#o!m shall we date

[tomiokagiyuufirststan]

Hot take : doing a headcanon that Michael graped Luke is weird. We still dont know if Michael is a "villain" or no but he will NEVER touch Luke that way , do y'all forget that he is an angel that is supposed to be pure ? And even if he wasn't an angel it's still gross to headcanon this shit

[menacingheatashi]

It took two weeks since this was my first custom 1/7th scale, but I finally finished my figurine of Mammon! It’s based off the [Mammon is King!] card and although some things were a pain to do (like the hair) but I’m glad it’s completed!

[taegularities]

colour me in: blurred | jjk (m)

Summary: Funny how things never stay the way they were. You navigate through a life without Jungkook while wading through buried memories – and realise that every path leads back to him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating, partly college!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: artist jkkkkk, still a birthday, a present, exhibition and artwork reveal!!, memories, flashbacks, talk about exes, talk about guilt, ...frat party reveal i mean whut, jung hoseok lol, flirting, sexual tension, “how i, jk, met your mother” lmao i’m kidding, alcohol, insecurities, mean people, an absolute mess, yearning, we love tae, deep convos, overthinking; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, stripping, fondling, tiddie sucking, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, they’re dorks ??, lmao the dialogues :’’), they play a game, protected sex, drunk (consensual) sex, dirty talk, biting, sl*t mention, teasing, jk moaninnnng, partly rough sex, big dick jk, dom jk, aftercare, weird ass bets lol, i was blushing real hard writing the smut; “the ending” warning has become a constant too so :’) ➳ word count: 31.7k 🥲  ➳ a/n: what a big damn sigh i left out after finishing this one !! ugh, guys, thank you so much for sticking with me and waiting for this one. i truly hope it’s worth the wait… and their story shall only get better. thank you for betaing my love @missgeniality​​​​​ <3 as always, do lemme know what you guys think !! 🎨🤍  ➳ a/n2: keep in mind that every past tense scene is a flashback !! 😁  ➳ listen to: the only exception by paramore | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The very first day of September begins with a letter between your fingertips.

Or, perhaps not quite a letter — more a memory.

The pages of the diary aren’t older than two years, but they feel ancient when you skim them. A little dirty.

Maybe because the remembrances feel eons away, beginning in the middle of the second last year of college and ending sometime this spring. Mere months ago when cherry blossoms bloomed, along with a dozen other emotions.

You didn’t need to remember those days anymore, because you were gradually losing yourself in something and someone else. Not in love, not infatuated. Just distracted.

That is, until distraction became warmth.

Somewhere in the middle of this diary, you find words of a lost night. You don’t think of it too often; for a while, you felt too embarrassed and timid to reminisce.

Today, you can’t scan the memory, because it hurts.

This very entry is the worst of them all.

Contains all those damn hours in the gentle drizzle, followed by absolute heat, finishing off with glimmering lights in the sky and cold surfaces beneath you.

You don’t know all of it anymore.

But you know who tip-toed around you that night.

The frat party was never quite a frat party at all.

More a private thing hosted by some popular frat boy. It didn’t make much of a difference — half the campus was there, and the vibes were as fraternity as they could get.

You didn’t spend tonight under your fake starry ceiling as you usually would. This time, you sought an escape.

Honestly, everything was a get away these days, because you preferred running from reality rather than facing it; yet, you never quite landed where you wanted to be.

The hot party air was suffocating at first.

Cheap booze spilled into standard red cups, screeches accompanying the music. Despite the mind-numbing ambiance, you thought that’s where you belonged tonight.

With Eun’s concerned eyes on you round the clock, you kept the smile firmly plastered to your face. At times, you’d squint your eyes shut when the lack of lights tired you too much, but the unwavering noises kept you awake.

It was supposed to be a night you wouldn’t just flee your daily responsibilities and studies you weren’t sure you wanted, but from something else, too.

Someone else.

And that someone had dodged tonight’s party because of you. He hadn’t admitted it explicitly, but you knew he wasn’t one to miss such an event. And in some sense, you were relieved.

It was selfish of you. You felt awful, because he’d never proven to be anything but kind to you. But his absence forced at least an attempt to enjoy tonight. Knowing not too many faces around felt nice.

You weren’t particularly familiar with the frat boy community; you knew barely a handful of names in general. Like Eun’s. Jimin was supposed to be somewhere, too, because he told you he’d come. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

Then, there was this Choi Yeonjun dude; the host. Very young, but already known around college. Also, senior year hottie Cha Eunwoo.

And ah.

There was another guy you could match a name to.

Anyone who hadn’t heard of him before probably didn’t do much else other than head straight to class and then straight back home.

But you’d seen him in serene libraries before, hiding behind thick art books. And in departments that he had nothing to do with in order to meet his friends; to converse with girls.

You remember that he hadn’t been as popular or noticeable a couple months ago — he shot up like fireworks.

And right now…

He was leaning against the white wall on the other side of the room. Calm and collected, confidently talking to some girl; letting her brush his cheek; closing his eyes with crinkles around them and a tilted smile.

As she reached up to his temples, her intentions seemed genuine. The smile she flashed and the way she spoke — perhaps she was still sober, locked in the illusion that she could actually capture whatever beat behind his chest.

You didn’t want to seem judgemental — but you knew the reputation he fostered.

And even now, he seemed to be enjoying this. Like a puppy being spoiled. 

You would’ve watched a bit longer to find out how things would play out. It was an interesting scene; so transparent and clear. These two seemed to strive towards the same goal; it was written all over their faces.

But then, the sound of absolute crap infiltrated your ears; all of a sudden, shaking your world view.

“Hey!” you reflexively shouted.

The self-proclaimed DJ had spoken into the mic prior — apparently, he was replacing the originally invited song mixer. And he didn’t notice you until you waved. 

You’d probably seen him before, but you couldn’t really name him.

Full pink lips, a full dark mane.

He grabbed the mic with long fingers — where had they gotten a mic from anyway? — and holy, his voice was deep. A little unfitting to his gentle, handsome features.

But god, was his choice terrible.

You lifted your hand a little higher, and he pointed at you, ready to speak some DJ-esque motivational words to you before you yelled, “Go back to the good stuff!”

A couple nods around you affirmed your suggestion, but the guy only granted you one slapdash shrug before he went back to vibing to atrocities. The people who had murmured approval a moment ago resumed to whatever they were doing with a sigh or a headshake.

But there was one voice who didn’t quiet back down — its rise in volume was stark and clear, and your eyes immediately ripped open when you heard Jungkook howl, “Tae, I told you to not play shit!”

When you looked at him, he was cupping his mouth. The girl next to him giggled, but one of Jungkook’s eyebrows was cocked, hands raised as if to say, “Am I always just talking to a wall?”

He disregarded the girl’s laughter and shot you a stare instead; matched the light smile you didn’t know had crept upon your face; raised one shoulder in what you assumed was an apology.

Amused, you lifted the corners of your lips a little further. The warning hadn’t moved Tae at all, but the scene had been, admittedly, fun to initiate and witness. Even though it lasted a mere thirty seconds.

Because a moment later, the girl caught Jungkook’s attention again; her finger moved his head by his chin, her face closer to his — you took a few steps back and walked away.

This wasn’t your territory; you were an uninvited observer who happened to temporarily catch the target’s attention. And the target was in the wild, in a beloved habitat, so all you could do was leave him basking in his joys.

There had to be an activity you could dote on, or a familiar face you could approach. Eun had left with an excuse you hadn’t heard, and now, she was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long for you to realise that your search for her would remain fruitless.

And just when you were cottoning to the idea of roaming the party alone, an unexpected form materialised next to you. Like a hallucination, sneakily.

His hand coolly sat inside his jeans pocket; yours lamely stuffing snacks into your mouth — the dichotomy was all too present. Your big eyes ogled at a friendly smile and a tiny nod. You covered your mouth, looking a little longer, and then dropped your gaze again.

Jeon Jungkook was probably just fetching a drink for his gorgeous date. You wouldn’t have to grant him much attention.

But when a minute passed and he still lingered around, possibly unable to choose a delicacy, you looked at him again — as if on cue, just the moment he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry for the music.”

He shook his hair to the side, leaning in with a radiant smile; you didn’t know why he felt guilty enough to approach you for such a thing, but you were ready to forgive him anyway. Admittedly, it was hard to deny his charms.

Your pupils moved in confusion; with raised shoulders and a cocked eyebrow, you asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook started, a thumb pointing behind him without breaking eye contact, “he’s my best friend.”

You’d forget Taehyung’s name the next morning again; the apology wasn’t necessary and you bet he knew. But your mouth still formed an ‘Ah’, head nodding just a little as you confirmed, “Well. That is a reason to apologise, I guess.”

Registering another nod and light chuckle, you averted your eyes politely and shifted them to the table.

You filled your palm with trail mix before your stare drifted across the room — Eun was still not in your periphery, but you guessed she’d find you soon enough.

Perhaps she was testing you. Getting you out of the shell you’d retorted into in the past days, fearing everything and nothing at once.

Tonight was the first breath of air you got; something about all happenings this summer suffocated you.

The man next to you, albeit still a stranger, seemed to want to provide further distraction.

Because when you whipped your head back into his direction, you found him munching on snacks — still here, smiling at you once more. Was he waiting for something?

“So,” you started; the moment you spoke, big eyes focused on you curiously. Wow. “Where did you leave your girl?”

His face fell. Not in the melancholic way, but you thought you still found insecurity and something not too pleasant in it. He puffed out air, looking over his shoulder and then back to you.

“Should still be where you saw us last. But the room got smaller by the minute,” he said. You understood — even a rich frat boy’s house fills up at some point. “And I’m not in the mood to go back.”

“Oh. Why?”

“She was uhm… saying things I didn’t agree with.”

“Like what?”

You bit your tongue the moment he laughed. Playfully, as though he knew you inside out, he nudged your shoulder, teasing, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You blinked slowly. “Nothing, really. You wouldn’t care about it.”

He was probably right.

So you digressed.

Hummed, though you were sure he couldn’t hear it; even in this big ass kitchen, the sound of the music reverberated.

You shuffled your feet a little, ready to move on and find your friend. Maybe learn a thing or two about her pals to integrate yourself. You still couldn’t quite say how a law student like Eun knew so many people at all.

Extroverts have it easy.

You reached to the back pocket of your jeans, fishing out your phone and unlocking the screen to give her a call. 

Jungkook, still unmoving, had to be peeking, because he exclaimed an excited vocal, questioning, “What was that?”

A tattooed, lean finger pointed to your device, and you looked down, voicing a timid, “…My phone?”

“No,” he shook his head, suddenly shy for snooping. “Uhm. Your wallpaper.”

“Oh,” you looked down, eyes frozen on the dimming screen before they landed back on him. “Well, just… the night sky with some lyrics. Very basic stuff.”

“What lyrics?”

He seemed genuinely curious. It was sweet — but judging from how he’d left another girl in the other room just a moment ago, you couldn’t quite figure out what his intentions were.

So you pulled up your guard just a little, straightening your stance and covering your mind in some ice to cool it down.

And then, you answered, “You wouldn’t know them.”

But he shrugged, tilting his head, and challenged, “Try me.”

For a moment, you stared.

Then, you cleared your throat, exhaling a breath and lit up your phone again. As you held it into his face for him to read, you saw the sparkle in his eyes for the very first time — the beam of your phone allowed it for just a second as he read.

“You and I were bright, shooting through the sky daily.”

And then, he started nodding, sporting an impressed expression. His body movements were open — eager to engage in conversation, sincerity clear.

He simply said, “Good one.”

To which you squinted your eyes, stuffing your phone back. What did you take it out for again? Didn’t matter — it was locked again.

“Do you really know it or are you just acting like you do?” you asked.

Jungkook’s sudden laugh took you off guard — he wasn’t irritated but amused. His snicker was accompanied by tiny dimples and wrinkles around his huge eyes; the sound was lovely and pure.

And you nearly expected a delightful compliment before he clicked his tongue and said, “Damn. Stuck up, aren’t we?”

Well, fuck.

The way he eyed you, still enjoying your company with those rude words of his — was he the distraction you needed tonight?

He was amusing.

“Damn,” you said back.

“I do know The Neighbourhood,” he argued. He sounded calmer again; his voice dropped deeper. “I may look stupid, but I’m not.”

Internally, it made you laugh. Externally, you kept yourself at bay.

He didn’t look stupid at all, and his humour was on point. You bet that’s how he wrapped all the girls around his inked fingers.

Literally.

“I mean,” you said, unintentionally moving closer to him when someone approached the table. He smelled like soap and lotion. Looked at the vanishing distance in surprise. You moved to the side. “One doesn’t need to be stupid or smart to know a song.”

And suddenly, he chuckled again.

“What?” you asked.

“Goddamnit.”

“...What?”

“Nothing, just. You’re funny. Witty.”

You couldn’t say why he found it funny, but you felt charmed. Ugh… no. That’s how things started, you were sure.

So you were quick to state, “And you’re not my ty—”

Which was a blatant lie.

Jeon Jungkook was everybody’s type. A wandering deity with a Greek God’s body and a face carved in heaven. Splendid rizz game.

“I’m not hitting on you,” he quickly interrupted, right at your tail when you approached the door, “spare me the I have a boyfriend talk.”

You knew where this was going — you weren’t stupid either. Those subtle statements demanded a response, and idiotic enough and two red cups down, you said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“What what?”

“No, like,” he started. As you halted in your steps, right next to the couch and looking at him, he took a seat on the couch’s arm. “I fully expected you to give me the boyfriend lecture.”

You took a deep breath. No matter where you went, this… reality followed you.

Half frustrated, half tired of it, you shook your head again, looking into the depths of the cup you’d grabbed, and said, “I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Right.”

“Not quite at least.”

You kept adding things. Why?

The stored up misery escaped so easily now — but why with him?

He stared at you with actual attention in his eyes; God, he could feign it well. Even worse when he spoke and you heard the interest in his mild voice, “Quite?”

“I just do not, okay?”

The words didn’t come out rude. Hastily maybe, but not vexed.

But Jungkook’s expressions still changed. The curiosity from before faded bit by bit; realisation dawned on him that you were here for something else tonight and not… whatever you were fleeing from.

Maybe, you thought, he’d been sincere before. Actually socialising and expanding your casual exchanges.

But now that you’d closed the topic once and for all, he dropped the puppy gaze and transformed back into what you thought he was. A beloved presence on campus, always relaxed and always popular.

You saw his peer change in slow motion — baffled when he opened the path to his cocky self again.

And confident and with the tiniest of winks, he said, “Cool. So then… not to hit on you, but,” he lifted a hand, big and masculine, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

Jeon Jungkook and the liquor made the house look and feel twice its size.

After wandering around for over half an hour, you thought the hallways and rooms were expanding exponentially — until you passed the same plant you’d definitely seen a while ago. Some by now familiar faces were still roaming around the same place.

But the conversations you began kept shifting; time became relative. Subtle teases and little laughs kept you busy.

“By the way,” you asked. The lights were starting to burn into your eyes. Too neon and painful. “Are you gonna follow me all night?”

Jungkook tsk-ed, comical sass in his expression as he clarified, “I’m not following you, I’m literally walking next to you.” He tilted his head once, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “So rude.”

“Sorry.”

“Besides, you’re not necessarily doing what you were supposed to, either.”

Tired eyes blinked at him, an eyebrow cocking. For a moment, you found yourself lost, but the realisation that you were going to look for Eun dawned on you a mere second later.

In all honesty, you had walked past by her once.

She’d raised both eyebrows when she’d detected him, wearing a mirthful look, and you nodded as a fleeting greeting, but let him blabber on. Kept walking.

You didn’t tell him any of this, though.

“Yeah, well,” you crafted a careful excuse, vaguely gesturing across the badly lit, crowded living room, “easy to get lost here.”

He squinted, eyes flitting across the chattering bodies. You barely heard the hum, but you saw the shrug as he asked, “Is it really?”

“I mean… It might be easier for you since you know almost everyone here.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?”

Another shrug; softer this time. Blooming lips curved into a pretty smile, and he nodded towards you. Let his eyes scan you head to toe before he finally said, “I don’t know you.”

Hm… True.

Seemed like he didn’t want to keep it that way.

You nodded with tightly pressed lips, averting your gaze and shifting it to the back of the room, out to the backyard. It was one of those semi-rich houses with French windows; you could see the cleanly cut grass and part of the treehouse from here.

“Anything you’d like to know, then?” you finally asked.

“Keep going.”

Jungkook gestured to the staircase in the hallway. You looked around; you guess you’d been blocking the entryway to it. Partygoers gave you a weird look.

You stirred, clearing the traffic jam, and navigated towards the staircase. Jungkook, hot on your trail, answered, “Uhm. Yeah, actually — be honest. Do you know The Neighbourhood from social media? TikTok and shit?”

“God, no,” you immediately defended, secretly outraged, “I’ve known and supported them since high school.”

“Oh.” Now that you were steering towards the first floor and away from the music, you could gradually register his words clearer. “Okay. What else?”

“What else? Like what other music? Uhm… Avatar: The Last Airbender soundtrack.”

He rolled his eyes, rocking a little as you approached the end of the staircase. People floated by you quickly, roaming the entire place.

“Come on,” he replied.

“What? It legitimately counts!”

You still felt the vibrations of the beat. It wasn’t so bad from here; kind of pleasant, fitting the rhythm of your conversation.

Or his laugh when he puffed out air, leading you down the hallway; a couple steps from here, you detected a small balcony. But as you neared the exit, you found it busy; two friends drinking, chatting the night away.

Jungkook halted, pressing against the wall with a glimpse to the ground. He rubbed his eyes; you understood. The hallway was lit a million times better than any room downstairs. Balm for your eyes.

“Alright,” he asked, looking up to you with an inhale, “another trivial question as we wait,” he tilted his head towards the door. “What’s a superpower you’d choose?”

You contemplated on suggesting a walk outside the house, but you knew why he’d possibly led you here — it was quieter. The crowd not as tense.

So instead of muttering the question, you relaxed your spinning head; your heavy eyelids fell a little as you said, “Oh, uh… let me think.” You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the ceiling; and eventually, you challenged, “Tell me yours first. And make it as useless as you can.”

For some odd reason, you were eager to hear his question.

You found yourself wondering about him and his little habits a lot.

Jungkook took a moment to ponder, and then declared with a miniscule hint of sarcasm, “Ah. Never spilling my drink. Knowing every dance move to every song.”

Maybe the alcohol was truly showing its effect, because you burst into simultaneous laughter that forced the strangers’ eyes upon you. From the balcony, they looked at you, chuckling just a little before they turned back.

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, hearing him ask, “Alright, your turn. What’s your superpower choice? Uselessness is the key.”

“Okay, easy,” you said, shifting up the wall you’d slid down a bit, “I’d choose the superpower of persuasion. Would use it for the greater good, like––”

“That’s not a useless power—”

“––To convince everyone that The Last Airbender soundtrack deserved more recognition.”

“Okay. Way to make it as useless as possible.”

“Soundtrack of the century.”

“Okay. Sure, why not?”

Short pause, but never awkward.

In truth, you found a moment of respite from the chaos underneath your feet. The wall you leaned against was cold against your bare arms and calves, and for the first time tonight, you thought you could think.

Nevermind your foggy brain, and the way his company made reality blur.

You were enjoying yourself.

That is, until Jungkook spoke up again.

“Okay… one more thing, and you can fully tell me to fuck off if you don’t wanna tell.”

You turned to face him, eyes filled with intrigue, mustering a sole, “Hm?”

“You’re… escaping something tonight. Aren’t you?” He took a deep breath, words dangling between you. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, brief surprise flickering in them. “Do you want to vent?”

His probing was delicate, not overly curious. He was being careful, ready for rejection, and you appreciated it, no matter how caught off guard by his perceptive observation.

“What?” you still voiced.

“I don’t think that’s your type of environment, right? Nothing seems to catch your attention for long enough.” He paused again, meeting your gaze intently. He tumbled to the other side, pressing his back against the wall. “Except me. You’re still talking to me.”

There it was — you were sure it was.

That fleeting moment of vulnerability that passed over your face. Not just due to the circumstances but to everything that they evoked, too.

Jungkook wasn’t wrong, and his keen understanding of your inner life surprised you.

Slowly, you let out a soft laugh, just a little fragile as you admitted, “You’re right. I’m escaping the responsibilities of adult life and the upcoming doom of my last college year.”

Yeah… but beneath the surface, there was more.

You didn’t know whether he saw it; you knew you weren’t too drunk yet to decode expressions.

But he only nodded, offering a gentle smile. Told you, “Sometimes that shit does weigh us down. But isn’t it worth it? Don’t you like college?”

“I do like college,” you argued, “I just don’t like the thought of finishing it. Because then you’re deep in that… life thing. You probably understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, no doubt. I just don’t think of it yet, because I want to like what I do.”

Want to like what I do.

Was that what you were doing to yourself? Making something miserable for yourself that could or could not have ended half as bad as you thought?

Hmm…

“That’s good,” you said.

“I mean,” Jungkook started again. “You’re still young. If you can’t be passionate about what you’re doing, you can look around for something better, you know? Like—”

His shoulder rose, and he clicked his tongue, “You don’t have to go with whatever’s forced upon you, no matter who you are.”

Your eyebrows kissed; you felt a sense of relief the moment the breeze blew through the open door. Two fresh inhales at once.

You were in for surprises all night, it seemed.

“Do you… know who I am?” you wondered; your voice was cautious, intent on not spilling too much.

Which wasn’t necessary after all.

“I told you I’m not stupid.”

Yet, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t care for it, either. It was kind of nice.

A corner of your lips tugged into a little smile, hands folding behind your back as you digressed, “Is there anything else you’d like to know, Jungkook?”

He huffed, shaking his head for a moment; folded his arms as he teased, “You didn’t even answer my question.” He bit the inside of his cheek; seemed amused. A little fascinated. “But okay. Something else then. Do you like games?”

Huh.

“Like what?”

“Mmmh. There’s spin the bottle,” he suggested, albeit immediately taking it back upon taking in your grimace. “Okay, no, but there’s also like… two truths, one lie?”

“Oh, uh—”

“We don’t have to play—”

“No, I…” You sighed, delivering a reassuring smile. He was truly so polite. “I was just thinking, but…”

He was waiting with those big eyes. Shaking the hair off his face with slightly parted lips. Those things — they felt like tiny habits; you wished you’d been sober enough to pinpoint all of them.

You gathered three ideas in your head, and after careful contemplation, you said, “Okay. I have shotgunned a beer in under ten seconds.” He looked impressed. Fun. “I snuck into a music festival without a ticket. And… I prank called an ex once.”

“Shotgunned a beer,” his answer came immediately, no trace of doubt, “I tried that once and it took me over fifteen seconds.”

“Well. You’re wrong, noob,” you answered, delighted by his mock annoyance, “I never called an ex to prank them. That’s disrespectful.”

For a second, he looked embarrassed — and then, he nodded, accompanied by, “And I respect that.”

He shifted against the wall, inhaling a breath with a hiss as he thought. His eyes travelled to the ceiling, and then to the people wandering about. No one was approaching the balcony, because you’d already patiently reserved your spot.

Jungkook squinted his eyes shut, and then released the lips he’d pressed together with a plop. Finally uttered as his fingers counted, “‘Kay uh, I have pulled an all-nighter for a major exam and still aced it. I have performed a belly flop off a diving board—”

“Those are so specific.”

“And, I’ve been part of a flash mob before.”

No clue, and no point in thinking about it. So you guessed, “I’ll say the flash mob one isn’t true. We’ve all pulled an all-nighter before, and the other one was too distinct.”

“Well damn,” Jungkook said, stretching the last word as though you’d solved a century-old riddle. “You’re right. You already know me so well.”

“I could do a quiz show on you, I’m sure.”

He laughed. Whenever he expected you to roll his eyes at him or to dismiss his foolish jokes, you joined his bullshit instead. Sweet.

The boys relaxing outside interrupted your game, finally flooding out. Apparently, there was a third you couldn’t see, and he flinched when you made your way out, almost bumping against you.

You didn’t know who it was, but he seemed to know Jungkook.

Flashed a gummy smile when his eyes moved back and forth between your conversation partner and you. His cheeks were red, but his stance and walk were still stable; high-tolerance drinker.

But a little, teasing “Enjoy yourself,” was still in the interaction as he passed you by.

Walking out into the summer night immediately evoked a sense of serenity. The warm breeze caressed your skin, wafting the scent of blooming flowers towards you. Under the moonlit sky, the world was alive — or at least, the one you were visiting right now.

It was a little louder here again, though the noises came from chatter and conversations rather than music. 

From here, you had a better view at the neighbourhood; and tragically, at the people making out in that children’s treehouse. You laughed.

Leaning over the railing, you inhaled the wind, watching Jungkook follow suit before you said, “Okay, moving on — I’ve never sat on the roof of these… detached houses. I am not a procrastinator… And I’d really like some more of that cheap booze right now.”

He looked at you in disbelief, though charmed enough to chuckle and wonder, “You actually do?”

“That’s on you to find out.”

“I mean, maybe you are sick of wine and champagne.” Well… true. But when he saw bits of your expression fall, his laughter subsided a little, and he added without hesitation, “No, but you might actually mean that. I feel like those are all truths, but… I’ll go with the procrastination one.”

You stomped your feet in light excitement when he guessed wrong, glimmering eyes staring into starry ones. “Nope.”

“No?” His forehead wrinkled; and then, his eyes ripped open. “What, the roof bit?”

You nodded. He asked, “Oh? Wait, what?”

More than two decades, and you’d only seen these things in movies and TV shows. People sharing lunches and thoughts on roof tiles, soaking in the sun, building up to a big, character-developing moment.

No real life occurrence for you.

“Why does it surprise you?” you asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I…” He leaned back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m a country boy.” Interesting. The more you knew. He pointed to the sky. “More stars down there, so we used to do it a lot in the summer. And a friend of mine… she and I, we liked spending nights like this.”

You ignored the pause after the mention of his friend — you wouldn’t have noticed anyway if he hadn’t dropped his gaze to his hands.

“Oh… that sounds nice.”

A nod confirmed your statement, short-lived when he said, “Alright. One more.”

He turned towards you, placing his lower arm onto the railing. His smile was genuine; he looked beautiful like this. Messy hair blowing into his face, covering his eyes until it didn’t and you finally saw—

That.

This man had an entire night sky in his eyes, diamonds sprinkled all over.

So sincere. Maybe that’s what lured them all in; not just his charm.

“Okay,” you more mouthed than said.

“So,” he drew in a breath, licking his lips, “I’m a cat person. I’d rather drive than shotgun. And…”

Once more, he hesitated, bringing back his thinking face, and you used the moment to declare, “These are tough.”

He stalled. You waited; looking at him in anticipation until he smirked, leaning in to nudge your shoulder and utter the most outrageously riveting confession of the night.

Your heart stood still before he’d spoken the last syllable.

“I kinda wanna kiss you right now.”

A fever dream, wasn’t it?

You blanked. You would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t think about it tonight.

Obviously not a top priority, but it’d crossed your swaying mind, undoubtedly. Not that you knew too much about him — but he drew you in, like a hook-up with chemistry.

Because that’s what that night seemed to develop into.

All that your throat spit out was a little, “Damn—”

He held up a hand, and then pointed to his chest, innocently stating, “But that’s me. I won’t even touch you without consent.”

The balcony was rotating a little. Either the ground or you.

Probably you.

Because your mind was blurred, too; the air charged with tension. The witty banter and lighthearted remarks weren’t supposed to shift like this; where had all this appetite come from?

“So you’re… confessing one of your truths now?” you asked.

A playful smile tugged at your lips; you angled your head, waiting for a response.

His chest moved inwards, holding the breath before he choked it out in a laugh. Embarrassed with himself, he lifted a shoulder, saying no more than, “Well, shit.”

Ugh, the playful tone.

The thirst pooling in your stomach subsided a little when you saw his eyes sparkle like this. Images of his lips on yours faded just slowly as you found enough courage to tell him, “Not that easy to just snatch a kiss from me.”

A frisky challenge appeared in your eyes and he took it all in patiently as he inquired, “Okay… what would I need to do then?”

If he truly meant his little admission, were you going to let him dive into it? Allow the little adventure, swaying from your original plans for tonight?

Did you have any at all?

Your voice daring and just a teeny tiny bit mischievous, you proposed, “I’ll kiss you if I fail at guessing the lie. If not, then I won’t.”

A smirk danced on Jungkook’s lips as he leaned closer, a surge of excitement mingling with a touch of nerves. Quietly, he mused, “Fifty-fifty chance.”

“Right.”

“You could just…” His voice dropped the moment his eyes did, following the fingers that reached out to your arm but never touched you. “Walk away if it’s too weird.”

“Nah. I’m too invested now.” A grin spread across your voice, hiding the fog his expression elicited. “Kiss me when I lose. And I’m saying that, because I do feel like I’ll win.”

Stupid, usual, drunk blabber.

Too courageous. Too daring.

“I choose,” you tried to focus on your sentences, only mildly distracted by the bite of his lip, “drive rather than shotgun. You probably do like cats.”

And the moment you voiced your option, victorious crinkles formed around his eyes. Doom became crystal clear to you, though you couldn’t help but embrace it with open arms.

And the thought stirred something in you.

“Wrong. I like cats, but I have a dog and I love him to bits,” he remarked, triumphant and teasing.

Holy fuck, he was good at this.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

He was too exhilarating, his effect too undeniable. And each of his words strengthened that desire in you, luring you in like a seductive melody, enticing you to surrender to its rhythm.

“It’s okay,” was what it entailed, “I know you don’t want to kiss me,” he backed away, and you released the breath, “so I won’t.”

The smirk stayed glued to his face. Unspoken words remained just that, and you let the night evolve, aware yet oblivious to how it’d unfold.

And as he leaned back again, his expression promising, you allowed the spark to keep dancing between you. Patient and curious when you let him know—

“Jeon Jungkook… that’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”

The letters on the paper barely make any sense.

You read through and over them, putting them together to syllables and relating them to the other words in the sentences.

You still remember rushing through your narrative. Half excited and half indignant, you jotted down all you could remember before you wouldn’t. The lines and curves of the alphabet are messy and nowhere near constant.

Exhausted and still feeling remnants of the inebriation, you didn’t have it in you to indulge in poetry or eloquent prose.

You remember it got worse as you proceeded. You remember your words became blurrier, incoherent, your thoughts jumping from one idea of the night to another.

To sentences he said, to things he did.

Only now, it has all escaped your memory — and it seems that your past self didn’t have any particular intention to let your older being recall it all.

Because in the middle of the page, your thoughts finish in a cliffhanger.

I think at the very end, it wasn’t the time we spent in the bedroom that messed me up. It was the goddamn roof.

And that’s it.

When you flip the page, another day has started. Several dates skipped, you talk about a cosy study session in a coffee shop and the faces you saw. About the waitress who praised your hair style and ended up chatting for half an hour.

Little things. You didn’t mention Jungkook again anymore until he joined your class and crept under your skin. Evoked all emotions you barely knew before — a pain in the ass but an introduction to… whatever has developed now.

An alternative to the reality you lived. Never out to fix you but to pull you out of your shell.

Maybe that’s why you ripped out all the pages. Behind the lost memories, you still know the humiliation you faced — but you don’t know about the little dialogues anymore. The things he said and how you perceived them.

Where are those words you scribbled down? 

You look around your room. Your bed and desk are a mess; numerous objects scattered enough to make you uncomfortable. The sun is still high in the sky, but you know it’ll set eventually.

And by then, it’ll be too late.

Maybe you should stuff the diary back to the place you pulled it from. Maybe you should leave this smothering room; that spot on the bed where you sit, sunlight burning up your skin.

You hold your breath when your phone vibrates against your thigh, and let it out when your heart has calmed from the sudden intrusion.

The lit screen is unreadable against the sun; but when you lift it to your face, the message jumps into your face and attacks you like a wild animal. 

Hoseok [6:23PM]: Work was slow today, but I’m not doing the night shift this time!! Hoseok [6:23PM]: So we could grab dinner if you’d like?😁

A kind, genuine question shouldn’t grip your chest like this. The way your heart is leaking and your lungs emptying — when someone really cares for you, that shouldn’t happen.

But when you don’t care back just as much, it still does.

You remember feeling just like this a year ago; at the stupid party with its stupid music and then on the dumb, stupid roof.

An active dodging of one presence and a silent yearning for another.

It makes you sick.

The twisted feeling in your stomach lingers; and when you look at your diary again, you feel it everywhere. In your guts, in your chest, in your throat.

Something burns behind your eyes; tears are missing in action, but you think it’s your melting brain. On fire as you keep overthinking, fingers curling in, legs restless and urging you to stand.

Hoseok’s dinner dates aren’t what you crave, and you know it. Everyone knows it.

He, the cause of all misery, must, too.

And when the ache becomes too poignant, nearly unbearable, you lift yourself off the mattress. You flatten your shirt, pull up your jeans and grab a thin bolero just in case.

If you hurried, you could make it, right?

Rushing down the stairs, you shoot a message back to Hoseok; simple and quick. Hints of regret penetrate the back of your mind, but you shove them away to focus on the situation on hand.

You [6:25PM]: Ahhh I’m at an event today but… tomorrow? x

Your eyes dart to the top of the screen. Numbers sting more than they should; the date looks unreal today.

September 1st.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

But… That's for you to worry about later.

Ripped pages and a fervent night still floating in your mind, you step into your car. It’s hot inside, considering you left it standing on the road after work instead of parking it in the garage.

It’s baffling how lazy heartbreak makes you. How tiny tasks leave a body immobile, forcing it to stick to the bare minimum.

You grip the wheel hard, only now realising how breathless the short way down rendered you. The prospect of seeing him again stirs your insides and your mind. Doesn’t let you start the engine just yet.

In the moments that you use to relax, you imagine how things might go.

You’d enter a climatised, sophisticated building. Walk past art that people worked hard on, admiring every stroke and colour. Would approach the place he invited you to with a wobbly body; ready for whatever pain he’d inflict on you.

But.

Pain.

Isn’t that what has kept you away for all those endless days since you escaped the dark alley?

Pressed against the cold wall, flush against him, hot lips parted and a hotter breath mingling with yours. Only to crush all you’d hoped for. He did this to you.

You begged. And he kept doing it to you.

Do you have the capacity to hurt again?

Your head moves to the side. Slowly peeking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the squared object, wrapped in silver; you don’t have the heart to look at it for too long.

No.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

Perhaps it’s better to not allow such a later at all.

So you remove your trembling hands from the steering wheel. Look down to them; feel your body fall again. Whatever hope you’d gathered evaporates at the idea of the same, damn ache.

And it feels awful. So fucking awful.

The bare minimum. That’s what all of you wants you to do. With the energy gone, you want to become weightless. Want to press against the pain in your chest.

So you walk back in; lay down without attending dinner.

One last glance at your phone before you put it away. Still the damn first of September.

An hour later, notifications light up your phone, but you, pulled in by the same uneasy slumber, won’t see them anymore before the morning breaks in.

Those darn treacherous lips of his had lied to you.

He’d said he wasn’t hitting on you; wanted you to spare him all talk of boyfriends and affection.

Instead he kept talking — kept drinking with you.

Rendering you breathless when he pushed you against the wall of an empty room, shoving his tongue down your throat like it was all he ever knew how to do.

You remember giggles — an ongoing, addictive streak of childish laughter. Coming from his touches and silly words and from how it tickled when he kissed that sensitive spot on your neck.

With a sigh, you put a hand half on his jaw, half on his cheek. His features were sharp; in your drunken state, you wondered if you’d cut yourself if you ran your fingers across them fast enough.

But everything was foggy and insane; it was surprising enough that your legs weren’t giving in under his actions. And when your brain enabled a coherent conversation, you felt even prouder.

“Are we gonna stay here?” you asked.

It must have been the first time tonight that you could hear your own voice properly. The music sounding from downstairs was a lot dimmer here, muffled through the door.

Your head felt a sense of relief that he took very soon again; the tiny but sharp bite on your neck made you gasp in anticipation. He was doing whatever the fuck he wanted to, and you let him.

“I mean,” he whispered; his voice was low and raspy, and its effect shot straight under your skirt, “I can totally take you against the door.”

Which was menacing enough as it was. But the promise to take you at all left you wanting so much fucking more.

You rubbed your legs together as a heavy hand pushed against the small of your back. He lifted his head to look at you, teeth digging into his pink, lower lip. His eyes looked so damn thirsty that you felt your own tongue dry up.

As he stared at you in question, fingers digging into your back, you said, “Nah… door too cold and uncomfortable.”

“‘Kay,” his fingers snuck to the hem of your skirt, only pushing under the material for a brief moment before they retreated, “get to the bed then.”

Your body felt like a feather when he let you go.

As you obliged, taking languid steps to the mattress, your voice was still enthusiastic and you were still bubbly, “It’s so much calmer here.”

You sighed when you dropped onto the bed, not quite noticing that he didn’t deliver an answer. You didn’t have it in you to focus on much at all when you looked at him again — because he was locking the damn door.

And something about this little, harmless gesture was so devilishly sexy.

You looked at the ceiling; then closed your eyes. He was too much to bear; so you continued your zany ramble, “I usually get a headache at such dark and loud places.”

No answer. But you heard steps inching closer.

You had to shoot a glance.

And when you did, he was undoing a few buttons of his shirt, including the ones of his sleeves. Then whipped out his belt and threw it to the side haphazardly, grinning down at your awaiting body.

He was so hot.

“But not today,” you continued, “I was too distracted to get a headache today.”

“Mhmmm.”

The tired glimpses of him walking to you had your heart beating at an unreal rate. You knew he was just as drunk as you, but he was oddly calm for now, as opposed to you. Or maybe, he just acted that way.

When he suddenly dropped onto the bed, knees digging in and a torso and lips hovering above you, your breath hitched.

Fuck.

“Keep talking,” he ordered.

His smile was inviting and on purpose. Big eyes were half-lidded now, wanting and hankering. You were putty in his hands.

“What?” you mumbled.

“You said you were distracted.”

“I… I still am.”

“Yeah,” a smirk lifted his lips; his fingers freed your forehead off a few hair strands. In return, his bangs hung into your face. “Tell me about it.”

You gulped.

Your hands itched to grab him by his collar, but you felt so powerless that your digits didn’t move. A sole kiss wasn’t supposed to fuck you up like this, but you were already a hot mess.

And when you finally gathered a full thought, you said, “I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, letting his face drop a little more. “Why?”

“We’ve talked enough.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, laughing, closing his eyes as his breath fell against your shoulder.

The tip of his nose ran a trail along your neck and then down to your clavicles. You didn’t have much to say; mostly because you couldn’t grant language much attention anymore.

Not when he took the strap of your top between his teeth and started pulling it off your shoulder. Baring your skin as his soft voice questioned, “What do you wanna do, then?”

“Mmmmh,” you said, finally managing to sneak your palms onto his broad shoulders. “What can you do?”

Bit by bit, your exhaustion faded. The more he touched you, the more he lit your veins. You felt electrified; sleep was vanishing fast.

“I can do,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the newly naked skin of your shoulder, “a lot.”

“Like what?”

“You know… I can just show you?” His voice sounded so pretty. So alluring and pleasant to listen to; you wanted it to talk you to sleep. “I dunno what you like, though.”

You could barely remember when exactly he’d bewitched you like this; but you didn’t have it in you to care. Only admitted, “I think I’ll like anything you do.”

He smiled. He had a confident laugh — probably knew how gorgeous he looked.

“We can find out. No worries.” His eyes shifted to your top, and then down to your skirt. “Just need to get all of this off first.”

“Mhmmm. The best part.”

The intimate atmosphere settled in the bedroom; strange to think that just a while ago you were standing on a balcony, playing a game. Seemingly harmless in theory, leading to a locked room in reality.

Which reminded you.

He was so eager to take off your clothes so quickly, but you didn’t consider him the type to rush things. Why the hell would you give in so fast then? Allow him that bit when you were sure that man liked to tease?

So your expressions changed when an idea formed in your mind. A mischievous glimmer flickered in your eyes when you proposed, “What if we played another game?”

And this seemed to grab his attention. 

“I’m all ears.”

Your voice dropped to a husky whisper as you pushed yourself off the bed, waiting for him to sit up before you began outlining the rules, “Strip according to correct guesses. We take turns asking questions, and whenever one guesses correctly, the other removes a piece of clothing.”

The idea ignited a sense of thrill in you; perhaps he felt the same. He sat back against the headboard, curiosity lacing his adjective features, and you went ahead and kneeled next to him, hearing an intrigued, “Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Right. We can set boundaries, if you’d like, but—”

“I do trust you. It sounds… kinda fun.”

You exhaled relieved; more keen by the second. “Yeah. I wanted to say it sounds fun.”

Jungkook thought about it for another moment; then, he straightened his stance, exchanging a knowing glance, crossing his arms as he said, “Let the games begin, then.”

You jubilated.

With the air thick with beguilement, you crawled an inch closer until your knees hit his waist. He immediately put a hand on your bare knee, charging the atmosphere.

For a minute, time stood still, his touch warm and inviting. You’d delivered boldness, acting as a catalyst. Further tension brewed between you, simmering at the surface, ready to be acknowledged and explored some more.

“You were going to hook up with someone tonight,” you said. A statement, not a question.

He paused for a second, staring, slowly blinking at you. Hesitation lingered for a good while before he finally mumbled, “Maybe.”

You cocked an eyebrow. 

Despite the fact that Jeon Jungkook was still a stranger, you’d clicked somehow — you liked to think that he’d had his focus fixated on you tonight. That you weren’t just any fling, at least not before the night ended.

So it was oddly relieving when he noticed your questioning gaze, clicking his tongue before he said, “Well, I thought it could happen… but I wasn’t really planning on it. Because anything’s possible at this place.”

You couldn’t bite back your curiosity, and spat immediately, “Are you hooking up with me, because you considered it possible? Were you gonna do it with just anyone? The girl downstairs—”

“Nah,” he was quick to counter, “not her.”

Right.

You believed him with a shrug, licking your lip; watched his gaze follow. He moved closer just a little; as his hazy doe eyes moved back to yours, you knew he was struggling as much as you.

So you fuelled the fire, suggesting, “So I’m special tonight, is my guess. You want me a little more than anyone else.”

He pushed forward — the sudden movement transported his lips so unbearably close to yours, and you flinched. He fumbled with something, and only when you peeked to the left, did you see him taking off a damn sock.

Then, he leaned back again, relaxed when he repeated the statement from earlier, “You’re escaping something tonight.”

Well damn. He didn’t need to go so hard right from the start.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his body further back. Putting a gap between him and you, you crossed your arms over your torso, gripping the hem of your top to slip it off swiftly.

Which seemed to baffle him. The dark red Fenty bra caught his attention — and his breath.

And all he could mutter was a weak, little, “Wow. Going all in.”

“Not yet,” you argued, shaking your head. “But I’m also just trying to encourage you to do the same.”

“Right…”

You cleared your throat, rubbing his dark grey, black shirt between your fingertips. “Your favourite colour is black.”

“Hmmm.” He thought for a moment. And then imitated his action from before, once more eliciting a gasp out of you when he took off the other sock. “One of my favourite colours, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re a coward for this.”

Fucking socks.

Laughing in mock, you ran a finger down his leg. To his knee and then up to his hip again. Only barely missing the bulge very slowly forming under the dark pants.

Breath escaped through his teeth; it seemed that he was a fan of such teasing, because his eyes sparkled.

And then, your brave mind formed this brilliant, easy yet effective idea.

You were already so far gone — taking it a step further wouldn’t be awkward at this point. So you shook your head in disbelief, looking at his feet and then at the fully clothed body.

And the moment after, you lifted your body and straddled him.

Hah.

There it was.

The restrained breath and the clenched fists. The suddenly open mouth and wide eyes; you could play his game, too.

Before he could speak, you sighed at the palpable beauty growing underneath you, remarking a sweet, “What now? Still gonna take it slow?”

“I… dunno,” he said, “make me do it differently.”

You moved your hips over his dick just a little. The movement was subtle but did what it needed to; the tiny moan he voiced was too fucking beautiful to regret and the bulge, while faint, was definitely there.

You loved this a little too much.

With a strained, nearly hoarse voice, he spoke, “You’re a 2000s hit girl. You uh— you don’t like the shit that comes out today.”

His speech kept breaking, and you felt beyond proud of it. If you managed to make Jeon Jungkook stutter even once today, you’d bestow a badass title upon yourself—

“Wrong,” you said with a confident smile; for now, he wasn’t getting what he needed. “I’m a Frankie Valli girl.”

“That’s so hot of you,” Jungkook said. He lifted a finger to your bra, hooking it into the space that connected both cups. Pulled a little. “But. Just fucking take something off, please?”

You grabbed his wrist, removing it from your body. “That’d be cheating.”

“I’ll take off my jeans if you do the same with your skirt…?”

Fuck.

If Jungkook hadn’t been so stubborn with his control, you knew you could’ve made him falter beneath you. Something about him suggested that he was very well able to become a begging mess.

But not today.

Today, you were giving in.

You wetted your lips, clenching your jaw, and then finally said, “...Alright.”

The process of pulling down your skirt was a hassle. You basically pushed your tits into his face as he attempted to kick off his jeans, constantly distracted and letting you know that he was.

He missed your touch as you threw your skirt aside and only breathed out in relief when you found your way back onto his lap.

It felt good, feeling his bare legs against your ass. To diminish the hurdle that his jeans were. To feel his erection pressing into your dampening panties, hard and firm and ego-boosting under you.

You bit back how amazing it felt, because you knew you’d be spilling praises shamelessly all too soon. Somehow, you were sure he’d make you do it — so for now, you kept the craze to yourself.

He, however, didn’t.

“My God,” he whispered. A warm palm brushed along your sides and across your back. Toyed with the hook of your wine red panties before it dropped to the curve of your ass. “You look so good. How did you know I liked this colour?”

Lifting the shoulder he pulled the strap down from, you joked, “I asked around campus.”

To which the roaming hand dug underneath your panties, pulling out a tiny moan as he left crescent moons in your flesh. Soon, his hand was gone again, and he nodded towards you, saying, “Look at you…”

“…What?”

“You’re a goddamn tease, and you don’t even need to think about it.” His hips lifted, pressing against your cunt. “You’re so fucking sexy… you know?”

You didn’t; but it wasn’t bad hearing it out loud. Feigning all poise, you answered, “Business student confidence.”

“Uh-huh. Some of y’all are so stuck up, but… you’re cool. Gotta be good to you tonight.”

You scoffed, affected by his length — were you truly ready to have him ram it into you? Because he felt… huge.

“You…” you began, choking on that word before swallowing the clump and starting anew. “You could just fuck me and leave.”

But he, adamant and eager to stick to his plan, shook his head immediately. Hair flew into his face as he answered, “Nah. I need to leave a good impression.”

What a statement.

Was there a doubt about it anyway? If he’d fucked you and left, you might’ve remembered, too.

But you weren’t going to decline the offer, so you simply challenged, “Do it.”

“Right. Fuck the stripping then.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a beast ready to devour you. He showed early signs of his insatiability when he kissed you first — and now, he still kept proving his point when a harsh hand cupped one of your tits.

He didn’t unhook the lingerie just yet; instead, he tugged the material over your breasts, letting it settle it under them. The change in temperature made your nipples perk, and judging from how he looked at them, he noticed, too.

Because a second later, his mouth hung open; his breathing was stagnant and infuriatingly hot. Lustful and insane, he kept staring at the pebbles, rounding the tip of his finger around a nipple as he said, “You’re full of surprises.”

Your eyebrows furrowed — as far as you were aware, your desires lay in front of him like an open book. 

“How so?” you asked.

“Just. Whenever I think you can’t get prettier—”

Slowly drawn to you, his eyelids dropped. Your hands grazed his naked torso until they reached his jaw, and you cupped his face the moment plush lips wrapped around your nub.

Sensitive.

A wet, burning hot tongue snuck its way through, the tip of it rounding your nipple. When you cracked your eyes open and looked down, inhaling the scent of his hair, his eyes were shut comfortably.

The arched upper lip looked pretty from here; his mouth wrapped around your tit so gorgeously. No matter what he was going to do with and to you tonight, you already knew he’d look stunning doing it.

And you, while driven by the sound he voiced against your breast and the thrown-back head, couldn’t help but feel self-aware. This was the first time you were seeing Jungkook naked; and the first time vice versa.

For a man who’d bared enough pretty women before, were you good enough? Or did he not care, drowning in desire and led by the hardness of his length?

Why were you always like this?

“I’m…” you breathed, tilting your head. “I’m a little insecure.”

Jungkook’s teeth captured your nipple ever-so-lightly, pulling just a bit — then, he sucked one more time before he let go with a plop. He shook the hair off his face, and then asked, “You? You don’t seem insecure at all.”

“That’s what you see,” you said, ignoring the way his breath hit the wetness on your tits. “I have weaknesses, too.”

“Oh… well. Like what?”

“Like. I’m insecure about my boobs.”

He shot a stare down. Analysed them, taking them in — probably the first time properly since he’d pulled that damn bra down. It worried you; was he still seeing something he liked?

Maybe.

Because confused, he wondered, “Why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. And his interest piqued, his voice changed, a little more inquisitive and sober now when he asked, “Has anyone ever said anything bad about them?”

“Well,” you took in the genuinity in his eyes. Starry and sincerely curious; his touch around your waist was gentle. “No.”

Your response didn’t seem to surprise him. Much like he didn’t expect any other answer; at least, that’s what the slow nod, accompanied by a stretched hum, suggested.

“Good,” he said, putting a hand under one of your tits, flush against your ribs, “because… you’re beautiful head to toe.”

This was a fling, you told yourself, but you moved farther and farther from that belief — especially with those praises he showered you in. And the click you’d previously felt, the budding connection…

It was a fling, but boosting your ego, you hoped he was affected by it, too.

What was superior to a hook-up you would remember? One where the other person exuded and demanded respect and trust?

“Thank you,” you told him. A daring finger travelled to his jaw, tracing the sharp line; you’d wanted to touch it all night, and now you couldn’t stop. “You’re pretty, too.”

Slowly, he pulled you closer, wet nipples touching his toned pecs until you were flush against him. Warm… he was so warm.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You smelled the alcohol in his breath, only half as hypnotising and intoxicating as him. Breathing in sharply, your body shivered as you choked out a weak, “Yeah…”

And a moment later, he was kissing you.

Deeper this time, eating you whole. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your own rising; you didn’t need to see the goosebumps to know they were very much present.

This… he… felt too good.

He put his palm on the back of your head, messing up and knotting your hair and angled your face to dive in harder. You could barely breathe with him so close to you.

His torso pressed against you; it felt as though he was squishing your lungs. And this tongue of his — rolling around yours. Lips enclosed yours and made oxygen a foreign concept.

And he only pulled back when you whimpered unintentionally, nails deeper in his skin. As he looked at you, you were long out of it — and it amused him. Made him laugh as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. You didn’t think anything of it felt even remotely wrong.

You answered, “You’re just… such a good kisser.”

“Oh,” he voiced, suddenly all confident when you nodded hastily, still drunk and horny. “Oh?”

“I’m serious. How much practice have you had?”

Jungkook halted for a while. Not to think, you assumed — but his expressions changed. Like he hadn’t planned on gaining practice, and now your question was catching him off guard.

And after a while, he finally said, “Some.”

Not that you could dissect this odd behaviour of his. All you knew was that you wanted those lips back on you — so you led your hand to the nape of his neck, tugging him in as you plead, “I… wanna keep going.”

Spinning just a little, his eyes slid down from your gaze, already parting his mouth. But when the softness of your lips barely touched his, he reclined a little yet enough to dodge your kiss.

“Now wait,” he mumbled, changing back to a smirk. At this point you wondered whether he did it on full purpose. “If you really like it so much, I… can’t just give it to you so easily.”

What.

“Why?”

“Because you’re amazing to look at.” One of his tattooed fingers drifted to your chin and flicked it. “So hungry for more.”

“Jungkook—”

“And you’re an amazing kisser, too,” he said as smugly as an inebriated man could, delighted by your sudden pout, “so it’s not just hard for you.”

“Jungkook,” you emphasised, hissing in impatience, grinding against his erection, “take off that damn underwear.”

“Then guess something correctly about me.”

“Right.” You groaned in frustration, lifting the hand from the nape of his neck to his hair, pulling in slight irritation. With gritted teeth, you spat, “You want me. You want to fucking flip me around like some damn pancake. You want to fold me in half, don’t you?”

In truth, things you wanted. In theory, things you hoped he desired just as much.

“Want to pin my wrists to the bed and pound and fuck me into another universe until you’ve left a dent under me. To bruise my skin and leave scratches deep enough for me to feel tomorrow and… I fucking promise I can give you even more than that.”

Silence.

He stared at you, holding a breath. The sheer disbelief in his eyes satisfied you; the lack of words was soon made up by the twitching package underneath your folds. 

Gulping and unblinking, he ogled at you like you’d handed Area51’s secrets to him; and then, half a minute later, he finally said, “Fucking hell.”

“Wha—”

“That was fucking unfair.”

This made you smile. For once, you were certain you had the same power over him as he did over you.

“C’mon,” you said, once more rolling your hips over his length. A delicious grunt left his lips. “Wanna know what you’re hiding in there.”

He puffed out a breath, kissing his teeth. “Something interesting. You might like it.”

“You’re…” You rolled your eyes, but immediately stopped. It made you dizzy. “So full of yourself.”

“I mean…”

“Underwear. Please.”

It took some begging and a throw of puppy eyes, but this time, he obliged. Chuckled a bit and then patted your thigh, signalling you to get off of him to ease the process.

And once you did, you waited. For ages, it seemed.

Because those veiny hands were as teasing as they were skilled. Pulled down the Calvins torturously slowly.

But when he did… oh, boy…

He was big. Incredibly so.

You felt your heart in your pussy.

“I’m not full of myself, by the way,” he said. “I’ll ask you again in fifteen-ish minutes. Tell me I was wrong.”

You can’t remember anymore, but you’re sure you sat there with your tongue out. Eyes big, drooling, leaning forwards with tits pressed between your arms. Your body was a mess, and he hadn’t done anything much to it yet.

You wanted him to. ASAP.

“Ah,” you voiced, only reluctantly ripping your gaze off that glorious cock to fixate it on his eyes. “So you do want to fuck me for real.”

“Baby,” he paused. Gave his dick a stroke as he pushed towards you, sneaking a hand to your waist. “I won’t leave a piece of your body intact.”

Chills everywhere. The current shot straight down to your dribbling cunt.

You breathed a singular, “Okay.”

And a moment later, you were in his grip.

The fingers previously wrapped around his shaft pressed against your back, throwing you onto the bed in one swift motion. He positioned himself immediately, dropping low to pull your legs apart and lick above your panties just once.

He was ruining them. Fuck.

And… were tongues always so wet? Or was that just you?

Because the panties stuck to your poor pussy like they were fusing with it. And the pad of his thumb suddenly dipping between your clothed folds didn’t help.

“Take them off!” you commanded, so breathy that it was high-key embarrassing.

Your frustration didn’t deter him in the slightest; if anything at all, you thought you saw that dangerous glimmer brighten in his eyes.

He nodded towards the garment, chin so close that it grazed your covered clit. You flinched, though distracted by the absolutely ruthless demand he uttered, “You do it.”

“Why?!”

His tone and expression were cheesy; you were so done with him. “Wanna see you struggle.”

What an ass.

Intentionally, you rolled your hip, shoving your damp pussy into his face before he backed away with a laugh. He allowed you a moment to pull back your legs and stretch them to the ceiling, stripping off the thin barrier once and for all.

It rolled along your legs, and you already knew you’d be having a gloriously horrible time fixing it and putting it on again.

Whatever.

You stored this thoughts for after Jeon Jungkook had railed you to the moon. All good.

He waited for you with his head propped up, fists digging into his cheeks playfully. The Joker–esque smile made you want to wipe it off his face, ideas clear in your head.

Or maybe it wasn’t the smile. Maybe you just wanted to sit on his face.

“Okay,” he said once your legs dropped again, sniffling once before he crawled closer. You wished you could’ve seen how his cock twitched, but he had it sandwiched between his body and the mattress. He gripped your thighs, and then said, “You’re already shaking.”

Your face warmed. You pushed your head into the pillow, shifting comfortably as you positioned your legs on each side of his head. Closing your eyes, you shrugged, shoving all visible timidity away.

“Felt good,” you said.

“I licked you just once. Over those pretty, little panties, too.”

Did he ever shut up?

“So what.” You moved further down the bed, breathing in when his fingers touched your waist, and ordered, “Give me more. Please.”

You heard a chuckle, again.

“Make a mess for me, ‘kay?”

You felt his presence closing in, his hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. Nimble fingers pushed his hair back, but it fell back into his face, teasing your clit along with his nose.

With a tantalising roll of his hips, he matched your desire, grinding into the bed. His perfect ass, a tapered waist and strong shoulders filled your view. Hands pushed your legs apart, driven by a clear purpose.

Your brain was functioning on its last cell — you couldn’t say much more than a hazy, “Not messy enough yet?”

“Far from it.”

Slowly, he kissed your inner thigh, travelling close to your knee and then up again. The pecks were soft, accompanied by the gentlest bites; never too rough. He blew wherever he nibbled; and then repeated the process.

His lips felt like the flutter of butterfly wings against your skin; so tender and sweet. Though you were sure the delicate manner wouldn’t last too long.

You sighed constantly.

“So far from it,” he repeated close to your pussy, brushing along the junction that connected your leg with the rest of your body. “You’ll be twisting soon, I promise you that.”

“Ah… huh—”

Senseless sounds escaped you as he kept his pace slow. Kitten licks soon circled your pussy before the tip of his tongue tasted the dripping arousal between your folds. He used the gesture to part them — that was all.

Because he soon moved to the bottom of your cunt, exhaling against the dampness. You attempted to force your eyes open, but never quite succeeded — you wanted to see him, but you wanted to feel him just a little more.

“All of you is so pretty to look at,” he praised, and you blinked slowly. “Like, genitals are whatever, right? But you’re so pretty.”

What the fuck was he even saying?

No matter.

You’d take the compliment.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, and he chuckled at your vulnerable voice.

You felt the snicker against you when he dropped his wide tongue and flattened it. Started at the bottom where he’d settled, collecting extra saliva that soon flowed down your pussy when he finally moved up.

The touch was expected, but you held your breath. He was soft yet firm against you, and so, so wet. 

You pressed your lips into a line, muffling a moan when he stopped right below your clit. The base of his tongue kept applying pressure, and you literally felt your pussy clench.

He removed his mouth for a moment, patting your sides as he said, “Good. Stay like that for me.” You assumed he meant your lack of defiance; but you were on the edge, nearly closing your legs around his head. “Will make you see heaven, alright?”

“Or hell, really.”

His laughter was constant. You didn’t think you were that hilarious, but his humour aligned with yours. Perhaps, however, you were just still too inebriated and your humour cracked.

But Jungkook, you’d decided, was cool for now.

Especially when he repeated his action. He didn’t curl up or flick his tongue; just licked, never applied more pressure than necessary, because this fucking man knew it didn’t equal more intensity.

He looked up at some point, gauging your reaction, only letting his eyelids flutter shut when you delivered the sound he’d awaited. Jungkook was sure you felt the smile that emerged — it was hard to hide his pride. 

To realise how your fast breathing, clutching of sheets and heavy rise and fall of tits was his doing.

You were too sweet, too awesome, too pretty to not feel proud.

And you were so responsive — he liked listening to your body.

Which you noticed immediately; he was taking in every movement and sound. Actually did. Responded to them, got faster when you reacted, slowed down when you whispered little Nos.

And then, reaching the peak of consent mountain, he asked, “Does this work for you?”

Your nod was immediate, words tumbling out, “Keep going.”

Only, he didn’t quite keep going as you expected — just as your orgasm built up, your exclamations intensifying, he stopped. Rendering you hyper-sensitive.

Nice tactic. Guess that’s what he wanted — to flood you with more craze until he was ready to give you what you needed.

Instead of continuation, his mouth formed a small ‘O’, just enough to enclose your clit. Wet, shiny lips wrapped around the nub and started sucking gently, the rhythm pleasant and constant.

Then, he held his mouth there, tongue licking your clit, like a massage. He was never harsh like you were used to — men had, to your discomfort, even used teeth on your clit before.

Not Jungkook, though.

He was as vocal as you, sending vibrations to your pussy, groaning and moaning expletives as he sweetly confirmed your comfort. All accompanied by dangerous gestures — a pinch of your folds, raising your clit, licking from side to side.

And a minute or two later, he pushed two fingers into you; so effortlessly, so smoothly as he said, “Holy fuck. No friction at all.”

Between the mess he’d predicted, you tittered.

“Are you… this hard, too?”

“God,” he breathed; you felt the shake of his head against your leaking sex, “I’m the hardest I’ve ever been.”

“As if.”

“What?”

The surprise in his voice was funny; filled you with confidence, because he seemed to mean it.

You answered, “You’re good at this. This talk thing and… everything.”

“Thanks. But I’m actually the hardest—” His fingers fucked into you once, interrupting his words to hear you moan, “I’ve ever been. Fuck.” More pumps, not hard or long, but pressing against your walnutty spot diligently. “Shit… come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

Your legs trembled, your lower body drowning in chaos. Your movements were unsteady, but he held you down, aiding you through the progress until—

The snapped coil vanished and the earth-shaking, mind blowing orgasm subsided.

The stars you saw were real — he’d actually caused his very own Big Bang behind your eyes and created a new universe.

Holy fuck.

“Oh, holy fuck,” you repeated, sensitive as hell, brushing quivering fingers along wet thighs.

Jungkook’s cheek was pressed against your leg, and he kept moving to kiss your flesh, rubbing your outer thighs, massaging them gently. He was taking care of you thoroughly — he didn’t come to play for three minutes and then leave.

“Good?” you heard his voice ask.

“Good,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. You were still in your post-frenzy haze, and it truly felt like it would never leave. “Very. What now?”

“Gonna wait a couple seconds until you’re ready to move on. In the meantime,” he moved his body up along yours, leaving a kiss here and there, “wanna know what I had the pleasure to taste?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you wrapped weak arms around his neck, pulling him in almost aggressively as his lips crashed against yours.

Half his body weight fell onto yours, but you didn’t care. Not with this strange, unfamiliar taste against your tongue, sucking it up eagerly. Or the cock, still rock hard, pressing against your stomach.

You wanted him so bad, it hurt. Everywhere.

As he parted, the touch of his hand contradicted the wild kiss — soft on your cheek, feeling your heat, his voice intriguing as he asked, “Ready then?”

“Mhm,” you voiced, “yes, please.”

One more butterfly kiss and an intrigued smile, and he moved away. The missing warmth left your body shivering, and you wrapped your arms around your body, pushing your tits together.

In comfort, your hand settled over your mounds, and you watched as he drew back the jeans half hanging off the bed. He fished out his wallet — from where you lay, you could make out a small murmur. Something about how he was lucky he didn’t lose it.

It made you smile.

And a moment later, he was sneaking back to you again, waving a condom between his fore and middle finger to show it to you. You couldn’t see the size description on it, but… you could imagine.

With his teeth, he ripped it open, moving towards you to replace your touch on your tits. A finger moved around the pebble, hardening it until it stood tall and perky enough for him to swoon.

But… that was also the very moment your drunk insanity hit the hardest.

Whatever triggered it, you still can barely think about it today.

Because a miniscule moment later, you complained, “One of my tits is bigger than the other.”

Which didn’t deter Jungkook; today, you wonder about it — back then, you barely registered his lack of care, his admiration for both sides as he said, “Oh yeah? Let’s see.”

“Promise you won’t find it weird once you notice.”

“I bet I barely will.”

He dropped low to kiss your flesh, fiddling with the nipples, but you pushed his shoulders away again. A confused expression danced across his features, and you shot back a timid stare as you worried, “No, I’m serious. It is strange.”

“No, it’s not. They’re perfectly gorgeous.”

“You… think?”

What a thing to be concerned about. You reached peak awkwardness that night, you’re sure — but he still stuck around.

“Mhmmm,” he voiced.

“Okay, but touch them lik—”

You screeched when he bit into your nub, planting you firmer against the bed. A final, oddly sexy order fell off his tongue, his teeth gritted when he said, “Enough. Shut up.”

And what better way to eliminate all your unspoken words than to start with a delicate brush of his mouth against the expanse of your neck?

There was something about the way his lips felt — taken care of, hydrated, pillowy soft and plush. Did every girl he touched feel that strange tingling sensation, the shiver down her spine?

As he explored the contours of your neck, pressing in, his hands wandered down. You closed your arms around him, pulling him closer, breathing a hushed, “Jungkook?”

No answer yet.

Instead, his fingers purposely grazed down your body before he wrapped them around the length poking your belly button. Distracted eyes met yours for a moment, as if in question, half-lidded when he started stroking the thick shaft.

The swollen lips parted, and you saw his tongue curling in briefly before it peeked out, wetting the dry, rosy pout. His head descended back to your neck, the kisses harder this time. Accompanied by damp smooches and a hot breath.

The tender nips sent waves of sensation through your body.

“Jungkook,” you murmured again.

He groaned against your skin, but looked up properly this time, still pumping himself harder than he already was as he hummed, “Hm?”

“Let me suck your dick,” you finally voiced. “I’ll fucking show you bits of your own medici—”

An innermost wish, lingering in the back of your mind the entire night. You wanted to return what he’d provided. A world-shattering, limb-numbing orgasm; all of him in your throat, thick and salty.

But when you attempted to sit up, he pushed you back again, dick-hand between your clavicles as he said, “Stay like this. You can use that sweet mouth of yours later.”

God. He made those cringey sex talks hot, too.

Your pulse quickened; intensifying a thousandfold when he lifted himself to his knees, looking down with shallow breaths to roll the rubber over his cock.

It twitched gorgeously. So curved, smooth; the colour of its tip mouthwatering.

You wanted him. You wanted him. You wanted him.

When he covered his palm in spit, spreading the saliva over his dick, you reached out. A silent offer to help, but it seemed he was finally done.

Because he grabbed your wrist momentarily, returning to his position over you and pushed one of your legs back. Angling it until your pussy spread for him.

Eyes closed, he came back for another messy kiss, and then said, “I’ll start slow… you tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Did it usually? You could imagine. With the package he carried around, you could truly imagine.

You nodded slowly, grabbing onto his shoulders, already breathless in anticipation.

“I will,” you promised.

“Okay.” He inhaled. Looked down between your bodies again, leading his cock to your entrance to poke it a couple times. Rubbing the tip between your folds. Then again, “Okay…”

The curve slid up to your clit and back down one more time, and a second later, finally—

The head slipped in slowly. Split you and turned the feeling of emptiness into something entirely else within a second.

You hissed, overwhelmed by the change in your body, and he immediately asked, “All good?”

“This is gonna be… you are so—”

A proud smile danced around his lips; they twitched in amusement, but he cleared his throat. Looked at you with a nod and assured again, “We’ll start slow. Don’t forget to speak up… yeah? Lemme know.”

“Mhmmm…”

Your mewls grew in pitch when he pushed further in, taking in your gasps until he was nearly sheathed inside you. And only when you realised he still had a bit to go, did you say, “Wait—”

“Hm? Why?”

He looked concerned and out of it, but listened immediately. The kissing eyebrows indicated genuine care; though the expression changed the moment you said, “I can’t breathe.”

Of all the reasons you’d told him to stop, that’s the last he expected. A laugh tumbled out, breathy and broken.

“See?” he said. “That’s why I didn’t want you to suck me off just yet. You look so done.”

“Shut up.”

He moved — shoved the dick in more. Fuck, you felt every ridge, despite the skin-thin condom. Felt him so deep, you could faint.

Your eyes rolled back, closing slowly as you heard him command, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You did.

“And breathe out.”

You did.

He closed the gap between your lips some more, bottoming out, and wiped the stray hair out of your heated face. His member jerked inside you, shifting, and it made your eyebrows twitch.

The whimper jumped out unintentionally; you felt self-conscious about it.

Not that he minded. 

Quite the opposite.

In the heat of the moment, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, moving down to your tits as he muttered a single, “Fuuuck.”

“What happened?”

“That sound you just made,” he whispered. His breaths against your chest were tempting; the blood-filled cock inside you too still. “My God. So sweet… but so hot. Wanna ruin you so bad.”

“Can’t more than you already did, but… please still do—”

“Are you okay now?”

You gulped. You were. You were longing — he couldn’t see that in your eyes? In the tremble of your hands, laying on his back?

“I am,” you promised, “won’t be more prepared than I am now… Please.”

You held onto the broad back; he was so freaking warm. And so naked.

“So I can move?” he asked.

“Please. Fuck, please do.”

And when he did…

You thought you felt him poking your guts. You knew that anatomically, that was a thing of impossibility.

But he was huge. Heavy. A big fat cock pushing into you in missionary, a hand parting your legs more and pressing them into the mattress.

With your eyes rolled towards the back of your head, you dug your nails into his torso; a little more insane with each rhythmic, punctuated thrust.

He reached so far inside you, fucking seriously—

And those words he uttered. The little praises. The tiny, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Hell…

The alcohol and his body heightened your senses — you couldn’t remember a single affair from your past as rapturous as this one.

The way he provided reprieve, sliding in and out of the slippery smooth entrance. The way his pelvis brushed along your engorged clit. The way he moved swiftly, controlled, applying pressure at the perfect spots…

For someone who could barely think, you registered so many bodily sensations, the little details, how he felt and made you feel. Lighting up your nerves.

Your elevated breathing made your words more incomprehensible when you asked, “Can you go a bit faster? Ple—”

“Wait.” Reaching up, he grabbed one of the two pillows, a hand sneaking under your ass. “Lift.” You did, allowing him to place the cushion under your butt with a grunt. “Hold onto me, baby.”

The new nickname triggered another rush of blood through your body; your muscles tensed when he dug in deeper. Propelled into you harder. Still rhythmic, not jackhammering into you yet, but clearly faster.

And it was enough for you to call out his name.

Which set off another cascade of pleasurable phenomena; gentle tingling to waves of desire. Breathing a foreign concept when he pulled your mouth apart with a thumb, settling his lips between yours.

Tongues played a new game, lips moving to your jaw, back to your mouth; kissing you hard before they dropped to your tits. Suckling at your nipples, toying with oversensitivity.

Pushing you close to the edge as he separated your pussy folds more, dragging every protruding vein of his cock along your aching, lubricated walls.

Jungkook, you had concluded, was a Monster with a capital M. When you moaned for the thousandth time, he glanced at you — and you swore he looked like he wanted to bury his claws into your flesh. To rip you apart.

And you let him.

As your bodies’ movements synchronised, endorphins eliciting unmatched euphoria, half his weight dropped onto yours. His scent engulfed you, and you wrapped your legs around him, up his waist until you whimpered and whined.

“I’m…” he started; he was so hot against you. Bodies covered in sweat. “I love that so much. Those… fucking sounds.”

“Kook,” you murmured — no clue where the nickname had emerged from. But he seemed to like it; buried his fingers in your hair. “Are you getting tired?”

“I’m okay.”

“Can I—”

“You’re okay — you don’t… I mean, you don’t need t— fuck—”

Broken words and a steady rhythm. He felt so fucking good. Sounded even better. Deep sometimes, desperate and high other times.

“I want to,” you said, vocalisation increasing. “Let me do something.”

“What do you wanna do?” he asked.

Okay, another attempt.

“Wanna suck your dick.” His pounding calmed down. You’d struck a nerve. “And… want to come. And—”

“And?”

“Wanna be your slut until you come, too.”

Wait. What?

Where did that come from?

Your face heated up, cheeks and neck burning. Oh, he was gonna laugh at you; after all the bickering tonight, you could imagine that he would—

“Oh, babe…” is what he, however, babbled; dizzy beyond measure.

You had a similar hurricane whirling in your head.

“What?” you wondered.

“Didn’t think I’d find you calling yourself that so hot.” He pushed into you once more. Dragged his cock out and then in again languidly. “My slut, huh?” And then, he was gone. Your pussy pulsated. “Get the fuck up.”

You tried.

Your limbs were wobbly, struggling on the soft surface. And he kneeled over you, heaving his golden chest in exhaustion. His dick hung off his body, the condom drenched; thighs muscular and firm as he watched you fight your own feeble legs.

“C’mon,” he then said, growing impatient.

He grabbed you by your elbow, wrapping his fingers around your arm and gently tugged you up to your knees until you were facing him. Your nipples skimmed his sculpted pecs, one of his palms suddenly under your jaw, even if only for a second.

The touch affected you. Like he wasn’t done or bored yet; like he wanted more.

But—

“You don’t happen to have another condom on you?” he whispered, freeing your shoulders off your hair. He did it a lot, playing with your tresses.

Now that you were sitting up, not wrecked by him inside out, your head cleared a little. But it spun, too — you noticed for the first time in a while how slowly you were sobering up, and how blurred the world still was.

He held you; but you were swaying.

So his words felt like a fever dream to you — a strange question amidst all the mess.

“What?” you said, placing your hands on his stomach for support. “I don’t… I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone.”

Unlike him.

“Well…”

“But I’m on the pill.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Looked at you, hands wandering to your back. He moved closer, the inches fading between you; and incredibly close to your face, he said, “Then we could just go ahead raw. Actually feel each other, right…?”

He pecked the apple of your cheek, gently but menacingly. Danger hiding in plain sight, yet disguised as innocence.

You didn’t answer. Kept staring until he kissed your jaw. Closed your eyes.

“Hm?” he voiced in question, but you didn’t quite know what to say — agreeing would’ve been stupid, but you didn’t want to stop. Plus, you were drunk and stupid.

In hindsight, you would’ve declined anyway; but when he chuckled, shaking his head, you were still relieved. Happy when he said, “I’m kidding.” He moved away, searching his jeans again. They were on the floor now. “I wouldn’t do this to a first-time-fling.”

First time?

Not like you were going to meet again. You were almost fully certain tonight was an exception. Odds bringing you together and saving you from this temporary misery.

In a while, you’d start your new semester and drown in new worries. This party would mean nothing anymore.

“Yeah,” you said.

“I should have another.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet and yet another condom. How many did he store there? “Last one. We’re lucky.” Oh. Okay.

He ripped off the soaked rubber, crumpling it up and stuffing it in the other pocket of his jeans. You cringed in disgust and disbelief, but then you remembered that he was nearly as gone as you; he’d regret it tomorrow, but not yet.

As he placed the condom next to his body, you inched towards him, close to the edge of the bed and ready to devour him.

If you’d known him a little longer, indulging in those shenanigans for some time, the thought of him bringing not one but two condoms to this party would’ve stung.

Because Jungkook had obviously thought this through. Or, as he’d said, at least considered it a possibility.

But you were too drunk, and he too much of a stranger — all you knew was that you wanted, needed to suck his dick.

“But not for too long, okay?” Jungkook pleaded, stroking his length just once. Looking down where you moved like hunting your prey. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

“But I’d love that.”

“Do not. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, and then smiled, straight-forwardly admitting, “Because I’m not coming before you do.”

Jungkook, you’d noticed, didn’t care that you’d already experienced the high of your young life. You were sure you’d never feel such bombastic destruction anymore — but he still seemed to be opting for something far greater.

He truly did prioritise a partner’s pleasure. Left you envious of every one of his encounters before.

You pushed your hair to one side, positioning yourself and dropping low; his cock was way heavier in your palm when you touched it, only weightless when it jumped.

Your fingers grazed along a vein on the base of his shaft, your palm tickling his balls — he reacted.

“Alright,” you finally said before—

The low hum was melodious to your ears when you delivered a momentary kitten lick over his tip. And then, slowly, patiently, your tongue drifted up his shaft, just the sharp tip until you flattened it.

Your fingers gently snuck to his balls, barely touching as you kissed down his member and then repeated your actions; slow licks from bottom to top. 

“That’s good,” Jungkook praised, stroking your ego, “really good, babe.”

Tingles down your spine. Beads of sweat on your forehead.

Jungkook’s hands pushed through your hair, collecting it at the nape of your neck to form a spontaneous ponytail. As the view became clearer to him, the volume of his voice grew — his groans and exclaims sounded beautiful.

And you kept focusing on him. On his reactions, on his body.

Opened your eyes and sought his gaze — pulling the ultimate trick out of your sleeve before you wrapped your mouth around the cock’s head.

And he liked it. He liked it very fucking much.

Enjoyed the slow pace, the way his dick disappeared in your mouth bit by bit until the gag reflex kicked in. You knew what you were doing; with that tongue swirling around, tracing his veins… hands teasing his balls, edging him to the max.

Eyes still on him, breathing through the nose, the tip of it touching his flimsy, trimmed hair.

Your tactic was doing wonders on him. Your enthusiasm was addictive.

And how could you not enjoy it? He was deliciously thick, big, promising. You wanted to swallow around him all night.

But just when he started choking, balls tightening impossibly, he pulled your head away.

His cock was shiny and drenched, much like your lips, drool spilling past them and to your chin.

“Gonna finish this,” he declared with a heavily falling chest, thumb wiping at the spit on your face, “so fucking done with you. Get on all fours for me?”

The contrast between his kind demands or actions and ruthless warnings was messing with you. Like he wanted to fuck you up, but never without consent.

Delightful. So damn delightful.

You listened immediately, turning until you faced the bed’s slat. Whoever this room belonged to, you were truly hoping they weren’t missing their bed. And you’d definitely need to take off the sheets later.

In this tiny moment, you felt bad.

But only until you heard him open the second foil, taking a couple moments to do whatever needed to proceed. You dropped half your body — partly, to allow a better view to your ass, and partly, because you were tired.

“‘Kay,” you then heard, soon feeling a touch along your spine. Tracing it down to the curve of your ass, moving closer and settling around your legs, pushing them together automatically. “So pretty.”

And this very position, just like that, allowed a hell of a lot more friction.

Because when he entered you again and resumed his strokes… your breathing stopped.

You bit your lip, balling up the sheets. Your jaw dropped, your body on fire; the way he gripped your hips, slowly pulling back before slapping his pelvis against your butt was…

Not bad, to say the least.

“Can you still think?” he asked; you weren’t quite sure he’d actually said it, though.

“Huh?”

Jungkook laughed; he sounded so sweet, so pure. So different from what he was doing, a lot more tender than his words, “Thought so.”

And definitely not as alluring as when he leaned in, wrapping an arm around your tits and another around your neck and pulled you up without a warning.

He pressed your back flush against his chest, and your arm flung back instinctively, around his head to draw him close. You didn’t know how he could muster so much strength, pounding into you in a position like this.

Upwards, constantly, consistently, keeping a hand on your neck as the other fell to your clit. You threw your head back; an open invitation to your shoulder and neck.

Like this, he didn’t reach as far inside you — but it was an utmost compliment to him that he was still large enough to affect you thoroughly. A Monster indeed.

His jabs were sharp, moving in and out unhindered; effortlessly. Only stopping a single time when his cock dropped out, and he immediately fell onto the mattress, stretching his legs in front of him and pulling you with him.

“Wait,” he breathed, helping you adjust and sit back on your throne. And this time, as you straddled him, shoving him inside you all the way, you felt him in your guts again. “Move. Come for me.”

Which wasn’t hard to do when he glued your body to his. Traced your cheek, nibbling at the earlobe, down to your jaw, down to your neck and shoulders.

His breath was hot against your flaming skin as you bounced up and down, uncontrolled moans mingling as he drew circles over your clit. Not too fast, not too slow, steady and skilled.

The peak of your pleasure was arriving when his sounds reached maximum intensity; he was close, too, endlessly moaning, chanting your name. Right into your ear, eyes shut tight, muffling his exclaims when he kissed under your ear or bit your shoulder.

“Fuck… fuckkk,” you cried out, muscles of your body contracting. “Close, Jungko—”

The build up was torture — it happened slow and fast at once, and you felt it clearly. It crept from your lower stomach to your pussy, and your walls clenched, your back arching and your body winding in his hold.

And then…

“My fucking god, you—” Jungkook began, irregularly breathing. He was losing it; so were you. “That’s it. That’s it… good. That’s a good girl, you—”

He spoke whatever. Talked you through the orgasm as it washed over.

Violently, hard.

Way worse — or better? — than the first one. Jeon Jungkook was unmatched; no one was going to fuck you this good again.

And a minute later, he followed up.

Let you fuck him, and then pistoned up into you when your body started giving up. And when his release finally occurred, you thought you were dreaming.

He sounded heavenly. His thighs were shaking; you wished you could've felt his hot seed, not separated by the thin condom. 

But his voice… his breaths… the way he moved and held you.

They were worth it anyway.

A minute passed as you winded down; and after the mutual climax subsided, your bodies entered a state of deep relaxation and contentment. You felt it in the way his arms became limp, hands dropping to your legs.

Kisses lazy on your cheek. Strangely intimate.

You felt pleasantly fatigued, satisfaction flooding through your body. The internal rush of warmth radiated outwards; you could’ve stayed like this forever. So tired.

And a tiny bit later, he pulled out as he started softening inside you, pushing you forwards just a little to take off the condom, tie it up and throw it to the ground next to his jeans. Then, he pulled you back in.

For whatever reason.

Seeking warmth? Maybe.

You calmed down in his hold, and then said, “That was amazing.”

You felt the smile against your skin. He had let his face drop to your shoulder, and now spoke quietly and softly, “Because you were amazing. I reacted according to you all the time.”

“And I reacted according to you.”

Jungkook snickered. “We’re a good match, it seems, huh?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand on the arms around you. Slowly and carefully, you opened them, gently falling onto the mattress to get dressed. All of this was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

But you reminded yourself that he wasn’t more to you than a stranger temporarily turned party-friend. That’s what Jeon Jungkook would part from you as, too.

Why the fuck were you cuddling?

You looked back at him, eyes widening; and once you’d taken him in the near darkness, you laughed. Pointing at him with an amused, “You have lipstick all over your face.”

“Really?” He reached to his cheeks, wiping on the wrong side; you cackled a bit more. He nodded towards you. “Yours is very smeared, too.” Pause. An unblinking stare. “You look gorgeous.”

What? No.

Stranger, temporarily turned party-friend.

“Shit,” you cursed, “I have some in my bag, though. I guess we’ll need to take a look at a bathroom mirror anyway before we go downstairs.”

“Or upstairs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook sighed. Shrugged his shoulders, lifting his arms to brush back his hair. The bicep flexed, and you forcefully averted your gaze from it. “Want me to do your make up?”

So lovely.

“Want me to do yours?” you said, legs flinging over the edge of the bed. You still felt a little weak. “You’d look very pretty in pink.”

He laughed; the way his head tilted was still so gorgeous. Movie-like.

“Maybe one day,” he said.

“Right. One day, yes?”

No.

You weren’t doing this to anyone like him. He was carefree, nice and enjoyed the little things in life. You weren’t going to be a burden to someone like him.

You didn’t speak on as you finally stood, trudging towards the bathroom belonging to this bedroom. As you collected your clothes, inspecting your ruined panties, he got up with a grunt, stating, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

And the next minute happened quietly.

He helped you clean yourself, helped you get dressed. Caught you when you oscillated, holding your hair when you drank the water from the tap, sobering up just barely.

After all he’d done to you, the moment was incredibly serene.

And you couldn’t help but think that the connection was certainly there; blissful if you could truly continue it. Clicking with someone wasn’t easy these days, but Jungkook made it seem easy.

Like he’d known you for long, knew you inside out. Like he’d been part of you in a previous life.

You saw his messages the moment you woke up.

Hours later, and you’re still staring at them.

Jungkook [7:43PM]: I’m sorry. I’ll always care about you… and i never wanted to cause you any pain Jungkook [7:43PM]: just wanted to protect you from it

What a way he has to forgo heartache. Funny how it’s insanely present right now.

It doesn’t ease as you hear the desperation in his words. The regret and wish for an alternative reality. If last time wasn’t tattooed into your mind, you’d assume he wants you back.

Truly sucks to know a person well enough to hear their voice through typed text. It sucks, because when they’re not around anymore, their timbre is all that resonates in your head. All that’s left, really.

“Hey.”

The familiar baritone makes you flinch. He went to the tiny balcony a moment ago, inspecting the place, and you didn’t think he’d return already.

You were supposed to look around, too. The landlord left for a brief call, entrusted you with the empty rooms and unpolished parquet. You shouldn’t have wasted your time, you guess.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asks.

You dip your eyes in innocence when you look at him. With the shrug of a shoulder and a slight pout of your lips, you say, “Nothing.”

“Right.”

His side-eye feels like a warning; fleeting, however, as he turns away.

Relieved, your expressions drop again, shoulders falling limp with a sigh. But you don’t quite expect him to move his attention back to you a moment later, a hand on his hip as he catches your descending mood.

The silent stare takes you in thoroughly, studying your face until your eyes drop to the floor. And then, he dares a single step forwards and asks, “Hey. Are you okay?”

Stupidly enough, you retort with another lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You look disheartened. Do you not like the place?”

The place?

It’s still the same space that you approved the moment you stepped in. The same walls you can imagine a life between, away from pain, towards independence.

The ceiling is still at the same height, and when you look out of the sealed windows, you still see the same main street, a building on the other side of it.

The world around you is perfectly fine. Earth still spins at the same pace.

You do still like the place.

It’s just your heart that’s fickle.

“I do,” you say, “no, I can totally imagine being here.” You shift to the other leg, pushing half your fingers into your back pockets. “Anywhere but home, I think.”

“Okay. Do you want to look around more?”

You shrug. “I mean. It’s mostly empty. Except for the kitchen.”

“Which is great!” Taehyung says; his voice echoes off the walls. His smile is contagious, and his enthusiasm about your move flatters you. “Kitchens are expensive as hell.”

“Yeah.”

“I like it here, too. I love Yoongi, but moving here was the best decision of this year.”

Right. You almost forgot that they used to be roommates just a couple months ago.

Back when you made the pact with Jungkook, wasn’t it?

He’d tell you about their bickering at their small dorm again and again. Refreshing, little stories. You wonder how Yoongi feels now, alone at his place — did he ever mention settling somewhere else?

Maybe Jungkook did. Maybe Yoongi will once he’s fully recovered.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with Eun, does it?” you ask, a tiny glimmer in your eyes that must be the trigger for his blushing cheeks.

“Listen,” he says; the back of his hand rubs his face, as if he could rid it of the rosy dust like that. “At least one of you needs to be able to talk to either of us without mentioning… this.”

You laugh.

He isn’t wrong. It has become a running joke in your group; every couple teases the other. Of course you haven’t heard much of it lately — you’re more a victim to silence and moral lectures.

Which you appreciate.

But the recurring thought of this little group splitting… isn’t too nice.

“In any case, I’m happy for you,” you let him know.

“Thanks. It's been nice.” Odd expression; creased eyebrows and guilt in his big eyes. “But anyways—”

“You can talk to me about it, you know?” you assure immediately. Taehyung can’t help but notice the change in your voice. You sound different than a few weeks ago. “It won’t hurt me to know that you guys are doing okay.”

Maturity? Or maybe calmness. No.

What is it that your voice is dipped in?

“I know,” Taehyung promises, “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m bragging. And it makes me uncomfortable that two of my friends are…”

Unable to bask in joy.

Jungkook taught you things that life couldn’t — you could say that calling that influence temporary makes you uncomfortable, too.

“I don’t think you’re bragging, Tae.” You sigh. You hate talking about these things; which is dumb, because you were never one to close off. “Things work out for some and don't for others. That’s fine.”

But he isn’t done. They’re never done.

For a while, you weren’t, either. And right now, you’re caught in the middle — not on the ground, not in the ether.

Just confused. Blank.

“But…” he argues, “they can work out for you, too, you know.”

“Tae—”

“Did you go to the exhibit yesterday?”

You knew he’d ask.

Someone was supposed to — obviously not your parents, still upset deep within. Your house has always been a constant source of obscurity; the white walls don’t deceive you anymore.

The darkness always changes, though steady in gloom, and as you escape the current one, you seek comfort in a friend and the outside world. Questions like these, however, are seemingly still going to haunt you wherever you go.

“I didn’t,” you admit.

He must know, because he doesn’t look surprised.

But the emotion that this very truth evokes in you, a toss-up between feeling relieved and regretting your choice — he does see that goddamn pain.

“Maybe you should?”

It’s a careful suggestion. You don’t know what to do with it, except to ask, “Why?”

“Because he’s still waiting for you.”

It’s cruel. How such words still knock all air out of your lungs.

How those images hunt you down, circling your mind until you overthink them to death, or until they lose their meaning. You hate the ruthlessness of this bitter feeling, and of the sting in your chest, and the longing that it consequently triggers.

The clump in your throat blocks your ability of speech; laces up your tongue. You feel the imminent burst of sentiments in your chest, but then immediately hold it back the way you’ve done the last few days.

You work past the clogged throat, and then say, “He was the one who let me go.”

Holding shit back can be learned; you know how to keep yourself at bay in front of Taehyung.

But.

It still hurts.

“Mistakes happen,” he defends, ever the loyal friend, “he just… makes a bit more of them every now and then.”

You throw a mocking smirk, looking away with a slow blink. Your feet are aching; they want to carry you away.

To him. Home. Wherever you find solace.

How fucking tragic.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, hastening towards you, a grip around your wrist to turn you back to him. “Jungkook, he… has his reasons. Twisted ones but yet. Talking about everything might make it all easier for you.”

Communication is key, blah blah blah.

Once upon a time, you used to believe the same thing. Soft spoken and naive; filled with fears but hoping for the best.

You wondered, “What’s it, really?”

“Trust and stuff.”

Trust.

Thinking about it, you’d always put some of it in Jungkook’s palms.

Like a month ago. Or when you asked him to play pretend. When you stormed into his dorm room every time, and when you met him first, locked in that empty room.

You don’t know how the warmth of that night changed into the playful hostility once the semester started. Maybe because his competent side was a lot more infuriating than his drunk, frat party persona.

Maybe because he annoyed you on purpose, throwing away all pleasantries and sweet, tender words you’d exchanged on the roof. Or maybe because of the embarrassment near the end of the night, embroidered in your brain.

But you’ve always trusted him, you think.

“When I met him,” you say, “I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in such a situation.”

“What situation?”

“…Feeling all that shit for him. Mourning that loss. Just,” your breathing falls in rhythm, and you blink away the dampness. “Craving him, you know?”

Taehyung silences.

He looks at you with empathy and reassurance; a little bit of relief, happy you’re talking to him at all after the numbness you drowned in. Or like he’s caught you feeling something that he knows Jungkook feels, too.

He smiles, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Reminiscing, amused by the memories he never quite found as bad; and then, he asks, “Really, though?”

“What?”

“You never thought you’d ever be trapped in this moment, yeah?”

“Why…?”

“Because—”

His laugh is soft; for a second, he reminds you of the man you transiently saw that very night. Operating the music, careless of every single occurrence around him.

“I could already tell, you know?” Taehyung says. A tiny, nostalgic smile tugs at his plump lips. You lower your head to the dusty floor again. “Back at the frat party.”

Could he?

Not even you could detect a permanent feeling. A connection yes, but you were so sure you’d stick to that one night — you didn’t let yourself think further than that. Did you?

Because you were intoxicated by the booze and the summer air. The conversations and the touches. Jungkook’s scent.

Exclaiming his name while today, you can barely vocalise it.

“I was thinking about the frat party today, too,” you tell him.

He nods, glancing past you. Probably looking for the landlord who’s still not back.

And then, he continues, “When I saw you guys talking on the roof, I knew. I could just tell.”

“We weren’t in love or anything, Tae.”

“I know you weren’t. I mean, you didn’t look like you were, either. But you did look like you bonded… and that’s rare, you know? For people to still share that link after so long.”

“…Don’t know.”

Your stoic ignorance is frustrating. And new.

You’re not one to hide your emotions. Usually open with your happiness and open with your grief. 

“Go today,” Taehyung suggests again, puffing out air, “to the exhibition, I mean. Play around with your choices, okay?” Silence. A press of your lips. You don’t answer, and he can’t read your mind; so he doesn’t prod, and asks instead, “Why were you thinking about the party?”

Easy: because, distraction.

“I was cleaning,” you answer, “clearing my head. Found an old diary while dusting.”

Which was a pure coincidence. It wasn’t supposed to fall into your hands, and you weren’t supposed to open it. Seek out the pages you subconsciously still knew were there.

Why were you cleaning your desk anyway? It was flawlessly organised, dusted by a trusted staff.

It’s crazy.

Insane how even in the tidiest corners of your room, he’s left a mess.

“Okay,” Taehyung simply says, “anyway. Please think about going tonight. And on another note… do think about this place, too. I think it could do you good. And it’ll be nice to have a friend nearby.”

And that’s it. You leave the building with a thankful nod and a genuine smile.

Only to fall into deep contemplation when you arrive home.

Could tonight change something? The way the party did last year?

What exactly did the two of you say to each other? Does Taehyung know it all? Does Jungkook? Perhaps you do, too — maybe you need to dig far enough.

Brooding on the corner of your bed, you shake your head. Get to your feet, scouring your desk, reaching to the very back of every drawer and scanning through every file. Notebook. Diary.

And you don’t stop until minutes have passed, ripped pages falling out of a second semester course book. Its edges are worn out, carried in your bags a hundred times.

But the pages are intact. As slightly yellow as the other ones. You knew you didn’t throw them away.

There it all is; less descriptions, more dialogue — you were tired out, yet kept going.

There, the narrative continues.

Because on that goddamn roof, I think… that Jeon Jungkook truly saw me. You know, it’s been so long since someone did.

The light air brought relief from the day’s heat.

You couldn’t remember how he’d persuaded you to climb up to the attic and then out of its window, leading to a platform to sit on. But as you revelled in the ambient sounds of chatter and distant laughter, you couldn’t complain.

And Jungkook’s conversations kept lulling you into a state of tranquillity. You had no clue how he did it.

“I can do a handstand, and I can show you,” he said; why you’d slipped into talks about athletics, you can’t recall.

“No. You’ll die.”

He laughed, his smirk ever-present. “Would you care?”

You eye-rolled at him, instantly regretting it when the world started spinning again. The effects of the booze were dwindling, but you weren’t quite there yet. Your head and eyes still felt heavy, your tongue still loose.

Maybe he registered your drowsiness, because he soon suggested, “You should go home.”

“I’m okay,” you, however, argued. The night was too serene. “I’m sobering up a little.”

“You look tired, though.”

His words triggered a reflex, and you yawned on cue — unable to hide your fatigue, you admitted, “I am.”

Jungkook drifted closer, arms touching; his voice was light as the wind, and his suggestion as teasing as it was soft, “Wanna sleep on my shoulder?”

“Nah,” you declined, playfully pushing at him, “we’re not that close.”

“We did fuck each other’s brains out just now, though.”

A pleasant reminder, but wholly unnecessary. You doubted you’d ever forget the insanity that transpired downstairs — and once again, you felt incredibly sorry to Yeonjun for ruining one of his bedrooms.

You shuddered.

“We… hooked up,” you argued, muffling a laugh when he scoffed.

“Alright. Whatever.”

His syllables carried a chuckle; contagious and captivating. Mixed with your own, it dragged into the next seconds, lingering as you enjoyed the breeze. Rocking back and forth, gazing up into the vast darkness.

You barely saw the stars in the city and on campus. That’s why you liked those outskirt houses; the sky was clearer here, not disturbed by city lights and their reflection.

And for as long as you were going to remain here, you decided to keep your eyes glued to the glimmer above. Watched it with a melodious hum. They twinkled one after another, like winking, whispering confessions to you from the cloudless, infinite expanse.

Pretty and soft; painting a full picture along with the sliver of the moon you saw. A celestial, silver beacon.

You smiled.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Jungkook said.

Your instrumental died, though one last sound indicated a question, “Hm?”

“You’re liking it here.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Your eyes narrowed in wonder, head on your shoulder. “Why would I not?”

“No, I just mean…” He moved his feet on the platform, shoving them forwards. “You looked different when you got here. Not too happy about tonight.”

“Oh. Right… I’m sorry if it dampened the mood.”

But he shuffled on his spot, wrapping an arm around one angled leg, dropping the other and fully turned towards you. Guaranteed, “No, it’s okay. You were perfectly fine throughout the entire night.”

With him.

“I did have fun,” you said.

“Did seem like it.”

You delivered a hazy nod, blinking your tired eyes.

Even today, you remember the silence that descended, and remember how comfortable you deemed it.

Despite the haven that the roof had become in record time, the retreat couldn’t keep your mind off the bustling world anymore. Thinking about it, even the existence you’d bolted from resided at a suburbian, quiet place like this.

He swam in money, just like you, and you’d seen a similar greenery and heard a similar quietude as you were here. Yet, being with him didn’t compare to being with Jungkook.

Why?

Maybe because that friend understood your lifestyle too well, but not your emotions.

You clicked your tongue, peeking at Jungkook. He lifted his head at the sound, big eyes questioning; and after a moment of contemplation, you finally said, “There’s this guy.”

His ears perked up.

He sat straight, never questioning where it came from; instead, he listened as you spoke, “He and I hooked up during freshman year and then not too long ago. We met through friends, and he’s just… you know, an amazing person and all. Takes care of me and texts me and… keeps asking how I’m doing.”

Fingers of your hands locked, arms firmly enclosing your bare legs.

“He takes my ideas and thoughts and tries to make them more optimistic. Or attempts to actively talk about my flaws. To fix them.” You met Jungkook’s eyes, tender and attentive. “He gives me advice all the time.”

“But?” Jungkook asked. “I think there is a but.”

“Well…” You sucked air through your teeth. “He said he wants to be with me. And I told him that I don’t.”

“Oof…” He grimaced before he hissed, voicing deep empathy for a man he didn’t know. “But why?”

Jungkook was a stranger, but you talked like a soft, hushed waterfall. He emanated a sense of trust; some magic that permeated the air.

You felt comfortable.

“I tried, it’s just. I might sound ungrateful, but I think I’d… rather like someone who wants to love and appreciate me instead of trying to fix me all the time,” you confessed.

There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and you hated yourself for it. The man in question was heavenly — just not ideal for you.

“He is a sweetheart. Keeps buying me gifts and all, but… I think I’m a construction site to him. And that,” you snickered, sporting what you were sure was a sombre expression, “keeps reminding me that I actually am.”

Jungkook paused. You didn’t blame him — it was a sudden revelation, and his possibly still tipsy brain couldn’t quite fathom his thoughts into a response just yet.

He smacked his lips; you’d seen him do it a couple times today. Bangs flew into his face, his eyes suddenly sentimental.

And then he told you, “I understand.” He thought again, looking past you. “I wouldn’t call it ungrateful. I mean, you are thankful for him as a person, yeah? Your personalities and ideologies don’t have to align, y’know? That shouldn’t be an expectation.”

“…Yeah.”

Time ran differently now. The movements you saw in the garden were in slow-motion, but in this dreamscape that the roof was, where you laid out every damn word haunting your mind, the world suspended in time.

It was solacing in some way. Your heart was still clouded, but… you didn’t feel horrible anymore.

“So that’s what you were escaping tonight. Still are,” Jungkook then concluded.

Your mind suddenly raced.

Back to the first words you exchanged with Jungkook; back to the reason for you coming here tonight; back to how delighted your parents seemed when you first mentioned Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok had stepped over your threshold for the first and only time, back during freshman year, they’d enjoyed the sole glimpse of him. Had adored that he’d brought you a silver bracelet, because it showcased wealth.

If you’d let them, they'd have interviewed him — nevermind that he was just a rare hook up and you barely even knew what his parents did.

Lawyers, weren’t they? He’d mentioned lawyers at some point, you thought.

You’d kept it lowkey; away from the campus. You hadn’t imagined he’d come back this year, whirling your thoughts, lost in freshman nostalgia.

To you of all people; and he knew so many. Which is why you didn’t mention his name to Jungkook — judging his and Hoseok’s popularity, they probably knew each other.

“I just feel… terrible,” you eventually said, “because I know he likes me, and I can’t quite say why. We just kept meeting over the years, so—”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Jungkook interrupted. “Like, I’d feel bad, too, but… if the reciprocation isn’t there, it’s not there. And it sucks but that happens sometimes. Things don’t always work out.”

“Yeah. It’s worse when they could, but don’t.”

Jungkook’s demeanour changed. A fog of melancholy settled in his gaze, brief but impactful. If you’d been fully clear-headed, you might’ve registered the slight flinch.

For a second, he didn’t expand on his thoughts, voicing a simple, “Mhm.”

But as the air thinned, affecting his chest and his mind, he couldn’t help but think back to how life had developed for him. From when he was a child and had spotted broken relationships to shattering his own.

Under easier circumstances, love could work. Why had he always been a witness to it crumbling?

“Jungkook.”

Your voice broke his trance. You watched him drift more and more into it, and now that he was awake again, his muscles relaxed. He smiled a little, and then asked, “I can vent if you did, right?”

Eyebrows flashing up, you stared in silence; you didn’t expect this.

“Yeah. Of course,” you said, legs unconsciously lowering towards his. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. Pressed his lips into a thin line; your eyes fell to his mole, and then back to his starry pupils.

Half distraught, half calm — much like you — he began, “One reason why I left that girl downstairs standing was because… she was looking for the first best thing tonight.”

“…What do you mean?”

God, for someone who’d been cheerful all night, he looked incredibly downbeat right now. You felt sorry without knowledge of the context.

He shifted.

“I separated from my ex a while ago. That girl,” he nodded towards the window you’d climbed through, into her general direction, “she knew. And she wanted to use my,” he made air quotes, “loneliness to have fun.”

“That’s… terrible. I’m sorry about your ex.”

Jungkook kissed his teeth, shaking his head, “Nah… we parted on good terms. I just regret that we let the end of it all drag for so long.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. “Do you miss her?”

Prolonged silence later, you darted your head in his direction; he was squinting his eyes in thought. And then, he inhaled the summer air, and said, “Sometimes.” Pause. Then, “Sometimes I miss feeling like I’m… enough for someone.”

Enough for someone. Right for someone.

Jungkook wasn’t missing her. He was missing being loved.

“Time heals all wounds,” you said, nudging his chest, “etcetera.”

With a rub over his pecs, he tugged his lips to a crooked smile, promising you sincerely, “That goes for you, too.”

The exchanged beams introduced another break in conversation.

There’d been a dozen of those pauses today, but none of them had felt out of place. In fact, you felt at peace. Tonight was a respite from the demands of everyday life, because pain faded away.

The still bubble of comfort around you felt like a sanctuary; you appreciated the simplicity of the present.

You thought, there was something about the air. And the stars. And all those scents.

Fitting to the softness of his voice when he eventually spoke, “Hey… You were humming a song just now. When you were looking up?”

“Oh, uh…” You thought about it, rewinding time; he was right. You remembered the melody. “Maroon 5, was it?”

“I think so. How does it go again?”

“Uhm…” Putting you on the spot like this, you forgot every word of the song. You mumbled the melody, du-du-du-ing your way to the first verse, and then sang, “Beauty queen of only eighteen, she—”

His face lit up.

“Had some trouble with herse— yeah!” His finger conducted the two of you through the song before he wiggled it. “Yes, but there’s that part. The ugh— bridge? It’s my favourite part.”

“Uhm, wait.” Fast forwarding, you sang your way through the chorus, close to the bridge until it dawned on you. “Out in the corner in the… broken smile— ah, yeah. I know where you hide, alone in your car.”

Jungkook got into gear, sitting up properly, nearly shifting off the platform. Instinctively, you grabbed his wrist, but he was too into his narrative to acknowledge it, “Yes! Ah, I love that part so much. My mom used to sing it with me when I was in elementary school.”

He was so fucking sweet.

Contrary to every touch he’d delivered today, he was like a puppy. Forlorn and pure and kind.

“That’s so nice,” you said, nodding when he did, watching as he prepared his vocal cords.

“Know all of the things that make you who are— that’s what it was, yeah? I know that goodbyes—”

And then you broke into a duet, falling into a rhythm… catching strangers’ attention wandering around the house’s garden. You weren’t loud enough to disturb the party, but you did see a flash of smile here and there towards you.

Your singing and laughter grew in pitch; you started the last line but never finished it. Instead, you quieted down, hearing his timbre indulge in the song; his eyes were closed and his head tilted. An incomparable spell in his voice.

“—Catch her everytime she… falls.”

Omitting Adam Levine’s soft Yeahs, Jungkook replaced them with hums, and for the teeny tiniest of moments, your heart jumped.

Radiant warmth spread in your lungs. It surrounded your beating organ and tied your throat, and against all you’d expected today, you wondered—

Did temporary, fleeting party-hook-up crushes exist?

As he finished, leaving out the rest of the song, you told him, “You sing well.”

An understatement, but he took it anyway. Blushed a bit as he said, “Thank you.” And then, “Why this song of all you might know?”

Why this song?

You didn’t know. Because you’d grown up with it. Because every second of it, every beat, every melancholic word about hopeful love resonated with you.

“Because,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. A weak smile took over your features. “She shall be loved? Everyone shall be loved.”

Jungkook deadpanned at you. Glassy-eyed. For a couple heartbeats, he blinked at you, and then he broke into a chuckle.

You puffed out a breath; the desire to end the night vanished bit by bit.

That was, until another doom crawled around the corner.

Whenever a day passes flawlessly, misery is close, and this time, it arrived in the form of an older, equally drunk male friend of Jungkook’s.

It was the guy who’d DJ’d prior that night; the one with the deep velvety voice, ogling up at you with a hand in his pocket and a cup in his hand. He made you wonder where your friend was. 

Had Eun left any messages? Perhaps it was you standing her up now; you hadn’t checked the device in a while.

From the garden, the dude — Taehyung, was it? — squinted up into the sky, yelling over the sounds, “Aren’t you the girl from before?” He pointed between Jungkook and you. “What are you two doing up there?”

You felt enthusiasm in your veins. Rapture, leaving your nerves alight. Despite all the sentimental talk, you remembered again that your filter was long abandoned, and with a dazy mind, you leaned forwards.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gotten more of that liquid bullshit after your hook-up. Jungkook had insisted on it — perhaps you should’ve gone for water and sobered up properly.

But as sloshed as you were, you brought out your funny bones, half your body dangerously pressing against the platform as you exclaimed, “I was having the time of my life with this one.”

A thumb pointed back to Jungkook — if you’d seen the man’s expression, you might not have risked your well being like that. Because his hands floated over you, finally gripping your sides with knitted eyebrows when you moved further forwards.

“Hey,” he called quietly, but you were already immersed in the conversation with Taehyung.

“He wanted me to suc—”

“—ceed in every aspect of life!” Jungkook wrongfully finished, leaning in to whisper to you, “I don’t think you should be saying this.”

Okay. Maybe he was a little more conscious about the situation; but you felt too ecstatic to lay down your jokes.

Grave mistake.

People started turning to you. Heard you clearly.

Taehyung, in his own world, still understood, ignoring Jungkook and asking with a laugh, “Really? Lucky son of a bitch.” He halted, and then pointed a finger at you, “Are you the Charmante girl?”

“Uh-uh,” you rejected, “not tonight.”

Fuck.

Even today, you’re adamant on keeping this part of your memories locked.

Because in a few moments, a mess would occur, followed by Jungkook’s kindness, and it would mentally make you push him away.

You just never expected to see him again in the fall.

During senior year, you concluded that he didn’t deserve the chaos of your world, fearing that your connection might destroy the both of you. But throughout all these months, your heart only held back until it couldn’t.

And today, he has wreaked havoc in it anyway.

“How so?” Taehyung asked.

“Because,” you asked. Stress and hangover incoming. Words a rich, popular future heir like you definitely wasn’t supposed to utter. “Fuck that imperium for tonight, okay!”

“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice again. “Lean back. Don’t do this.”

Taehyung shook his head, slowly caught in the awkwardness you called forth. Your deep-rooted trauma was doing a number on you, and you didn’t seem to realise just yet.

“You should go home,” Taehyung suggested; the second tonight.

Why did they want you to leave so bad?

Cocking an eyebrow, you looked at him weird, stoically staying at your place as you bantered, “I don’t want to.”

“I… I think you should, though?”

“You try going home to misery,” you said, laughing through the ache creeping up. Shit, shit. “I’m fine riding his di—”

“Stop it!”

The firm warning pumped sudden intimidation through your body.

Jungkook said it through gritted teeth, hissing it, a sliver of a grunt in his voice. His hands tightened around you and pushed you back up, catching you when you swayed over the edge.

He was irritated; and you were baffled. Puzzled by his concern.

You creased your eyebrows and gulped. Jungkook knew who you were; had confirmed that he did — but he hadn’t spoken about it a single time tonight.

Was he trying to protect you? Why was he trying to protect you?

“What the hell was that?” he asked, lifting his hands off your body.

You didn’t answer.

In fact, you didn’t quite understand the worries anyway. Yes, you had a reputation, but it wasn’t like anyone on campus cared. Right?

Wrong.

Because when you looked down, registering a faint chatter, you froze. Understood why Jungkook had constantly held you back. And why loosening your tongue had been a bad idea tonight.

You wished you could’ve gone back to singing with him. Not live through… whatever crap you’d caused. Nothing you would’ve done on any other day.

But Taehyung had been talking to you — you weren’t thinking anything of it.

The others, however, were. In fact, they were still laughing and recording when they looked down, some of them shamelessly filming with the flashlight on, pointing in your direction.

And there were quite a few of them…

“Wait,” you muttered, eyes flitting from one stranger to another.

Eun had to be inside, because you couldn’t find her face among them. It took a moment — but then, it started sinking in.

“Oh,” you said, and Jungkook, helpless, kept looking at you. “Oh fuck, no.”

“They won’t do any—”

“No.”

Your body felt immobile and it took more exclaims from downstairs that certainly weren’t Taehyung’s to finally move.

As your limbs came alive, you rushed your way back into the attic; humiliated, fire in your cheeks.

Your legs felt wobbly, but adrenaline kept you on your feet. Your mind awoke, your eyes burning. It took a moment to realise you had Jungkook in tow, storming downstairs with you; he was saying something, a soft hand on your elbow that you shook off in panic.

You’d done this to yourself. Stupidly, idiotically. 

Never, never in a million years could you’ve opened your mouth like this in a sober state. You’d trained for this, for fuck’s sake. Knew media attention and how to behave.

The descent to the ground floor took ages; or so it felt.

You traced the faces of the people you’d seen from the roof. Nonstop thoughts of regret flooded you — in the contentment Jungkook’s presence had wrapped you in, you’d lost track of reality.

And now you were rushing from person to person, vehemently warning them and begging them to not put that shit online.

Only to meet a worse fate.

One that, within a moment and without a warning, arrived in the form of a plastered party-goer. Shoulders clashed until you stumbled and fell against a neck-high object. Synthetic plastic bounced against your body, the inflatable pool filled with water and people.

Had they been swimming all night?

Had this thing always been here?

Did it matter anyway when a wave of water broke out of the pool, splashing onto you and half your torso? Probably not.

What mattered was that you were drenched immediately. That Jungkook was still calling your name, albeit further away from you now. Or that a random guy was whistling, mumbling something about your white, soaked top.

Fuck…

Your head darted around; you pushed wet strands out of your face. You weren’t entirely dripping, but enough for people to remember for a while. That was, if they could recall tonight the next day at all.

And if they couldn’t, they’d have it on their damn phones…

Seeking the light crowd, you found Jungkook near the entrance to the house.

He was throwing an empathetic smile, eyebrows scrunched; nibbled at his lower lip and then—

Walked away.

One blink and gone.

You were disappointed. A little hurt. The connection you’d shared felt trivial now; had you enjoyed tonight just to be abandoned by every friend you’d come with or met?

Tears burned in your eyes, there without a notice. In your helplessness, you stood in the middle of the garden. A few people felt sorry for you — you knew. 

And other, selected, a handful ones were too drunk to remain respectful.

The attempt to ignore them remained futile; they kept going.

You tried to search for the elusive people who’d recorded you; another handful who had now vanished into thin air again. Hiding their phones to evade you.

And when your search turned out fruitless, you redirected your attention to instead. She had to be nearby. Or Jimin; you hadn’t seen him tonight at all.

Just as you opted to enter the house, a stranger touched your bicep; reacting swiftly, you instinctively dodged his touch. Disgusted and weirded out.

He didn’t attempt to reach out again, but his persistence to struck your nerves was overwhelming; awkward as he tried to compliment, “That was kinda hot of you to say up there.”

To say what?

That you were a victim to your own imperium — that you were seeking company in others?

What was?

Twisted people, you didn’t understand — as much as you didn’t comprehend your own stupidity.

Your fucking fault.

Feeling a wave of chagrin wash over you, you hurriedly made your way to the door, hoping for another escape; hearing another dumb, “Listen, I’m not trying to offend you, but you—”

The sentence dangled in the air; broken by a sudden interruption. Raw cotton grazed your arm as Jungkook stepped next to you, a white towel thrown over his hand as he intervened, “Enough, man. Don’t.”

His tone was gentle, but held a fragment of a warning. Like he was annoyed, frustrated; tired of the people here.

Surprise was an understatement of a word to you.

There he truly was…

He handed the towel to you wordlessly, a hand on your back. Looked at you with a nod and concern in his eyes. You sighed in light relief, though cringing internally as the water trickled down your spine.

Jungkook sensed your unease immediately; said your name as if to take you away the moment you heard Eun’s voice.

In that moment of gratitude, you felt a renewed sense of a link to him — oddly calm as you said, “Thank you.”

The room you stand in is dark.

You’ve walked through several bright and vibrant halls, passing modern pieces. The ceiling was high so far, so this very room, containing art of the stars and nebulas, hit pleasantly with change.

The dimmed lights match the mood of the paintings; and you’ve noticed that visitors are way quieter in here than they were before.

Probably inhaling the silence of space and time. Diving into a world unknown with a curious fascination.

You glance at your watch, squinting to make out the tiny hands — half an hour left until closing time.

Drawing the millionth breath of this evening, you let your arm drop, curling and uncurling your fingers with a sickening feeling in your stomach. Lightly, you rub the spot, head darting left and right.

For some reason, you expect him in this room.

You can’t quite guess what he might’ve come up with after all; the exhibition showcases various genres and styles, and you haven’t found the room exhibiting his creativity yet.

Seems this isn’t the right place to look either. And you’re getting more nervous with each step.

You scold yourself. This better have been the right decision, because you don’t think you’ll be able to opt out anymore. 

Your soul is still fractured and afraid; but Taehyung’s words float in your mind. Perhaps this will do something. Make clear that you should stay away. Or make clear that you shouldn’t.

Wrapping your arms around your body, you pass more art, more fresh artists, moving to the next room; irritated by how far he seems and of how cold it is here. Museums and their exaggerated air conditioning.

But the shiver the cool air elicits doesn’t compare to the white, blinding, bustling hall. This must be where the main attractions are displayed. Namjoon’s pride, you imagine.

Because people are still talking to the artists. Fingers on their chin, nodding; fancy tote bags and interested hand gestures prove that they’re fat greater art connoisseurs than you.

You don’t need to comprehend techniques and art jargon, though.

All you need to understand is that in the middle of the room, many feet away from you, stands who you seek. Suit-clad, though he has discarded the black jacket, he’s nodding towards other guests, smiling softly to send them away.

They point to his work one last time, and the next moment, they’re chatting among themselves, walking on.

He’s deep in the moment, tracing their steps, frozen in place.

And you, looking at him from afar, are frozen in time. Like everyone around you is barely moving.

Only your blinking eyes. Only his legs as they shift the balance. And then, only his head when he finally averts his gaze and lets it drift over the room. Stops when he sees you, and… 

Remains there.

Your heart jumps; the twisting guts melt and dissipate. Fingers start shaking.

The knot in your throat won’t let you breathe properly; and you think he must be struggling much like you, because even from here, you see him gulp hard.

His longing, sorrowful gaze is killing you. Are you looking at him the same way?

Unsure, you close the gap between your bodies. Slowly, you near him until you’ve become his official guest, taming a wild heart with tense eyebrows.

He’s looking at you like he’s scared to blink. Like you might vanish if he does.

And eventually, you muster the tiniest of smiles, not letting those big, stellar eyes drop you to your knees. But they’re relentless. And…

Red. A little swollen.

“Hey,” you say.

He doesn’t bother for a greeting aside from a little nod. His pink lips are slightly parted, his expression so innocent; so achingly pure. And his voice so weak when he says, “You came.”

“I… almost didn’t.”

He nods lightly, much in understanding. “…I’m glad you did. I’m sorry if my message put you under pressure, I ju—”

“No, no, I thought that— Taehyung told me you’d like it if I dropped by,” you say. Your words are dipped in courage; if he wasn’t looking at you like a yearning puppy, you might not have muttered them. “And also…”

You drop your head, clutching the straps of your purse.

Try not to think of who the both of you used to be.

You clear your throat, gaze flickering up. “I want you to know that I still support you.”

Those puffy cheeks and the younger face, lacking a smile — you’ve only seen that expression before as he slept. When you woke up next to him, observing his dozing form. How helpless he looked. So faultless.

You now know that Jeon Jungkook isn’t perfect, either. But despite all that — or perhaps because of all that — you crave him more.

Because he’s always known he makes mistakes; yet, he’s always been your steadfast anchor.

And maybe that’s all that love ever requires.

No.

Don’t fall back into a spiral.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says. “This means a lot coming from you.”

The first button of his shirt is open; you see the chest rising. The mole on his neck. Last week, in that dark alley, your palm was still covering it. And now, you’re standing at a safe distance.

“So…”

You move, looking past him. The first thing your eyes settle on is a smaller painting.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up, and his tangled fingers let go of each other, open palms gesturing you closer. He steps aside and says, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, please take a look.”

He’s nervous. You hear it in his voice.

Why, though?

There’s no need, considering how gorgeous the sunset is. Perhaps a little standard for such exhibitions, but it still carries his touch. The preciseness and soft details.

You lean in, taking in the colours he worked with. There’s no skyscraper or traffic light in sight — the scenery differs a lot from the city you know.

“Is that your hometown?” you ask.

There are white fences and wide fields. Trees afar, a cottage at the right of the canvas. In the right bottom corner, you see a fluffy little cloud, white and serene.

“It is. Not exactly where I live but… a little outside of it,” Jungkook explains, shifting close enough for his shirt to brush against your elbow. You shiver. “I used to ride my bike to this place and watch the sunset. Took me twenty minutes to get there, so my parents weren’t always too happy about it.”

You laugh quietly, straightening your stance again. Pointing to the tiny cloud, you guess, “And this? Gureum, was it?”

He keeps looking at you. You don’t notice until you register his silence; eventually meeting his gaze that screams affection and tenderness.

Whispers, You still remember.

He catches himself within a second, and then says, “Yeah. Gureum. I’d sneak him into the bike basket and take him with me. He’d enjoy the wind. Jump around there,” he nods to the place in the painting, “and enjoy dusk with me.”

“So sweet.”

You hum in pleasure, ready to move to his other piece.

Most of the artists here are boasting two pieces; some one big object, some several smaller ones. Jungkook settled on the choice in the middle; and you immediately realise that his second work is far more elaborate, in details and in size.

And you’d voice fascination, gasp in admiration — you swear you would.

But what awaits you instead is a masterpiece that renders you mute; baffled, and maybe a little heartbroken.

Because you immediately know what it is.

You remember it from a foggy memory; not too long ago but eternities away.

That day, you brought him and his new boss Namjoon lunch. You chose to barge in as a surprise, sitting on Namjoon’s couch, eyes flitting from artistic canvases to dirty brushes.

Back then, you properly talked about Gureum for the first time. Jungkook was working on drawings, carrying around his sketchbook. You swore you saw a glimpse of something familiar flashing that day, but Jungkook closed the book too quickly for you to decipher it.

And now, it’s here. A damn painting on a museum wall.

A pretty artwork for anyone else, a young, incredibly skilled artist’s talent. But to you…

To you, it’s a peek into what you used to be. And proof of what you’ve become.

You’re hurting. You’re fucking hurting.

“Jungkook…” you choke. You keep staring at it; blink twice; shake your head in disbelief and then voice, ”Wait, what?”

He doesn’t respond. Facing the ground, he’s wading through the pain silently; his bangs are covering his eyes. But your emotions are swimming at the surface of your pupils, an absolute mess.

“Jungko—”

“I had a full speech prepared yesterday, you know?” he says, looking to the side. His jutting lower lip makes your chest burn. “But you didn’t come, and… now you’re here and—” He brings an inked hand to his eyes, rubbing them for a moment. “Now I can’t fucking think.”

You can’t either.

“I didn’t know how to come,” you admit.

You gulp down the tears, looking back to the painting.

The background is blurry, like a rainy window. In focus, you see two hands reaching out to each other. One’s palm facing up, the other’s towards the ground.

Fingertips are inches apart, delivering the illusion that they’re touching without ever doing so. His must be the hand hovering over the softer one. And the latter… It's you. Isn’t it?

Digits reaching out to him, never quite grasping him — the same bracelet around your wrist that he brought you from his vacation among so many other things. Blue and sparkly, no actual gemstones but gorgeous nevertheless.

And in your hand—

Forget-me-nots, slowly drying.

Your memory might not be serving you right, but you think that the brief peep you caught back in Namjoon’s studio was fully blue. Have the flowers withered in his mind?

“What does that mean…” you whisper.

You think you know. But you still wait.

Yet, the only hint Jungkook gives you is, “I had this idea in my head… and the night we drove to that small town and I gave you those forget-me-nots? The way you held them got stuck in my mind and—” He shakes his head. “I knew I wanted to paint them like this.”

“But… you didn’t.”

“Because…” He shrugs his shoulders, but the gesture is anything but nonchalant. The melancholy in his eyes betrays him. “Things changed.”

Right…

That’s why the flowers wilted.

Don’t those blue wonders signify remembrance? True love and devotion?

Does Jungkook think you’re forgetting him? Or that your devotion is fading? That whatever tied you two together is diminishing…?

Whatever used to be a symbol of blooming endearment is now a metaphor for broken hearts. 

But you bite back the sentimental talk, the questions and statements infiltrating your mind. Keep them in, for your and his sake. Hearts need to stay glued together for as long as possible.

No scene in front of a crowd.

So you say, “In any case… It's beyond impressive. You painted it beautifully.”

Jungkook sighs; recovering from the tension of the moment, and then answers, “Thank you. Since I had you in mind, I’m… honestly glad you came.”

“…Of course. Thank you, too.”

The moment you gulp, more people approach Jungkook’s spot. They’re talking to each other before they greet the artist, flashing tender smiles.

When they immerse themselves in his paintings, murmuring something not directed to either of you, you ask, “Should I go?”

But Jungkook’s reluctance emerges immediately. His eyebrows skyrocket, chest tensing; his words are rushed when he tells you, “Oh, you don’t…! You can stay.”

You look around. The hall is emptying; security is leading people out, probably informing them of closing time. And suddenly, you remember that Jungkook doesn’t possess a car.

“Did you take the bus here?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“…I could bring you home.”

Why are you suggesting this? Are your lungs not failing you enough? You’re on edge as it is.

And even when he assures, “You don’t have to,” you shake your head, softly promising that, “Yeah, but it’s no problem. If you want.”

With his turn to glance around, Jungkook licks between his lips. Then, he sneaks a look at his watch, contemplating before he says, “The museum closes in ten minutes, and then I’ll need to find Namjoon. Wrap it all up and stuff. Are you uh… okay waiting for half an hour?”

Are you?

Despite all the pain? You shouldn’t be. But for him… achingly and stupidly, you are.

“Yeah,” you voice, keeping your tone stable. You’re dying of nervousness. “I am. If that’s okay.”

Jungkook nods, stepping to the guests; seems they have a question, waiting for their turn. So he redirects his focus again, giving you a little, “Alright. Thank you again.”

But without ever letting his attention fall from you fully. Not even when you finally step away.

The noises of the streets and vehicles keep the silence away.

Music quietly sounds from the radio, and your finger taps the steering wheel slightly to its beat. Jungkook is staring ahead, sometimes looking out of the window; probably as unsure as you about what to say.

The car comes to another halt in front of a red traffic light, and the silence increases your discomfort. From the side, you watch for a tiny moment as he cards his fingers through the soft, long hair.

And involuntarily, you think back to when you’d bury your fingers in them, too. Would pull him to your lips like that; hear him hold his breath.

Your body trembles, goosebumps on your arms.

You immediately rub at them, focusing on the green light, and once the car comes back into motion, you tell him, “You should save up some money and get a car, too.”

He nods, barely looking at you as he responds clipped, “On it.”

“It’s just late.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. And it’s not that late at a—”

“Just,” you interrupt. He’s right — it’s not too late in the evening. But fall is approaching, and the sky is grey; the sun hides these days. “I’d feel better if you had a car.”

You’re aware that it doesn’t matter what you think or feel anymore, but your concerns still seem to resonate with him; maybe he’d feel the same towards you, too. Because he assures softly, “I’m working on it. Don’t worry.”

Another pause in conversation. Another five minutes pass in silence.

Half of the distance to his place conquered, you grow more nervous by the second. This isn’t a casual get-together or you calmly bringing him home.

Right here, next to you, is literally the man you fell for.

Who confessed his feelings in the pouring rain. Who kissed you through the afternoon the very next day. And who forced you to leave the moment his dam broke.

The one who hasn’t allowed you solace in a while; who touched your lips just once since then, only to shatter every piece of you again.

This is him. Still no one but him.

Equally as nervy on your damn passenger seat as you, going back to an exhibition tomorrow that presents the very hand he used to hold.

This hurts like a bitch.

“Jungkook,” you spit.

“Hm?”

“How long…” You draw a deep breath that comes out shakier than anticipated. You calm your chest. “How long had you been working on this?”

Surprised by your question, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he bites his full lip, toying with its skin before he admits, “Not long. As I said… had the idea for a while, but the day I saw you holding them, I… I kinda cemented that picture into my brain.”

The night of your trip is a firm part of your memory, too.

Piling up bravery, you press your tongue to the palate, clearing your head before you ask, “Why did you make it your main painting?”

Jungkook’s laugh is quiet and insincere. Pained when he answers, “What do you think?”

“I just mean… doesn’t it hurt?”

No response.

You sit up straight, clutching the wheel until your knuckles pale, and try again, “I guess I just didn’t expect you to—”

“What about you?” he questions instead, dodging your inquiry. “Did it hurt you? Seeing it?”

“…Why are you asking?”

“Because I still can’t really decode your reaction.”

Yes… because you’re fighting transparency. The last time you made your vulnerability visible to him, you crumbled. 

But does it matter anymore? You thought tonight would give you a clear answer to what to do; but so far, nothing has changed.

Might as well be exposed.

“Those things don't stop hurting so easily, you know?” you say. Talking proves hard. "But. At some point, you get tired of fighting the pain, and instead, let it happen until it gets better."

“Has it gotten better for you?”

His questions are sudden. Different from his determination to leave last week. He feels vulnerable to you, too, as if he’s fighting himself.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you tell him.

You make a right turn and miss the absolute grief in his eyes. After all the moments you spent together, he didn’t reckon his care for you would escape your mind. But in hindsight, thinking of all the despair he’s put you through, he understands, too.

“Seeing the exhibition today… seeing my piece,” he begins, eyes drifting to his lap, “you still think I don’t care?”

God, your chest feels heavy.

You lift a hand from the wheel, rubbing between your clavicles, but the strange feeling won’t pass. Utter discomfort spreads through your veins, dizzying your head; but you need to concentrate on driving.

You should be almost there.

So you say, “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

To which he dares to ask, “…Why?”

Another stupid traffic light. No excuse to keep looking away, but you still evade his gape.

“Because.” Unblinking, you stare at the tail lights ahead until the red becomes an unpleasant afterimage. "You'll hurt me." Resolutely, "Again."

No answer.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? His reluctance to say something.

Goddamn, you’re frustrated. Uneasy.

“I think the best way to fight more uncomfortable situations is to not talk about them anymore,” you then say, firmly and certain. “At all.”

“Okay.”

You crane your neck to busy yourself, looking for a parking spot when you finally turn into his street. Frustrated when none is empty, you click your tongue, driving around the block in vain before finding a spot near the tiny park close by.

“There goes,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t get off immediately. Much as though he still has something to say, something to plead for. His eyes are staring ahead, his breathing deep.

In your lovesick illusion, you imagine him gritting your teeth and then reaching out, pulling you into a kiss.

But the version of you that wades through reality doesn’t want him to; wants to swerve the pain you’re already combating every damn day.

All he says, however, is a timid, “Thank you for coming today. I really was hoping you would.”

You think back to yesterday, picture a lonely Jeon Jungkook, awaiting your arrival without the desired result. You think of his messages last night, and of the desperation in them.

But you don’t mention any of this. Not his apology, not his yearning.

What you do instead is recall the date, taking off the belt; and when he reacts with surprise, you clarify, “I forgot something.”

You open the door of the vehicle carefully, shooting a glance to the empty road. That’s a cool thing about this area — it’s quiet. You think a lot of families and old couples live around here, because it’s usually serene around this hour.

You get out the moment he does, rushing the one step to the backseat. In a corner, right behind the passenger seat and out of Jungkook’s gaze, you find the same silver object from yesterday.

The silky, shiny paper is soft under your touch as you take it out, and you round the car to a positively confused Jungkook. He doesn’t know what’s awaiting him, but he doesn’t ask; only hums in question.

You brush the non-existent dust off the white ribbon, and then stretch the gift towards him.

Which is when he finally speaks.

“What’s that…?”

Suddenly aware of the gesture, your eyes flit to the object. You try not to stutter but fail, “Your birthday present. I… I had it made a little after you came back.”

He keeps staring at it, like it’s an unidentified item, dangerous to touch. But once he’s caught himself, his muscles relax. He closes his mouth, cautiously taking it from you; the brush of his fingers against yours is warm.

As always.

“You can open it now,” you suggest, “and if you don’t want it, I can just uhm… return it or something.”

It’s hard to return such a present. But you know this might be your only chance to take it back, should he not like it.

It’d be a shame, though.

You watch with bated breath as he nods. Pulling at the ribbon, stuffing it into his jeans pocket before he’s unwrapping the present. He’s so gentle with the paper, as if it means anything.

But if your roles were reversed, you’d cherish every bit that carried him, too.

A moment later, the little, squared thing comes into view.

A new sketchbook, matt black.

His name is golden on it, elegantly and swiftly engraved in the middle of the cover.

“You…”

He utters this sole word. And then looks down again.

His fingertips barely touch the cover for another moment, and then, he ever-so-carefully opens to the first page. It’s an index — has a black and white print of a tiger lily behind a box that says—

To fill these pages with every curve and contour you desire, and to colour them in. Like you do with me. Happy Birthday, Kookie.

His breath visibly hitches. He opens his mouth again, audibly exhaling, eyes glued to the words and reading. Rereading. Internalising them.

The shake of his head is barely there, and you think you imagined it. But when he bites his lip again, an old tiny habit, you start worrying.

Maybe it pains him too much after all. You know that’s what it did to you every time you looked at the wrapped package.

Hurriedly, you explain, “I thought it could be something to remember me by. But I understand if you don’t want i—”

“No, I—” He lifts his gaze, your breathing suspended. His waterline glistens. “It’s an honest present. And you had it made just for me, so I… I’d be an ass to not accept.” He pulls it to his body. “Thank you so much. It’s… incredibly thoughtful.”

“So… You like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I’m glad. Happy Birthday, Kook.”

The peace in your voices is briefly interrupted when Jungkook suddenly raises the hand with the notebook again, speaking louder as he assures, “You didn’t have to.”

You think back to all his little gestures; the stuff he brought you from his vacation. The freaking tattoo on his arm; the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and you see a fragment of the orange and blue.

Even now, he carries around his sentiments for you. You’re not accepting his humility this time.

“I’ve never given you a present,” you say, “there was no way to not do that for your birthday.”

Only tonight, he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve; you can see the heaviness of it, tell yourself you’re hearing its beat. Matching yours. Falling like yours.

But you brush it all away, landing back in reality; once more taking in that you’re actually standing here and actually looking at him but reminding yourself that he and you aren’t what you used to be.

It takes enough strength to believe that he’s here, breathing in the same air as you. You won’t dive into delusions that might crack anyway.

You watch as he nods, putting the notebook into his bag in soft, watchful motions. Careful to keep each corner intact.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are glassier than before. Aching to utter something, preparing for something with an open mouth; words fail him, though.

They have been all evening.

What is he waiting to say?

You halt. Keep standing there. Smiling a little, biting the inside of your cheek. And when nothing comes, you finally conclude, “I should go.”

And that’s it.

That’s when his entire being finally breaks.

Because the moment you walk around your car again, he follows immediately; the rushed steps you hear behind you increase the pace of your heartbeat. Hammering against your throat, loud and clear; your head spins.

Worse and worse when you open the car’s door and he appears behind you, shutting it again with a flat hand.

You don’t know what he wants, but you know you’re not ready for it.

But…

You did come here for answers.

So one inhale. One exhale. You calm your head and unflex your muscles. Let your shoulders fall, shut your eyelids, and when ready, open them again.

Your fingers are still gripping the handle, but your gaze is fixated on your window. It’s darker now, and his reflection in it is clearer, albeit still a bit fuzzy. Doesn’t do justice to his incomparable beauty.

Better for your heart, maybe.

Or not?

Because you still catch his sombre stare, meeting your eyes. His nearing body doesn’t contribute to your health. You promised yourself to not spiral, but you are.

And he’s so close.

Because you feel his breath, hear him so near when he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

Another breath in. You can’t do this.

You stand at your spot with drooping eyes, only half scared that an approaching car might run you over; your other half is dizzy and whispers, “What are you sorry for?”

“That… I hurt you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and— if you want me to shut up… I’ll do it right now.”

You do. You don’t.

He’s tangling up your thoughts; he always has. Does it matter whether he speaks or not? It won’t change anything about your wretched heart… about the sting it suffers.

If he keeps talking now, you’ll dismantle each of his words for the rest of the night. And if he doesn’t, you’ll keep wondering what he would have said.

You wait. Let him decide what he wants to do.

And when he takes your silence as permission to go on, he says, “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I… I wasn’t being completely honest with you.”

Nightlife starts chirping already. It’s getting darker by the minute.

“When I said things have gotten easier for me without you. I lied.”

You swallow, torso nearing the car. You watch as his hand slowly lifts to the vehicle’s roof, close to your face. If you were in such a position to do so, you’d step back, fall into his arms.

Instead, you merely say, “It sounded true.”

“It was true that people are off my back… but. Nothing’s fucking easier without you.”

You gulp; there’s urgency in his voice, and it’s ruining you thoroughly.

You tell him, “It should be a reward. You’ve won more than you’ve lost.”

A chuckle moves a strand of your hair; it’s still not as sincere as you’re used to, but rather sad. Troubled as his words as he asks, “Let me guess… Because it’s just you?”

You only shrug one shoulder, listen as he adds, “You’re a lot more to live without than you think.”

Are you dreaming? Are his words real?

And the subtle, sudden touch, fingers against yours. Real? A fantasy?

You let out a tiny gasp and then hold your breath, seeking his warmth as he grazes your digits. His question is breathy and hushed when it falls, “Can you look at me?”

You don’t know if you can — yet, you oblige. Somewhere in your head, subconsciously, all of you would still do anything for him, no matter how small or harmless of a command.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, looking at his chest. At its rise and fall. At the buttons. You can’t meet his eyes yet. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why…”

“I want to say that I’m sorry. And—” His next words are daring. Incredibly ruthless, uncaring of your heart. And you can’t believe he lets them slip. “I know it’s far too late, but… if there’s a way, any solution to stick here with you after all…”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you raise your head a little, looking at his shoulders with a feeling akin to irritation. Confusion?

“…What could it be?” he finishes.

“I can’t tell you.” You close your eyes when he moves in; once again hearing the pounding of that treacherous organ in your ears. This is driving you insane. “I knew some solutions. They came easy to me, because you… you felt comforting to me, you know?”

You rub your teeth together; your throat feels dry when you comment, “But now I’m caught up in life and—”

You drop your head lower again, unable to finish the remark.

You’re caught up in emotions and craze, you think. They’re creeping in slowly but surely, and consuming all of you. The way he was supposed to.

His touch stops toying with your hand, allowing a moment of relaxation. Only to come back worse.

The back of his fingers rise high, brushing against your cheeks, down to your jaw. You stand in front of him frozen, unable to defend yourself — or maybe, unwilling to refuse him.

You shudder again; it rolls up and down your spine, tickles your brain. Drains your lungs.

You blink your eyes fully open, and then let him lift your chin with a finger.

Two specific syllables of his sentence render you broken to the core, all of you in agony when he asks—

“Did I make a mistake, angel?”

The question echoes through your mind. What happened for him to reflect on his actions and reevaluate his choices?

How did he come to such a drastically opposite conclusion than he did last week?

Has he realised it takes two to move on? To break off things? That none of you is as free as you could be without each other?

That separation and distance fuel pain instead of destroying it?

Your lower lip quivers. Pulling yourself together, you manage, “Yes. You did.”

“Because of the comfort…?”

“Not only. You know why.”

“…Tell me.”

He’s reckless.

Perhaps he’s milking it to lead the two of you to a common understanding. One where it’s clear to either of you that you need each other’s presence around, navigating towards a final verdict.

So, so different from the words that cut you last week.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because,” he begins immediately, “I’m an idiot who chose for us both. I should’ve heard you out, because… this isn’t benefiting us, right?”

“You couldn’t see that before? When I told you tha—”

“I’m an idiot,” he repeats, “who thought he knew what he was doing. And I didn’t. I want to steer towards a decision we can both agree on. So tell me,” he tries again; you sigh. The whiplash is too much. “Why was it a mistake?”

The cool evening breeze rustles through the trees and your hair. The faint glow of the streetlights starts settling in, casting a soft illumination on the surroundings. Helps you see his face clearer.

His words weigh on your heart; you could ramble down a list as to why it was a mistake.

But you settle on the obvious, “Because… I’m working on getting out of my house.” Your voice is tinged with resolution; and the statement seems to surprise him. Eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve found an apartment and… started planning out every detail of how I want it to look and feel. But…”

His eyes fill with curiosity and concern; his voice, despite all the mess, is a soothing presence amidst the uncertainty, “But?”

“But it still doesn’t feel like home… It's strange.”

“Did I feel that way to you?”

“Being with you was the first time in my life that someone or something truly did.” Your words start breaking; your voice a dwindling sound. This requires as much strength as you expected. You take a deep breath. “So yes, you… you made a mistake.”

You wait, working on your tone, steadying it with conviction. And then, you say, “I’ve never needed anyone to survive, you know? I trained myself to be as independent as I can be. Just—”

Your lungs seem to shrink; they feel tight and knotted. Maybe you’re saying too much and not hoping enough. Perhaps that’s the perfect formula for further heartbreak.

But you communicate these thoughts. You will go insane in this little head of yours if you keep them in any longer.

“I crave your comfort,” you mumble. “Whenever I feel like shit or empty, I think— if he was here, he’d know what to say or do. He’d listen. And I hate that. The only warmth I’ve ever known shouldn’t come from you, and I– I shouldn’t be missing you like that.”

You huff out a breath, accompanied by a frustrated and exhausted sound. Your fingers rub your tired eyelids, your head moving to the side. The tips of your digits keep the dampness in, and you focus on proper respiration.

Say, “I hate that I’ve grown to crave you.”

You should’ve known, back in someone else’s bedroom; pressed against him; on the damn roof.

This thing you started with him wasn’t going to end any other way, and you should’ve known.

Wasn’t it the biggest reason you opted for distaste instead? For playful loathing, showcasing it in every class and whenever you met him once the semester started.

It was easier than being fond of him — like when he pulled you to your feet again; back when you were drenched in pool water, staring at the towel he handed you.

“It was much easier,” you echo, “when you weren’t part of my life. I pushed you away with some stupid academic excuse, because I knew we… this would hurt. So much fucking easier to keep you at a distance.”

And when you marched into dorm room 7, asking him for that dumb deal, what were you thinking?

Diving into risks head-first, despite all the knowledge you possessed of your miserable little world.

But the worst confession you might admit to yourself today is that — you’d do it all just the same again.

When you open your eyes once more, you see stars. Might be the rubbing you provided them, or the pupils you’re staring into. They are drenched in enough pain to fracture every teeny tiny bit of your soul.

Desolation swims in your waterline, but you don’t dare to blink; wait until it’s gone back. It proves hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

Almost impossible when he asks, “What do I do to make it right?”

The answer has always been the same, and he has never liked it. What else can you do but to repeat it over and over again, hoping for it to sink in one day and trigger change?

“You open up,” you say, “you tell me how you feel. What you feel.” Your chin trembles; you pull the evening air through your nose. “You stop keeping secrets from me and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I have never opened up with anyone as much as with you.”

And the worst truth is that he means that. No hint of hesitation and deception in his eyes.

It breaks you that this is the most he’s ever been able to disclose. What happened to him that forced him to bury every revelation in his ruptured heart?

His fingers slither to your cheek. He keeps the balmy palm under your ear, as he’s always liked to do. So many habits you caught; all of them pricking your skin now.

“Why have you never before?” you question, hoping for answers. Any of them. “To anyone else?”

His expressions change, much as you expected — feared.

The hand on your face moves a tiny inch, somewhat restless and uneasy. His exhale is desperate. And you, still clueless and suddenly anxious, prod, “Can you tell me?”

Hope trickles through your skin and into his — because for a moment, he looks like he can. There’s hesitation in his stare, but his veiled thoughts seem to sneak to the forefront of his mind.

You’re close, you think.

Unimaginably close to figuring him out.

But then, all the sparkle withdraws again. Like a lightbulb shutting off, his eyelids droop again, and he utters, “I can’t.”

God.

“Why not?”

“Because it hurts.”

“I want to help you, Jungko—”

“You can,” he hastily promises, fretful, as if you’re slipping away again — and maybe, you think, you are. “Just not now. Please just.” He downs the clump in his throat. “Let’s fight through this, because I want you to be able to help me, too.”

Fuck.

Why is this worse?

Wanting the aid, wanting the support; wishing for relief but not being able to accept it.

His lips draw closer, pillowy when they graze yours. Stalling the kiss as he mumbles against your mouth, “Can we fight through it?”

You don’t answer; drop your head to the side. A flicker of your old stars returns, but then it dies again; much like a candle in the wind.

He steps back slowly. Carefully. His chest deflates as he asks, “Is it… because of Hoseok?”

Hoseok?

That foolish conversation you had at the movies; his insecurity and the hints of jealousy. Has he been thinking about it?

Hoseok.

Unbelievable.

Of all things plaguing your mind, Hoseok is the last to keep you away from Jungkook. No. Fucking no.

“What?” you voice louder now, slightly piqued.

But he immediately retreats, kissing his teeth as he assures, “Nothing.”

You’re not done, though.

“No,” you tell him, “no, it’s not him. If it was, I’d chosen him years ago. And last year, I wouldn’t have come to the party but rethought his offer. But— Jungkook, fuck, I’m standing here with fucking you, because you never tried to fix me. Just… you just accepted me. Lived through every fucking day with me.”

He’s surprised. Expected the burst as much as you.

“I—”

A single pronoun escapes him before you interject again.

“It’s not because of Hoseok. It’s because of me. And because of you.” Your breaths are irregular when he caresses your jaw. Your thoughts are jumbled. “It’s because the hurt sits too deep to think about this now.”

“I… I know.”

“I can’t think about it, or anything. Or about you.”

Your forefinger presses against his chest, but his touch doesn’t falter. He keeps his palm planted on your face, another one joining on the other side as he repeats, “I know. I know.”

You’re agitated.

Want him away but closer. Silent but confessing his innermost wishes.

So bewildered, unable to make sense of this. Because what’s happening? Where are the two of you going?

Since that very frat party, what road were you on?

You don’t know. And maybe you shouldn’t think about your timeline. How you developed and how you got here.

But you can’t help it when his thumb comes back to your lips, parting it, preparing for another bittersweet kiss.

Like he always does. Like he did months and weeks ago.

Or…

That very night after the unspeakable humiliation, when he parted from you.

No matter how much you’ve forgotten, you still remember that time’s farewell.

The towel didn’t dry your clothes faster, but you were thankful for the gesture.

Jungkook rubbed your half-damp hair, insisting on helping, and the summer and its heat did the rest. Your back faced the wide bathroom mirror; you didn’t want to look at your miserable reflection anymore.

Eun was standing outside — her folded arms and the tapping finger spoke volumes, and her squinting eyes sought the assholes who’d ruin your night for you.

According to her, she’d already seen you with Jungkook; and not one to spoil your first good night in ages, she’d stayed away, instead looking for a certain blacked out Park Jimin. He was already home again, she said.

Now that you were leaning against the sink, she was seething on the other side of the door. Ready to bring you home; ready to thrash a couple people’s heads, only resisting because you’d told her to.

“Are you done?” you heard her from outside.

You looked up at Jungkook. You didn’t quite understand his willingness to stay with you, but you appreciated it. Stared at him with big, questioning eyes as he said, “Almost.”

“Eun,” you mumbled through the door, surprised when she heard you; hummed. “Could you get my stuff? Just my purse and cardigan.”

No hesitation.

“Where is it?”

“Attic. I forgot it there.”

She didn’t say much; grumbled something and then stormed away, once again leaving you with the kind presence in front of you.

In some way, you hoped you weren’t going to see him again. He was popular on campus, and you were a joke. The rich, little girl who made an idiot of herself at a private frat party.

If he wanted to keep his reputation, he wasn’t going to cross ways with you again either.

Right?

“People are so dumb,” he said, vexed as he put the towel away. “That was an absolutely inhumane thing to do. Thought we’re outta high school.”

You scoffed. “Are we ever?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. Maybe he felt the need to reassure you a little more, because he said, “They’ll forget about this in a day or two. Fuck them and keep living.”

Huh.

It was such a harmless statement, wasn’t it?

But… you weren’t used to it.

What you knew were strategies to help your image; to drown the rumours and delete online humiliation, which would undoubtedly happen again this time. You knew of staff that spoke to journalists or pacified magazine publishers.

But not of encouragements to forget about it and live on.

“Thank you,” you said, timid and quiet.

The way he stood there, leaning back, looking at you. Waiting for you to finger-comb all knots out of your hair… you had to say something. So you did.

“I think I told you so much today, because I needed it out. And you said all the things I needed to hear, so… I truly do feel thankful. For everything.”

More of the dialogue is broken. Your diary didn’t delve into details of the bathroom scene; all leftover pictures your written words evoked today are fragments now.

Like how he looked at you.

A bit of surprise, mixed with endearment. A smile that followed and a nod; one step closer and then another.

Or the tilted head and the tired doe eyes. The thumb that lifted to your lips, parting them — you didn’t know back then that he liked this tiny detail, and that you’d grow to love it, too.

And you recall the way he moved closer.

Leaving a gap between his own lips and then settling them between yours. Unprovoked, unannounced.

Softly, slowly. No craze, no insanity.

Just a touch. Fingers on your jaw, mouth moving just a little.

And then, him backing away again, bringing the night-long conversation to an end until you met again that fall.

“Go home and be well,” he said.  “Fuck everyone else, okay? If they can’t treat you right or love you the way you wish, then just fuck it all.”

You felt hazy and warm. More sober than before, but drunk on confusion.

Something told you that he wasn’t just talking about the immature public down in the garden, but everything you’d confessed on the roof, too.

Hoseok.

You simply voiced, “Huh?”

“She will be loved, right?” he asked one last time. You smiled; the giddy feeling was unmistakably present. “For sure one day.”

Nostalgia is a bitch.

It’s supposed to be a sepia feeling. Comforting and sweet. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

The memory is poignant; you want it back, but you don’t want to trudge through the pain again. You want this to be over. Want to dive through the agony and surface to a better time.

If fate and the world let you, with him by your side.

Is it too much to ask for? You don’t know.

“Can you ju—”

You look at him immediately.

The same doe eyes you know — soft, tender, dry but despondent. There’s not a single tear in sight, but his words and voice still break. The fear in his pause smashes your heart into smithereens.

“Just… once,” he begins, “could you look at me like that again?”

“…Like what?”

“Like you didn’t stop falling for me.”

Still. Everything stays still.

You don’t think you could ever look at him like you stopped. You can’t imagine you’re staring at him right now like you ever did. How do you make clear to him that you orbit around him?

You keep standing still. Not an inch moves; your heart might give out.

Words fail you when his hope collapses and his shoulders drop. A deflating chest, a sigh of dispiritedness; and then, his touch is gone.

He nods slowly, a hand sinking back into his pockets. Clutching the strap of his bag, he steps away, keeping your gaze for a moment before he turns around.

His falling head makes you sick to the stomach; the way he’s walking away, no other word uttered, is gut-wrenching. You know he’ll text you again; thank you for the present at least.

You are so certain he will.

But you hate how this played out. Hate that nothing is resolved.

And maybe it’s that loathing towards this very outcome why you don’t want to leave just yet. No matter how this might end — whether you part or find your way back to each other again.

There’s just one thing you somehow want to remind him of again.

“That night at the frat party… last year,” you start. He halts in his steps, moving to face you. “We were dumb to treat it like nothing.”

He blinks at you.

“It’s where it started, don’t you think? And it’s where we should’ve been truthful with what we wanted already.”

“Why are you saying that now?” he asks.

“Because I just remembered that… you kissed me back then, too. You kissed me like you didn’t want me to leave.”

It’s when your tale already started. Pointing at one outcome: no matter what hurdles, you were meant to end here together, but without the pain, as one unit.

It was clear back then. It should’ve always been clear; break ups were redundant. You know — does he, too?

His gaze feels heavy on you. The silence lingers, tension mounting as he takes in your answer. Doesn’t say a single word until your face is hot and your heart is bursting.

Maybe you’ve pushed him away, wounded his heart. He looks… disoriented. Have you said too much? Or not enough? Did you utter something not true at all?

False.

Because a moment later, his features change; endless longing as clear as the sky when he speaks again—

“Angel…”

Your breath catches; every damn piece of you implodes.

“Stay the night.”

alllllright :’) worth the wait? :’’’) i’m sorry if not but YAY if yes !! tbh, more things were supposed to come to light, but the chapter was already too long, so i had to split it. you shall find out more and get some relief in ‘cmi9: blue’ !! another reason i focused on the flashbacks more was bc… i need us to process the big reveal >:) how was it? what do you think?

as always, thank you so much for supporting this series. it means a shit ton to me that you guys are still here and loving these two as much as i do. as per usual, this one required all my brainpower and my free time, too; so if you liked it or want to say literally anything, please keep interacting with the series – motivation to work on this is always boosted by you guys tremendously !! so please like, reblog (on desktop since the post’s so big!!), comment aaaand send an ask !!! i shall answer them all this time >:O

thank you and i love you. here’s to more <3

[aclowntiny]

Hi!!! Could you do a reaction of ATEEZ's S/O kissing their cheeks just to prove the other member that they can make the member blush in less than minute?

I LOVE THIS!!! Yes I can & will it shall be my honor & pleasure 😌😆 hopefully you enjoy me running away with the scenario in a few of them hehe~ (The way I was listening to SOAD while writing this 😂)

Ateez + Kisses to Prove You Can Make Them Blush (Gender Neutral Reader)

Hongjoong

The moment you lean in, he’s leaning back a bit. Not that he doesn’t want you to kiss him, it’s just, well…

“Not in front of the guys!”

Stifling a chuckle, you just pull him in, cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek, then one more to the other side. You pull back, admiring his gorgeous features for a moment with a smile before starting a full retreat. You know Hongjoong. If he isn’t already flushed by the initial embarrassment, this’ll get him. Sure enough, contrary to his reaction, the moment you start to leave, fingers sliding gently back down his cheeks and under his chin, he catches them in his.

“Oh?” You feign surprise.

“At least give me a real kiss,” Hongjoong chides, but you know he’s not truly annoyed by the amusement in his eyes and smirk on his lips.

“Alright,” you reply with a shrug, fingers returning to their moments-old grip as you yanked him into your lips.

The kiss is short but forceful, and you can feel Hongjoong restraining from getting any messier because, well, the guys. As you finally let go of him, you smile at the angelic look he gives you, running a hand through your hair quickly.

“Thank you.”

“No,” he chuckles, “thank you.”

“No,” you say back, holding out your hand to Wooyoung, who is beside himself yelling and mock-retching about having to watch that whole display even as he places the cash in your hand, “thank you for paying for our date tonight.”

Hongjoong just shakes his head. “You little devil.”

Seonghwa

The moment your lips hit his cheek, his eyelashes flutter shut in contentment. Time to hold this little bet? Perfect. Seonghwa was already in an extra good mood. You kiss his other cheek, traveling down from your boyfriend’s lovely cheekbone to smooch adjacent to his lips.

He giggles lightly, tilting his head to receive your kisses before he pulls away, angling himself to give you a few of his own. This time, you smile as his lips attack your face, familiar warmth gracing the gentle curve of your skin.

“I have to return the favor, you know,” he whispers before turning his affection to the other side.

“I do know,” you giggle, delivering the killing blow, “you’re so cute. The cutest.”

“Ah, hehe, I-” Seonghwa stammers a bit as you flutter your eyelashes innocently, cheek still angled his way, and with that, his cheeks begin to darken.

"See? That had to have been, like, thirty seconds!"

"Thirty-seven," Mingi corrected, holding his phone out, screen displaying the paused timer facing you.

"That's still under a minute! Now you have to do Seonghwa's laundry!"

"Wait," Seonghwa pouted, "this was just for some sort of bet?"

"Don't be sad," you attempted to soothe him, rubbing your cheek against his as your arms wrapped around Seonghwa's middle, "I enjoyed it and you've won a week's free laundry service."

Chuckling, Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow. "You could have bet anything and you told him to do my laundry?"

"M-hm," you hummed in agreement, "you deserve a break, and I don't think he does enough of that stuff."

He kissed the top of your head. "We really are perfect for each other."

Yunho

"Yunho!" With a running start, you leapt into your boyfriend's arms; he reached out at the last minute to catch you, dropping down a bit with the sudden weight than rising immediately back to a standing position. You wrapped your legs around his torso, leaving him reaching out to hold underneath your thighs.

"What's this about, hm?" He was smiling affectionately at you, giving you that 'I've won the jackpot' look, but no blush.

Dang, you thought the legs bit would get him. Very well. "My big strong man," you cooed, trying to embarrass him.

He chuckled at your words, then tensed as you suddenly planted a big, dramatic kiss on his cheek. He turned his head in response and you obliged, loosening your grip on his back a bit to run your hand up and down the line of his spine. You turn to press your lips to the other side, this time toning down the silliness and taking your sweet time. Finally as you pulled away, he held his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes. You reached up to caress his cheek, smiling surely as wide as he was.

"Alright, alright, you're both blushing. Sheesh."

"What's he talking about?" Yunho asked quietly, gaze not leaving yours despite Jongho's voice behind him.

"You didn't tell him about the bet?" Jongho snickered.

"Didn't need to," you replied, finally tearing your eyes from Yunho's long enough to give Jongho a smug look, patting your boyfriend's warm cheek.

"Ugh, fine, tell me what you guys want next time I'm out."

"What's going on?" Yunho inquired once again.

"I bet him I could make you blush in less than a minute so now we get free coffee!" You replied brightly.

"Well, even if we lost, I'd have felt rewarded."

You giggled both at Yunho's words and Jongho's amused, yet exasperated scoff.

Yeosang

Was working up to it the best strategy? Well, you'd find out, you supposed, your hand reaching up to the table's surface to rest atop Yeosang's. He paused long enough to give a little eye smile, unsuspecting, then returned to getting your afternoon tea poured. When he slid your cup toward you, you tightened your grip on his hand.

"Thank you, Yeosang," you peered at him through your eyelashes before rapidly pecking his cheek. Once again, he smiled, but nothing else, and you hadn't counted the passing time, so escalation seemed necessary. You kissed his cheek again and again.

"Are you trying to distract me?" He asked, tone half cheeky, half legitimately questioning, his eyes narrowing slightly at your little smile.

"I dunno, is it working?" You asked innocently, fingers of the hand that lie on top of his intertwining with his.

He held your hand up, palms pressed together as he played lightly with your fingers, this time taking his turn to lean closer to you. "What are you trying to distract me from, hm-"

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, which he immediately responded to, hand tightening around yours. As your lips moved in conjunction, you felt warmth pooling against your cheeks, which weren't so cold either. Pulling away, you rubbed your nose against his, taking in his wide, stunning smile.

"Dang, fifty seconds." San and Wooyoung peered down at their phones, the screens of which both displayed variations of fifty seconds and some-odd miliseconds.

"That," you jerked your head toward your duo of friends, belatedly answering Yeosang's question.

Your boyfriend pulled away, a faraway look in his eyes that slowly drifted into faint disgust. "Why were you making them time our kiss?"

"No," you giggle, "they weren't, just seeing if I could make you blush in a minute. Now they have to wear something stupid in the airport next time."

"Well, that more than makes up for it, then," Yeosang says, eyes drifting mischievously toward his besties.

San

"He blushes so easily," Seonghwa whines, "can't we make it thirty seconds?"

"No take backs!" You singsong, waving a dismissive hand at your friend. "You said make Sannie blush in a minute or less and I get to test out my manicure kit on you!"

"Well, at least it wasn't face paint," Seonghwa shrugs in resignation, "nails aren't so bad. As long as you don't do any weird colors."

"No promises," you tease just to get a rise out of him before sneaking into the kitchen where San was standing.

There the object of your affections stood, completely oblivious to the metaphorical target on his back, just filling a glass of water at the sink without a care in the world. Bingo.

You went up behind him, arms sliding around his waist and reaching up so your hands moved toward his chest. Both of you love back hugs, so you felt San melt into the embrace as you hummed contentedly, lips fluttering over his cheek lightly. Lowering his head, he rested it protectively over yours as you kissed him, muttering a "What's this?" and an "I love you" in practically the same breath.

"I love you too, Sannie," you cooed, smiling at his sweet words and the heat you could feel rising to greet your touch.

"Alright, yeah, I'm done for, I can see his ears are all red. What color do you want to do?" Seonghwa interrupted your moment.

"What's he talking about?" San asked as his arms rested over yours.

"Nothing that's important right now," you answered as you settled into him.

Mingi

“Why did we make this bet? We’re going to lose.” Yeosang’s very blunt observation rang through your ears as his head turned away from you and back toward Yunho, arms crossed matter-of-factly.

“In under a minute, though?” Yunho shot back.

“A minute is a long time,” you shot back with a grin.

“See?” Yeosang lamented as you sauntered over to Mingi, who had conveniently just entered the room just as the bet was sealed.

“What’s a minute a long time f- oh. Oh!” Before he could say any more you were on him, attacking his face with kisses. Your hands reached up to caress his cheeks and turn his head to give you access as you made your travels, which your beloved rapper never made a single objection to. In fact, you dared say he encouraged it if the way his one hand snaked onto you to draw circles on your back said anything.

Whether it was your own body heat against his or something of Mingi’s own, you could already feel warmth brewing beneath your lips as he giggled. The sound spurred you on as you kissed his nose, then made your way back down, heading for his lips...

“Ok, pass! Pass, (y/n), he’s already red, jeez!” Yeosang held up his hands, waving in defeat. "I told you this was a stupid bet, Yunho."

The other tall man just shrugged. "At least it's not that much money."

You turned and looked at him with a victorious smirk. “Ok, cool. Glad you think so. Pay up.” Holding out your free hand, you gripped Mingi’s chin with the other, continuing to kiss your boyfriend.

Wooyoung

Honestly, you were a bit uncertain about the whole bet- surely Yeosang had a reason to feel so confident? And Wooyoung was pretty bold, would he blush easily? Maybe not.

No matter what the outcome, you'd signed up to test it, and you couldn't totally complain about that if it meant trying some stuff that might work on Wooyoung. Even in loss you'd have some fun, you reminded yourself.

You found your boyfriend in his room, organizing some stuff on his shelf, and as you said his name his head snapped up instantly. "Darling! Need anything?"

"You," you replied, knowing corny stuff worked pretty well on him. With that, you crossed the room, pulling him into an embrace from the side.

"Well, alright then, good afternoon to you, too," he replied with a grin.

You started kissing down his cheek, which had yet to redden when he turned his head, tapping a finger on the other side in silent request for you to even him out. Chuckling, you leaned in and obliged, covering his whole face in kisses. When you finished, he pointed to his neck, taking full advantage of your purported affectionate mood. Sighing, you kissed down his neck, too, peering upward to see if his ears or cheeks looked red. He just smiled, trailing a finger down his chest.

"Don't push it," you teased, giving him a playful shove. You accidentally caught him off-guard, though, sending him off balance and scrambling, ultimately tumbling back onto his bed.

He looked down as if he didn't know what was beneath him, then back up at you in surprise, eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. "Oh?" Now his cheeks were getting red. Why was he like this?

"I- I-" You stuttered, voice failing you in favor of a sigh as your face fell into your hand.

"Ok, that was fifty seconds. I'm sorry for both of us," Yeosang muttered, showing you his timer, handing you some cash, and turning on his heels to leave. "Have fun explaining this one."

Jongho

You slid next to your boyfriend on the couch, bringing a smile to his face at your presence.

"Bored?" He asked as you snuggled closer into his side.

"Hm, a little, but I think I know how we can fix that," you reply, posing with a finger to your chin in mock-thought.

"Oh yeah?" Jongho lifted one arm too give you greater access, draping it casually across your shoulders when you got settled. "How?"

"This is how," you wasted no time in replying, eyes briefly scanning Jongho's lovely, handsome face before closing the remaining space between you two.

You could tell by the way he leaned he expected you to kiss his lips, which you knew he preferred, but your initial goal was a bit different. You kissed his cheek, suppressing laughter as he leaned away slightly, one eyebrow raised in confusion. With just a faint chuckle, you kissed the other cheek.

"What's gotten into you?" That's all he says as you pull away, sure he'd red by now. Not quite, it seems, and you're sure you are from trying not to laugh.

"Where's mine?" You ask, pouting slightly.

"Wh- what are you talking about?" His eyes widened ever-so-slightly, a faint blush finally dusting his cheeks.

"One second," you told him, placing a finger across his lips in a 'shush' gesture as you rose from the couch, leaving him with a furrowed look of confusion as you sat up and peered over the back cushions, "what's my time?"

"I started kinda early."

"Hey!" You complained, grabbing a pillow to threaten Hongjoong with.

Ateez's captain immediately put his hands, one of which held his phone, up in surrender. "But it still came out to fourty-three seconds! You win!"

You lowered the pillow, tucking it back into the corner a few inches from your feet. "Good. Then pay up."

"Alright," Hongjoong reluctantly agreed, his classic impish smile decorating his face, "but only because you two are so cute."

That time, he did get hit with a pillow square in the shoulder, but it was Jongho who threw it.

[noisydelusionlove]

Chapter 17: A Date With Soap

Pairings: poly141xOC

Warnings: military inaccuracies, Oral (F receiving, M receiving), Smut

A/N: Trying my hand at adding more of Soap’s Scottish into the fic. I’ve been reading a lot of Soap fics and realized I wasn’t really adding how his Scottish actually sounds. I don’t know if it works, so we shall see! Please put your age on your blog if you’re going to interact. I love you! Also i’m still sick AF and my son has walking pneumonia, so my house is a hot mess right now. I’m also going through hella personal shit (i.e toxic/messy divorce) so thank you to everyone who loves my story so far, it’s honestly helping my mental health so much to get back into writing <3

Aurora laughs as Johnny practically drags her outside and to a car he had snagged the keys to. The pair are silent as Johnny drives towards the mountain area of the base. After a bit, he stops on the side of the road and smiles. “We’re walkin' the rest o’ the way Bonnie.” He says as they climb out of the vehicle. Aurora follows Johnny curiously. After a while, they stop at an old watch tower. “Up ye go Lass,” Johnny says as he points up. Aurora rolls her eyes as she ascends the ladder. “Quit looking at my ass Johnny.” She teases, earning a small growl from the man climbing below her. When she reaches the top she stands up and looks around. The inside of the watchtower has been transformed it seems. There is what appears to be a sniper’s nest set up, two riffles lying side by side. There’s also a basket and a cooler sitting off to the side. Aurora turns to look at Johnny curiously. 

“I know ye used to be a sniper, and ye loved it. So I went ahead and set up some targets. Thought we’d have a wee shoot, have a chat, then dig into the lunch I packed, aye?” He says, a small blush on his cheeks. 

“Right here, Lass,” he says, patting the edge of the sniper’s nest he’s set up. The rifle lies in wait, resting against the sturdy wooden railing. Aurora raises an eyebrow, catching her breath. "You brought me up here just to shoot things, Johnny?" She says, but a smile is hinting at the corners of her lips. He flashes a grin, clearly enjoying the moment. "Aye, but it’s not just any kind o' shooting, is it? It’s your kind. Thought ye might fancy a bit o' a challenge again." He says, although there is a pink tint to his cheeks. Aurora rolls her eyes, but there's a soft smile tugging at her lips. "A challenge, huh?" She glances at the scattered targets Johnny’s set up, a mix of distant silhouettes, hanging plates, and some more difficult, smaller targets in the distance. "I haven’t picked up a rifle in a few years, Johnny. I’m a medic now." She says, a sad tone to her voice. He shrugs, his grin widening. “Ach, Lass, ye can’t forget how to shoot that well. I’ve seen ye in action in the videos in ye file. Ye’ve got the eye of an eagle.” He steps a little closer, voice dropping just low enough for her to catch the flirty edge. “And let’s be honest… ye miss this, don’t ye? The focus. The quiet before the shot.” He says as Aurora looks up, meeting his eyes.

Aurora doesn’t respond immediately, feeling the familiar pull of Johnny’s charm. His energy is contagious, his teasing playful, and if she’s being honest, she’s starting to notice how easy it is to fall into his banter. But there’s something else too, something she’s trying to ignore, but as her heat approaches it makes it so much harder to ignore. Still, the memory of being behind a sniper’s scope, that calm, focused state of mind, it’s tempting. It’s something she hasn’t experienced in years, and there’s a part of her that misses it, even if she won’t admit it out loud.“Alright, let’s see if I can still hit anything,” she says, grabbing the rifle. Her tone is light, but underneath it is a quiet determination. Johnny watches her with a smile as she sets up the rifle, her posture already perfect, the way she positions herself at the edge of the nest. He leans against the railing, his voice softening. “Ye never lost it, Lass. I’ve seen enough to know that.” His voice is low, an almost purr. 

Aurora looks down the scope, adjusting the settings with a practiced hand. She picks her first target, a metal plate about a hundred yards away. Without hesitation, she pulls the trigger. The thunk of the bullet hitting the target is quick and clean. Johnny claps. “Och, ye’re still a bonnie shot, Lass. I knew it.”Aurora lowers the rifle, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “One shot, Johnny. Don’t get too excited.”But Johnny, of course, is already beaming. “Aye, one shot, and it’s better than most folk could do in ten tries. Now go on, show me what else ye’ve got.”She takes another shot, and another, hitting each target perfectly. There’s a rhythm to it, a sense of ease and precision that comes with years of experience. Johnny watches, leaning in slightly, his gaze focused on her. He’s genuinely impressed, though he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s enjoying watching her in action.“You’re makin’ it look easy, Lass,” he says, his voice full of admiration. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about ye.”Aurora finally lowers the rifle, casting him a glance. “You think I’m that good, Johnny?”

He steps closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Aye. And ye know it too, don’t ye?” His voice dips into something softer, more intimate. “I can see it in the way ye focus. It’s like ye’re in a world o’ yer own, just ye and the target., ” He pauses, taking a half, step closer. “It’s a sight worth seein’.”Aurora chuckles, though there’s a warmth in her gaze. “You just like watching people do what they’re good at, don’t you?”Johnny grins. “Oh, Lass, don’t flatter me. I’m just watchin’ someone who’s got it all. Precision. Grace. A little fire, too.” He winks, his tone playful. “And aye, maybe I do like watchin’ ye.”She narrows her eyes, but there’s something else beneath her teasing, an acknowledgment, perhaps, of the connection they’re forming. “You’re insufferable, Johnny. But… I don’t mind it.”

Johnny’s grin widens, but he doesn’t press further. Not yet. He knows the ground he’s treading, how hesitant she’s been about the idea of diving into anything serious with him, or anyone in the team, for that matter. The pack is close, knit, and it’s clear they all share an unspoken bond, one that isn’t just about teamwork. There’s an undercurrent of something more, something that’s grown since they all started working together. He knows Aurora feels it too, but she’s been keeping her distance, unsure if she wants to jump in with both feet. Johnny’s voice softens. “Go on, Lass. Let’s see if I can keep up with ye now.”Aurora glances at him, the challenge in her eyes. “You sure about that?”He picks up the rifle with a confident grin. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

Johnny lines up his shot, adjusting his stance as he focuses on the first target, a steel plate not far from where Aurora hit hers. He breathes in, steadies his aim, and fires. The shot rings out, landing just a hair off, center from the target. Aurora watches him, a small smile curling her lips. “Not bad, Johnny.”Johnny’s eyes gleam with a playful challenge as he shoots her a glance. He takes another shot. This one’s much closer to the bullseye. “Alright, alright,” she says, teasing. “Maybe you do have some talent, Johnny.”Johnny grins, his confidence unwavering. “Don’t worry, Lass. I’m just gettin’ warmed up.”

They continue trading shots, their playful banter filling the space between the cracks of the gunfire. Aurora finds herself drawn into the rhythm of it, her heart a little lighter each time Johnny flirts or cracks a joke. He’s easy to be around, even when he’s pushing her buttons, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard to fight. The day draws on, the sky turning from the bright morning sun to the afternoon glow. At some point, the banter quiets, and there’s a moment where Johnny’s gaze lingers on her a bit longer than normal. 

Aurora’s pulse quickens, not from the shots, but from something else, something she hasn’t fully admitted to herself. She’s starting to feel it, that pull toward Johnny, and, truthfully, toward the others in the pack too. There’s a warmth, a sense of connection she hadn’t expected when she first joined. She wants to chalk it up to her heat hormones, but she wonders if it’ll still be there when her heat ends. She feels a pull to Ghost that she can’t explain. With Kyle, it’s easy, like long-lost friends. With Price, there's an edge of comfort and trust there, But with Johnny, there’s something else. Something sharper. Something she’s afraid of diving too deep into.

Johnny’s voice breaks the silence. “Ye know, Lass, ye don’t need to hold back with me. I’ve seen the way ye look at me. And I’m not the only one in the team who’s feelin’ that pull outside of just the bedroom stuff.” He says lowly. Aurora freezes for a moment, her heart skipping. She glances at him, her voice quiet. “I’m not sure what I want yet, Johnny. You know that, right?”His expression softens, but there’s no frustration, only understanding. “I know, Lass. No rush. Just… don’t think ye need to run from it.”She looks away, her breath catching in her throat. “I just want to get through my heat, and then reassess Johnny. I want to be able to think without my hormones clouding everything.” She sighs. Johnny gives a small nod before nodding towards the cooler and basket. “Fancy a bite and a wee chat about it?” He says with a smile. Aurora nods as she follows Johnny to the basket. Johnny opens the basket and takes out a blanket, sitting it on the ground before motioning for her to sit.

Aurora takes a seat on the blanket and watches as Johnny follows suit. He opens the cooler and begins pulling out sandwiches, sodas, fresh fruit, and a small cheesecake and from the basket, he pulls out potato chips. 

He hands Aurora her food before beginning to eat his own. After a few moments of silence, Johnny clears his throat. “So, have ye given any more thought to who ye're gonna pick for yer first time, then?" He says, causing Aurora to almost choke on her drink at his blunt question. She clears her throat as she looks over at him. “I am not sure honestly. Kyle thinks I should pick Ghost because he thinks that’s the most logical pick if I ever decide to take an Alpha from this pack.” She says as she stares at her drink. Johnny can’t help the smile that springs to his lips at her words. “I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t love to see ye bonded to my Alpha. I think we both ken how much I want ye to be a part of our bond, Lass. I cannae hide how much I’m lookin’ forward to finally gettin’ a hold o’ ye during yer heat." His voice is almost a low growl as he looks at her, causing Aurora’s cheeks to tint pink as his scent begins to darken, as if his mind is already conjuring up images of her under him and Ghost, which, it probably is. Aurora tries to hide her embarrassment as she smells her scent and begins to sweeten with arousal. 

Aurora lets out a small squeak as Johnny suddenly leans in, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to pull her lips in for a rough kiss. She releases a whimper when she hears Johnny growl. In seconds he’s on top of her, pushing her back to lie on the picnic blanket spread underneath them. The kiss is desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues before Johnny breaks from her lips to kiss a trail down her neck. Aurora releases a whine as Johnny sucks on her neck, surely leaving marks as he slots his hips between hers, his obvious erection grinding against her through the thin fabric of her leggings. “Ye ken what Ghost’ll do to ye, Bonnie? Ye ken how fierce he can be? Aye, he’s nae the sort to hold back, that’s for sure.” Johnny growls into her ear causing Aurora to let out a small whine. Johnny continues kissing and nipping at her neck as he grinds himself against her, his clothed erection managing to rub perfectly against her clit, causing pleasure to well up inside of her. Aurora releases a whine as her hips begin to move, grinding herself more against Johnny.

”O ye’re prolly soaked right now aren’t ye Kitten.” He growls out as he bites a little more roughly on her neck, she’s sure he’s left a mark as she releases a small moan. “Just want to cum don’t you Bonnie?” He chuckles as one hand grabs a handful of her hair forcing her to look at him. “it’s all about consent. Do ye want me to make ye cum Kitten?” He says, staring directly into her eyes. Aurora lets out a small mewl and Johnny chuckles darkly. “Nae, I need words.” He says with a playful smirk as Aurora feels tears welling up in her eyes with the need to cum. “Please, Johnny.” She whimpers. “Please what Kitten?” He purrs as she whines again. “Make me cum.” She gasps out and Johnny releases another chuckle as he lets go of her hair to move down her body. “Thought ye’d never ask.” He mumbles as he quickly pulls her leggings down, flinging them across the watchtower.

In an instant Johnny has her legs over his shoulders, his large hands engulfing her thighs as he holds them tight, pulling her pussy down until he’s face first. He licks a long stripe up the center of her folds causing her to gasp out. “O ye taste just as good as I imagined, and I was right ye’re soaked.” He hums before giving small kitten licks to her clit. Aurora’s hand flies to find purchase in his hair, eliciting a growl from Johnny as she slightly tugs, moving her hips to grind on his face. Johnny is merciless as he alternates licking and sucking on her clit, eliciting loud moans and whines as Aurora feels her pleasure building. Johnny moves one hand down to run a finger over her entrance, making her gasp slightly before he slowly pushes inside. 

“I almost forgot how tight ye are.” Johnny growls as he begins to curl, searching for that one spot, when he finds it Aurora lets out a loud moan and Johnny can’t help but growl. He continues licking at her clit as her thrusts his finger, hitting that spot every single time that has her seeing stars. When he adds a second finger Aurora is biting back a scream at the feeling. “How’s that feel Kitten?” Johnny growls. When Aurora doesn't respond he moves his mouth to deliver a sharp bite to her thigh. “Feels good, full.” She whimpers and Johnny chuckles. “If ye feel full now I don’t know how you’ll take Ghost. He might split ye in two.” Johnny growls, the image of Ghost impaling Aurora on his large cock almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

Johnny continues to suck at her clit as he thrusts his fingers at a rapid pace as Aurora’s moans grow into almost screams. “Almost there huh Kitten? I can feel it. Let’s have it, cum for me pretty girl.” He growls and with one last hard suck to her clit Aurora is screaming as she cums all over his fingers and face. Johnny slows his movements as she rides out her orgasm, smirking as he sits up and makes a show of licking his fingers clean. 

. Her cheeks are bright pink as Johnny begins pulling her leggings back up her legs. She lifts her hips to allow him to pull them up all the way. Aurora watches in shock as Johnny moves to finish eating his sandwich, his erection obvious. “You don’t expect anything?” She says quietly as Johnny shakes his head. “I know you’re going at your own pace Bonnie, it’s not the first time I've had a hard-on. It’ll go down.” He says with a smile as Aurora laughs and nods. 

She scoots closer to Johnny, leaning slightly against him as she finishes eating. “I have a question, Johnny.” She says quietly as he looks at her. “If I do decide I want Ghost to be my first. How do I even approach that with him?” She sighs as she takes a bite of her sandwich. Johnny smiles. "How 'bout ye decide, let me ken, an' I’ll handle tellin’ him." Aurora looks at him for a moment before nodding. “If I do decide. I need you to make sure he knows I don't want him to mark me, at all, not during that, not during my heat, nothing.” She says quickly and Johnny nods. "He wouldn’t do that without yer express consent anyways, Bonnie. Aye, he’s an Apex Alpha, rough around the edges, but he believes in consent. Trust me, it took months before he’d even kiss me without my express permission." He says with a smile and Aurora nods.

”I have another question.” She says as she pops a chip in her mouth. Johnny nods as he takes a bite of fruit. “So, so far, you and Kyle have both done stuff for me without expecting anything in return. Why?” She says with an eyebrow raised. Johnny chuckles as he smirks. "Honestly, Bonnie? Some o' us just enjoy seein' the other person enjoy themselves wi' what we’re doin'. It's a braw feelin' kenning ye've caused that." He says as Aurora nods.

Once they’ve finished eating Johnny smiles as he packs everything back in the basket and cooler. "Well, let’s head back. I’ll take ye back, an’ I’ll get a recruit tae come clean this up." He offers his hand and Aurora takes it as he pulls her off the ground. They climb down the ladder and head back to the car before heading back to the task force building. Johnny bids her goodbye with a kiss before heading off promising to see her at dinner.

Aurora sits on her bed as she contemplates. She was intrigued by Johnny's explanation of him and Kyle giving her pleasure without wanting anything in return. She wonders if she would feel the same way if giving one of the pack members pleasure would make her feel that sense of pride. With a bite to her lip, Aurora grabs her phone to send a text to Kyle.

Feral: Hey are you busy?

Kyle’s response is almost instant.

Gaz: Nope whats up?

Aurora sighs as she lays back on her bed as she contemplates the question she wants to ask.

Feral: At the risk of being blunt do you think John (Price) not Johnny would let me give him a blowjob?

Aurora practically throws her phone as she hits send, regretting it almost immediately. Her phone begins to ding in rapid succession. She picks it up to see Kyle’s response

Gaz: OH

Gaz: EXCUSE ME

Gaz: Do you think any man on this team would turn down getting their dick sucked by you?

Gaz: Have you lost your fucking mind

Gaz: Of course he would let you

Aurora laughs as she looks at the messages, shaking her head.

Feral: I’ve never done it before….so im nervous…but I feel like if i’m giving my virginity to Ghost (not decided) then the other Alpha deserves something

Gaz: Of course, I get that, but you dont need to feel like you have to Princess

Feral: No, I want to…I think it would be interesting to see an Alpha enjoy the pleasure I give him

Gaz: but you're nervous?

Feral: duh

Gaz: What if I’m there?

Gaz: I could talk you through it

Gaz: It is MY Alpha afterall

Feral: You just want to watch

Gaz: well, yeah

Gaz: What do you say? After dinner he always goes to his office for a cigar. We can do like the kneeling thing and ill help you ask

Feral: yes, okay, yeah

Gaz: I’m excited ;p

Feral: Dont make me regret this

Gaz: See you at dinner Princess

Aurora sighs as she sets her phone down and glances at the clock, one hour until dinner and two hours until she gives her first blowjob, no pressure right? With a sigh, she begins looking up articles on her phone, blushing as she types in ‘how to give a good blow job’, before she knows it there is a knock at her door and she stands up, opening it to a smiling Kyle. “Ready for dinner Princess?” He smirks and Aurora just shoots him a small glare. “Don’t enjoy my awkwardness too much. I still kicked your ass today.” She growls and Kyle smiles as he holds his hands up in defeat. The two head off to the mess and fill their trays, sitting with the others.

As they are eating Ghost, John, and Johnny notice that Aurora is a little fidgety. Johnny assumes it’s what happened between them earlier and shrugs it off until he sees the wide smile Kyle has on his face. Ghost looks from Aurora to Johnny, not missing the fact that he can smell Aurora all over Johnny, it doesn’t take a genius to realize something happened between the two of them. When John finishes he bids the group goodbye and heads off to his office. Once he’s gone Johnny turns to whisper to Kyle. “What's got ye smilin' so big?” And Aurora shoots Kyle a glare as he smirks.

”Our dear Omega is going to bless my Alpha with a new first tongue.” He says as Aurora growls at him. “Kyle!” She whisper yells as he starts laughing. Johnny and Kyle look at Aurora curiously and then look at Kyle. “She’s going to suck his dick, relax. I’m pretty sure we all know who’s in the running for her virginity.” He says as Aurora groans and goes to slam her head into the table, but Johnny moves quickly to place his hand on her head preventing that. “It’s alright Kitten.” He whispers, but it’s obvious he’s trying not to laugh. Once Aurora’s tray is empty Kyle smiles as he grabs her hand. They throw their trash away and head off. Once they leave Ghost turns to Johnny. “Who’s in the running for the Omega’s virginity?” He asks Johnny, apparently clueless. Johnny blinks as he stares at his mate. “O boy, be glad ye’re handsome Simon because sometimes I wonder bout ye.” He laughs as he heads off too, leaving a confused Ghost.

Aurora wrings her hands together nervously as she walks down the hall with Kyle. When he notices Kyle places a comforting hand on her back. “Calm down Princess. I can promise you Price won’t embarrass you or make you feel bad or anything okay?” He smiles, and Aurora calms slightly at his reassurance. When they arrive at John’s door Kyle knocks and waits for the gruff “come in.” from his Alpha before opening the door. When John sees Aurora and Kyle standing there together he smiles as he sits the file he had in his hands down to give them his attention. Kyle shuts the door behind them and John raises an eyebrow as he twists the lock.

”Alpha” Kyle purrs, causing John to sit up straighter as he eyes the two in front of him. “Yes, Kyle?” He says, trying to hide the growl in his voice, a natural reaction to being called by his title. Kyle smirks as he walks behind John, draping his arms across his shoulders as he leans in to whisper in his Alpha’s ear. “Our little Omega wants to do something for you it seems.” He purrs, and John’s eyes glance at Aurora as she watches the scene unfold. Her scent is unmistakably sweeter, a sign she is aroused by watching the display Kyle is putting on. “And what would our little Omega want to do for me?” John says, looking at Aurora but speaking to Kyle. “She wants yours to be the first cock she sucks, isn’t that nice of her.” Kyle purrs, smirking as a growl releases from John’s chest at his words.

”but she’s nervous, so I’m here to walk her through it. I’m going to teach her.” Kyle says as he places a small kiss on John’s neck. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on our Alpha’s lap Princess? No need to rush right into it, let’s share a few kisses first.” Kyle smiles as he reaches over John to hold a hand out to Aurora. After a moment Aurora slowly begins to move, coming to a stop in front of John nervously. “Come on sweetheart. I won’t bite.” John growls as he taps his lap, indicating for Aurora to sit on his lap. Aurora bites her lip as she slowly swings a leg over and settles down, straddling John’s lap in his desk chair. John growls as he feels Aurora slightly grinding against his already hard length, held captive by his cargo pants.

Kyle hums in approval as he looks between his Alpha and the much smaller Omega. “Be gentle with her.” Kyle purrs as he watches John reach a hand up to tangle in Aurora’s hair to pull her into a slow and sensual kiss. Aurora releases a whimper at the intensity of the kiss, her hips moving naturally to grind against the bulge she feels under her hips. John groans as he grabs her hips, stilling her movements as he continues to kiss her. Kyle smiles as he leans against John’s shoulder watching the two makeout up close. John’s other hand slowly moves p to grasp Aurora’s breast through her t-shirt and sports bra. Aurora lets out a gasp and John takes that moment to slip his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He releases a growl as his tongue touches hers. After a moment John pulls back, staring at Aurora with an intense look she’s never seen in his eyes before.

”Alright Princess slide off his lap and onto your knees on the floor and let's get started.” Kyle growls slightly, smiling as Aurora slowly moves to sit on her knees on the floor between John’s spread legs. Kyle reaches across John’s chest to undo John’s belt and fly, slowly sliding the zipper down before John lifts his hips a bit so Kyle can slide the pants to his thighs before he does the same to his underwear. Aurora stares in surprise as she comes face to face with John’s hard cock. She has never really seen one in person so she’s shocked at how large he is. Kyle chuckles when he sees her wide eyes. “That’s an Alpha cock, Princess. They’re typically much larger than others.” Kyle smirks as Aurora’s cheeks turn a dark red.

”Go ahead, you can touch him. it’s your chance to explore, see what makes him feel good.” Kyle purrs as he watches Aurora lift her hand to slowly wrap it around John’s hard length. Her small hand barely wraps around it, and when her hand encloses around the middle of it John lets out a groan of pleasure, his eyes closing slightly before they open again, not wanting to miss a moment of the sight of the small Omega enjoying him. Aurora slowly begins to move her hand up and down the length of him, feeling every vein under her palm with excitement. Whenever John releases a groan of pleasure he’s confidence soars a bit. After a moment Aurora notices the beads of precum leaking from his tip. She eyes in curiously as Kyle chuckles. 

“You can go ahead and taste him, Princess, do whatever feels right.” He encourages, and immediately Aurora leans forward to lick at his tip, tasting the salty precum there. John lets out a growl at the feeling of her tongue on him, his head leaning back slightly as his hands open and close on the arms of his desk chair, restraining himself from touching her in case he rushes her. After a moment Aurora slowly leans forward again to lick a stripe up the side of his cock, her eyes on his face as she watches it contort in pleasure, a satisfied hum leaving her throat before she takes his tip inside her mouth, giving it a small suck before twirling her tongue around it and letting go. “Sure it’s your first time sweetheart?” John grunts out and Aurora smiles up at him, enjoying his praise as she repeats her action, going down a little further each time until half of him is in her mouth.

Kyle leans forward and places his hand on the back of Aurora’s head to slow her down, resulting in her slowly bobbing her head along half of John’s length as John groans and growls in pleasure. “Use your hand for what you can’t fit in your mouth just yet.” Kyle purrs as he threads his hand into Aurora’s hair, controlling the speed of her bobbing on John’s cock. Aurora lifts her hand to wrap around the other half of John that she can’t fit in her mouth, moving it in tandem as she bobs on his length. “That’s a good girl, now see if you can go a little deeper, breathe out of your nose.” Kyle coos as Aurora slowly begins to take more of John in her mouth. “Ooh, do you not have a gag reflex?” Kyle says excitedly as he notices Aurora can almost fit John’s entire length inside her mouth and down her throat.

John lets out a throaty groan as he feels himself hit the back of her throat. “Swallow,” Kyle says quickly and Aurora swallows around John’s length causing him to growl and dig his fingers into the arms of his desk chair, almost teating holes into it. “If you want to let him enjoy it, you can let him just fuck your throat Princess. Think you can?” Kyle coos as Aurora looks at him and blinks before humming her approval. Kyle smiles as he removes his hand from the back of her head, crouching down so he's at eye level with her mouth and John’s cock. “You heard her Alpha. Just tap his thigh twice if you want him to stop.” Kyle says as he smiles. Aurora hums as John moves one hand from the desk chair to grab her ponytail.

Aurora stops moving as John begins to thrust into her throat, slowly at first, but when he sees she’s comfortable he begins to let go, thrusting more roughly and faster as he chases his orgasm. Loud growls and groans leave his lips as he throws his head back. “If you don’t want me to cum in your mouth you need to tap me Love.” He growls looking down. He’s shocked when he sees Aurora staring back at him, tears lining her eyes as she doesn’t move to tap him. In moments John’s shoving her head as far as it can go, and with a loud growl, he’s cumming down her throat. He holds her there as he finishes before slowly letting go. Aurora sits back and looks up at him as John reaches a hand out to wipe the tears from her face.

”You okay sweetheart?” John asks, his voice filled with concern. Aurora smiles as she nods and gives a content purr, which John chuckles at as he shakes his head. Kyle smiles as he leans over, placing his lips on Aurora’s and darting his tongue into her mouth, kissing her as he practically shoves his tongue down her throat before pulling away with a purr. “Tastes like my Alpha.” Kyle smiles and Aurora laughs as she shakes her head. John gently rubs his hand over Auroa’s face before petting her cheek and neck. “Go get some rest Love.” He says sweetly and Aurora nods as she heads back to her room leaving the Beta and Alpha in his office.

When Aurora gets in her room she grabs her things heads to the shower and thinks about the day and everything that happened, before she goes to sleep she sends a text to Johnny.

Feral: I decided. Tell Ghost I want it to be him…but no marking…and ask if he can try to not break me I guess…goodnight 

<<<Previous Chapter

Next Chapter>>>

Masterlist

Tag List-

@no1runawaymilkdad

@Yearninglustfully

@iloveslasher

@chickennn-soupp

@f-cklife

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@Vincein2d

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@imjustheretofightforlove

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Credits-

Silver heart knot divider by @tsunami-of-tears

MDNI divider by @arlerts-angel

Header by me

[banjopolishh]

fiddauthor drabble because fanfics are tough to write.. (I’ll still post it dw)

　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　

tonight was the night.

stanford pines is going to ask his roommate, fiddleford mcgucket, to go out on a date with him.

how?

well.. in the nerdiest way he can of course!

fidds had been laying in his dorm bed all day, dreaming about one day being a billionaire in tech. the light brunette constantly was dreaming up ways to bring fortune and happiness to his family, and, to stanford.

suddenly - the dorm room door swung open , a gorgeous brunette was standing in the doorway. it was stanford, of course.

“FIDDLEFORD!!” ford slammed the door behind him hurriedly and approached his “friend”.

“heya, stanferd-“

“no time to talk. can we play ddmd? this is urgent.” ford said, his face was extremely red, and he looked like he was about to pass out. stanford rushed over to his desk and grabbed the board game, he then sat on the floor in front of fidds’, patting at the spot next to him. 

“of course! but..are you okay?” fidds crawled onto the floor and sat cross legged in front of ford. stanford was definitely acting stranger than usual, and it concerned him.

“yes, yes, im fine!” ford fumbled around setting up the game, his six fingers fidgeting nervously as he grabbed the dice. he was trying so hard to keep his cool, but, obviously it wasn’t working well.

“okay! fiddleford, i’ve created a dungeon.. just for you! shall we?” stanford fidgeted with the dice, everything had to go perfectly or he was screwed!

“sounds fun! ‘m so excited.. you made it just for me? that’s so sweet..” the banjo player blushed, he had never felt so seen in his life before. stanford truly knew how to make him happy.

“o-oh! of course..anything for you, fidds.” they both were surprised by stanford’s romantic wording, it was sudden, but needed. they then looked down at the dungeon, both excited to start.

~~~~~~~

“your turn to roll, ford! ya gotta make it count!” fidds was smiling from ear to ear, the two were battling it out and finally got to the last point of the game ford had set up. suddenly - ford’s face turned a deep red, and he began fidgeting once more.

“..let’s see if fate has something in store for us. If I roll a 15 or higher.. i think we should go on a date tonight. i’ve been thinking a lot, and i really, really, admire you” stanford looked into fiddleford’s eyes, fidds’ heart felt like it was going to explode from all of the emotions he was feeling.

“oh my stars, stanford. of course, i’d really love to.. so, please don’t lose. even if it means i lose the game..” mcgucket felt himself becoming worried and stressed, he really wanted stanford to win. ford jumped slightly at the feedback from his soon to be lover. they’d been flirting back and forth, but neither knew for sure how the other felt. until now.

stanford cupped the dice in his hands, rolling it and praying to the stars above that he doesn’t fuck this up.

and ya know what?

he didn’t!

“20! YES! HAHA!” ford cheered, jumping up from the floor excitedly. embarrassment quickly overtook him as he realized he was making a fool of himself.

“oh.. i .. i’m sorry you had to see that.” fidds laughed, he got up off the floor and planted a kiss on ford’s cheek.

“no, no. it was cute.. ‘m just so happy you’re interested in me! i wasn’t sure if you liked me or if i was just.. socially unaware of how friends should act.” stanford placed his hand on his cheek where fiddleford had kissed him, he turned to him, and returned the favor by kissing him on his lips.

the two felt pure bliss surround them, they were finally able to be open with one another about their love.

time for them to go out on a silly date. ^_^

———

aughhhbbbb…. hiiii…. sorry to have not been posting ! working on an angst fic + running away from writing because i have major block and no motivation… I WILL HOPEFULLY MAKE MORE SOON JF YOU LIKED THIS ONE!!!

[barbstail]

It’s so funny scrolling the obey me tag cuz you’ll just be enjoying some obey me shall we date content and then B O O M boobs! Kinks! Heathen behavior!

[lord-amaranth-12]

(Almost) every food/drink etc. mentioned in obey me nightbringer and shall we date

Notes:

I'll update with links to the sources soon just bare with me. Also please tell if the link arent working

Update: ill stop linking stuff for now

Update: i alphabetized everything (using https://onlinetoolz.net/alphabetical-order) and removed the ingredients for potions cause i will be moving it to another list. I also edited the layout abit to make it more readable

Update: ill start linking stuff now, have to get all out of my storage and posted here before i get full storage again

A

• Abyss crimson bee honey

• Abyss crimson wasp honey

• Alla death cream

• Artic butterfly scales

• Ash fall chocolate brownies

• Assam

B

• Backstabbing sandwich

• Barely cooked black tapir steak

• Bat leaves

• Bavarian cream

• Bell peppers

• Black cloud chocolate gâteau

• Black coffee of melancholy

• Black shark flavored gummies

• Black tapir casserole

• Bloody marmalade

• Bloody rice omelets

• Bloody soda

• blood-red velvet cupcakes

• BLT devil sandwich

• Blue rose crystal pickles

• Blue rose petals candied in crystal syrup

• Bufo egg milk tea

• Bufo egg milk tea hell poison honey flavored

• Bufo toad

• Bufo toad sushi

• Bulbul bird eggs

• Butter pancakes

C

• Castella

• Cat cookies

• Colossal jumbo surprise parfait

• Comfort candy

• Crazy ghoul hamburger

• Crimson bonito flake

• Crimson bonito flake dressing

• Crimson dogwood

• Crimson tea

• Crispy chicken nugget LXXXIII

• Crushed millefeuille

D

• Dark star fruit sandwich

• Death maggot sauce

• Death mask bat chips

• Deaths door sauce

• Deep-fried devil zebra skewers

• Demi-glace sause

• Demon salmon

• Demonic Sausage

• demon silk moth-flavored gummies

• Demonkiller remora

• Demonkiller remora sauté

• Demonus-infused chocolate

• Demon-luring seaweed salt kalbi chips

• Devil cabbage

• Devil cacao bean

• Devil canelé

• Devil chocolate

• Devil chocolate canelé

• Devil duck confit

• Devil flower fruit trifle

• Devil ham

• Devil lohas milk tea

• Devil moray sushi

• Devil salmon meunière sandwiches

• Devil salmon rolled sushi

• Devil salmon terrine

• Devil zebra bacon

• Devil zebra meat sushi

• Devilbee popcorn

• Devildom gummy Horror house flavored

• Devildom-style boneless pararucu

• Devildom-style vampire bat sandwich

• Devils soft serve

• Dragons mark pie crust

• Dreamfeather cookies

• Dreamfeather meringue cookies

• Dried bufo egg

E

• Earl grey cookies

• Eternal night herbal tea

F

• Family pack sushi

• Fish meunière

• flaming hot mushrooms

• Flaming toad

• Fluffy egg pancakes

• Fluorescent rich yogurt

• fried devil chicken

• Fruit of wisdom jelly

G

• Galaxy burger

• Galaxy fries

• Garlic anchovy dip

• Giant shadow sea cucumber cream pasta

• Glazed Shadow chestnut

• gold demonus

• Gold hellfire newt syrup

• grilled vampire bat

H

• Hamburger gummies

• Hamburger stake

• Hamburger steak

• Haunted hamburgers

• Havoc devil

• Havoc devil ribs

• Hawthorn berry powder

• Hell demon salmon

• Hell pudding

• Hell velvet parfait

• Hellfire chocolate pie

• hellfire curry rice

• Hellfire mushroom rooled cigar

• Hellfire mushrooms

• Hellfire rose

• Hells kitchen hamburger combo

• Heros herbal tea

• Horror's horror cheesecake

• Hunter sandwich

I

• Instant noodles (hell-sauce flavor)

J

• Juicy shadow hog rice bowl

K

• King-sized fried devil chicken

• King-sized hellfire curry rice

• King-sized poison bleu cheese hamburger

• King-sized shadow hog ramen

L

• Laughingshroom powder

• Little devils white sauce

M

• Madam scream's super sweet scones

• Magma butter

• Magma butter pasta

• Magma butter scone

• Mandragora powder

• Marinated bufo toad

• Melted cheese

• Mimic latte

• Mint chocolate chip

• Mont blanc

N

• Nightshade cream

O

• Ocean of cloud cake-parfait

• Ocean of Clouds cake

• Ordeal orange fondae

P

• paradise blue

• Pasta alla death cream

• Pickled vampire bat

• poison bleu cheese hamburger

• Poison strawberry

• Poison veggie juice box

• Poison viper worm al ajiilo

• Poison worm sauce

• Poisonous cheese burgers

• Poisonous cheesecake

• Poisonous marsh pudding

• Princess poison apple

• Promised glory donut (?)

• Purgatory mustard

Q

• Quattro Hungry Pizza

• Quetzalcoatl brains

• Quetzalcoatl brains soup

R

• Rainbow paw print chocolate

• Red riding hood sandwich

• RedxRed apple pie

• Region exclusive Devildom gummy

• RIP burger

• Ruby chocolate éclair

S

• Sabbat salad

• Salted hell rose petals

• Salt-grilled black goat bat

• Scorpion syrup

• Shadow caramel

• Shadow chestnut

• Shadow chestnut paste

• Shadow chocolate

• Shadow chocolate brownies

• Shadow hof stir fry in demi-glance sauce

• Shadow hog

• Shadow hog buns

• Shadow hog dumplings

• shadow hog ramen

• Shadow hog soup

• Shadow hog steamed bun

• Shadow hog stir fry

• Shadow pork ragu pasta

• Shadow tuna sashimi

• Silver birch sap

• Simeons special BLT devil sandwiches

• Siren bench caviar

• Smoked cocktraice glizzard

• Smoky black loco moco

• Spicy rainbow pizza

• spiderweb powder

• Sponge cake

• Stardust soda

• Starry-sky waffle

• Stonefish Meunière

• Strawberry shortcake

• Super-sized limited-edition beef

• Sweet and salty canned kraken assortment

• Sweet milk tea

• Sweet tears donut

T

• thick-cut giant devildom slug sauté

• Thunder sparkle flavored gummies

• Toe bean stamp salad

• Troll coffee

U

• Ultra D

• Unhappy Mega Combo

V

• Vampire bat

• Venti brashberry frappuccino with double whipped cream and extra berry powder

W

• Whole roast shadow hog

• Wicked cupcake

X

Y

Z

Not in devildom

A

B

C

• Camping meal (Witch camp)

• Cursed goat cheese tartar sandwich (TSL)

D

E

• Ema datshi (human world)

F

G

• Ginger ale (human world)

H

• Hamburger (mama's cooking) (levis animes)

• Herbal tea (celestial realm)

• Huckleberry (human world)

• Hyper chili dog (human world)

I

J

• Japanese giant salamander (human world)

K

L

M

• Mapo tofu (human world)

N

O

P

Q

R

S

T

• Tornado tomato (human world)

U

V

W

• White mochi balls in syrup (march comes in like a Panda)

X

Y

Z

Unnamed

A

B

• Barbatos's homemade cake

• Barbatos's homemade pudding

C

• Celestial tea

D

• Demon lords castle edition premium demonus

• Demonus with scorpion syrup and spiderweb powder

• Devilcats favorite food

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

• Leviathans homemade granola

• Lobster

M

• marshmallow

• Moryo Town's special demonus

• multi colored Jelly

N

O

P

• Popcorn Deaths door flavored

• Popcorn lava salt flavored

• Popcorn magma butter flavored

• Popcorn Tree sap caramel flavored

• Pudding from devilmart

Q

R

• Ramen infernal bahamit flavor

• Rare flower used in baking as a sweetener

• Really big chocolate bar

• Really big chocolate coin

S

• Salad from Sound Off, Symphony! Summer band camp storyline

• Sheep cake

• Star-shaped chocolate

• Sun and moon cookies by simeon

T

I

V

W

X

Y

Z

Characters

• "Little cake thingies"

???

• Chocolate mold

• Devildom miso

• Egg berry whole mil

• Marinated bufo toad

• Marzipan

• Meunièr

• Newt

• Surströmming

[glam-pir]

- introduction to writeblr -

p e r s o n a l i n f o

hi !! i'm em, i'm 18, almost 19, and i use she/they pronouns. writing's always been part of my life, i've just never actually believed i could do it. so, here i am, yada yada yada more cheesy shit. anyways, i'm in college so my activity levels are all over the place, i'm hoping having a blog to even myself out and make myself stay consistent will actually work. i love all things dark, gloomy, scary, and puzzle-ey, which goes without saying that my hobbies follow the same tragectory. i've been playing piano since i was four years old and i love writing music, solving puzzles, writing and reading (goes without saying frankly).

a b o u t m y w r i t i n g

let’s get into it, shall we? i really like a blether, and by that i mean i’m indecisive beyond words. my most common genres in the overarching sense is urban fantasy combined with cosmic horror, and high fantasy. i love worldbuilding don’t come for me i’m sensitive.

but in terms of smaller little motifs and themes, i love delving into folklore (slavic and north african, gotta stick to my roots), low fantasy and surrealism, political intrigue, dark romanticism, gothic horror, monster girls, lesbians, a good ole butch/femme dynamic, dead people, ghosts, generational stories, and of course, anything you could listen to depeche mode while reading.

w i p i n f o

jesus it’s uh, um, it’s a mess in here, please ignore the state of my mind rn, all titles are subject to change, for now i'll be titling them by vibe and vibe alone, these will probably be their tags for the forseeable future, also they're all gay

no guts, all gory

a story of suspicious internships, monsterous girls, the desire for knowledge, dead people, things man was not mean to see, and lunch dates with your coworkers. [ low fantasy / surrealism / cosmic horror ]

baba yaga's moving castle

a story of matriarchies, political intrigue, slavic folklore. [ high fantasy / multiple povs ]

gas station prophecies

a story of gas station prophets, things in the fog, shadows in the woods, spooky towns and liminal spaces, odd summer vacations, and some very important realizations. [ low fantasy / surrealism / gothic horror / coming of age ]

saints of nothing at all

a story of secret societies that are worse than they seem, culty schools, ✨cunty✨outfits, mean girls, meaner lesbians, himbos, ballroom dancing, and just a little bit of a roll in the uncanny valley. [ surrealism / hauntings / gothic horror / academia ]

[voltstone]

they adopt a cat named floof (Wenclair One-Shot)

wednesday, for her girlfriend, gets a cat. she finds a way to bypass the “no pet” policy in order to do so. :)

(inspired by this post)

[1,268 Words] | [Last Edit: 11/12/2022] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why.

Hope you enjoy! :)

Enid has figured, months ago, that she might as well be dating an Eldritch horror.

At first, she thought that Wednesday is just an angsty little goth. Come to find, her aesthetic and snapped wit are the most outwardly charming things about her. Because, as much as Enid loves her, Wednesday is really, really fucked in the head. 

Fucked head or not, though, Wednesday has a heart. She does. Sure, it may be in her foot for all Enid knows, but watching how she plays along with Eugene’s bee-scapades, and how cordial she and Bianca have gotten, she knows there’s a heart of gold in Wednesday. (That or she’s color-blind and it’s not gold but rather, in fact, dirt.)

Not that it matters. After too long of a day, Enid is ready to collapse onto Wednesday’s bed and badger her until she stops her “hour of novel writing” in exchange for, uh, osculation. 

Some days the struggle is short-lived. Wednesday gets needy too. But other days, the “hour of novel writing” is extended to several, and a long, long pout-full sleep on her bed. Hopefully today is the former. Given the labs, and the lectures, and the other labs, Enid really just needs to scratch an itch. And by that, it’s really Wednesday scratching it, and then Enid taking a nap afterwards. With Wednesday. (They cuddle.)

The door is nudged open. A hinge creaks, and a floorboard groans. Her eyes find Wednesday immediately. By the window. Waiting for her. Mildly surprised, but, ultimately, glad. Enid smiles widely. “Wednesday! Your novel's…”

“Done for the day. I did it this morning.” She straightens as Enid closes the door. "Enid,“ Wednesday prompts, and though she catches a quirk down her lips, Enid can’t help but feel…cautious. A Wednesday with her hands behind her back is a Wednesday with too big of a trick up her sleeve. "I have a surprise for you." See?!

Wait.

Cautious or not, a wide smile flourishes. "A…surprise?”

“Yes.” A blink. (Surprisingly. Heh.) “You said that you wanted a pet to keep us and Thing in better company.”

If Enid could jump Wednesday’s cold, frigid bones, she would. But, alas, as much as she loves Thing, Enid isn’t sure if she’d appreciate two running around—as a hand, and then a paw. So she stands herself squarely and musters a curious face. “Yeah, I-I did… So…?" A grin is pressed. Oh fuck, she can’t bear holding herself together any longer. Her hands are clasped. The grin cracks glee. "What is the little one…?! A gerbil? A ferret? A—” Enid practically melts off the face of the earth. “A kitten?!”

Wednesday maintains her composure, but that quirk down her lips worms. “Not quite. Close your eyes.”

She does as told, and she hears Wednesday shift with the surprise in her arms. Her grin is wide with her tongue snagged between teeth.

“Enid. I got us a cat.”

There’s a hop, and a skip, and yip! before she has the chance to open her eyes. "O-M-G! Can we name it Floof—?!“ When Enid does open her eyes, she… U-Um. Well, um. She sees orange. And the cat is…staring at her. Except it’s disconcerting and not at all like Wednesday; rather than stare deep into her soul to lobotomize it, the cat is, like, staring…through…it?

Wednesday tilts her head. Another blink. "What?”

The—

The cat isn’t fucking moving. It just…isn’t. It's—

Oh my fuck, what the God did you do, Wednesday?! 

Enid stands in place, feet anchored to the ground, as she stares at the… The— M-Muppet. Dead muppet. There’s a swallow, and then, a squeaked, "…w-why does it look like that?“

Wednesday lobotomizes Enid’s soul (affectionately). "Like what? The child we shall raise? Together?” …that shouldn’t have flipped Enid’s heart over. It’s practically roasting on a skillet now.

Enid lurches a quite tentative step forward. She meets…Floof by its vacant stare. "Did you put googly-eyes on it?“

"Well it is taxidermy,” Wednesday confirms, bluntly. She gazes down at the cat’s face, and the black dots follow. “I felt you would have appreciated her eyes.”

“Instead of what?”

Wednesday stares back at her. “The eyes I found bludgeoned from her head.”

Where did she get this cat?! Enid follows Wednesday to her desk. …Floof is gently set down beside the typewriter, and as Wednesday fixes a bent whisker in place, Enid hears Thing scatter across the room and back under one of the beds. 

Judging from the multitude of blemishes across…her body, it’s clear that Floof spent all nine lives at once. Poor thing. Yet, she looks as alive as Enid supposed she was not months ago—googly-eyes discounted. She imagines Wednesday’s lithe fingers spindling to sew the worst of death, hide it away, and it’s a mellow thought, if morbid. Her coat looks soft, and her body, strong. Put back together, at least. "That's— That’s such a pretty pattern on Fl-Floof’s back,“ Enid comments.

"Goodyear, for a truck—winter coverage.”

…a-ah. Okay.

Wednesday lingers in place, with her eyes avoidant, and hands tied together. It takes a moment before she begins to ramble—a rarity, with Wednesday, and Enid feels her own heart pool to her foot: “You said you wanted a cat, but I told you—again—that we can’t because of the academy’s policy, but you looked like you wanted to kill yourself when I said that—”

“…Wednesday, I’m not…s-suicidal.”

“—so I went out searching for one, on the roads, and I found this one. She looks like a lot of your sweaters, which is disgusting, so I figured it’d work out. We wouldn’t have to pay for any of the necessities she needed alive, though I’m sure enough nail-paint and -remover will do the equivalent.”

Enid grimaces, though her eyes land on Floof’s white paws, and they snag each toe. “She does have nice nails.”

“I filed them.”

A hum down her mouth, because Enid can smell the anxiety off her neck—even from around the desk, despite whether or not Wednesday herself realizes it. But it's…funny, really. There’s a sort of beauty about it, how mental gymnasticshas become the sound way to understand Wednesday’s language:

Want a pet? Can’t have one because of rules. So, here’s a dead one. With pretty nails you can paint, and a head big enough for a bow.

Enid watches her quietly. Wednesday plays with her hands, spindles them together. Her lips are thin. She’s nervous. Her eyes are cast down. She anticipates.

“How long did this take…?”

Wednesday, slowly, murmurs, “Two weeks. I had to…help with the odor. You would’ve vomited or kissed the floor otherwise.” A pause, then, “…and broken your…pretty nose. Again.”

“That did hurt, yeah…” Enid breathes. (It’s still sore. She swears she’ll set Wednesday’s side of the room on fire, someday.) She rounds the desk’s corner, and Wednesday is swiftly tucked in her arms. There’s that initial frigid moment before Wednesday unwinds, and her body remembers that, yes, it’s Enid, and Enid has the permission. She nudges her pretty nose along Wednesday’s neck. “Thank-you…” is murmured.

“We’re going to reconsider the name." You’re welcome.

"No we’re not." No we’re not. 

Together, they eye Floof, and Floof…is staring at both the door and window simultaneously. With— 

Aww, her tongue is almost sticking out. What a cute touch, Wednesday… 

"You’re needy.”

“It’s almost a full moon…?”

Wednesday twists her head, and Enid seeks for treasure.

They osculate. And her lips feel like death, but they’re the most liveliest thing, all at once.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

[tomiokagiyuufirststan]

More angst for my oc cause i lowkey have no life

???? pov:

SHE IS A MONSTER!

how could i forget it? She turned so many people into madness how could I FORGET THIS SHIT.

Lila.

It was her name.

My first and only love.

Me Carmilla the most gorgeous dancer in all the three worlds is the victim of her crazy cult.

Lila haïwuri popular amon poors and nobles the beloved of them all a saint like they say!

But only some people know that she is far away to be a saint.

A monster that's what she is.

Her crimes can't be counted.

She has not guilt no remorse like a fucking insane person.

And somewhat i still love her.

It all beggined 3 months ago my mom had a cancer.

"P-please my dear carmilla ask to the beloved saint to heal me it's the only solution for me!" That was my mother's words.

So i did it.

"Please my beloved saint i beg help my mother" i said in my knees before i looked into her eyes.

The beautiful pale lady opened her mouth and said

"Fine but i have one condition"

As i nodded she gently puted her cold lip in mine.

"This is our pacts you will be my concubine dearest dancer"

I didn't mind since she healed my mom after that.

How silly of me who tought that she was a saint .

Times passed and i loved her i loved how she touched me.

Before i knew i falled in love with the most crazy lady ever created.

Before our "marriage" i was in the arms of another person a man to be exact i dont know how it happened i just.

Loosed interest in this saint.

And before i knew my life collapsed.

Lila saw me and was sure to make my life hell.

"Eat" she said with a smile as she gave me meat.

Meat who was the man's dick.

"How silly of you to love someone other than me when you could be safe in my arms hmm?"

SAFE?

How can i be safe when you are the most toxic person i have ever meet our relationship was just you abusing me.

She tortured me sotfly and guilt tripped me sooooooo softly that i falled into madness before i even noticed

"Bye Carmilla i hope we meet soon"

Was the last things i heard before i felt someone stabbing me in the heart.

I am sure of one thing that lady has more secrets than i will ever know.

[marvelgirlstories]

Hi, I'm finally back!!!

This is a Tom Holland fluff alphabet, because why not???

SFW

Warnings: None (I think)

Tom Holland,

Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

He loves your personality. Everything about you make him smile and he will immediately tell if something is wrong.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Yessss! He would love to, but only if you want to. He will wait as long as he needs too.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He almost always big spoons you, unless his has had a bad day or is feeling sad.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

They are always very cute and fun. They are normally very spontaneous, he will only ask you weeks in advance if it's your birthday or something like that. He will always make sure you want to do what you are doing and often knows how to base dates of your mood.

E = Everything (You are my___ (e.g. my life, my world)

You are my life.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

You met through filming for marvel and became best friends. He realized it somewhere along the way. You were always has a crush on him but was to scared to ask.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

This man is the king of gentleness! Always makes sure his is not hurting you and you have everything you want.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

As said before, you became best friends I instantly. He loved you.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Although he tries not to show it, he does get jealous, but calms down a bit if you reassure him, you love him.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

First kiss was very sweet. You were both just hanging out and talking, when you noticed him staring. "What?", you asked. "Nothing. I just really want to do something.", he replied. You had no idea what he was going to do, so you said,"Do it." And so he kissed you, although it took you by surprise, you kissed back just before he was going to pull away.

As for how, he loved to put his hands on your waist. You would normally put them on his neck.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He said it while he was away. He had sent you a voice message and accidently said it at the end. He didn't regret it though.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

Probably when you met his family, because you got along so well. (You got yourself 4 new best friends (Harrison, Harry, Sam and Paddy))

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

He will spoil you loads, but often with surprises. Like one day, you would get a letter in the post and it would have a plane ticket in it. Once you were in LA, he would take you anywhere you want to go. He also took you to the set of the movie he was filming. He would buy presents for occasions, like birthday, anniversary or national girlfriend day. (Sometimes if he wanted to give you a gift anyway, he would just Google what day it is, than give you one for "World Lemur Day" (28. Oct).

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

I feel like he would like green??

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Darling

(My) Love

Sweetheart (only if you are behaving the exact opposite)

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He is a big family person. He loves it when you get along with them. I mean you always do, but he is still very happy and proud.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Netflix and chill. Like loads of cuddles. Just in bed.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

He knows what you want in different situations and will make sure that you have it. Also cuddles always help!!!

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Different things. From your work to his work, to what's on the TV and what shall we do tomorrow. You guys never run out of things to say.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

He just loves it if he gets to lay down on you, you play with his hair and you talk to him. He will almost always fall asleep.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

He doesn't really show off. Sometimes he will do a little PDA in Public to show someone you are his, but other than that nothing.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes after a lovely date on your anniversary. He made sure to ask your parents first, but they love him so of course they said yes. You were at the beach and he pointed out some birds to you. When you turned around he was down on one knee.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Umbrella by Rihanna and Jay-Z

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Before he did, he would often think about it and hope that you said yes

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Not at the moment as he has Tessa, but in the future a dog as well!

Hope you all like it! I'm hoping to post Stole my heart Part 3 on Monday or Tuesday and until thenI will try and post other fanfics.

See you all tomorrow 💕🩷💞

Tags:

@felicitylemon @kandis-mom

[lululawrence]

lululawrence's January 2023 Fic List

Previous Fic Lists / Lulu’s List Podcast Masterpost

Happy 28th! Here are the 19 fics I read and loved during the last month. You'll notice I'm still finishing my Christmas reading, so let's just pretend it isn't so late in January as it is, shall we? And as always, be sure to show your love and appreciation for all of the hard work our fandom authors have put into their fics with kudos, nice comments, and (when applicable) reblogging their fic posts!

Mistletoe's For Two by @ireallysawanangel / crimsontheory (91k, E, Harry/Louis, Advent fic, enemies to lovers, fake dating, miscommunication, light angst, this fic was just so beyond charming and fun, i loved it so much, and from the beginning LOVED figuring out these characters, it was a great read and such fun enjoying as a WIP though i'm sure it's great all at once too haha)

love drunk, waiting on a miracle by @hellolovers13 / HelloLovers13 (30k, E, Harry/Louis, Advent fic, acquaintances to lovers, well, more like barista and customer to lovers, though that kinda happens at the beginning, and the focus is more on the development of their relationship, it's so sweet and fluffy and fast paced, it's a fun and lighthearted read that's got that festive spirit too)

Midnight by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything (11k, E, Harry/Louis, NYE fic, a/b/o dynamics, alpha Harry, omega Louis, friends to lovers, idiots in love, neighbors, there's more i wanna tag but it's kinda spoilery so I won't, I paused my Christmas reading for this, because everything about this fic is like crack to me, and as soon as I saw Lauren posted it and the tags and summary I had no choice, I had to read it immediately, and I regret absolutely nothing I loved it so very much, It was the perfect way to start the year for me lol)

Love This Christmas by @chloehl10 / lovelarry10 (68k, M, Harry/Louis, Advent fic, strangers to lovers, primary teacher Harry, teacher's assistant Louis, single parent Louis, pining, getting together, this fic was so much fun to read and I loved the details of the class and their working situation as well as outside of work the glimpses we got of their lives, and how it all just came together, this fic was adorable and sweet and i loved it)

Eyes on the Horizon by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright (12k, E, Harry/Louis, Reverse Bang fic, age difference, older Harry, younger Louis, skydiving instructor Louis, Harry is having a bit of a mid-life crisis of sorts, he's just broken up with his long-term girlfriend, lost his job, and is coming up on a big birthday when he meets Louis, and he's so afraid of being a predator but ohhhhhhhh, he has NO need to worry about that hah, this fic was so incredibly fun and honestly quite educational about skydiving imo lol, but also so fucking hot it was SO good)

It's Thursday. Let's Get (un)Dressed. by @bananaheathen / bananaheathen (9k, E, Harry/Louis, NYE fic, tiktok, ootd tiktoker Harry, freshly broken up Louis, emotional hurt/comfort, Louis is pretty damn depressed which makes sense considering the situation, but he gets out of it and is okay!, genderfluid Harry, closeted Harry, this fic i'm kinda marveling at the fact it's only 9k because so many feelings and so much was put into it, it felt so much longer, and it takes up more space in my head and heart than I expected a 9k fic to be able to fill, but it's just, this fic is very important to me and i ADORE IT, SO MUCH, i keep thinking about this harry and louis as i'm going about my day sometimes, it's kinda ridiculous, anyway love love love and please read it and scream with me about how amazing it is thanks lol)

Wanted: Dog Walker by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld (6k, G, Harry/Louis, Reverse Bang fic, age difference, older Louis, younger Harry, silver fox Louis, dog walker Harry, neighbors, this fic is short and sweet and such fun, I love how Harry throws himself into walking Clifford, and how he and Louis start to develop a relationship with each other, it's very sweet and easy and honestly kind of precious)

Snow on the beach by @onlythesweet / onlytheclouds (9k, G, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, based on Hallmark movies in general, so it's exactly what you'd expect, the busy city guy spends his holidays with his family in a small, rural town, and gets off on the wrong foot with the town's darling, only for them to fall in love hehehe, and that's exactly what you get, featuring Louis as the city guy and Harry as the town's darling, this was such a sweet fic and had a lot of feelings mixed in it was lovely)

Odd Dogs by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (4k, G, Zayn/Niall, Christmas fic, strangers to lovers, dog rescue, lots of dogs but especially a very special and important idiot of a dog, we love her very much a lot hahaha, if you're familiar with Emmu's special quirky shorter fics then you know about what to expect, and yet this fic just somehow goes one up, and i seriously almost woke up sleeping members of my household because of my laughter and teh sounds I was making trying to hold it in, this fic just hit me in the funny bone in a very specific way and Emmu's humor was perfection here, very very sweet and fun fic)

While the Moon is Bright by @tommokat / tommokat (1k, T, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, girl direction, speed dating, meet cute, this fic was such a fun little snippet of their lives and I loved the hints of what might be to come that were sprinkled in too)

Baking Spirits Bright by @beelou / cherrylarry (2k, G, Liam/Harry, Christmas fic, youtuber Harry, established relationship, baking, well it's hot chocolate from scratch which is more cooking but that's fine, fluff, this fic was a pure and sugary confectionary treat to read, it was fun to see what their relationship was like and how fun it is for them too, you know?)

All I know is I'm in trouble ('cause the atmosphere's so cold) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same (8k, T, Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam, Christmas fic, enemies to lovers, miscommunication, meet ugly, haha, skiing holiday, this fic was so good, I was trying so hard to figure out what exactly happened to make them so cold towards each other, especially when it was so obvious how much they loved their best friends and the fact their besties had fallen hard and fast, and then you learn and it's just, very sweet from there on out imo, this felt like a safe and soft space to hide out in for a bit)

'Sno(w) joke by @sun-tomato / SunTomato (6k, NR, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, snowstorm, stranded, in a library of all places hahaha, strangers to lovers, cuddling, this fic was just so sweet and easy, and Lewis was of course the silly side-bit character we all love him being, it was just overall a fun and kinda silly but also heartwarming fic)

Ho Ho Hopefully by @larrieblr / safetyfilm (5k, T, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, Harry is one of Santa's elves, Louis is a human he's been assigned to, pining, emotional hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, this fic is so warm and tentative and sweet, and Louis is so lovely and exhausted and Harry just wants to adore him, it's so soft!!!)

Snow Squalls & Kitty Paws by @littleroverlouis / littleroverlouis (9k, G, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, cat cafe, cat cafe owners Louis and Zayn, pining, snow storm, snowed in, acquaintances to lovers, this fic was so fun and such a joy to read, i loved reading it so much and it was like a hidden safe place i just happened on, it was so sweet)

If you ever feel alone (Don't) by @beardyboyzx / beardyboyzx (10k, G, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, this fic is so heavy and sad almost but also so heartwarming?, Louis is clearly depressed and stressed and it makes sense why he's feeling that way, but also his friends are trying so hard to make sure he knows he's still loved and wanted, and so appreciative of the efforts he's able to make you know?, it's just, this fic was so lovely i adored it)

Louis' "Harry" Christmas by @chai-hat-tea / The_Halcyonic_Lachesist (10k, M, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, friends to lovers, idiots in love, hurt/comfort, like literal hurt, Louis injures himself and Harry cares for him, it's so very sweet, but also Harry's family helps them realize how stupid they've been, because they've basically been in a relationship without even realizing it lolll, i love it so much)

Mistletoe Cove by @wabadabadaba / wabadabadaba (5k, G, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, snowmen competition, strangers to lovers, this fic is so sweet and I love how it's based almost entirely around the snowmen they're trying to build, but they still manage to flirt despite that, it's so fun and silly and lighthearted)

The Elf who Saved Christmas by @ladyaj-13 / LadyAJ_13 (3k, G, Harry/Louis, Christmas fic, strangers to lovers, older brother Louis, Harry works at a Santa setup at the mall, and Louis doesn't know the rules about appointments, and it's so very cute, Harry and Niall are so funny but also I would imagine risking getting into trouble, but also I almost cried out of relief when they did what they did for Louis, I loved reading about how sweet they were without even knowing Louis!)

[twwpress]

Weekly Press Briefing #65: September 17th - 23rd

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from September 17 - September 23, 2023! Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing! 

Challenges/Prompts:

The following is a roundup of open challenges/prompts. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

@callixton hosted The West Wing Pride Week (@twwpride here on tumblr) September 17 - 23. More details here, and you can check out the AO3 collection here! 

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from September 17 - September 23:

Dule Hill posted a photo of himself and his wife Jazmyn at the Pasedena Playhouse to see The Sound Inside. 

Marlee Matlin posted a video for the International Day of Sign Languages. 

Melissa Fitzgerald posted a promo for the op-ed she and Martin Sheen co-wrote for Recovery Month. They will be performing Love Letters live at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. September 28th - October 1st. 

Rob Lowe posted a date night photo of himself and his wife Sheryl out at The Roxy to see Neil Young. 

Donna Moss Daily: September 17 | September 18 | September 19 | September 20 | September 21 | September 22 | September 23

Daily Josh Lyman: September 17 | September 18 | September 19 | September 20 | September 21 | September 22 | September 23

No Context BWhit:  September 17 | September 18 | September 19 | September 20 | September 21 | September 22 | September 23

@twwarchive: September 17 | September 18 | September 19 | September 20 | September 21 | September 22 | September 23

@bestofcjtoby: September 17 | September 18 | September 19 | September 20 | September 21 | September 22 (1) | September 22 (2) | September 23

Edits/Artwork:

#CJTOBY: can’t two people reconnect? by @sapphiccjcregg [VIDEO EDIT] Portrait of CJ Cregg by @jeansmilburn [FAN ART] 

This Week in Canon:

Welcome back to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot aired on September 22, 1999.

Editors’ Choice: 

To celebrate the premiere of The West Wing 24 years ago on September 22nd, 1999, we’re sharing some fics that were either posted on September 22 of any year or that focus on the first episode of TWW (that we didn’t already feature in our Pilot fic roundup last year!). Some of them were intended to be show anniversary fics, and others were not. Happy West Wing-versary! 

The Day On Which They Shall Give Their Votes by onekisstotakewithme for daylight_angel, miabicicletta, Luppiters, hondagirll  | Rated G | Gen Fic (Abbey/Jed mentioned) | Complete | Election Day, 1998. As the votes come in, the staff of Bartlet for America waits with one question in mind: Who will be the next President? The First Lady by GlitteringNiffler | Rated G | Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet | Complete | Or what was Abbey Bartlet doing during the episodes she doesn't appear in. if you're looking for the girl of your dreams, she's in brooklyn with me by starsontheceiling for TheBreakfastGenie | Rated G | C. J. Cregg & Josh Lyman | Complete | “Why do you talk to me like this?” “Because you never had a big sister, and you need one.” Snapshots of CJ and Josh, over the years. When A Woman Loves A Man (Who Loves A Woman) by BeneathAnOrangeSky for heliotropic | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | “You’re sensitive. It’s sweet.” She bites back a smile at the image she’s evoked. Everyone thinks they know the real Josh Lyman. Bartlet’s bulldog, political wunderkind, the man behind Washington’s curtain. But they don’t know him like this. She brushes a sweaty tangle of hair from his forehead and pretends not to notice when he leans into her touch. No, this side of him is reserved just for her. His mouth opens in surprise, voice pitching up a notch, “I am n—” “Your system,” she amends. “Your system is sensitive.” S1 E1 Pilot by JDPostEpisodeChallenge  | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Post-episode story written by lilyiseverywhere. we've been living on a fault line by sam_writes_fics for hufflepuffhermione | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | “Are you two close?” Kate asks. “I mean, you must be, to some extent. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have flown all the way there.” “Uh, yeah. We’re…” he gets the busy tone again. “We’ve been working together for a while.” Kate tilts her head. “She works for you, doesn’t she?” “Only technically,” he offers back, staring at the zero bars lighting up on his cell phone. // 6x02: Josh spends five days at Camp David, and every night all he thinks about is Donna.

Don't miss this week's fics, which will be reblogged onto this post!

[thatsneakymedic]

your name: o♥r♥o♥c♥h♥i♥m♥a♥r♥u

romantic or platonic?: oh we are friends, aren't we kabuto?

a night in or dinner out or an activity?: hm, activities sound like lots of fun when i am reassured to have a capable ninja by my side who does the dirty work for me *snickers*. at the end of the day you shall be granted access to my humble abode.

ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: the latter

what's your perfect date?: one to remember

would you cook for me?: would you eat it if i did?

would you let me cook for you?: i might.

can we make-out?:

make out in private or in public?:

do you like to cuddle?:

blankets or no blankets for cuddling?:

couch or bed?:

what are at least 3 hobbies of yours?:

tell me something about you no else knows:

why do you want to be my valentine?:

what makes you a good Valentine?:

"i'm sorry but i got bored towards the end. if you need me, i am in my lab ♥"

@vilesn4ke

For some reason, he was more amused by this half completed application than upset. It's just so typical of Orochimaru to get easily bored of things that don't involve their own preferences.

"No worries, Lord Orochimaru. This is just well enough to know about our platonic friendship is, so I won't need it to be completed. I'll surely give you those strawberries, and perhaps a bottle of sake to go with the occasion. Even if it's just another silly holiday."

[wayward-frequency]

                                         𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 [ ; ]

❝ We'll leave it up to fate then, shall we, Wolfy? A duel to the death. May the best man win. I cut him down, & that's that. Back to our regularly scheduled international incident. But if he beats me... if I die here... the lock on my blade will disable after a couple hours. What happens after that... is up to you, Wolfy. ❞

* Samuel Rodrigues, also known as Jetstream Sam & Minuano (ミヌアノ), was a cyborg mercenary involved with the Desperado PMC group who fought against Raiden during the events of 2018. He was a Brazilian master swordsman of the “Rodrigues New Shadow School” technique, which had derived from the “Yagyu Shinkage-ryu” (Yagyu New Shadow School) of Japan.

Samuel Rodrigues was descended from a long line of swordsmen, dating back to 16th century Japan [ ; ] his father of whom operated a Brazilian Kenjutso dojo, eventually having been killed by one of his own pupils, rumored to have been involved in cartels for reasons unknown. Although, not before Samuel personally inherited the Murasama blade from his father [ ; ] leaving Brazil, presumably to train, only to later return, inevitably killing the pupil in question.

Thereafter, he travelled the world as a mercenary, taking various odd jobs, including a job as a bodyguard & as a cleaner for the Mafia, having made a name for himself in the criminal underworld, all executed at a time before high-frequency weapons were available. At some point, though, he had the Murasama blade modified into an HF Blade with an ID lock. Already a superlative sword, this led to the creation of an incredibly powerful HF Blade, which glowed an eerie red color.

⌬ — * 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ “Sam” [ 💬 ] ❔ ➤ “Minuano” [ 💬 ] @ Monsoon ( 季節風 )

⌬ — * 𝐀𝐆𝐄 [ ; ]

➤ 34 ( Canon ) / 32 ( Jetstream DLC )

⌬ — * 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [ ; ]

➤ 1.82 m ( 6'0" )

⌬ — * 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 [ ; ]

➤ Dark brown

⌬ — * 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 [ ; ]

➤ Light brown

⌬ — * 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 [ ; ]

➤ Olive

⌬ — * 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 [ ; ]

➤ Right

⌬ — * 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 [ ; ]

➤ O+

⌬ — * 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Single

⌬ — * 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 [ ; ]

➤ Cisgender male / ( He / him ) & ( She / her )

⌬ — * 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 [ ; ]

➤ Bisexual / aromantic

⌬ — * 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Mercenary ( 2002 - 2018 ) ➤ Bodyguard ( 2002 - 2005 ) ➤ Cleaner ( 2004 - 2007 )

⌬ — * 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ With his occupation as a drifter – taking odd jobs wherever he may find them, either due to an underlying desperation to sustain his own life, or because he himself genuinely enjoys the occupation – Samuel has no single residence, no single place of origin. Such was a mindset he'd geared himself into at the time of his father's death, & he has travelled alone & without homestead ever since.

⌬ — * 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ One of Samuel's most prominent scars – & one of the only scars he'd ever held any kind of pride in garnering – is a long, deep scar which runs from the edge of his scalp [ ; ] piercing through the bush of his eyebrow, down his cheek to knick the corner of his upper lip. Curving more towards the right as it lines his lower lip, where it then fades into irrelevance. Such a scar found itself bearing heavily upon his body the moment Samuel returned from his training, later lashing his burden of vengeance and mourning out upon the pupil of whom took his father's life. Yet, even as said pupil's blade carved a lengthy trail of gore upwards against Sam's face – nearly blinding him in one eye, almost halving his tongue & breaking his teeth – it appeared Samuel got the last laugh, in the end.

➤ With his occupation as both a swordsman & a mercenary, however, Samuel is not also without his smaller, lesser significant scars. A smaller, more tenuous scar lines his right cheekbone, just beneath the corner of his eye... & with its fragile size, its story even moreso, & perhaps a little more shameful than the last [ ; ] nothing more than the result of a simple bar fight, resulting in the shattered glass at the butt-end of a broken beer bottle scraping against his cheekbone. &, as predicted, such a provocation ended a lot less... elegantly than aforementioned previous [ ; ] the perpetrator inescapably leaving the bar with both a broken, bloody nose & soiled jeans.

➤ Aside from his two most prominent, visible scars, marking his face, Samuel has a plethora of other scars – from slim & insignificant, to deep or raised – all upon his body. Aside from those upon his face, however, the most prominent scar to make itself home upon his torso was the mere result – or consequence – of being equipped with cybernetic enhancements [ ; ] the procedure resulting in the total replacement of his right arm, which was incapacitated & rendered useless by Senator Steven Armstrong in 2016. Because of the otherwise intrusive surgery – & the insurmountable haste his assigned cybernetic surgeons appeared to exercise at the time of operation – several gnarly, rough scars make home upon Samuel's upper right torso [ ; ] curving from Samuel's right shoulder blade, over his shoulder, to the lowermost section of his chest, rounding off just near his right middlemost ribcage [ ; ] severing his armpit from the soft, pliable flesh of his thorax.

⌬ — * 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 / 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Samuel has no tattoos or body art of note. As for piercings, however, when he was younger, around the age of fifteen to seventeen, Samuel did pierce his own ears, moreso out of curiosity rather than some crazed wish to risk infection. However, Samuel has since relented in wearing any sort of earrings or piercings, not seeing a need for them, given the nature of his exosuit.

⌬ — * 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Outside of marks inflicted by third parties or illness, while they may not be visible to most outsiders given the nature of his armor / exosuit, Samuel's flesh is dusted with some number of nevus, more prominently upon his upper back & thighs, with a few nevus of note sprinkling his rear end. Upon his abdomen, just near his belly further to the left, there is a notable, imperfectly-shaped birthmark, appearing as though it had faded with time.

⌬ — * 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Aside from the long, prominent scar running across the left side of his face, Samuel has several other notable features, at first glance. For one, his eyes – emphasized by his eyelids, the hood of his brow, eyelashes & the subtle crow's feet etching from either corner of his eyes – hold a kind of intensity that appears to round & complete his face, giving him not only an appearance of maturity, but of utmost exhaust, as though you can see the story of his life simply by gazing into his eyes.

➤ Additionally, Samuel's hair is not only quite curly & wavy, in nature, but maintains an almost natural layer of either oil or grease, regardless of where he is, or what he does. As though, no matter how many times he may wash it, it almost always appears as though there is a subtle kind of shine to its texture.

➤ Just as his eyes are notable in nature, Sam's lips stand out from the fine, almost delicate chisel of his face. Even outside of his otherwise iconic smile – either from genuine bliss or as he may be taunting his foe – the soft, visibly plush texture of his lips gives the rest of his face a much friendlier impression, perhaps to both contrast with his brash personality & the nature of his occupation.

⌬ — * 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Sam Kiszka

                                  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐄 [ ; ]

⌬ — * 𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 [ ; ]

➤ Cancer / Rat

⌬ — * 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 [ ; ]

➤ Chaotic good

⌬ — * 𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 [ ; ]

         ➤ SO6 — THE LOYALIST.

* Self-affirming, trusting of self & of others, & independent. Dedicated, particularly to movements within which he holds strong belief, at the cost of also being constantly vigilant, anticipant of problems or conflicts. But, at worst, sarcastic and belligerent [ ; ] blaming others for his own problems, & authoritarian while also fearful of authority. Evasive & indecisive, with a tendency to wallow within his own confusion.

⌬ — * 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 [ ; ]

         ➤ ISFP-T — THE ADVENTURER.

* These individuals often lean towards introversion, & nonsocial tendencies [ ; ] however choose to use their tranquil surroundings to regather their thoughts, their down-to-earth attitude giving them great foresight in regards to personal or world events. Despite this, these individuals share an excellency in adapting to unfamiliar environments, their value of novelty above stability classifying them as “flexible nonconformists,” of sorts.

⌬ — * 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder ( PTSD ) / Major Depressive Disorder ( MDD ) / Schizotypal Personality Disorder ( STPD ) / Generalized Anxiety Disorder ( GAD ) / Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder ( DPDR ) / Insomnia

⌬ — * 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Samuel is fluent in both English & Brazilian Portuguese.

⌬ — * 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ When placed under extreme amounts of pressure or stress, particularly in more recent times, Samuel has a tendency to either ingest alcohol, or imply that he may or may not ingest alcohol, as a means to cope with both his own lack of personal meaning or purpose, or to escape social situations. With this, he is not a social drinker in the slightest, for various reasons.

⌬ — * 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 [ ; ]

➤ Physical Touch, with a dash of both Words of Affirmation, & Quality Time. While Samuel has a tendency to keep to himself, to self-isolate & – when working – tends to do it all by his lonesome, he is not one to deny the right of others to dote upon him, even if he himself might not be the one to initiate such contacts. With all that he has endured, Samuel has grown to believe that talk is cheap, but would also prefer it if people didn't require of him material items just to be reassured of his affections for them. That, & he isn't necessarily good at expressing his emotions, so something so simple as being in another's presence is satisfactory enough for him.

⌬ — * 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ While Samuel doesn't entertain himself much with mere material practicalities, one activity he does enjoy partaking in would be in heavy regards to his motorcycle [ ; ] holding an almost gushy place in his heart for it, despite it being an inanimate means of transportation. When he isn't journaling – another off-handed, sort of recreational activity he partakes in for the sake of his own mental health – he is either driving his bike or cleaning it. Perhaps the decal on its side won't spitshine itself?

⌬ — * 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Righteous & protective / Patient & pragmatic / Approachable & tolerant / Reserves most, if not all of his judgment / Smiles a lot & doesn't refrain from having a sense of humor around others / Goofy & unserious, when he needs to be.

⌬ — * 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Brash & arrogant / Reactionary & defensive / Hot-headed & violent / Emotional & inactive / Miserable & self-destructive / Compulsive & carefree / Hypocritical & naïve / Apathetic & uncaring / Tends to isolate himself near-constantly / Difficult to read & inelaborate with his own emotions.

⌬ — * 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Long, quiet drives on his motorcycle / Scrapbooking & journaling / *Cuisine from his home country & food in general / *Home renovation television shows / *Cross-dressing ( on occasion ) / Long naps underneath the warm sun & in the bath / *Having his hair played with / Moody, rainy days.

⌬ — * 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Meetings, events, & other compelled social outings / Being humbled, despite humbling others / Money, wealth & corporate greed / Feeling as though he has disappointed his family name / Bloodspray & gore / Long, winded speeches / Corruption, politicians, & corporate executives / Being treated as immature or as though he doesn't know better.

* VERSE-DEPENDENT & VARIES.

⌬ — * 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 [ ; ]

➤ From the perspective of both a man, a warrior, & a cyborg, exposed to nothing but the endless bloody wiles of the life of a mercenary, Samuel comes off as not only brash & comically arrogant, but almost too cocky for his own good [ ; ] such predetermined confidence having inevitably led to pitfall after pitfall, again & again. However, in some recent past of his, he wasn't always so carefree & careless [ ; ] once having been well-calcuated, never once underestimating his enemy, & always having seemed on top of things.

➤ However, after being served defeat at the hands of the Senator, it appears both his arm & his valor were ripped from his very being. Now, being subject to live his life as a lie [ ; ] becoming reserved, & disinterested in almost everything, as though his reason to live had been sapped from his soul. Once having been confident & free, Samuel now felt as though he were trapped in a cage of his own making. Empty.

                                  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 [ ; ]

⌬ — * 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ FATHER — DECEASED. ➤ MOTHER — DECEASED. (Alleged.)

⌬ — * 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ ❔

⌬ — * 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓-𝐎𝐅-𝐊𝐈𝐍 [ ; ]

➤ ❔

⌬ — * 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 [ ; ]

➤ ❔

⌬ — * 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 [ ; ]

➤ Samuel does not have any pets, however, due to the frequent number of cats to roam around his place of occupation without supervision, he has become quite fond of the common house cat. Oftentimes visiting World Marshal's infamous – perhaps for all the wrong reasons – Japanese garden, where one of several of the premise's cats lounged around without much care in the world.