flavor that you wanted, and you changed your mind. Picked the blackberry one because you never had it before. Could use another dose of newness.

He opens the packaging with you, struggling at first, but then he immediately uses his teeth. You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt.

Smile even as he places it between your lips, but you can’t take a puff, can’t drop the presence of your happiness, even when he encourages you. That is until he inhales it first—you’re so struck by the beauty of it, of him that the muscles in your face let up. The smoke twirls around the feathers of his wings, adding just the right amount of white into its art, and you yearn to fall asleep on them.

“Can you stay over tonight?”

“Only if you take a puff.”

He carves it between your lips and this time, as you’re so mesmerized by him, you wrap your lips around it and suck; suck in that heady, hefty, colorful flavor that pools warmly in your throat, blowing the smoke around his neck while he kisses your forehead. Takes you back inside. Dresses you in your pajamas. Lets you smoke in bed with his wings swaddling you and your little childhood bows-adorned bunny plushie. Lets you put the vape in his mouth as he strokes your hair.

The night birds begin to sing and into their song your phone dings. You know who it is long before you prove yourself right.

But it’s not a text message that disturbed their music.

Jungkook sent you a picture.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

BACK to masterlist | READ part one | READ part two

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mr-urple · 4 months ago

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» The devil’s coming but only to worship me_.

Heyo guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! I'm Donatello, but I more commonly go by Don. I'm your average ninja mutant turtle teen with a penchant for violence and chaotic shenanigans. I'm just a silly guy, don't be afraid to hang around! You can slide something into my inbox while you're at it, I won't mind !

OC MASTERPOST (Last updated: July 1st)

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PRONOUNS PAGE

400 FOLLOWER DTIYS

THE GANG!!!

#atomic bomb [⚛️🧪] - @atomic-rattz (BEST BRO 🗣🗣🗣)

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#insufferable twink 🧡 - @rawcherrycake (my beloveth.. <3)

Other moots!

#eepy tello 💤 - @mrsleepytello (annoying star-gremlin /aff)

#cassette tape 📼 - @cin3maa (THE LIL SIS EVER‼️‼️)

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EXTRA TAGS

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#swords vs tech - my rivalry with @ceruleanterrapin (he's cool guys I swear)

#villain au - anything related to my villain arc! hehhehehe

#cyan.txt [🧬] - My oc DNA's talking tag (he took over my blog once)

ADDITIONAL INFO UNDER CUT (PLEASE READ)

MY ART REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!!

Please don’t ask if my requests or commissions are open. They aren’t. And I don’t plan to open them any time soon. I’m a self-indulgent artist who draws what he wants, and I’d like to keep it that way.

INTERESTS Feel free to talk to me about these things!

Splatoon and the Splatoon Manga (aka coroika). It's my favorite video game EVER and I am more than ready to gush about it.

Pokemon. I'm not as well versed in the earlier games, but I do know quite a bit of it!

Legend of Zelda. Specifically BoTW, TotK, TP, and SS.

Kirby. I am I HUGE fan of the eldritch horrors in this game.

Haikyuu, SpyxFamily, Kuroko no Basket, Dungeon Meshi, and Kusuriya no Hitorigoto.

Vocaloid and J-pop. It's all I listen to, actually.

BOUNDARIES

Tcest, incest, and proshippers DNI

I make suggestive jokes (I'm a teen. What dost thou expect of me), but I won't be drawing NFSW, nor will I accept me or other minors being sexualized. We are not child molesters.

Please be nice! I'm not exactly the best at wording things (tone indicators save my life), but I will never, EVER be mean to someone on purpose (unless they deserve it. Then I'll go ham). While interacting on my blog, please refrain from being toxic. Some thoughts are better left to yourself

NO STEALING MY ART!! I don't know why you'd want to steal it in the first place (it sucks ass), but don't do it anyways. You can use it as long as you give credit.

I don't do commissions, but I take requests! If I see something in my ask box I like, I'll draw it. So, if you have any ideas, feel free to share them! I like having motivation boosters.

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EXTRA INFO ABOUT ME!!! IF YOU EVEN CARE!!!

16 years old

5'4"

INTP / 5w4 / 548

I ate a roly poly once (I was fIVE-)

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Keeps getting adopted by people for some reason

Yyyyyeeahhhhh that's about it, remember to be nice and have fun and shit. Stay silly gang!!!!

#purple.txt [👾]#my art #blog intro #I'M SO SORRY TO EVERYONE TAGGED HERE HRHGAHGEHAGE IGNORE THIS #Spotify

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maximumkillshot · 1 year ago

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"I Can't Lose You" Part 3

Warnings: This one is bad... Like bad bad. Uhm so please pay attention to these warnings. *Brings out a scroll with a solemn face.* Descriptions of Blood, Emergency medical procedure explainations, Shock, Grief, Chan gets shoved once, (IF YOU WANT NO SPOILERS AND KNOW YOU CAN HANDLE THE FIC CONTINUE) Child Loss, Descriptions of miscarriage.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: OC Doctor, Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: I know the cut is very high up but I needed to be sure that it wouldn't trigger someone would get triggered by the story. I am so sorry I am doing this to y'all. But here we are. Enjoy getting your heart ripped out? I guess. IF YOU WANT MORE TELL ME!

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not.

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

NOW:

Once both Bin and the Doctor were in the hall and closed the sliding door separating you from the bustling main hallway, Bin got that feeling again. That sick feeling that something was wrong. The doctor looked like he was trying to stay professional.

It was then that Bin noticed the doctor's wedding ring. He wondered to himself if the doctor was like Bin. So deep in love that seeing anyone else doesn’t just feel blasphemous, but it’s so out of the question it’s nauseating. The doctor began.

“Are you her husband?” He asked.

“No…” Bin replied. He could feel the bile rising in his throat with that one question. He immediately thought, If I was this never would’ve happened.

“Are you family?” The doctor looked at him.

“Yes. Are they okay?” Bin looked at the doctor.

“She lost a lot of blood, through something called a hemorrhage. It’s a rare complication especially this early on. She wouldn’t have made it if this happened at home. But it’s under control now.” the doctor said. He seemed to be trying to be as sympathetic as possible, making the next question sting more.

“Okay, and the baby?” Bin asked as he was trying to hold on to the possibility, some shred of hope that you and the baby were okay. He didn’t want the answer to be…

“I’m sorry.” The doctor slowly shook his head as he bowed his head slightly. The doctor looked guilty, like this was the worst part of his job, not being able to save someone.

“How? Why?” Bin asked as it felt like his heart twisted. He didn’t know how you were going to get through this. He knew you too well. He knew that the pain you were about to feel, the emotional pain, would spell your demise... Bin couldn’t wouldn’t let that happen.

“There is a cause-and-effect relationship that stress, extreme traumatic stress, like what you described, can cause a mis--” “Please don’t finish that word.” Bin pleaded with tears in his eyes. That word. He’s never hated a word in his life, until now. A word like that, even the word Death is kinder. To die you need to have lived in the first place, breathe air, feel emotions, like happiness, fear, love… None of those things happened for your child, through no fault of their mother. The same woman he’s staring at, the very same woman he always stared at.

“The fact that she went through the shock as well as the prolonged stress after that shock, and didn’t have any previous symptoms of that happening prior to that, rules out all of the other options.” he paused and looked at his ring. Bin could tell what he was thinking, the doctor’s jaw tight, I could never dream of doing that, then continued, “You know her better than I do. Will she need something to calm her down?”

“Yes… but I don’t think she’ll accept it.” Bin looked back at you and Han. You looked so out of it. Like you were and were not there simultaneously. He has never seen you like this. From what he could see it looked like Han was doing his best to distract you. He was playing with your fingers as he joked.

It was convincing enough to relax you, but Bin knew better. His eyes are always so expressive, if he's genuinely relaxed, his eyes show it. Bin could tell that Han was many things at this point in time, and worry free was not one of them.

“Would you like to tell her?” the doctor asked. That question made Bin think a little bit. If he did tell you, he didn't know if you'd believe him. It's easier to ignore reality when the person breaking the news isn't a doctor. You'd accept it if it came from the doctor.

“She’ll believe it if you say it… Just have the medicine on standby. Also, what do we do to help her? What’s next?” He asked.

“Well like I said her bleeding was extensive... I want to keep her for at least a full 24 hours, in case the bleeding starts again. I’ll also arrange for her to meet with the OBGYN during that time as well, to make sure we got all of the tissue out, that way there’s no chance of another hemorrhage or infection. Sounds like a plan?” The doctor asked.

“Yes… thank you." Bin took a deep breath before he went in, the doctor trailing behind him.

The doctor closed the sliding door as Bin looked at you, then at Han briefly. He lowered the guardrail and made eye contact with Han, who mirrored his actions shortly after.

“Mrs. Y/L/N” the doctor began but you cut him off.

“My baby. Please tell me my baby’s okay… please,” the urgency written on your face.

Han's eyes were set on Changbin. The minute you asked that question, Bin lowered his head, jaw tight, and tears were already beginning to form. When Bin looked at Han, he already knew.

The doctor looked at you and said “I...I’m so sorry.”

Your face showed nothing but confusion… you had just gotten the first ultrasound. You had it done a week ago. No, you saw your baby.

“Y/N” Bin asked gently. He saw the look on your face, and it killed him. Seeing your brain reach for any other outcome other than the one right in your face. He tucked some stray strands of hair behind your ear as he watched and waited for the understanding to reach your face, it didn’t.

“No, it can’t be, I just got the ultrasound done. No,” you replied.

Han and Bin looked at each other. Han's eyebrows dipped, as he processed and tried to brace for impact. Bin on the other hand, was willing himself to take a step back, knowing that you needed to hear this. It had to get through, that's the only way you could start healing.

The doctor looked solemn as he said, “Mrs. Y/L/N I could tell that you were and still are contracting. The reason why your body is doing it, from what I can discern, is because your body went through extreme stress and emotional trauma, when that happens this early, your body rejects the pregnancy. That does not mean that this is your fault, it's the opposite. It’s completely out of your control.”

Bin could see the cogs turning in your brain as you slowly started shaking your head. Reality starting to seep in. Bin wished that you didn't have to go through this. That you got the fairytale ending without the heartbreak. That you didn't have to face the death of your own child. That pain, anguish, and suffering.

The doctor continued, “There is an even rarer condition in which the body rejecting the pregnancy ends in a condition called a hemorrhage. It’s a technical term for excessive bleeding, in this case, it happened because your body is trying to expel the tissues in your cervix. Because it was so sudden, your cervix didn’t have time to open. When I examined you, you weren’t even at half a centimeter dilation, and all of that tissue was trying to be expelled. That was why I had to do that procedure, to get the tissue out so bleeding could be minimized. I’m so sorry… but you had a miscarriage.”

Once that word was said the scream that you let out was something that Han nor Bin have ever heard in their lives. It was soul-crushing. Both of them could hear your heart breaking, shattered on the ground. Bin and Han wanted nothing more than to pick up those pieces and fix it. They knew that they couldn't, this is a hurt they can't fix.

Han held you as you screamed, begged, pleaded… You looked at Bin. “Bin please, look at me. Please tell me it's not true… Please you don’t lie to me, I know you'll tell the truth pleeease.”

Bin looked at you, “I can’t tell you it’s not true. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The look of devastation on his face only sealed the fact. Bin has never lied to you so why would he start now? Especially with something as serious as whether or not you had a miscarriage.

The look that painted his face, brows upturned as his eye contact was nothing short of empathetic. You could tell he wanted to lie.

He wanted it to be false, that it was just some freak minor bleeding… that the baby was okay…he wanted it so badly… but you can't want something into existence.

That realization hit you in a split second as the monitors that were connected to you, measuring vitals, started going off. You could feel nothing but pain. The involuntary gnawing, pulling pain. The blood, the cold from lack of blood in your body…The physical agony was nothing compared to what you felt in that split second.

Your heart rate was literally too fast for you to register, pain surging through you as comprehension slammed into you like a tsunami. The baby is gone. Your baby. Your heart rate was through the roof and the doctor went to your IV.

“Y/N I’m going to give you something to calm you down okay? Your heart can’t take this stress, it’ll give out.” The doctor pushed the medication.

“I want my baby…Bin I want my baby… Han please, my baby.” You sobbed as you held on to Han.

All Bin could do was say, “I know you do, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Han got on the gurney with you and cradled you. He cried with you. Prayed that it was just a nightmare. Han looked to Bin, only to find him trying to fight the tears that were falling down his face. Bin's soul was hurting for you, bargaining with whatever powers out there, to give himself up for you and your child. He knew it was irrational but if he could've, he would've.

As soon as the medicine kicked in your breathing started to slow. You still whimpered and cringed as you felt your body bearing down, still shaking slightly and cold to the touch. Han draped his jacket over you, resting you against his chest, singing to you, to calm you.

Every once in a while reality would crash into you again, you’d reach for Bin. You knew why you did, he was always there. He always understood you on a deeper level. Sometimes he knew what you needed when you didn’t even know you needed it.

Eventually he pulled up a chair and laid his head on his forearm, hand in yours and close to his lips. as he gently rubbed circles into your hand with his thumb. As soon as you’d squeeze that hand he’d squeeze back as he nuzzled into your hand. His way of letting you know that yes, this is the reality, but he is still here. Wordlessly, endlessly, he’d be here. Sometimes you’d comb your fingers through his hair, the feeling somewhat comforting.

You were so tired it went down to your bones. Sometimes only mustering a long blink at the pain. Eventually your vitals started looking good enough to transport.

The doctor came in with solemn reverence, like he was intruding on a funeral.“Y/N, we’re going to keep you overnight at the least, you’re going to have a visit from the OBGYN in the morning, okay? We have your bed ready so soon someone’s going to come to transport you.”

You just looked up at the doctor and nodded, “T-thank you” you hiccupped, “Hannie and Binnie are staying with me.”

“I’ve already put a cot in the room for them. I wish I could’ve done more,” he said with a sad smile. Bin got up and shook his hand, thanking him.

As soon as the transport nurses came to get you Bin said “I’ll see you in a bit. I just need to do something really quick.” you nodded and Bin kissed your forehead. He had to go back to the house. He didn’t know why immediately, just that he had to.

He was on autopilot the entire ride to the house, except for the red lights. He didn’t need to be strong at those lights. He’d scream where no one could hear him. Letting the pain out as images of you flashed. Smiling, then flashing to the scream you let out. Laughing, then sobbing in that hospital gurney. Cooking with him, to crying on Han.

His screams were from mourning, pain, and frustration. He mourned the baby and you. The pain for you, the pain of realizing all of the things that you won’t experience. The frustration of not being able to see it before. To protect you, guard you. He wanted to rip something… someone… apart. There. That was the impulse that drove him back to the house.

At the last red light, he breathed deep, not even wanting to. He used whatever force that was left over as he screamed one last time. Everything he did, your child would never experience. Every scream echoed, redoubling the anguish he had for the both of you. Culminating into this, silence as he turned the corner to the house.

To his surprise, all of the other member’s cars were still at the house when he pulled up. When he parked, he looked at the clock on his dashboard, it was 2 a.m. Had it been 6 hours already?

He felt his adrenaline kick up as he opened the door. He found everyone still wide awake, waiting for answers, but one look at Bin and they gathered what they needed.

Chan walked into the room from the kitchen and his jaw dropped upon seeing him.

“Bin…what happened?” Felix asked gently, hand’s slightly raised, as if approaching a wild animal. The aura on Bin wasn’t his aloof, goofy, self, it was the opposite; dark, threatening, dangerous. Bin’s eyes were trained on Chan, the closer he got, the more Bin felt his resolve slipping… Chan looked at him up and down, concern and horror written on his face. It was only then that Bin noticed he was covered in your blood.

His resolved snapped at that realization, upper lip ticking into a repressed snarl as he breathed “I’m… going to kill you.” He made a B-line to Chan. Felix, Minho, and Jeongin had to hold him back.

Once Bin realized he couldn’t get to Chan, he screamed, “Was it worth it?! HUH?!!” His veins were popping out under his skin as he struggled to get free, “Was it?! Tell me! You hurt and nearly killed the only person I’ve ever loved. She’s dead inside now, all thanks to you!” More flashes accompanied that sentence, him picking you up and watching you go limp, eyes fluttering.

Felix looked at Bin and said, “What?... Hyung..” Felix's voice trailed off, trying to process what he heard. Felix knew that if he heard Bin correctly…he couldn’t even complete that thought.

Bin’s eyes snapped to Felix and he relaxed to the point where all three let go.

“The doctor said that because of the severe stress and emotional trauma she endured her body rejected the pregnancy.” He bum-rushed Chan and slammed him against the wall, while everyone was either in shock or processing. Felix was the first and only one to try to get Bin off Chan. Changbin was just too strong for the younger man, he ignored Felix as he tried wordlessly to pry Bin away from Chan.

Bin continued staring into Chan's eyes, “The miscarriage was so sudden, in fact, that she hemorrhaged and almost bled to death because her cervix couldn’t open on its own in time. They had to scrape the tissue out just to stop it from killing her! And she looked at me to see if it was really true because I don’t LIE to her. Then they had to sedate her because her heart was going to give out when she realized that it was true.”

At this point Bin tightened his grip on Chan, “You are lucky that she asked for me to stay with her… If not I would kill you, right here. You are going to stay AWAY until or even IF she ever wants to see you again. I mean it Chan, if you come near her, I will end you. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” With that, he dropped Chan and went to the washroom. He washed off as much blood as he could and went to his room to change into spare clothes. He wanted to destroy everything in his room. His keepsakes, his picture frames of the boys all together. There was only one picture frame that he did smash to dust before he left his room… the one of himself and Chan, on Chan’s wedding day. He picked up his bloody clothes, stalked back out to Chan, and threw the clothing at him.

He was shaking with rage as he said, “To YOU… this could’ve been a game or a thrill, fucking with her heart. But THAT!” he pointed to the clothing, “that is the reality. A child is dead, your child and it almost killed Y/N too. Next time you want to contact her, look at what you did to both of them while you do it.”

Before Chan could say anything Bin was slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the wall itself vibrated. Right as he made it to his car Felix ran to him. “Can I go with you?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving the hospital for the whole night, you know that, right?”

Felix nodded and got into the passenger seat. The whole ride over Felix couldn’t help but to stare at Bin. He has never seen him like this. So enraged that he was three seconds away from crushing Chris’ windpipe.

He also noted how Bin didn’t seem to know that he was covered in blood until Chris looked at him. Even now he could see Bin’s grip on the steering wheel was so strong his knuckles were white. He didn’t know exactly what happened in those four hours they weren’t given updates, and Felix knows just by seeing Bin, he never wants to find out.

As soon as Bin entered your hospital room he heard you say “Binnie?”

Honestly, he could melt every time you call him that.

“I’m back…” he chuckled slightly… “And I brought some sunshine with me…”

The minute he looked into your eyes, you smiled just a little. That was progress. He kissed your forehead as Felix looked you over.

Felix is like your little brother, so the minute you saw him and he saw you, you both started crying. Han got off the bed knowing Lix would want to be with you for a bit, for both of your sakes.

This gave Han and Bin time to talk out in the hall.

“How’re her contractions?” Bin asked.

“They’re slower but still strong. The doctor says that it’ll be strong for at least 5 to 10 hours.” Han reported.

“And you? How’re you doing?” Bin asked. He knows Han has anxiety, seeing all of this and being as strong as he’s been is not easy.

“I’m… Out of all people, Bin.” Han shook his head. Han has known Chan the longest and he would’ve never expected him to do this.

“I know”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him.” Han said.

“Nah… She needs me more than I need to beat him to a pulp… I don’t think he’ll be bothering her anymore though.” That’s at least what Bin hopes. Everything is so raw. A little over 8 hours before this you were at a restaurant to celebrate your 3rd anniversary. Now everything was all wrong, a nightmare incarnate and no one can wake up from reality.

“Hyung… She can’t go back to that house.” Han said as he took a deep breath.

“I know. All I know is that we'll do what she’s comfortable with.”

“Agreed…Bin?” Han asked.

“Yeah?”

“It should’ve been you with her. From the beginning.” Han looked to Bin, a look of understanding and empathy for Bin. Han could always see the way Bin looked at you when no one else was looking. Everything you said would be committed to his memory, even the smallest things like which brand of sesame oil you like best for your bulgogi marinade.

“I know. That doesn’t mean that I can’t be here for her from now on.”

Han just smiled and both of them went back into the room.

********************************************************************

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seven-thewanderer · 2 days ago

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Okay, so there was this video I saw some time ago, and so I wanted to try and do it myself :3

So the first one’s a bit messy, but I made this :3

I was just gonna leave it at this, since I strictly used the colors they gave (with an exception of white), but then I found out from the person who made said video that I could add colors, so then I added my own view + fixed up some of the lining parts, and have this!!

And then I also made a doodle out of boredom of her :3

Since I may keep her, I’m imagining (since the video did specifically say it was a “Sun and Moon Show OC pause challenge” that makes her a SAMS oc) that in her dimension, she used to be a combined Sun and Moon, but instead of being in a whole plex, it was just a restaurant with interactive animatronics (or maybe a cafe? Idk her lore’s still a wip) and they were supposed to be both entertainment as well as keep an eye on kids in the playground area of the restaurant But then - of course - there was a Killcode incident, leading to the 2 being scrapped. However, since Fazbear can get lazy sometimes, when they came up with an idea to make a new animatronic, and call it Eclipse, they didn’t wanna make it from scrap, and so they just took the Sun and Moon remains and made a new body from their body, but they didn’t realize it was still the same AIs inside, and so Sun and Moon were back, in a different look, and they had to try and act like 1 animatronic to keep from getting scrapped again

After some time, though, they realized they didn’t really like the name Eclipse, nor how their appearance looked a bit more… masculine, so they decided to change some things up, and changed their name to… Solar!!

(Surprise my oc is named Solar and they’re a SAMS Nice Eclipse, since apparently Nice Eclipses in TSBS universe tend to be called Solar)

…so I would’ve ended the post here, but there’s more

I’m considering this Solar appearing in my AU (Strayed! AU)

Obviously, she wouldn’t become a part of the family & take Canon Solar’s place (KC technically does that in my AU), but she’ll probably just become a friend of theirs from another dimension that likes to visit :3

Though, I can’t decide if they’ll lose her at some point, or if she’ll always stay around, since the whole Dimensions Dying/Collapsing(/I forget which one’s the right one) thingy, idk if her Creator would still be around or not, since if so, womp womp she dies, if not (and if I go the classic ‘Creator had a Heart Attack so they never met him’ route) then she’ll live unless something else kills her :T

But yeah idk if she’ll be a character in my Strayed!AU, but if so then she’ll be a friend they met from another dimension :3

#my art #please don’t steal my art thank u :3 #SAMS oc #my ocs #…and I just realized it’d be awkward to tag her as ‘Solar’ cus I had an oc way earlier on this account also named Solar #(And it was also a FNAF oc but that older one wasn’t a SAMS oc)#Oh well I just won’t tag it #(also possibly though I’ll tag #Strayed! AU #cus she might be related to that?)#And also cus on the video that is why I created this oc #I’ll put the tag:#CindersSAMSocChallenge #(and even though they probably meant to tag that on YouTube I’m tagging it here :P)

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its-a-me-mango · 11 months ago

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💊HI WELCOME TO MY SMG4 BLOG!💊

Hi! I’m Mango! All my info about me can be found in my blog's description. This is my epic SMG4 blog where I post epic SMG4 stuff! Feel free to have a look through this blog or any of its many tags!

💊ART TAG💊 #mango art 💊ASKS TAG💊 #mangos mystery ask box

Feel free to send in any ask/questions to my ask box, I promise I don’t bite! If you wanna have a look through my Q&A posts I’d greatly appreciate it! I’m unlikely to answer asks that can be found in my Q&A posts so if you have a question, check to see if I’ve already addressed it! I even have a TL;DR version just to make things easier! Thank you so much! :3

⛔If I am active and posting then I have seen your ask/post! Please do not nudge me about them, I usually take a few days to respond/reblog anything sent in to me!⛔

💊SMG4 Q&A💊

TL;DR- I’ve been a SMG4 fan since 2014, SMG3 Karen Tari Mario and Mr Puzzles are my favourite characters, I don’t really ship many characters but I’m neutral/positive towards most ships, I don’t have a favourite SMG4 AU/headcanon/creator they’re all my favourite.

💊BLOG Q&A💊

TL;DR- This blog is just for SMG4 stuff, my blog is SFW but may be suggestive at times, I have ADHD so responses take a while, I can’t answer everything sent to me so don’t take it personally if I don’t, I can’t follow/like as I’m on a side blog, I’m only active on Tumblr/Twitter

💊ART/OC'S Q&A💊

TL;DR- I don’t take requests but I do take suggestions for art, please don’t ask me to draw your OC/AU, you are welcome to draw/write my characters, you can use my work for icons/banners/edits with credit, reposting is fine with credit only, do not trace/copy/steal my work

💊OC/AU REF’S & TAGS💊

💊MANGO (adult | he/they)💊 💊REF SHEET-> HERE 💊Mango tag -> #smg4oc: Mango

💊SMUG (adult | he/him)💊 💊REF SHEET -> (he doesn’t have a proper one yet bare with me, use his OC tag for reference) 💊Smug tag -> #smg4oc: Smug

💊TELLY (child | they/them)💊 💊REF SHEET -> HERE 💊Telly tag -> #smg4oc: Telly

💊WEREWOLF SMG4💊 💊REF SHEET -> HERE & HERE 💊Werewolf SMG4 tag -> #smg4 werewolf

THANKS FOR STOPPING BY! REMEMBER TO REBLOG THINGS!!!

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kinktae · 1 year ago

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novocaine pt. 4 || (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

Going home was hard – painful even. But falling back in love with Jimin, the boy you left behind? Downright gut-wrenching.

pairing: punk!jimin x reader

word count: 8.7k

genre: 1990s au, exes au, angst, smut

warnings: 90s slang, alcohol, fighting, car sex, oc has dead parents, bittersweet ending

A/N: PLS MAKE SURE REREAD 1-3, I KNOW ITS BEEN A FAT MINUTE BUT PLEASE CONSIDER ALL CHAPTERS WHEN READING THIS ENDING

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART FOUR (FINAL)

“You’re gonna break my damn neck!” Jimin complained, eyes shutting as you moved his head closer to the shower’s stream.

“Shh,” You giggled, fingers gingerly rinsing your boyfriend’s head.

Jimin was fully clothed, head thrown over the tub’s edge, insisting that he remain dry as you washed the orange dye from his hair.

Just the other day you had MTV playing in the background as Grams and you were making cookies when the video for The Flaming Lips’ She Don’t Use Jelly came on. You hadn’t heard the song in ages; Hoseok used to belt the nonsensical lyrics religiously on early morning bus rides to high school. But more importantly, you had never seen the music video and became consumed by the lead singer’s tangerine-colored hair.

It quickly became a topic of conversation between you and Jimin, nudging a shoulder into his side anytime you’d pass by an orange car or a shelf of hair dye. A week of your less-than-subtle teasing had gone by when he finally begrudgingly agreed to dye his hair orange. You were beyond excited, even if he had only agreed to get you to finally shut up.

So here the two of you were, kneeled on the tile floor of your bathroom, random splotches of bleach and dye on your shirts, the sound of The Smashing Pumpkin’s latest CD coming from your room.

“You should be grateful you have a girlfriend that’s willing to dye your hair for free.”

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought you were trying to drown me.”

“Alright, you big baby,” You rolled your eyes, reaching over him to turn off the shower head. “I’m done.”

“Pass me a towel, please?”

His eyes were scrunched shut, hand flailing about for the towel rack aimlessly. Chuckling, you passed the wet-haired boy a towel, sitting back on your heels as you watched him pat his face dry.

“Here, let me get your hair.” You offered, grabbing the towel back from his face and onto his head, careful to be gentle as you had bleached it earlier today.

Jimin sat obediently, quietly admiring the way you took your time and cleaned the dye-stained skin around his hairline. He loved having your attention; you were always so gentle with him. His chest tightened as you hummed along to the song in the background, oblivious to the splashes of orange dye that had found your cheek.

“Oh my god. It’s hella orange.” You giggled.

Jimin pulled you onto his lap, partly to help you work more comfortably, mainly because he liked having you close.

“Does it look bad?” His warm eyes peered into yours, sounding somewhat unsure.

Brows furrowing, you paused to press a kiss on Jimin’s pouting mouth. As if��there were any universe in which Jimin looked bad. Seeing as his frown ceased to let up, you kissed him once more, “You look great, Minnie. My little pumpkin.”

“Real convincing.” He glared. Stealing one more kiss from you, he helped you off him and back up off the bathroom floor.

You watched intently as he moved towards the bathroom mirror. You weren’t anticipating him to hate it, but should the situation present itself, you had made a point to buy an emergency bottle of black hair dye, ready to remedy the situation at a moment’s notice.

Jimin said nothing at first, merely tilting his head from side to side as he ran his hands threw his newly orange, somewhat damp hair. A smile broke across his handsome face.

“It’s actually pretty sick.” He grinned, clearly pleased with the final result. You let out a breath of relief.

“I told you! Admit it, I was right, you look fucking hot. No one ever trusts my artistic vision.” You sighed dramatically, earning you a chuckle.

“Alright, Picasso. Remind me again the plan for tonight?” He rolled his eyes, reaching for the hairbrush he had laid out on the sink counter earlier.

“Well,” You watched as he sorted through his hair, “Hobi left a message saying he scored all of us tickets tonight for the drive-in theater but failed to mention what time or what movie it was.”

Jimin chuckled, “Typical. And you tried calling Hobi’s line?”

“No one picks up. I went and knocked on his door before you came over. The Jungs are out of town so he’s probably kicking it at Gwen’s.” You shrugged.

While you could in theory go and look up Gwen’s landline in the phone book, it seemed like a tremendous amount of work just to locate someone who quite literally lived right next door. He’d show up eventually. He always did.

You sighed, “Man, I can’t believe that old drive-in is still kicking. I thought for sure it went under in the time I left town.”

Jimin nodded, “Nah, it’s still around. But the only people using it are the old folks who were around when it was first built. They’re still playing the same ten shitty movies on repeat.”

“Let’s just get ready and go hunt him down in an hour, yeah?”

And so the two of you spent the next hour readying yourself, Jimin styling his new hair and you waging war against the blue eyeliner Gwen had somehow convinced you to purchase.

It was just around the one-hour mark that you received a call from the very person you had been hoping to find.

“Yo, kid! Come on out, I got two tickets with your name on them!”

Jimin and you ran out onto your grandmother’s driveway eagerly, laughing as Hobi slammed on his car horn melodically, a bright smile written across his face.

“Great timing, we were just about to go break down your door.” You smiled, grabbing the two bright yellow admission tickets that Hoseok had dangling out his car window. “Thanks, Hobi.”

“Where’ve you been, man?” Jimin questioned his best friend.

“Why? You keeping tabs on me, Carrot Top?” Hoseok giggled, eyeing your boyfriend’s new hair.

“Funny.”

“I’m playin’, it looks fresh, dude. I dig.” Hoseok assured, holding his hands up as if to show he meant no harm.

You rolled your eyes, “Lemme guess, you were at Gwen’s.”

“You kidding? Her place? Her dad’s sheriff— hell no!” Hobi shook his head before a greasy grin took hold of him. “Besides, I’ve got the open crib, a pretty girlfriend, and stamina like a racehorse.”

Jimin’s giggle was instantaneous, immediately clueing you in on what exactly Hobi was implying.

“You pig. I rang you and knocked on your door!” You scrunched your nose at him.

“Like a racehorse, kid,” Hobi emphasized, only furthering your frown.

“Jeez, okay, got it… TMI.”

“So we ready to watch Jurassic Park or what?” Hoseok first pumped the air.

Jimin’s eyes went wide, “They’re playing Jurassic Park tonight?! Sweet!”

You too were shocked. The film had come out only a few years ago.

“How the hell did that lame-ass drive-in get the license for a film that recent?”

“Got the old lady to pull some strings.” Hobi flashed you both a smug look, reaching over to pop his collar out theatrically.

“So your mom gave you the tickets? Councilwoman Jung sure has pull in this town.”

You were thoroughly impressed. Hoseok struck out in the parents department. Not only did they tolerate his tomfoolery throughout his teen years, but as his mother was on the city council, they were often occupied with work, giving Hobi free reign to do as he pleased as long as he remained out of jail.

His mother’s words, not yours.

“Oh Nah, I got the tickets myself.” Hobi corrected.

You squinted at him, suspicious, “…Should I even ask how you got these tickets?”

“Depends,” His voice lowered suddenly, eyes flickering from side to side, “are you gonna snitch?”

“No?”

“I broke into the ticket booth last night and just grabbed a bunch of tickets from the drawer.” He shrugged.

Your jaw fell, “Hobi!”

“Dude!” Jimin burst out laughing.

“What?!” Hoseok’s eyes went wide, as if entirely innocent of any crime. “Why are we wigging out? It’s not like I stole money from the register! Besides, is it my fault that so many places here are easy to break and enter?”

“Tell that to Gwen’s dad when he finally locks your ass up.” Jimin teased. Your childhood friend tutted, shifting his car into reverse.

“Whatever. You still took the tickets, ungrateful bastards. Your hands aren’t clean either. The movie is in twenty minutes. I dropped Gwen off at hers so she could go get changed so I gotta bounce and pick her back up. You guys need a ride?”

“Nah, we’ll take my car,” Jimin assured him.

Hoseok began to pull out the driveway, window still rolled down. “Meet up at mine after for drinks?”

“Sure. Thanks, Hobi!”

“See ya later, man!”

The three friends waved goodbye to one another as the eldest pulled out onto the street and drove off.

“Do you really think he and Gwen were busy fucking all this time?” Jimin pondered the second Hoseok was out of earshot, making you scowl.

“I think that Hobi is like a brother to me and if I think about it too much I’ll actually barf.”

Jimin chuckled, throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to his car.

———

“A medium popcorn, one Junior Mints, and Buncha Crunch please.” You smiled at the concession’s attendee.

You were about 20 minutes into Jurassic Park and could make out the sound of the film as you ordered Jimin and yourself some snacks. He had offered to go make the snack run himself, of course, but seeing as it was his favorite movie playing, you decided that the sacrifice would be yours to make.

Handing over the necessary cash, you moved to the side, watching patiently as the attendant assembled your order. Just then, someone else approached the concession counter. You glanced over at the person not particularly interested, before realizing at once just who the next patron was.

“Yoongi?” You called out before you could stop yourself.

A head of faded mint hair turned towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours, and took on an expression that you could only guess mirrored your own. The kind of expression that can only be shared between two people who had their tongues down each other’s throats not too long ago.

A pregnant pause fell between you.

“Y/N. Hey.” He breathed after a beat.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you contemplated your next words, wondering what exactly to say to your boyfriend’s ex. You know… the one you had tried to have sex with.

Thankfully, the arrival of your popcorn and other snacks made it so you didn’t have to respond, a flustered ‘thank you’ escaping your lips as you grabbed your order.

“Uh, two medium sprites,” Yoongi told the attendant once she moved to take his order. You tried your best to look occupied, not wanting to look like you were waiting on the mint-haired boy even though you most definitely were.

Within a minute, he moved towards you, drinks in either hand and a sheepish smile on his face.

“So, uh… this is awkward.” He admitted honestly, joining you as began to walk away from the concession stand, deciding the spare the innocent concession girl from the unfortunate conversation that was about to unfold.

“Super awkward.” You affirmed with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping around your bucket of popcorn.

He nodded.

“Hey, so,” He came to a stop suddenly, halting your stride. “I’m sorry if I caused problems for you the other night. I wouldn’t have… I mean, I didn’t know that you were… We were also both probably way too drunk–”

“No, no, honestly, don’t sweat it!” You were quick to cut him off, not wanting him to assume that he had done anything to make you uncomfortable that night. “I didn’t know who you were either. You seemed cool and hot and, you know… I wanted to. So… yeah. ”

Wow. This just nearly beat the moment Jimin walked in on you two in the scale of awkwardness. At least you weren’t sober then.

Yoongi nodded once more, “Cool. I also wanted to. But, um… listen, you’re a cool chick and all but you should know there’s someone else. Plus, there’s the whole you being my ex’s ex thing…”

Oh god. Was Yoongi… rejecting you? Fuck, he totally thought you were still coming onto him. How utterly humiliating.

“Yeah, no, gotcha. That can literally never happen again. It’s all good.” You laughed, purely because of how ridiculous this entire conversation was. He grinned back at you, remembering exactly why he liked you in the first place that night at Guyi’s.

“No hard feelings?” He offered you a crooked smile.

“Deal.” You mused, eyes falling on the two drinks in his hand. “So are you here alone?”

You watched in interest as Yoongi suddenly turned a shade of pink.

“No, actually… I’m here with a coworker.” He told you, a certain bashfulness to his tone.

“Oh, a coworker.” A knowing smirk grew.

“I’m kind of seeing him, I guess. I don’t know, it’s too soon for labels.” He shrugged.

“So you’re seeing your coworker. Scandalous.” You teased.

“Again, sorry. If you were literally anyone but Jimin’s ex-girlfriend–“

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at his joke, making him laugh.

The sound of various screams rolled over the area, catching both of your attentions, undoubtedly belonging to the moviegoers in response to a scary scene that must’ve just played out.

“I’m not really into dinosaurs,” Yoongi admitted lightheartedly to which you giggled, agreeing.

“Where do you work by the way?” You made casual conversation. “I just realized I never asked.”

“I work at a daycare.” He told you, making your smile drop.

Right. The daycare.

You supposed that was the thing about ghosts. They tended to haunt you.

Your chest felt hollow once more as he took a sip from one of the drinks. “Not huge on snot and boogers but the pay is decent so who cares, right?”

“Whatever happened between you and Jimin? I mean, why did you guys break up?” You said suddenly.

It had just made its way out like word vomit, desperate to change the conversation. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask if you were at all familiar with the property.

Yoongi looked at you in surprise for a split second before shaking his head.

“Jeez, how ironic.” He said, mostly to himself.

“Huh?”

“No, nothing I just… it’s funny you asked me that. Because it was you. You were the reason we broke up.” He confessed, bringing the straw of his drink back up to his mouth.

Weirdly, a feeling of guilt washed over you at his words. It rendered you silent.

“At the time it pissed me the hell off. He was dumping me for an ex-girlfriend he hadn’t seen in what? Four years? Took a hit to my ego for sure.”

All you could do was stand there looking dumb. You hadn’t the slightest idea how to react to what he was saying. Part of you was… delighted? Happy that Jimin wasn’t as dedicated to that relationship as you feared he might’ve been. But another part, a much more prominent part, felt awful. Terrible that you had hurt Jimin so deeply that he couldn’t even commit himself to another person. That he couldn’t move on.

“But anyway, it was for the best. Weirdly he did me a favor. No point in being hung up on a guy who was still hung up on the past.” Yoongi paused suddenly, scrunching his nose as he shook out his mint locks. “Dammit, I sound like such a cliche bitter ex, huh?”

“At least you’re not the shitty ex who broke his heart.” You offered half-heartedly.

Yoongi stared at you for a moment, allowing himself to freely admire the girl who had captured Jimin’s heart all those years ago. Despite your otherwise neutral expression, there was a gloom around you that he couldn’t quite ignore.

He pressed his lips together, wondering if he could offer you any solace.

“If it makes you feel any better, there’s no guarantee it would’ve worked out even if you had stayed.”

Your head tilted in confusion. Yoongi stole a piece of popcorn cheekily, popping a piece into your mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you told me yourself that night. You’re a city girl. You would’ve wanted to go see the world eventually and everyone knows Jimin has no plans to ever leave this tiny ass town. Maybe you just got the inevitable over with. So don’t beat yourself up over it.”

You were suddenly acutely aware that Yoongi had no idea that you and Jimin were back together. A wave of nausea rolled over you as you considered his words.

He was right, of course. You had always dreamed of making it out of here. Even when you were young and running down the halls of your grandmother’s house, your adventures took you far away, towards weather unlike your own, towards faces and cities you’d never recognize.

So what was it that you were doing now? Getting closure by opening up a chapter with Jimin you had closed years ago?

Jimin was the boy who had his kids' names picked out when he was in elementary school. He was the boy whose biggest dream was remodeling his parents' home so that it would one day fit his own family, the family that he wanted to start here. He was the boy who looked for you months after you went missing, and who ended a relationship because he was unable to let go of the past. He put his life on hold for you. And who was to say he wouldn’t do it again when you left?

Your feet felt heavy as if you were sinking into the dirt of the drive-in lot, crushing guilt piling onto you.

“Hey.” A voice called out, making both Yoongi and you turn to face whoever was trying to grab your attention.

It was Jimin. Of course, it was. You had gotten caught up in conversation, taking far too long to get snacks. It was only a matter of time that Jimin would head over to check in on you. His hands were tucked away in his jeans, expression unreadable as he eyed the two of you from where he stood.

“Oh. Hey.” Yoongi replied, eyebrows pulling up in surprise. His surprise was quickly replaced with confusion as Jimin walked over, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he took the snacks from you, always the gentleman.

“Sorry, I took so long. We bumped into each other and lost track of the time.” You explained awkwardly to your boyfriend through warm cheeks.

“I see that.”

You could see the way Jimin’s jaw was tense as if swallowing back words that weren’t exactly pleasant. You almost see the puzzle piece coming together in Yoongi’s mind as he looked at the two of you interact.

“Well… it was nice seeing you again. Good luck with everything.” You waved Yoongi goodbye, already heading back where Jimin had set up the car, eager to walk far from the second most awkward situation the three of you had found yourselves.

“You too.” You heard Yoongi called back, a note of disbelief in his tone, one that you forced yourself not to dissect further.

———————

You did your best to keep your eyes on the screen ahead of you, but the tension in the car was palpable. Jimin was taking those sharp short breaths through his nose like he always did when he was angry. You licked your dry lips.

“You’re upset.” You broke the ice.

“No, I’m not.”

You tilted your head against the car seat’s headrest, facing your troubled lover.

“Yes, you are.” Your tone took a soft timbre. “You’re doing that angry sulky thing you do.”

“I don’t sulk,” Jimin said, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“Minnie, you sulk.” You chuckled but failed to receive a chuckle back in return from him.

You straightened up in your seat.

“Nothing is going on between Yoongi and I.”

“I know.” He said.

Your brows furrowed at his words, “Okay. Then is it something else?”

Jimin said nothing, eyes pressed against the movie screen but clearly not paying attention to the film at all. You sighed.

“Can you roll your window up?” You asked. Your boyfriend met your eyes curiously, seeing that you had done so on your side before complying and rolling his up.

The second his window was up, you were unbuckling your seat belt and maneuvering yourself across the car and onto his lap.

Pressing kisses onto his neck, you felt as he noticeably relaxed, a soft sigh falling from his pillowy lips.

“Talk to me.” Your mouth traveled onto his jaw, kisses sweet and reassuring.

“I love you.” Was his breathy response, hands gripping to sides of your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

He couldn’t say how insecure seeing Yoongi made him feel. He didn't know how to say that if you left him once, what was to stop you from leaving him again? If he wasn’t good enough to make you stay all those years ago, what would be different this time?

“I love you too, Minnie.”

His hand found the side of your cheek, drawing your mouth into his, kissing you with intention.

You pulled back suddenly, “Wait, this isn’t talking.”

“Don’t wanna talk. Just wanna touch you.” His voice was lower than usual.

Your face flushed at his honesty, unsure of whether to press further. Ultimately you gave in.

“Okay.”

Your fingers curled into his t-shirt, tongue finding his, heavy breaths filling the small space of the car as you lost yourselves in each other.

Breaking the kiss with a groan, you pulled up at your shirt. You nearly laughed at the way Jimin had already begun to tug at your bra clasp before you had even successfully removed the garment from you.

The lacy bra fell down your body, tossed aside mindlessly as he pressed a kiss onto your chest, hand working your soft flesh. You let out a breath as he sucked the supple flesh into his mouth, thumb rolling over your pert buds.

“Wait, drop your seat back, I don’t want someone from another car seeing.”

Jimin nodded, leaving your chest to comply with your request. Immediately though, his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and into a kiss.

Making out in Jimin’s car was admittedly nostalgic — the two of you having spent many afternoons fooling around whenever you got the chance. And maybe that's what the two of you were going for, slipping back into each other in a way that came naturally.

You rolled your hips into his desperately, every inch of you buzzing at the way you could feel the way he had hardened underneath you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He muttered as his thumb lolled over your sensitive nipple. You whimpered.

The sound took him back to the night of the bonfire when he had buried his head between your angelic thighs that night of the bonfire, your greedy fingers tugging at his scalp as you cried against the feeling of his tongue.

Fuck, he was hard.

His hand reached down to undo his jeans in desperation, the pressure of his strained cock in his thigh jeans too much to bare. His actions caught your attention, your teeth finding your bottom lip as you watched the anguished boy reach into his underwear and readjust himself.

Suddenly, his mouth was on yours again, hand angling one of your thighs so that he could grind his hips against it.

You were getting far more worked up than you anticipated, his hot mouth leaving marks across your exposed skin. You needed more of him.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” You asked innocently, hand pressed against his abdomen.

“Fuck yes.”

“Hm...”

Your hand dipped into his underwear, eyes glimmering in mischief as you pulled his cock out, wasting no time in working the shaft.

“Fuuuuuck.” Jimin’s voice was drawn out and pleading, chest rising and falling in rhythm to the pace your hand had set around his cock.

“Does it feel good, Minnie?” You cooed teasingly, sucking a bruise into his pretty neck.

You preened as his hips suddenly jerked up, a whine pushing past his swollen lips before he cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me. Sit on my cock already.” He begged.

You smiled into his skin, head moving back up to kiss him as you ran your thumb over his red tip, swallowing his moan.

“You feel so good in my hand though.”

You weren’t lying. Hot, engorged, and pulsing under your fingers, his cock was truly a fine piece of craftsmanship. If it weren’t for the cramped location that was the front seat of his car, you would’ve had your lips wrapped around him, using your tongue to remind yourself of every vein and ridge.

“I promise I’ll feel even better inside you.” He groaned.

“What’s the rush? I don’t remember you ever turning down a handjob.”

“And I don’t remember you being such a fucking tease. Clearly, things change.” He tutted.

You frowned at his tone but allowed one of Jimin’s hands to push its way between your legs and down your underwear.

You stifled a noise as he ran his fingers up and down your slit.

“Oh, love bug, you’re so wet. That for me?”

You fought back a blush, somehow still flustered at the way Jimin’s dirty talk after all these years.

“You got yourself this worked up over touching me, yeah? Fuck.”

A shutter ran through your body, pleasure running over you as he toyed with your clit. Your hand fell from his member altogether, finding leverage against his thigh as you pushed yourself closer to his feathery touches.

Your hips moved on their own accord, mouth opening as a silent moan tumbled out.

“Bet that feels so good, huh? So cute.” He praised, pinching one of your cheeks.

“Now whose teasing?” You pouted.

A whimper escaped you against your better judgment as his fingers suddenly made their way down, spreading you open as he lightly pressed against your entrance.

“Acting so tough but losing the act as soon as I touch you.” He placed a kiss against your head, spurred on by the way you had suddenly become pliant and placid under his touch. “You're practically sucking my fingers in.”

You weren’t certain if the whine that greeted him in response was from his words or the way he pulled his hand back every time you tried to sink onto his fingers.

“Please.”

“Sorry, angel. I’m not gonna finger fuck you. Just gonna sit here and play with what’s mine.”

Jimin was not usually particularly possessive but god was it hot.

If his fingers hadn’t immediately moved back to roll over your clit, you might have had the energy in you to complain, but instead, you found yourself plaint in his arm, thighs trembling.

“I’ll... shit... I’ll cum if you keep that up.”

“Bummer. Guess there won’t be any need to fuck you then.”

“Dammit! Just fuck me, Minnie!”

“Hm... I dunno, I think I’m going to need a little bit more convincing before I do–“

“Oh, please, please!” You were rambling before he could finish his sentence. “Fill me up, Minnie. I need it so badly. I can take it I promise.”

“H-Holy fuck, okay. Dirty fucking mouth. Come here, baby.”

And just like that, you pushed yourself back up onto your knees, moving to hover over Jimin’s painfully erect cock.

Your boyfriend’s hands cradled your hips as you aligned the two of you, kneading the soft flesh tenderly.

“I love you.” You promised as you sank down. He threw his head back as you fell into the rhythm that felt as natural as breathing with him.

“Damn right you do, you're my fucking girl. Mine.”

He loved the way you moved with him - loved the way you felt like the piece he was missing. He loved everything about you and couldn’t help but shower you with praise as you rode his cock, wishing he could give you more than just car sex. He felt helpless near you, nowhere near as confident as he came across. You were spectacular in every single way, smiling as you leaned over to kiss him.

——

“Tell me about New York City,” Jimin ran his fingers down your arm.

The two of you had long forgotten about Jurassic Park, now reclothed and cuddled up in the back of his car.

You raised an eyebrow, “Honesty? It’s loud and dirty. Not to mention traffic is shit.”

“That sounds… terrible?”

“It is,” You breathed, “But it’s not. It’s the perfect place to disappear. No one gives you a shit about what you’ve got going on, no matter how fucked up you feel. Everyone is just trying to deal with their own chaos and get through the day.”

“Sounds kind of lonely.” He muttered. You hummed in contemplation, wondering how it was that you felt just the opposite. It was weirdly comforting to know that no matter your story, those in the city had seen worse.

“Did you know that when you’re deep in the city, there isn’t a single star in the night sky. Not a single one.” You recounted.

Jimin tilted his head, “What do you mean there are no stars?”

“It’s like they’ve all gone missing and the sky is just this massive empty black hole.”

“How can there be no stars? Where do they go?” He laughed.

“My theory? The city needs so much power to run that they had to steal every star from the sky above them… Though I’m told it’s something called light pollution that just covers the stars.”

“I like your theory better.” He smiled.

You turned towards the massive screen, watching as dinosaurs wreaked havoc.

“There’s a complex above the bar I used to work at. They have a rooftop that you’re not technically supposed to access but everyone does anyway. At night you have the most perfect view of the city skyline. The sky is just this hazy gray color but the further out you look, the lights from the surrounding buildings start to look like little stars sprinkled on the ground. I’ve always thought of it as New York’s version of the night sky. Like looking at the world upside down. It’s just… spectacular.” You marveled.

You could still see it so vividly in your mind, how the empty sky glowed and the buildings twinkled.

“You’ve always had stars in your eyes,” Jimin said suddenly, eyes fixated on you. You turned to meet his gaze.

“Hm?”

There was an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

You blinked, taken aback by his abrupt question.

“Hoseok introduced us. Second year of high school. Homeroom.”

Jimin shook his head.

“Do you remember the last home football game of our freshman year?”

Freshman year? Football game? Yeah, you remembered that.

“I mean, yeah. That was before I decided I hated school functions and only wanted to hang out with social rejects and lowlives. First and only high school football game I attended. Why?” You pondered.

“You and Hoseok were standing on the top of the bleachers. I think the two of you were trying to figure out how to climb the announcer building without dying or getting caught.” Jimin went on to recount.

“Oh, snap! I remember that! We did it, too. I remember it took me ages to convince Guyi to come climb up. Hoseok got a bunch of kids to come and join us… You were there?”

Jimin nodded at you, also remembering the way you and the thick-framed girl were close back then.

Jimin actually remembered much more than that. He recalled almost vividly how he and a few friends were called to follow the rowdy boy he knew from history class and how he led them through the bleachers and toward side the side of a building. There were two girls sitting on top already, the louder of the two turned around and waved at the newcomers, before turning back towards the sky, legs stretched out in front of her as she chatted with her best friend.

The other girl you were with, which he would later learn was Guyi, was sitting away from the edge, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she shivered at the night’s chill. She looked uncomfortable and he could hear her muttering about wanting to go back down but you insisted that the view of the stars was better where up here, leaning back on your palms as you faced the night sky.

He was taken by you immediately and spent the rest of the time on the roof glancing your way in hopes even just a quick peek of how the twinkling lights reflected off your irises.

You were all he could think about, even as the principal came screaming at you guys to come down. He thought of you as his older brother Jihoon drove him back home, silent in his seat as he stared up at the very same sky that captured your attention. He thought of you throughout that following summer and the very first day of your sophomore year, when he finally worked up the courage to tell Hoseok how he felt, leading the more extroverted boy to introduce the two of you.

And he had loved you ever since. Even now he loved you, eight years later, sat on Hoseok’s couch as you and the people you grew up with all played a drinking game, the movie since wrapped up, and the function heading back to Hoseok’s place.

He watched as you smiled and laughed with the others and imagined a world in which this could become your guys' new normal. Where every day could be just like how things were and he could just love you as easily as breathing.

But real life was never as easy as fantasies. Real-life consisted of messes and trauma and hurt feelings; there was no glossing over the past four years. And the more Jimin drank from his cup, the harder it was to keep up this game of pretend the two of you agreed on. One day you would have enough and you would leave him again.

He knew this was temporary - he agreed to it after all. He had kept you in this town despite how much he knew it hurt you to be here. Truthfully, as he sat on the couch getting far more inebriated than he should’ve, Jimin was angry. Perhaps with himself, perhaps with the world, perhaps with both — it didn’t matter in the end.

Because every day with you meant waiting for the day you would leave and what was he to do but keep on loving you?

He felt helpless.

“Where did you go?” Were his words as you sank back next to him on the couch, having been eliminated from the game taking place at the coffee table. Hoseok, Gwen, and a few other familiar faces were still sitting around it, laughing and joking with one another drunkenly.

“Huh? What do you mean? I was sitting right there.” You giggled, glancing down at the cup of liquor that Jimin had in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re still a lightweight, Minnie?”

He was boiling, and the words were spilling up and over faster than he could make sense of.

“Where were you, Y/N? I tried to find you I– You left me.”

Something was wrong. You could hear it in his words, and see it in the way his glossy eyes threatened to spill over. He brought his cup back up to his mouth, taking a large sip. You took it from him the second you realized just how drunk he was.

“Hey, that’s enough… let’s go outside, okay? Get some air.” You were up on your feet in an instant, eyes flickering over to the group to see if anyone had heard.

“You left me,” Jimin repeated.

“Jimin. Please.” There was a desperate look in your eyes, clearly not wanting to have this conversation with other people present.

Blinking away the lump in his throat, he got up from the couch and followed you out of the room, slipping through the sliding glass door onto the patio.

The patio door shut with a quiet click, the chill of the cold night greeting you both.

“How did you just... pack your bags and leave it all behind? Leave us behind? I thought you loved me.” Jimin wiped away at his cheeks blindly, unsure of when he started crying.

“I did— Minnie, I do.” You tried your best to keep your voice level, growing emotional at the topic at hand and at the man you loved hurting.

“Was I not enough of a reason to stay?”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly as you struggled to answer him. You, just like him, were intoxicated and nowhere in the right state of mind to be having this conversation.

“I mean, fuck, love bug! You just left!” His voice pitched up in disbelief, clearly not aware of his volume raising as well.

You were trembling. Though from the cold or the guilt you weren’t sure.

“I-I know, I-”

“You just left and never came back? This is your home–”

“Don’t fucking say that!” You snapped, surprising both you and Jimin.

A tsunami of emotion crashed into you.

“My parents are dead, Jimin. And I know you get it, I know you lost your brother but… Minnie, I couldn’t breathe! I-I felt trapped, and… god, after they died— it was me who was dying. Yes, I was wrong to leave but I was young and hurting and.. I just couldn’t let this town kill me too.”

Your hands found your face, covering it as a wave of melancholy rushed over you.

“I was supposed to be in that fire. I ran off to Grams because of a stupid, meaningless fight with my mom. After they died, I spent an entire year wondering if I shouldn’t have just died right there with them.”

You couldn’t bear to look up at Jimin. You couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes as you laid out the worst of you for him to hear.

“The second I stepped out of this town was the first real breath of air I had taken since they died. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life but I know that this town stopped being my home the second they died.”

Any and all anger had melted away from the orange-haired man.

“Y/N–”

You looked up suddenly, frown furrowed and eyes blurry with tears.

“I don’t need forever. I just need right now, okay, that’s what you said to me the night of the bonfire. You said that, remember?”

“I remember.” He sounded sorrowful.

“I love you, Minnie. I never stopped loving you. But they’re gone.” You mourned, breaths uneven. “And they’re everywhere I look in this town. I mean… why can I come back but they can’t? How is that fucking fair?!”

You were nearly inconsolable, watery eyes barely widening as your face was suddenly taken into Jimin’s hands, his thumbs brushing past your wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re right. I’ve already asked so much of you. This town has taken too much.” His eyes searched yours. “I... I wish you would’ve told me. When they died… for a year you said nothing. I thought you needed your space so I gave it to you, but I never would have if I knew you were planning to leave. What if I could’ve helped? You helped me when we lost Jihoon, remember?”

“I know...” Your answer was lackluster. Because you didn’t have an answer for him. You didn’t know why you pushed away those who loved you when your parents first died.

Was it teenage naivety? Was it fear of losing anyone else?

You wished you could give the sweet boy a solid answer. But you weren’t even sure that sober you could. God, he deserved so much more than you had given him.

“It was you and me against the world, remember? Through all the shit and garbage life throws at us. You were my person. You still are.”

“I just… there is so much out there, Jimin. So much this small town can never offer. If you only saw the cities, the kinds of people that come in and out.” You emphasized, suddenly inspired.

“What if… what if you come with me.” Your voice was small, knowing the impossibility of what you were asking him.

His eyes told you the answer to your question he even spoke.

“Bug, I… My family needs me here. Everything is here… I don’t know if I can just leave. This… this is my home.” His brows fell, rubbing your cheek apologetically.

“I know. But I can’t let you put your life on hold for me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I strung you along for another four years. When I leave I don’t want you holding onto me. You deserve to move on and find a life here like you’ve always wanted.”

“The life here that I always wanted was with you.” Jimin cried, pulling you into him.

You buried your face into his neck and for a moment the two of you just held each other and cried.

“I’m sorry.” You said, knowing that neither of you could do this anymore.

“I’m sorry, too.” He held you tighter.

The game of pretend had drawn to a close and neither of you had won.

—

Your grandmother was awake and doing a crossword in the kitchen when you walked back home later that night without Jimin.

“Hi, darling.” Your grandmother greeted, only noticing the way your hair stuck onto your wet cheeks once you came into the kitchen light.

“Oh, bless your little cotton socks, come here.”

She held you as you cried — she cried too, knowing that this meant goodbye in more ways than one.

She slept in your bed that night, holding you close in a way that she did for your mother and that your mother once did for you. There was so much you could never repay your grandmother for. You’d spend the rest of your life calling her from every city apologizing if that's what it took for her to forgive you for choosing to leave once again. But even if hadn’t told your grandmother you were leaving, even if she didn’t help you pack your bags that very next morning, she would forgive you because all she ever wanted was for you to follow your heart.

The same heart that had her drop you off at Jimin’s the next day.

Your knuckles rapped a somber tune onto his door, the sun pleasantly hitting on your skin, very polar opposite to how cold your insides felt.

You could hear a scuffling from inside the shed, suddenly embarrassingly aware of how little soundproofing Jimin’s room had. Thank goodness it was far from the main house.

“Y/N?” Jimin called out, the door handle turning.

Panicking, you gripped the handle, holding the door shut.

“Wait! Don’t open the door.” You warned, not exactly sure what came over you.

“Why? Bug, what’s wrong?” Jimin sounded concerned but let go of the handle regardless.

You fought with your thoughts for a moment.

“I can’t... If I see your face I’ll...”

You were a coward. You swore this time you wouldn’t just disappear, you had seen the pain you had caused him. But even still, even when you came to tell him you were leaving, you couldn’t bear to see his face. You could not see the face of the man you loved so much and tell him you were leaving him. You just couldn’t.

You didn’t feel strong or brave or anything Jimin insisted you were. Hand pressed against the closed door to Jimin’s room, you felt small and pitiful, far from someone who should be asking what you were about to do.

“I’m going to say something. It doesn’t need a response now, okay?” You called out, loud enough so he could hear.

You swallowed roughly, your throat dry. “My bus ride back home is today. Noon.”

Silence fell.

Your heart was pounding in your throat, nearly blocking out the words you had spent all night rehearsing.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll go. And I won’t come back. I mean it. I want you to move on. You have to try. Don’t give up your life for me.”

Jimin was just on the other side of the door, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, having just rolled out of bed. You didn’t explain yourself further, and perhaps you didn’t need to. He mulled over your words in his head.

If he didn’t show up, you’d hop on the train and slip out of his life forever.

“But if you show up...” you trailed off as if losing your nerve. But he understood all the same.

If he showed up to stop you, you’d stay.

You knew he could never physically ask you, but if he wanted you to stay, you would. Just seeing him would crumble your resolve and you’d stay with him here forever, even if it killed you.

“This isn’t a test or anything.” You said after a moment as if the thought came to you suddenly. “I know you love me. You don’t have to prove that to me.”

His shoulders sank, realizing what you were asking of him.

“I just... I didn’t give you a choice last time.”

Your words wrapping around Jimin like an old shirt— warm but ill-fitting.

How many nights had he dreamt of you saying those exact words? How many times had he pictured the night you left going different, with you telling him your plans of leaving and him convincing you to stay? Nothing would’ve changed and you’d go back to spending every night tangled up together and every day in his passenger seat, window cracked and wind brushing past your hair as you sang along to one of his playlists.

All he ever wanted was to go back to loving you like he used to. Loving you and imagining the life the two of you would build here.

“I-I’ll stay here and… and love you and figure out all my emotional garbage. I won’t leave you again.” Your voice was shaking. “If you ask me to, I’ll stay.”

Tears found Jimin’s eyes.

From the moment he met you, way back in high school, you had talked about seeing the world. You had big dreams that couldn’t fit in this tiny town. You were larger than life and he always knew to an extent that he have to spend the rest of his life running in order to catch up to where you were.

He just never thought you’d run further than he could go.

Don’t give up your life for me, you had said as you offered to do exactly that for him.

He saw the spark behind your eyes whenever you spoke of the city. He saw the way you turned into a shell of yourself at old memories. He would break his own heart ten times over before he would ever keep you here.

But you would break your own heart ten times if it meant you could save his heart from breaking again. Because if he wanted you to say, you could try to be happy here. Maybe you could try to be happy and try to be with Jimin and try for a nice ordinary life. You wouldn’t stay for you but you would stay for him.

Because you loved him far more than you loved yourself.

“If this is goodbye, then just know that… I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Sorry was all you could ever feel in this town. Sorry for all the hurt you caused and the mess you always left behind. Sorry for yourself and the life you would never get back. Perhaps it would’ve been better if you had turned down Jimin’s advances that night at the bonfire. More likely it would’ve been better if you hadn’t come back at all.

But the one-sided conversation through Jimin’s door was your best attempt at undoing a fraction of the hurt you had caused him, however pathetic it was.

——

You were standing amongst a crowd of moving bodies, watching anxiously as other buses began to board.

“He might show up.” You muttered to yourself. “It's not too late, he might show up.”

“Darling!”

You heard your grandmother call out, and you scoured the crowd before finding her, a breath of relief finding you. She had driven you to the bus station and left momentarily to use the bathroom for a moment — you feared you might have to board your bus without seeing her again.

“They just called for my bus.” You said the second she was within earshot. She looked around with you, watching as a line began to form in front of your bus. But your eyes wandered further, looking past the line, past your bus, and Elvie knew at once who you were looking for.

“You don’t have to go, you know.” She placed a hand on your cheek, pulling your attention back onto her.

“I know…” You nodded back at her, biting on the inside of your cheek.

“…But you want to.” She acknowledged. You were her blood after all. And no time apart could undo the way she knew her grandchild.

You met her eyes regretfully, guilt written all over you.

“I’ll call you every week.” You promised.

She pinched your cheek, “Even every month would do. I will miss you greatly. And I love you dearly.”

“I love you, Grams.” You pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Stay safe, darling.”

The two once estranged family members shared one final hug before the final call for your bus rang out. Shooting the bus station one final once over for a shade of orange, you waved your grandmother farewell and joined the line, boarding and sitting on the bus within a few minutes.

Elvie stayed at her spot for ten minutes, watching as the bus drove off and took her grandchild with it, waving goodbye even when you were too far to even see her.

A tear ran down her face as she clasped her hands together, hoping that you might find whatever you are continuing to search for.

A man joined her just then, emerging from behind the wall where he had been hiding, yanking off his grey beanie to reveal a bright mop of orange hair.

“There you are. Thought you were going to stand behind that wall forever.” Elvie acknowledged him, wiping away her tears.

“Sorry... And sorry to bombard you while you were on the way to the bathroom. Did you manage to slip it into her bag?” He asked.

“Of course I did. She was too busy looking for you to even notice.” Elvie reassured, watching as Jimin stared off in the direction you had left.

Jimin wasn’t sure when you’d find it, but eventually you’d find the black cassette tape he had dedicated to you all those years ago.

“It’s a playlist I made of all the songs that remind me of you.”

If it weren’t for you rummaging through his car, the tape would’ve continued to slip his mind— a forgotten relic forged from the time in which he swore he would never see you again. Carefully selected songs forming a cacophony of bitterness, longing, anger and sorrow.

After you left him this morning, Jimin lay across his bed, listening to your mixtape for the first time in years. An emotional time capsule in the form of plastic film and faded sharpie. He remembered vividly what every song meant, he remembered every raw unfiltered feeling he held for the last four years.

He held onto you for so long.

"Thank you for giving that to her."

“I have to ask… I mean, you showed up. You could’ve given her that mixtape in person. Why hide?” Your grandmother pressed.

“I had to see her. But I knew if she saw me she wouldn’t have left, and she would’ve continued to hurt herself just for me.” Jimin’s eyes welled up with emotion. “She deserves so much more than that, even if she doesn’t see it yet.”

Because you were the girl with stars in her eyes and big dreams and he was just the boy who loved you just enough to let you go.

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

THE END and before you yell at me, please respect my artistic vision EEEEP!! I love these characters and want what is best for them and the only way to do that is to honor the life that both truly deserve, even if that means it's not a life with each other. I thought long and hard about how to end this series, just putting that out there bc I know a bittersweet ending can be disappointing. AAHHH ILY MWAH! <3

#bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin #bts jimin #bts fanfics #bangtan smut #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin ff #bts ff #bts fanfic

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sofasoap · 1 year ago

Text

Lastochka - in the hanger

Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish)

Summary: You miss the intimate sessions with your husband after all the hectic missions and life. you decided to seek him out in the hanger.

WARNING: Explicit. Smut. Sub/Dom relationship. Safe words used. safe sex. Talk of consent.

per usual, half sleep brain when read through, might have lot of mistakes.

A/N : got so inspired by Nikolai's appearance in the MW 3 game, my smut brain just switched on. ( don't worry. No mention of spoiler. and its deviating from canon anyway. STUFF YOU CANON. )

Thanks to my moots keep feeding me with smutty ideas to add into the fics. you know who you are.

Lastochka series

masterlist

“Hello Commander.”

Nikolai’s hand stopped in the track. Putting his tools down,he turned around and looked down from the top of the helicopter.

The overly exaggerated smile, the way you carry yourself, hands behind your back, swing your body left to right, battering your eyes.

He cocked up an eyebrow. You are plotting something. He knows his wife well.

And you are calling him COMMANDER. You definitely want something from him.

Perhaps something he might like too.

“Something I can help you with, my dear Lastochka?” He asked you in a lighthearted tone as he walked down from the steps, wiping his hand on the rug. Throwing the spanner down into the toolbox and swagger towards you. You flash him another bright smile as you walk up towards him to meet him near the workbench.

“I am just here to remind my dear husband to take a break.” you brought out a flask and a container from behind your back. “You've been on this since early morning. I just thought you might want something to snack on.”

“And stealing my jacket at the same time??” he asked as he nodded at you, licking his lips.He would be lying if it didn't make him a bit possessive and his cock twitch seeing you draped in his oversize jacket. He loves seeing you wearing his clothing, both in public and private. Subtly showing everyone that you belong to him.

You pouted. “I didn’t steal it.. I’m just borrowing it. Do you want it back? It’s getting a bit hot in this anyway.” Putting down the containers and flask onto the workbench, you start to unzip the jacket, ready to take it off. He immediately grabbed your hand to stop you.

Oh, his bold little bird.

“What’s the matter?” your eyes widen with a fake surprise tone of voice. Tilting your head slightly as you extract your hands from his grip, you look up into his eyes and put your arms around his shoulder.

Nikolai exhaled, eyes dropping down towards your exposed breast, before flicking back up.

"I'm trying to get this heli fixed, little bird." he warned in a husky voice. But his hands betrays him as it wanders towards your ass, lightly grabbing it.

"I’m sure you will need a break sometime.. "You smiled innocently at him while playing with his hair. Pushing your body closer to him, you slid your hand down towards his crotch, palming his arousal.

“And there is no one around at the moment….I thought..”

“You thought you could seduce your husband into giving you a good pounding while he is all sweaty and hot.” Nikolai smirked as he finished your sentence. “Don’t worry my gorgeous little bird, My cock is always hard and ready to please the wife at any time.”

“Nikolai!” you pouted, hitting his chest, pretending to be all appalled.

“I am right, aren’t I?” Nikolai leans down, ghosting his lips over yours. “Just say the word, my Lastochka.”

Grabbing his chain to close the gap for the kiss, tongues entwined. Your other hand fumbled to find his belt, unclipping it before reaching up and starting to unzip his flight suit. Nikolai pulls away and grabs your chin with his thumb and forefingers, staring down at you.

“Didn’t I say use your words?” He tutted. “Always the one asking for punishment. First for stealing my jacket.. Now not asking for permission…”

You pursed your lip, letting out a little huff. “ Why do I have to…”

“You walked all the way here, wearing nothing underneath?” he whistled. Your head rolls back as he kneads your breast with one hand, the other one working on undoing your pants before yanking it off from you. “So eager to please your husband?” he chuckled.

“Because I am your COMMANDER, Lastochka.” he growled, cutting you off. “A good soldier listens to their superior. You should know better, Little bird. Now prepare to face the consequences.” he nudges your body, forcing you to walk backwards, nearly falling into the cabin of the helicopter if he wasn’t holding onto you. He gently guided you to sit before pushing you to lie down onto the floor.

Nikolai stood back up, unzipping his flight suit down to expose his fully erected cock. Sliding his belt off from his waist, he leaned forward, unzipped your jacket as well, to fully expose your naked body underneath.

“As always…. “ you whispered an airy reply, eyes roamed up and down his body and opened your legs wide. “Your Lastochka is always ready for you..”

Satisfied with your answer, he smiled as he picked up the belt that was discarded on the side before, and grabbed both of your hands and tied them together with the belt.

“Word, my little bird?”

You whispered the safe word into his ear and gave him a kiss on the cheek, granting him permission to proceed. You can feel his smirk as he turns his head to return a kiss.

You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress a moan as Nikolai pushes your tied up arm over your head, dragging you forward by your leg to get closer. He thrust his hip forward, slowly grinding his hardened cock against your dripping pussy.

“Always so wet for me. What a good girl. Maybe I can make it wetter.” he cooed as he slid his gloved hand between, inserting his middle finger through the slit, curling it up to find your sweet spot. You let out an unrestrained moan as he inserted another finger, and another, lightly thumbing your clit, but making no attempt to move his fingers inside you at all.

“Move…I want.... Give me more..” you hummed, bucking your hip, trying to get some thrusting movement to get the relief you've been craving for.

“Where are you manners, Little bird?.” he scolded, pulling his fingers out. You whimpered and tried to move your arms from his restrain, but his grip only tightened.

“Please Commander..”

“Please what?”

“Please.. I want you to touch me … make me feel good.” you begged, almost sobbing.“ Please I want it back in..”

“Good girl.” sliding his fingers back in, moving them in and out slowly few times, before he starts to speed up. “See? Being polite gets you what you want.” he cooed.

There is something about making you squirming underneath him, looking at him with lust hazed eyes, mouth slightly parted, breast heaving up and down begging and whining for him to make you come hard makes him feel exhilarated. That sense of satisfaction, knowing that its him, and only him, can make his beautiful sparrow unravel so easily under his manipulation.

He can feel your walls tightening and breath starting to hitch. He knows you are getting closer to the peak. He leans over and nuzzles his nose against your neck, before biting and licking it.

Arching your back, you couldn’t care less if someone else could walk into the hanger and hear the wanton scream as you hit the blessing high. He held you down with his arm and body as he kept pumping his fingers through your orgasm, cum drenching his glove and dripping onto the floor of the cabin.

Holding up his hand, Nikolai slowly licks his palm, while staring into your eyes. “I only cleaned the floor yesterday. Now you have dirtied it again.” he sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Looks like I have to give the source of the problem a good clean out…”

Letting go of your hand, he starts shuffling down south of your body, dotting your hot and sweaty skin with kisses along the way until he reaches your cunt, still glistening with the juices that are weeping out. He flick his tongue on your clit a few times before diving into it, sucking and licking in earnest.

“Nik.. Nik…” you moaned, still sensitive from the orgasm from not long ago. “It’s.. it’s too much…please…” you squirmed as your tied up hands grabbed onto his hair, trying to ground yourself.

He raised his head, eyeing you from between your legs. “Use the words,Lastochka, if it’s too much for you.”

You shook your head, sniffing, part of you wanted him to stop, but the lust won over, you just let your head fall back onto the floor, as he went back down to continue his work.

The slurping, the sucking, the obscene wet sloppy sound made you hit your second orgasm fast and hard, you let out a small yelp before everything went blank. You could only feel your legs shaking and Nikolai’s strong arm holding them apart, preventing it clamping his head.

The sound of his deep chuckle pulls you back slowly to reality. Still dazed with your second orgasm, he pulls you up into the sitting position to straddle him, and kisses you lazily. The taste of your own sex strong on his tongue as he deepens his kiss.

“Can’t let me do all the work by myself. Now, be a good little bird, time to please your husband with your nice little cunt.” he ordered after he finally pulled away from your mouth. He lifted your arms over his head, letting it rest on his shoulder as you let him help you to lift your body up from your still orgasm weakened legs. He stroked his hard cock few times, hand still wet with your cum, and guided you to drop yourself onto it.

You loll your head down,leaning against his shoulder, letting out a long whiney moan as you feel him stretch you wide and hit the deep end all in one go. He didn’t give you much time to adjust, pulling you up by your waist before slamming you down again, letting out a satisfying purr each time he repeats the action.

“Ah, look at you my Lastochka,” he praised you as he started thrusting his own hip upwards. “Serving your husband so well, clenching around my cock with your drenching hot pussy, making me happy.” The only sound you could make was a throaty whimper as you lifted your head from his shoulder and leaned away from him and rolled your hip, hands sliding from cupping the back of his head towards his neck, instinctively grabbing onto his gold chain as you try to get more friction against your clit.

“Come on my pretty bird. I know you still have more in you.” says Nikolai as he glides one hand down towards your ass, and the other up towards your neck, grabbing onto it lightly. “Give me one more. Just one more….”

“... not…not before you filled me up Commander..” you begged, nearly out of breath from getting so close to your next orgasm, trying hard not to tip over the edge. “I want you..you.. To come inside me first….”

“Giving out orders now, are we?” he growled as pulls your body back in closer, pulling your head back slightly, grazing his teeth over the skin of your neck. “Remember who is in charge here, I decide when you cum, and where I want to cum.” he snarled as he punctuated his words with hard snaps of his hip. “But.’ he softened his tone slightly, “Since you've been an obedient girl before… I will let it slide this time.” he moved his mouth towards your ear, whispering in a husky voice. “Come for me now, right now. And you will get your fill. And more rewards later on if you are lucky..”

Your body reacts automatically with his words. You sobbed as you spasm around his hard length, and you can hear him growling at the same time as he hits his own peak, coating your inside with his own spent, mixing with your own cum, feeling the wetness soaking both of your sexes and thigh as it leaks out with the thrust.

“Feeling alright there little bird?” Nikolai murmured into your ears as he held you tight against him, checking up on you after both of you held onto each other tight, recovering from the orgasm.

“I am alright.. Just give me a second.” You lean into his heaving chest, listening to his pounding heart. You close your eyes, also trying to catch your own breath, with Nikolai’s hand caressing your neck. you were utterly spent after three consecutive rounds. It’s been a while since you had such an intense session with him. But you don’t mind it.

“I miss this.“you whispered after a few minutes of silence, nuzzling into his chest. “You spend too much time with your other Lastochka. You need someone else to help you.”

You miss his touch. His hands, the dirty talks into your ears. the way his eyes undresses you and make you burn with want and desire.

You miss him.

“You know I don’t like anyone touching my Lastochka.” he kisses your temple. The double meaning doesn't escape you. “But I am sorry.”

“You better be.” you pouted. “Now you really need a break. After all that..”

“ I never need a break.” he chuckled, you feel his cock getting hard again inside you. “Not when I am trying to please my little bird.”

Well, the coffee is gonna get cold.

“Commander, you there? Here's the list you were….. Ёбаный пиздец!!”

“ Ooop. Someone found us.”

“Nikolai!!!! Shut up and go check on poor Yuri!!”

Yuri couldn't look at you in the eyes for weeks after.

Tag list

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@jojoblossom,

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