#on light or moderate days for me at least they can last the whole day. on heavy days it's good to change every 12 hours

[britneyshakespeare]

i know i've been very culty on here about period underwear and reusable period products in general whenever i've brought up the topic in the last year or so but i mean it sincerely. i have never spent my money on a product that just simply improved my life so much. game-changing isn't even the beginning of it. i look forward to how much better my periods are now since i no longer have to depend on gross disposables. period underwear is the shit

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 17

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Mentioned character death

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos   @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions

Masterlist

A/N: Let's pretend like this isn't a million months late and let's pretend I didn't suddenly forget how to write during my time away.

Day 201

Fifteen days. They were getting fifteen whole days home. They’d just landed in North Carolina and from there, each soldier would head their separate ways. Unfortunately, Leah’s flight to Denver wasn’t until the next day. She would have driven home if the drive wasn’t actually longer than simply waiting sixteen hours for her flight.

She’d planned on spending the night waiting around at the airport but a few men who were in the same situation as her had found a motel for the night and she had to admit that having a place to shower was a big enough appeal to cancel out sleeping in a cramped room with three of the men.

Had their overseas flight not been delayed, Sy would have driven straight down to see his folks. As it was, it was already getting late and he didn’t want to make the five hour trip in the dark. Besides, no one would be awake if he showed up after midnight.

After taking a cab to retrieve his truck where he’d placed it in storage, Sy made his way back to the motel. The men had already made themselves at home and were sharing a few beers on the plastic chairs that surrounded the empty pool.

“How can I help you, dear?” the woman behind the desk greeted him.

“I’d appreciate a room for the night, if ya have one. Just one bed’ll do.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, we’re full up. I assumed you were with all the other boys.”

“Well, ma’am, I am. I just hadn’t planned on stayin’ in town tonight so none of them saved a bed for me.”

The woman looked through the hand written registry again but Sy already knew the answer wouldn’t change from the empty peg board behind her.

“I wish I could help you out but a lovely young woman just checked out the last room. We normally have a four person per room policy but I’ll look the other way if you want to squeeze in with any of your fellow soldiers. The least I can do is make sure the men who serve our country get a roof over their heads when they are back home.”

Sy tipped his head in thanks and walked out of the little office. He pulled the cap down over his head though it didn’t do much to protect him from the light of the setting sun.

It looked like he was going to have to ask one of the boys for a favor. The question was, who did he want to bunk with for the night? On the flight over he’d heard them talking about hitting the bars tonight. Sleeping on the floor might land him in a splash zone if he didn’t choose wisely. He didn’t trust any of them to drink in moderation. Not after that last op.

Garrett had flatlined on the chopper while being transported. They somehow got him back but when they finally got him into surgery, it was already too late. Of the other two that were evac’d, one was expected to make a full recovery and the other would most likely walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

Then there was LT. He had a half dozen broken ribs, a concussion and a collapsed lung but he was also expected to make a full recovery. His injuries were mild all things considered and Sy had almost left him there to die.

“I thought you’d be halfway home by now,” a sweet voice spoke from behind him.

Sy was shocked when he turned to find Leah, who had apparently showered and changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt she’d tied into a knot at her hip. Her hair was still damp but she’d left it loose around her shoulders to air dry. It was his first time seeing her out of uniform and her casual outfit might as well have been expensive lingerie if his dick’s reaction was any indication.

“Didn’t want to drive in the dark. Starting to regret it though. They’re full up so I either bum a spot on someone’s floor for the night or I call around until I find a place with a vacancy.”

Leah made a face like she understood how unappealing both of those options were.

“Well… I’ve got a king bed all to myself.”

Sy swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Was that an invitation or was she just stating a fact? Not that Leah was the kind of person to add salt to a wound but surely she wasn’t implying what he annoyingly hoped she was implying.

Leah pulled on an old USMC crew neck, causing her shirt to lift up and expose the skin of her stomach. The sweatshirt was well worn and the tip of the sleeves were frayed where she rolled them up. The state of the fabric made Sy believe that the shirt had most likely belonged to her father and he decided to forgive the insult of wearing something meant for a jarhead.

“I was going to pick up some snacks and juice from around the corner since I hadn’t planned on going out. I think there was a liquor store too.” Leah reached into the pocket on the side of her leggings and handed a small key ring to Sy. “How does pizza, beer and half a king bed sound?”

It sounded like perfect bliss and asking for trouble all wrapped into one.

Sy took the key, seeing a small number twenty etched into the plastic. He looked back at the motel, studying the numbers on the doors.

“It’s the room above the office. The stairs that lead to the door are on the side since it’s a separate structure from the rest of the rooms.”

That was good. If Sy was lucky, no one would notice that he was sharing Leah’s room.

And no one would hear her scream his name if he fucked her into the mattress.

Shit. Not a good train of thought if he wanted to make it through the night in the same bed as Leah. 

“I’ll order while you’re gone. Unless you want me to drive?”

She shook her head, her dark brown locks moving in the breeze.

“I need to stretch my legs after that flight. I’ll be back in forty-five, maybe an hour tops.”

With that, Leah was off. Sy hurried to his truck for his duffle then up the steps to the room. The first thing he needed was to clean the twenty-some-odd layers of dust and dirt off his body. After placing a quick order with a local pizzeria he found in the phonebook, he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower.

The bathroom was still humid from when Leah had been in there earlier so he didn’t shut the door all the way. The fan was on but Sy was pretty sure it’s only function was to make noise.

Thirty minutes and half a tiny bar of soap later, Sy deemed himself as clean as he was going to get and switched off the now tepid water.

He was in the process of drying himself off when the hotel room door opened and shut with a slam. He hadn’t left it unlocked, he hadn’t left any door unlocked since he left his parents’ house at eighteen which meant Leah was back and she’d let herself in with a second key.

Scrambling to cover himself up, Sy realized he hadn’t taken his clean clothes out of his pack. He wrapped the towel around his waist but it was too short to stay put on its own, forcing him to hold the ends together. There was no way he could walk out like that. 

“Coleman?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

“Would ya mind bringin’ me my bag?”

At the same moment a knock sounded from the door.

“Fuck. That’ll be the food.”

Leah came into view through the crack in the door, setting Sy’s bag by the ground.

“It’s fine, I’ll get it.”

“No, you paid for drinks, I’ll get the food, just let me find my wallet.”

Another, more insistent, knock came from the door and Leah ran over to open it, exchanging a short greeting with the delivery man.

Sy crouched by his bag, pulling the door open another few inches as he rustled through the pockets. He was getting nowhere with one hand, eventually pinching the thin cotton of the towel in the crease of his hip to free up his left hand.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he grumbled when his hand wrapped around the worn leather of his bill fold. He pulled out three bills, holding them up for Leah to take.

Leah made a choked sound when she caught a glimpse of Sy’s body only shielded by a barely there towel. She snatched the money from his hands with a mumbled thanks before averting her eyes and running back to the door.

Sy dressed in thirty seconds flat, exiting the bathroom right as Leah opened a bottle of rum and poured a generous amount in one of those individually packaged plastic cups that were as small as the soap. She lifted the drink to her lips, downing the whole thing in one go before filling it again.

“What are we drinkin’?” he asked as he came to stand a little too close to Leah.

“Beer or rum.” She cleared her throat, putting some distance between them as she opened the pizza boxes. “What are we eating?”

“Meat or meat.”

He really hoped she didn’t have anything against pepperoni, sausage or bacon because he had gotten one deluxe and one four meat pizza. When ordering, he hadn’t considered that she might follow a specific diet when was home.

His worries were abated when Leah opened both boxes on the dresser, dexterously swapping half of the deluxe pizza for half of the all meat one before closing the box again and taking the other over to the bed. The room didn’t have a table or chairs so it was as good a spot as any to sit and eat.

Sy took over making Leah’s rum and coke, which she’d abandoned when Sy’s closeness had made her brain malfunction, then opened a bottle of beer for himself.

“So, where are you headed from here?” Sy asked, handing Leah her drink then taking a massive bite of the deluxe pizza. It looked like he barely chewed it before he went in for a second and third bite.

“I’m going to stay at our old house. My brother decided to move into an apartment after receiving his residency match to be closer to work so it’ll just be me, myself and I for the better part of the next two weeks.”

She tried to hide it, but Sy could tell she was disappointed. Who could blame her? Caleb was the only family she had left and she would get forty-eight hours with him after so long apart.

“What about you? You mentioned your siblings and your parents… is there an ol’ lady somewhere in that mix?”

Sy’s head snapped up, pausing halfway through chewing his bite. She wasn’t looking at him, instead keeping her eyes on the drink as she swirled the contents around her cup.

“What makes ya think I have a wife or even a girlfriend waitin’ back home?” His tone was harsher than he’d intended but he was a little offended by what she was insinuating.

She kept her eyes downcast as she shrugged. Her lips were pursed from the way she nervously chewed the inside of her cheek. Maybe it wasn’t so much an accusation as it was her way of tiptoeing into the subject.

“Hey…” Sy waited until Leah dared to look up before he continued. “I’m no saint,” he admitted, his voice soft, “but I ain’t a cheat. If I had someone waitin’, she’d be it for me.” Not everyone considered kissing cheating but his ever growing feelings would definitely constitute infidelity. Leah’s eyes flickered from left to right, studying his face as she considered his words before finally giving a little nod of acceptance.

There was a tense silence as she picked up another piece of pizza, leaving her crusts in the box. Had Aika been with them, he would have given them to her as a treat. He was surprised how much he found himself to be missing the pup.

He’d found a shelter that helped send strays overseas for them to be adopted. They’d been willing to look after Aika until they returned and he’d arranged for them to give her all the shots she needed to keep her safe and eventually allow her into the States. They’d asked if he wanted them to help get her home right away but he couldn’t imagine going back to a life on base without his four-legged shadow.

Watching from the corner of his eye as she ate, Sy went over the speech he’d been preparing in his head the whole flight home. He knew what he wanted to say but for some reason the words kept getting caught in his throat. They had expertly avoided the subject the last two months on base but it was time for him to suck it up and say what needed to be said.

“I never apologized.” Leah’s head tilted to the side as she looked at him. She was still working on a mouthful of food but the little motion was enough to convey what she was thinking.

“For kissin’ you,” Sy clarified. “It should never have happened. You were hurt and vulnerable then I went and put ya in a position where ya probably felt like ya couldn’t say ‘no’. I let my personal feelings get the best of me and I accept full responsibility for that. I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, staring down at her drink.

Noticing her glass was empty, she moved off the bed to the improvised bar. She appreciated Sy’s apology. The circumstances under which he had acted were indeed quite poor, but at the same time, she understood what had pushed him to act—it was the same instinct that had pushed her to go after Niki, career be damned. It was terrifying to think that Sy felt so strongly about her, but it was even more terrifying that she desperately wanted him to.

She took her time fixing her drink, using the break in conversation to gather her courage.

On the bed, Sy was beginning to grow anxious. With her back turned, he couldn’t tell what was going through Leah’s head as the silence stretched on. He foolishly hoped she was gathering the courage to ask for a repeat but for all he knew, she could also be gathering the courage to ask him to leave.

It didn’t go unnoticed that maybe it also hadn’t been the best of plans to apologize when the two of them were stuck in a room with only one bed but it was already well overdue.

He also probably shouldn’t have agreed to share the room in the first place.

What had he been thinking? Even if his head knew to keep his hands to himself, the brain between his legs had a completely different idea of how to spend the next ten hours. He probably wouldn’t sleep a wink out of fear that he would drift off, roll over and grind his dick right into her ass.

He was just about ready to go spend the night in the bed of his truck when she spoke in a soft, unsure voice. He’d never heard her sound so meek.

“When you kissed me, there was a second there where I didn’t really understand what was happening. Everything was a little foggy, like I was in a dream.”

It no doubt felt like a dream because of the concussion. He hadn’t even considered how confused she must have been in addition to being tired, in pain and in a closed room with her superior who was suddenly getting handsy.

“But it wasn’t a dream," Leah finally said. “You were really there. Really holding me. Really kissing me.”

It was his turn to stand, coming to a halt a safe distance behind Leah. There was a small mirror on the wall which now allowed him to study her face in the reflection as she peeked up and did the same.

He’d replayed their kiss in his head so many times since that night. He’d begun to question whether he had only imagined those few blissful moments when Leah had kissed him back before she got spooked.

“A part of me was ecstatic,” feeling hopeful, Sy took a careful step forward and Leah turned to face him, “but another part of me was terrified.”

Shit. “Why?”

“Well, you’re my superior. I don’t need to explain why that’s a horrible idea.”

No, she didn’t. He’d thought about that every day since he’d first met the feisty young woman. But he had the feeling that was not the only factor. Sy took another step, making Leah’s breath hitch from the proximity. “And?”

Leah went back to chewing the inside of her cheek, looking away. Suddenly losing his nerve, Sy moved back, clearing the empty paper plates and pizza box from the bed. He wasn’t sure he could hear her reasons for not wanting him.

“It’s okay, ya don’t have to tell me. I’ll get outta here and let ya get some rest.”

He was disappointed, but what had he expected? That she would confess her undying love for him and that suddenly everything would be all fine and dandy?

Sy moved to his duffle, packing up the clothing items that had fallen onto the floor of the bathroom as he’d dug through it.

The sudden fear of watching Sy walk away was enough to convince Leah to speak.

“Please don’t go.”

Sy froze, surprised by her rushed plea. He slowly straightened, making his way back to Leah where she dropped onto the bed, hugging herself tightly. Sy longed to be the one to comfort her but he didn’t want to risk pushing her too far. Again.

“I really wanted to kiss you but then I started to worry that maybe you were expecting… more.”

That made Sy pause, crouching in front of Leah. “What exactly did ya think I was expectin’?”

“I— I don’t know.” She sniffled, shaking her head before wiping her cheek on the back of her hand. “It seemed like every time I got hurt I got a bedside visit from you and that night… You had this look in your eye like you thought you’d never see me again. You can’t blame me for thinking that there was something more than kissing on your mind.”

Just like that, Sy was back on base, reliving the most terrifying events of his life. Whenever he thought back to that night he’d been so focused on his stupidly impulsive decision to kiss a soldier under his command that he had almost forgotten about the op. Or maybe he’d just had a selective memory that preferred to remember the softness of her lips over the way she’d been so completely still when he found her unconscious.

“When I walked in and saw ya on that floor, I was convinced that I’d lost ya. I kept thinkin’ of all the things that I wished I’d said then, when ya woke up, I still couldn’t speak a single fuckin’ word so I— I didn’t think, I just acted.”

“Can you... tell me now?”

Sy swallowed the lump in his throat feeling his palms start to sweat. All the stress was coming right back but this time, he was determined to make it through. He took Leah’s hands in his.

“You’ve been on my mind since the first moment I saw ya. I liked that you didn’t take any shit from anyone. And since then… Fuck, I’ve just been falling hard. You make me feel understood in ways I've never experienced before. You make me feel like— Like I’m good enough.”

Leah looked down at their joined hands. “What if I can’t be enough? What if I can’t give you what you need?”

At first Sy thought she meant a relationship but when she unconsciously glanced down to the bed, Sy began to put the pieces together.

“Leah,” it was still foreign to use her first name, “does sex make ya uncomfortable?”

“Sometimes.” She tried to pull away but Sy didn’t let go. He caught her eye, giving her a look that clearly meant to cut the bullshit. “Okay, a lot of the time. Even if guys are willing to wait, they tend to expect sex at some point down the line and I can’t guarantee that I’ll ever be into it.”

“And ya think that’s a deal breaker for me?” He had to admit that, although he was used to going long periods of time on his own, he’d assumed sex would be on the table when he was home.

“Well, you are Captain ‘Pussy-is-on-the-food-pyramid’ Syverson.”

Sy winced, running a hand over his cropped hair. He hadn’t meant the question as an accusation but her defensiveness was understandable. 

“Yeah, okay, I can see where you’re coming from but it ain’t like that. There’s no fun in it if my girl don’t like it.”

Noticing she was still skeptical, Sy lifted the hem of his shirt. When Leah didn’t make a move to stop him, he guided her hand to his chest, holding it flat over his scar. “I learned the hard way that thinkin’ with my dick gets me nowhere good. I’ll give all that up in a heartbeat if it means I get a shot at somethin’ real.”

Leah traced the lines of his scar. She remembered it perfectly though she hadn’t dared ask about it when they’d been in his room on base.

“You think I’m something real?” she whispered.

Releasing her hand, Sy brushed Leah’s hair out of her face and kissed her temple.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was obvious that Leah was still scared of the possible repercussions. After all, she had every reason to be worried about the impact a relationship could have on her career. Leah was still young, she had a lot to learn about what she wanted in life and a lot to lose should anything go wrong. As much as Sy wanted to pull her to him and kiss her until she couldn’t think of anything else, Leah needed time to make a decision.

Looking at her more closely, Sy took in the dark circles under Leah’s eyes and the way her cheeks looked more sunken than ever before. She’d been a wreck after Niki and with good reason. The caveman in him felt better knowing that he’d fed her but she was still in desperate need of a good night’s rest.

He would have to put a pin in the conversation until they got back to base.

“What time’s your flight?”

“Eight.”

“Then you need to get some sleep.” Sy stood, pulling Leah up with him. She didn’t argue, simply grabbing her pack and heading into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Sy cleaned up the leftover pizza, managing to fit the box in the mini-fridge. He shut the curtains and switched off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamp on. After a moment of hesitation, he removed his shirt, keeping his shorts on, and climbed into bed.

Leah joined him a moment later, and to his surprise, she wrapped herself around him from behind. She’d changed into something sleeveless and the feeling of her bare arms over his skin nearly made him groan.

“You’re warm.”

“Na Sugar, your hands are just freezin’.” He intertwined their fingers together, happily sharing his body heat.

Leah smiled to herself at the easy way the endearment fell from his lips. Just for one night, she would let herself enjoy Sy’s company. For one night, she would pretend that he wasn’t her captain. For one night, she would pretend she wasn’t terrified he would eventually get sick of waiting for something that might never happen.

Sy woke the next morning to a shiver running down his spine. He sensed Leah’s absence immediately and he didn’t need to look around the room to know that she was gone.

Chapter 18

[gretchensinister]

Writing Game: Last Lines

Thank you @marypsue for the tag! This seems fun and I am procrastinating, so let's go!

Last lines from the last 10 finished works I posted:

The list goes from oldest to newest:

“T—time,” he stammers, his voice low and rough. “You give me time.” As much as I want, his vampire tells him. More than you’ll ever understand.

(all I ever do around you is want, Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, vampire AU)

“Well, with new, shorter ceremonies, it will be a very, very long night,” Sandy says, though the last word is mostly lost in a gasp.

(Shortday at Fountain Square, Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, bonus fic for my epic fantasy AU A Draught of Light)

“No mask?” No mask!

(Yellow/Gold, Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, eldritch AU)

And with a little more clumsiness than the night before, but perhaps no less real grace, they drew each other down onto the brilliant, fragrant rainbow of one of Thra’s wonders—and soon lost themselves in another.

(Incarnation, The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, SkekGra/UrGoh)

Then, you’d find out even more about what Moder had given you, and how much you’d really been changed.

(Clearing, The Ritual, Moder/Reader)

Don’t worry! We will whistle up our song.

(Something Wicked Is Me, Something Wicked This Way Comes, poetry collection.)

Humanity test 1 begin. No recording. No protocol. No re-test. No deliverable product.

(New, Improved, Guaranteed Quality, erotic sci-fi dystopia (I have trouble describing this work) original work that exists because of Pitch/Sandy)

“I…trust me that I feel what love of yours is mine to feel. And whatever happens…I wish you all Thra’s strength and luck as you labor to keep us whole.”

(To Keep a Body Whole, The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, mystic focus)

Why not, when he could trust that waking would be wonderful?

(Abundance, The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, SkekGra/UrGoh)

(Gohan: That is very annoying)

(The Sleepover, Dragonball Z, LMAO okay this is the most recent thing I have posted on Ao3 BUT ALSO the oldest work on the list by far. The Archive is an archive! So when I found a notebook with a DBZ fic my friend and I wrote in middle school, I put it in the Archive for, well, archival purposes! I believe in academia they call this juvenilia. Anyway, you don't get anything else on this list without this one babey! But Gohan is right. It is very annoying.)

What have I learned from this game? I have been reminded that I feel like I struggle with last lines--at least ones that can be excised from the story that led up to them.

If you write, I invited you to do this! It's fun but I don't know who's writing these days that hasn't already been tagged.

[tumbledang3l]

I feel like there is this near future where we live in a small cottage in the countryside, so far away from everybody, because you like nature, but I know that the secret behind this is that you never really admitted to liking me publicly. So we had to do it in private where nobody could see us.

I'm making dinner in a gown. What a strange get-up, but the truth is that even though you like me, you never learned or cared to learn how to love a man. So sometimes I have to pretend, act, and take on the role. I know my lines off by heart, I'll make the director proud.

I can play pretend, it's fine. It's not much compared to that one time when I was so angry and so sad, instead of cutting through my arm like I usually do, I mutilated my organ to leave a bloody hole, so now you could penetrate me with your strength and your manhood.

I think you like it, you've always liked blood. There were times when we had argued, and my arms were bloody, and you'd make love to me, you loved putting your hands on my freshly red or dryly brown wrists, it wasn't too violent, it was moderate even.

I don't see these as flaws in our life, or even a bad future whatsoever. I see it all as a future that God gave me after so much sadness, so many pearly tears running down my cheeks.

I guess I have to be grateful, and even though you don't fully admit to loving me, you do. You kiss me good morning, and you screw me goodnight. You're content with what I give you, though it's not much, and I make you laugh sometimes.

There are rumors through the grapevine that you were seen in the city with a black haired woman sporting a weird metal jewel in her nose. She must be a mess to sleep with, with that thing obstructing her nasal canals, snoring like a sow. I believe what I heard, it's not too far-fetched. But at least you stayed with me.

Oh, you could've run away with her, stayed in the city where you can love her in front of the whole world, where you can introduce her to your parents and marry her in one of these new age modern churches, while a new God from the twenty first century unifies you both. You could've had a great life, better than here, at least. You could be reading the news and going to work in whatever factory pays the bills enough. Could've gotten her pregnant. While I couldn't carry your child, she could. You could have gotten everything else, and you still stayed. I'm honored.

One day it's the apocalypse, the end of times, the sun refuses to shine and the moon went dark during the night, like a flickering light bulb. The clouds disappeared, the sky has a new color that nobody had ever seen before, no one believed it was even possible for the human eye to even see a new color ever.

Now it's nothing, it's chaos. It's the end of the movie, and you loved me so much during the musical number, you loved me as much as you could, and you did such a good job, that the time has come for me to eat you. The ultimate favor, my eventual reward.

It was a discussion that we had. Because I had suffered so much, it was the least you could do, your final gift, your last offering. You had told me that for my last day on earth, I had the opportunity, the privilege, to feast on revenge, to eat my anger up, to degust what had me suffer so much in life: humans.

You lay on the bed, completely naked. We tried doing it while you were alive, I took the knife that we used a couple hours earlier for lunch when I was cooking the curry drenched veal.

I am wearing a dress, honoring your own last wish. You always wished for a girl that would love you, and I was the only person loving you enough. You had to settle for less, settle for me.

I cut a part of your arm, between the elbow and shoulder, all along, and lengthwise. I eat it, and without any surprise, it doesn't taste very good. Maybe cause of your bad blood, maybe because today was hot and the meat was not kept fresh. Who knows?

But one thing we know is that you suffer too much, and though you seemed like you got a kick out of it, as it's a weird fetish of yours to get hurt, and you were so obviously erect at first, now the pain is too much for you to handle.

So we look at each other, I dive into your brown eyes like in the public swimming pool of my childhood, and we meet each other as children. Both so innocent yet so confused by the tribulations of life. I kiss your lips and you tell me that you love me, I know it's the signal and I slice your throat. Now eating you won't hurt your poor nervous system anymore, we both had our last wish realized. I take off the dress, it's time I be myself, and I hop on top of you, no need for the knife anymore, I'll devour you with my bare mouth like the last carnivore on earth.

I feast on my baby, the dear man that had loved me till the end. The only one at that. The meat starts tasting good now that I think about this. Thank you for loving me, even just a little, you know it was more than enough for such a love deprived kid like me.

It's the end of the movie, the credits roll and only bones are left. I'll die later too, perhaps we meet again down there.

- Tumbled Angel. #004

[calumthoodshands]

2022 Writing Evaluation

ah well well well thank u to my dear friends @calumsash,@igarbagecannoteven and @burstingsunrise for tagging me! very intruiged to see what this year's one's gonna reveal.

numbers of stories posted on ao3: 11! therefore a bit more than 2021.

word count for this year: that's a bit tricky bc ao3 counts my unfinished fic into this year as a whole so imma have to calculate a bit... 88 k for the independent fics and 14 chapters which are abt... 50 k for Days in the sun. Ergo 138,000 words! Estimated.

fandoms i wrote for: 5SOS!

pairings: cake! but i do have some muke in the making. (somewhere in the far future.)

story with the most kudos/bookmarks/comments: (leaving dits aside) to my own surprise, the right shade of blue really seemed to resonate with a lot of people (shoutout to luke's makeup you really have power apparently), perfect fit has the most comments and of lovers and friends got bookmarked the most (it has the most hits from these three as well so it figures i guess)

work i'm most proud of: hmmmm. of lovers and friends is one of my angstier works and the one where i think i really conveyed what luke goes through quite well. a different story is perfect fit though. i love that one bc it's so simple and light but so effective. but also shoutout to molly's bday fic the hues of me and you bc i wanted to write that fic for so long and i do like how it turned out despite it being quite different from what i normally write

work i'm least proud of (and why): there's no work i'm not moderately proud of bc i rarely finish fics and only finish them when i really do like them if that makes sense? my biggest problem is still my writing style bc i'm not yet sure i like it. which is probably any writer's problem but especially with english being not my native language i just KNOW i lack a certain... confidence in what i write bc i know it could be better, and could have more flow, and be more natural than it is. i write fics with three translators open, looking up every third word trying to find the one that not only makes sense but also gives it... the right vibe. that's something that bothers me with any fic. this is also a problem with days in the sun bc i post it as i write, and i just know that if i waited to finish it and edited it as a whole and only then posted it i might have done some things differently, but on the other hand, i also know it wouldve never seen the light of day, so... you win some, you lose some.

share or describe a favourite review you received: oh my god okay right yeah. there've been several to be clear but i'll keep it short so. once upon a time team @4thbrighteststar read of lovers and friends (actually, more on that later) and i wasn't thinking abt it too much after it was posted but then. one day i got a message from team, and lo and behold. it was a song. a song that fit the fic. i was SCREAMING on the inside. absolutely screeching. TEAM WROTE THAT SONG AND THEN SENT IT TO ME ALL CASUAL LIKE THATS NOT INCREDIBLE. burned into my brain for all eternity. i could talk abt it much more but this is already getting so long so ILY TEAM THANK U ONCE MORE ILY

a time when writing was really, really hard: can i just say 2022? /hj no but in all honesty... i had a REALLY hard time last year. i had much less time than the year before, and when i did have time, i rarely could get myself to actually sit down and write. and on top of that there is of course not much engagement with my fics anyway so at times i was very discouraged, almost to the point that i wanted to stop writing... so, yeah. i try not to pressure myself as much this year, but we'll see, i guess.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: actually, a lot of my fics are products of 'i'm just the writer i don't control what happens'. one funnier case though is probably football player luke in the hues of me and you. i never thought to make luke a football player bc it sounds so cliché but... as you can see it happened! and i think that's okay. i think i wrote him well enough.

a favourite excerpt of your writing: there's the hardest questions of them all, ah yes. fine. i'll actually try this time. AH yes okay yk what i got one:

i put more humor than usual into only on thursdays and i really like its lighthearted vibe <3 this isn't necessary my favourite scene but i also can't remember anything i wrote ever so it'll do lol

12. how did you grow as a writer this year? did i? i have no idea. i think i'm getting more confident in my writing with every fic i write, which is good. i've been more determined to work on my fics in terms of editing them after finishing, which i've been lousy with.

13. how do you hope to grow next year? hm... i hope i'll grow more confident. i hope i'll become more satisfied with my work.

14. who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc.)?

@burstingsunrise it would be ridiculous not to mention molly although i technically don't even talk to her about my writing that explicitely. i do however constantly ask her dumb questions and always get a more or less serious answer, i can always come to her for advice or throwing around any and all ideas i ever get. she's also been a real cheerleader to me whenever i'm insecure abt my writing again which i really, really appreciate. on top of the usual amount of appreciation obviously

i also have to mention @the-girl-who-cried-wolf bc she's inspired me lots of times, be it with her moodboards and blog/aesthetic, her own writing or something else. also my biggest cheerleader, love u emma.

dearest team @4thbrighteststar for her support on of lovers and friends. the fic would've never been as good as it is without her.

lastly i have to mention @sophelkopter (/ @sophelkopter on ao3) bc i simply wouldn't have kept going with dits without their comments. eternal gratitude.

15. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year? oh yeah! for sure.

16. any new wisdom you can share with other writers? just keep writing. and write EVERYTHING DOWN. that's all i got but also the most important two rules

17. any projects you're looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year? i finally want to write MUKE and i want to write ballet cake and i'd love to write the stranger things au. most importantly, however: i will finish days in the sun this year. soon. no idea how soon, but soon, and just thinking about it makes me want to cry lol

18. tag some writers whose answers you'd like to read: hm not sure who might've not done it already so this is pure guessing but i'd like to read something from @carouselstars and @the-girl-who-cried-wolf and then anyone else who would like to do this!

[theprinceofnothingatall]

I know they say not to start smoking or anything to curb your appetite or whatever but honestly when fall hits and it’s cooler outside, I’m buying a lighter and a pack of what my momma used to smoke: Marlboro red 100s. I should be at my UGW by then. I just want to have to the one in honor of her, sit up on the parking garage, flick my bic and blow smoke up there in the cool air. Maybe I’ll have the whole pack over the span of two months and have one or two a week. That all sounds really stupid just to feel closer to my mother, but I want to and it’s been on my mind. I’ve had a pack of mint like ones in my drawer forever that I found unopened years ago where we used to live and just used one that had lipstick stains on it from when I was dressing up for cosplay pictures. I’ve been so curious about what they taste like it kills me. They say it just takes one to get addicted, and somewhere else that one cigarette shortens your life by 11 minutes. I’m willing to risk it cause per usual I think I’m invincible and stronger than everything. I want to experience things and I want to experience something she did that was such a big part of her, so when I write about it it can be genuine memory. It’ll be like a really ironic messed up reward for finally losing this last 25 pounds I’ve been battling since even before she died.

All this desperate foolishness because I miss her.

I at least want to feel something she did, even if it’s dangerous and I’ll probably keep it a secret awhile and maybe never tell anyone.

I eat leftovers tomorrow then the 8th starts it all for real. 100 cal limit for a week, then 200, then 300 and so on til from what I estimated I’ll make 84 Ibs by Sep 3 so roughly two months.. I can assume about 12-13 pounds a month. From there I’ll up my cal limit by 25 each month til I maintain 84-90. It’s not realistic but I don’t care. It’s what I’m going to do and I’ll do it. Two work days a week even if they are of a higher activity level but I’ll be just fine.. light workout after work on Tuesdays, heavier workout on Wednesday, light at home workout on Thursday and maybe Sunday or whatever day I’ll workout with my partner too. 4 days a week of averagely moderate exercise will help a lot. While I’m losing weight I’ll tone. I’ll get stronger as I slowly up my intake for protein in the winter. In my own way I’ll recover and maybe be okay having muscle keep me at 90-95. I’ll never see the 100s again.

As sister days: the perfect body, the perfect soul.

🎀🚬

[therapythoughtstogether]

I regularly binge but then I get out of the cycle through just sheer disgust with the food now. Like I binged on crisps so much I now can't stand them. Now it's one less thing to binge. I try breaking the cycle if I can by swapping a binge meal for a healthy one for a limited time then swap in a second one etc. I go slow though like maybe a couple of weeks at a time. I can't go cold turkey. It's also totally hard. If I go slow and just gradually introduce a filling healthy meal instead of a binge into my routine then it's easier to fall into a healthy eating period eventually. I also try and practise mindfulness by grounding myself (you can Google tips) because the binging is fueled by a feeling of being out of control, like I'm airborne. I can't describe it. It's like I'm on the edge of a cliff and I have to slowly crawl back by grounding myself and taking baby steps to establish a routine. If you're recovering from trauma I think makes it so hard to try and pick yourself up again. I feel like I'm failing putting myself back together.

I cannot even express how thankful I am for you sharing your experience! I understand exactly what you mean, you don't have to explain further. It's like we have the same shared collective experience.

I remember being absolutely disgusted by creamed corn when I was just about 10 years old...it hurts to even type it out. I binged on it hard just before going to school and I was curled up in a ball crying on the kitchen floor because my stomach hurt so much. I haven't had creamed corn ever since.

Now I have kind of a aversion to most really sweet desserts because I used to binge on them so hard. I was binging on crisps hard-core for the past two weeks, and even tough I didn't develop an aversion to them (looks like my love for potatoes and savoury snacks wins) I just don't crave them at the moment (I know that won't last though) and I do feel disgusted by greasy food in general. So I'm trying to reduce the oil and fat in my cooking.

The feeling of being out of control...I feel like I am "possessed". Like I'm on the passenger's seat and someone or "something" took over the wheel. It's like witnessing my own self destruction and not being able to do anything about it.

I'm back at starting my days with a glass of water, a cup matcha, the light of a a scented candle and journaling. When I'm able to get a mat I'll go back to gentle stretches and build up to doing yoga again. It helps me ground myself more like in a preventive way. In hopes that I can prevent future binges or at least reduce the frequency and intensity of them.

When I'm in the middle of a binge it's almost impossible for me to stop. Even though I have managed not to binge for the whole day lately. Like I've had binges in the morning and managed to remind myself that my whole day isn't "ruined" even if I exceeded the amount of calories I had planed to consume for the day.

I'm also trying to allow myself to have what I crave in moderation, but with someone with my history of eating disorders, moderation is extremely hard. It seems impossible sometimes. It's all or nothing for me...but I'm trying.

~Sending you hugs and love, I hope you heal, and thanks so much again for sharing 💜💜💜 You made me feel less alone, and I'm sure other people who come across this may feel the same way.

[writefightandflightclub]

Could you pretty please write a headcanon about Llewyn Davis x hard of hearing reader?

It's a pretty funny story how l found out. I've been having trouble hearing and it all came to a boil with two events:

1. I was called to go on stage and receive a diploma 3 times before l realised they're calling me and

2. As l was reading a post about deaf and hard of hearing people, and thought: "no way I'm hard of hearing, it's just hard for me to hear!" 😂🤦🏽‍♀️ Then realized how dumb that was and went to get checked out to find that l have mild to moderate hearing loss.

I'm not sad about it btw, just glad to have figured that out, and l think Llewyn would be the perfect choice for hearing related issues 😅

Thank you very much, so sorry for the ramble, and have a lovely day! 💐

Hi Anon!

Thank you for this ask! It’s so fun to get a Llewyn prompt. I haven’t written for him in aaaages! ☺️🧡

I’m so glad that you have been able to figure out that you are hard of hearing, and I hope it’s helpful to you to understand that about yourself! 🧡

Little headcanon/ficlet blend below the cut.

I will say that I am not hard of hearing myself, and I know each person’s experience of being hard of hearing will be unique, with such a lot of variation! Without knowing more about your personal experience it’s hard to tailor this exactly, but I do hope there is something in there that you can enjoy. Also, if I have misunderstood anything about being hard of hearing, included any harmful stereotypes / anything insensitive at all please do let me know! I’m always happy to learn and to do better 🧡

Warnings: mentions of food, making-out, kinda forward reader (sorry idk where that came from! 😂), light innuendo. Fluff!

Crown of crotchets: Llewyn Davis x hard of hearing!GN!reader

We all know that Llewyn loves music! And, from the first time you meet him at a house party, that becomes apparent to you too. He’s shovelling food into his face at the buffet table (as he has been for the last 20 minutes), and not one of the pretty, smiling faces has been able to divert this sullen man’s attention - at least, not until you step up beside him. “I love this song,” Llewyn sputters unsmoothly, with a mouthful of chips and dip, spraying even more food crumbs on to his rumpled shirt.

Sharing favourite songs is one of Llewyn’s love languages, and he can’t quite explain it, but from the moment he sees you, he wants to share every song he knows with you. Hell, he swears he’s composing music in his head as he looks at you. You (and the rather warming chicken casserole) are the only damn pieces of luck in his rotten week, and he feels the cloud of despondency above him part just enough for some sunlight to glimpse through when he’s looking at you.

You mention that you can’t really make it out - the song he’s referring to - the vinyl playing in the background a little lost to the hubbub of the party. Llewyn groans and shakes his head as though that won’t do, not at all, and before you know it he is holding your hand in his, the wool of his fingerless gloves all soft and worn against your palm, and he is tugging you upstairs. “Come on, you need to hear this song.”

You don’t protest, even if you do wonder whether (or even assume that) this whole thing might be a ploy to get to you alone in the host’s bedroom for a make-out session - after all, you might not even mind that. This guy is cute, if a little sad and tired and scruffy looking. But, as he folds himself cross-legged on the floor in front of the side unit, easing the vinyl out of its sleeve like it’s a sacred object and setting it atop the record player, you realise he truly does have the music in mind. He really does want you to experience it, in an environment set up and tailored solely for you.

(Also, maybe he’s had enough of the other guests talking anthropology or whatever. He certainly didn’t seem to warm to them.)

“Come on,” he says, waving you over (you realise he’s also nabbed a full plate of snacks, which he proceeds to wrap in napkins and hide in the pockets of his jacket for later, and as he drops the needle and fiddles to up the volume, you settle down opposite him, seating yourself on the rug thrown over the hardwood floor.

The song sounds out, and you bob your head along to the beat, Llewyn asking questions of you until he’s finely tuned the bass and levels and dials to give you the best experience.

You watch Llewyn become entirely lost in it, the man closing his eyes and miming the progression of the chords along invisible frets - with his appealing, dexterous fingers. You admire his crown of muddled, crotchet black curls as his head bounces in time with the beat, his hair appearing like a beautiful tangled song. “Well. This is good,” you concur. “But… I’ve definitely heard better.” You smirk infuriatingly at him, and Llewyn’s jaw goes slack with your challenge.

He already looks desperate to prove himself to you, in more ways than one, his eyes big and bashful now - likely as he observes his surroundings and finally clocks that he does, in fact, have you alone in a bedroom.

You mull it over, and then you reach out and dust some of the crumbs from his cord blazer, noticing the moth-eaten ribbing along the edges. You click your tongue and sigh in something resembling defeat. “I swore that I wouldn’t date any more guitarists,” you say to him, his profession obvious from the way he played his imaginary instrument. “But… you are a pretty one.” You swear his brown skin heats with a tint of crimson as you smooth your palms over his lapels. “So… do you want to get a drink sometime?”

Llewyn looks dumbfounded, and a little lost for words, but eventually, some sounds croak from out of his throat. You read the words on his lips to help you out a little, and you find you don’t mind looking at his mouth at all. “I-I’m a singer too.”

“Wonderful,” you purr. “So, you’re good with your hands and your mouth?”

And, as skilled as Llewyn is with his instruments, he can hardly make any sounds now - aside from affirmatives - as you crawl into his lap and press your lips to his in a languid kiss.

From that moment, Llewyn is smitten with you, and the feeling is mutual. You spend whatever free time you have (he seems to have an abundance of it) together. Often, you will listen to music at your place. Once you had properly explained to Llewyn that you are hard of hearing, Llewyn was so understanding, asking gentle questions so that he could better understand how you experience the world, and to find out whether he could do anything to support you.

Llewyn excels at making sure you’re able to access as many of the sounds he finds beautiful as is possible for you - in whatever way that works for you. For example, depending on your needs, maybe he saves up his Gaslight money to buy some high fidelity headphones - if that would work for you and you would enjoy them. Maybe he makes sure to borrow the vinyl of that song which was playing in the cafe that time (that he knows you would love if it hadn’t been drowned out quite so much by the bustle of the patrons and the street). Llewyn always saves your preferred table at the Gaslight when he’s playing too, with a little “reserved” sign. He always makes sure you have your ideal spot, whether you want to sit far away enough to protect your ears (or to simply let the noise take a back seat and enjoy focussing on the visuals) or close enough that the background noise of the bar doesn’t affect your ability to enjoy his set.

As well, Llewyn is typically a mumbler, but he learns to adjust - always facing you when he’s speaking, getting close to you, letting you see his mouth, or making sure he moves the two of you to a quieter space, if those things help you.

He always encourages you to do whatever is best for you too, and you always feel supported to make your own decisions around what works (for example, whether you wish to experiment with hearing aids or not, or whether there are other options you may wish to find out more about.) It’s always up to you, and the last thing you would ever experience from Llewyn is pressure.

Llewyn knows how great you are at advocating for your own needs, but he also wants you to know he has your back too, and he is always there to pull someone up (in his typical grumpy, snarky fashion) if they are ignorant around the topic of being hard of hearing, or if they aren’t providing what you need to be included and to participate fully.

At home, if there are times you might not hear him approach - for example, if you are already playing music, or doing the dishes with running water and the rumble of the noisy washing machine - Llewyn approaches from the side so as not to startle you, wrapping one arm around your middle until you smile softly at him over your shoulder, and only then does he shuffle up to hug you tightly from behind, his soft curls brushing up against you. He’s a gentle man, and he’s loving, and he shows you in so many little ways that he is mindful of your needs.

Of course, Llewyn also makes sure you spend lots of quality time together which doesn’t involve sound as a central component. Llewyn understands that sometimes certain activities can take extra energy for you, and he becomes attuned to spotting any signs that you need a break or rest. So, you and Llewyn enjoy plenty of quiet days together at home. For example, you spend a lot of time reading and cooking together. Snuggling on the couch. Going to see movies - with subtitles if you need them - and talking long walks in the park with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. You’re literally his favourite person in the world. He can’t think of anything better than a chilled, snuggly day with you!

Most of all though, you love to hear Llewyn sing and play, whether intimate gigs for only you at home, Llewyn sat on the bed in his boxers, his soft body curled around the guitar, or in his element at the Gaslight, the spotlight shining around him like a halo.

It has to be said that Llewyn’s heart grew ten sizes the moment he realised you enjoyed his music most of all. He hasn’t often received a lot of appreciation for his talents, and it means the world that it is coming from you when he values your opinion above anyone else’s.

As your relationship progresses, and the two of you become more deeply entwined, Llewyn’s favourite thing to do is to have you laying on his chest while he sings lullabies to you. For him, there is nothing which brings him greater happiness than having you blissed out on his chest while his music and his embrace each soothe you towards slumber. You love this too, as having him so close means the sound entirely wraps around you. You can hear the sounds filter gently over you, and even if some of the notes might be lost to you when his volume drops or his pitch fluctuates, you can feel the vibration of every one of them - from his chest to yours - as you press up against him.

“Mmm. That one,” you say - around a cute lil yawn - on one occasion Llewyn snuggles you in bed.

“What, angel?”

“That song. That’s the best one so far.” You snuggle into him tighter, feeling like his sung notes - delivered with such reverence - are gathering to form a crown of crotchets in your hair. The notes which reached the shell of your ear and the missed notes alike forming a beautiful bejewelled headdress, delivered as they were with such love. Llewyn makes you feel like royalty. “Whose is it?”

You mean the artist, of course. But Llewyn’s reply confuses you. “It’s yours, angel.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I… I wrote it the night I fell in love with you. The… the night I met you.”

Your heart grows ten sizes now, and you tug him even closer to you.

You are Llewyn’s greatest muse, it seems, and his heart sings for you and only you.

“I… I love you too, Llewyn.”

God.

You’re endlessly glad you decided to break that ban on dating musicians.

This one’s definitely a keeper.

Absolutely top of the charts - in your heart if nowhere else.

[poisonmypleasure]

Light A Flame

sakusa kiyoomi x male reader

⚠️ smut: somnophilia, blowjob, riding

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn't know what possessed him.

He was watching the late night cartoon airing on the TV that you always watch. Next thing, he was suddenly hot and bothered, his dick growing semi-hard underneath his underwear, a bulge visible through his pajama pants.

The ace wasn't completely ignorant at the cause of his boner. He was thinking about you after all. 

He couldn't exactly pinpoint what did you do to turn him on all of a sudden.

Was it you coming back home from class earlier in your denim shirt, two upper buttons undone with your h/c hair tousled? 

Or was it when you got out of the shower, your wet h/c hair flopped down, your torso exposed with remaining droplets, already in your basketball shorts? 

It could be when you were wearing your long-sleeved T-shirt, when you pulled your shirt over your head, stretching your abdomen to let the rest of the shirt roll over your body before completely covering you. 

The way your back muscles flexed a bit? Delicious. 

The way your stomach was covered when you pulled the hem of your T-shirt down? Such a tease. 

And when you moved your gaze on your boyfriend's hungry eyes, you noticed it the moment you walked out of the bathroom, your lips curled into a small smile.

But Kiyoomi saw a lazy smirk that was so sexy to him. 

There was also when he heated up the food that he bought in the evening for you to have a late dinner. You ate beside him on the sofa as he watched the news, kissing his hair as a ‘thank you’ for taking care of you. The affection sent butterflies and shivers all over his body.

The heat got more intense when you mindlessly rubbed his thigh with your palm. It was warm for you but sweat was rolling down his back. It was just a simple gesture with innocence behind it but he got so bothered by that, in a good way.

Maybe, all possible causes affected him directly that made his dick hard. 

He loves you.

It’s love, right? The one made him pop a boner during random times like right now?

Kiyoomi sighs in frustration, leaning his head back on the sofa.

Is he… horny? Without a reason? No way!

That is your brand. You are known to be 247 horny.

The saying about becoming the person you love is happening to him? Gosh! Out of all the best qualities of you, he took your horny with him.

He puts his sweaty palms on his clothed thigh, suddenly remembering then mirroring your actions earlier. Rubbing his own flesh to get any pleasure by himself.

It isn’t the same as when you do it.

So, he walks into the shared bedroom of yours, standing near the foot of the bed to stare at your sleeping form.

He knew that you were drained from your long day and he wanted to give you time to rest. The thing that possessed him to be aroused right now isn’t helping him.

Adding to his desire, the scene in front of him, the one of you sleeping, is really arousing.

He didn’t know how you sleep and somehow got half of the blanket to hang off of the bed. Your aggressive sleeping made your T-shirt rode up to half of your stomach, your shorts were rolled up to show your thighs for him to drool.

Your erection is poking out too, your tip leaking precum and wetting your thigh.

There is no way Sakusa could hold himself back.

Now that he knows you’re horny too. Damn, you could even get hard in your sleep.

Pushing his final contemplation away, he straddled your knees before sitting on your thighs, trapping your legs under him.

He pulls down your shorts with difficulty, with him sitting on you and being careful not to wake you up. His present under the clothing made his lips dry, licking them at the sight of your proud standing cock.

Kiyoomi gently grabs your dick, wrapping all of his fingers around it before stroking it, the leaking liquid spreading all over your length.

“Tch! Stupid Y/N getting hard in his sleep... You better wake up when I suck you off…” he whispered to your dick in front of his face, hoping the message would get to your other head.

Due to the room being quiet, the squelching from your pre-cum and his tight grip filled the room with clarity and Sakusa felt his last bit of restraint from jumping you disappear.

He wastes no time to devour your whole length in his mouth, tongue already licking the whole thing, tracing the veins while bobbing his head to swallow it.

While sucking you, his eyes look up to your face, still nothing as you’re still far in dreamland. He struggled to frown with your cock in his mouth, a bit upset that you haven’t wake up to fuck his brains out yet.

He powers up his sucking, slurping back his drool on your length, drinking the built up pre-cum, stroking you faster and tighter, pushing you further down his throat.

The idea of him using your vulnerable state to satisfy his needs and getting caught with your hard cock deep inside his mouth turned him on like no other as he started to grind his own erection on your leg.

His eyelids flutter at your sleeping face, pretending he is seducing you with his eyes while giving you a blowjob. He knows you would go crazy at his expression that you would grip his hair and fuck his throat roughly.

And you are still asleep even when he gets closer to his orgasm by rubbing himself on you. It annoys him when he cummed first in his underwear as he grunts on your twitching length.

The pleasure from his orgasm made him moan around your cock louder, sending greater sensation that your seed bursted down his throat.

Swallowing everything then pulling off your tip with a loud pop, he pants on your still erected dick, all wet from his saliva as he had sucked everything off it.

He sits up to stare down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

You are still in your slumber.

“Y/N, you idiot… How did you cum in your sleep and still hard?”

He spat on your cock to wet it more, stroking it fast to exaggerate the squelching noise in hopes of getting any reaction from you being sensitive.

Nothing out of you, not even a small jerk.

“You sleep like you’re dead,”

He decided to take matters in his own hands in favour of satisfying his own lust. Shrugging his pajama pants and cum-stained underwear off, he squatted above your hips, your erection straightened in his grip before lowering himself onto you.

Your shaft pressed dead on at his prostate that he jolted upwards again. He moves his ass back down again slowly as he can handle.

He stilled himself for about two minutes to get used to your girth stretching his walls until his own erection woke up again.

Then he lets himself loose as he rides you in your unconscious state, slamming himself down onto you that his firm ass cheeks clap your thighs.

His volume was moderate as he wants to let you know that your cock is hitting him so good inside him but doesn’t want the people living next door to hear.

“Fuck! Y/N! Wake up and fuck me! Damn it!” he whispered in a yelling tone.

He fucks himself onto your hard dick until his legs begin to shake and his own length becomes painful.

“Fine… If you’re not doing it, I’ll do it myself…”

He changes his bouncing into grinding back and forth to drag his nerves against your cock, stroking his own to reach his second orgasm.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m cumming! Y/N-”

His semen made a mess all over your stomach, some staining your T-shirt. He continues to jerk off until he couldn’t handle the pleasure anymore that he drops his hands on your chest to support him from falling forward, his whole body shivering.

Sakusa’s heart drops when he sees your eyes flutter open, still hazy from your slumber when you scan the situation you’re in.

You looked at your boyfriend’s face with a bored expression before the lazy smirk that Kiyoomi loves from you appears. 

“Kiyo-chan? Did you use me while I was asleep?”

The guy gasped when he sensed your palms massaging his waist. He gulped as he already allowed you to have your way with him, knowing that you would go for two rounds at the least.

“Yeah, I did. Now, get up and fuck me into the bed,” he answered with confidence.

You were impressed by his attitude, already seeing him breaking down in the next few minutes.

Sitting up to meet his face, you grab his chin to guide his mouth to yours, kissing the breath out of him.

“You’re such a pervert, Kiyo-chan! And you say I am the horny one,” you provoked.

You obeyed his words that night and didn’t stop just before dawn. You were proven that you weren’t the only pervert in the relationship.

a/n: plssss excuse the h*rny 😭 also, not me outwriting my w***p** works 💀

[panharmonium]

the other thing that i keep thinking about, especially now that i’ve been knee-deep in conversation about kakashi’s father for the last couple days, is the amount of politically/socially-charged context kakashi must be constantly navigating as a leaf shinobi, even though we don’t get to see much of it.  

the transformation of the hidden leaf village is obviously still a work in progress, and society never changes overnight.  we’ve heard at various points in shippuden about the still-present divide between hardliners like danzo and the (somewhat) more moderate senju line, and it’s clear that there are still plenty of reactionary/conservative forces at work in the shinobi world, which means there are absolutely still segments of the population who would view the kind of challenge that kakashi and his students pose to traditional shinobi values as a threat.  and back when kakashi first chose to reaffirm his father’s principles, i’m sure it was much worse - the way minato tells it, the entire village and the land of fire turned on sakumo, and it’s not like all those people just disappeared when kakashi finally allowed himself to recognize that all of them were doing something wrong.  they were still there.  they were his neighbors.  they were his colleagues.  he had to live with them.  he had to work with them - he had to work FOR them, even.  to this day, he still does.

like.  i am FASCINATED by the complexities of this situation, even though we barely see any of it.  just...thinking about thirteen year-old kakashi being a member of the Jonin Assembly alongside all of these grown adults who persecuted his father until the “great man who everyone looked up to” couldn’t survive it any longer.  thinking about teenage kakashi lost and “waiting to die” in the anbu black ops, but still breaking every rule to rescue little tenzo from a hardline conservative who tried to have kakashi assassinated.  thinking about adult kakashi, still a member of that same Jonin Assembly, still working alongside people he can clearly remember harassing and attacking his father for saving their lives, being asked to serve as a clandestine hokage under danzo’s nose, because foreign nations trust kakashi where they don’t trust the actual nominee, and then being nominated for real when danzo turns up dead (and having his nomination approved, i might add, by the land of fire, whose government officially blamed kakashi’s father for the damage that resulted from that abandoned mission years before).

we only get hints about the lingering controversy surrounding kakashi and his family via danzo and, occasionally, the village elders, but like.  kakashi occupies such a complex place in the hidden leaf village, because he’s become incredibly respected and renowned by many (if not most) of its residents, but he also spends every day of his life moving within a community where many (if not most) of the older people around him participated in a campaign of vicious harassment against his father, one that ultimately led to his death.  some of them may have had changes of heart after sakumo’s suicide - that seems like the kind of thing that might have shocked some people into reevaluating their positions, particularly given how respected sakumo was prior to that time - and some of them probably died later in the war, but we know there’s still a conservative faction active in the hidden leaf village, and some of those people are always going to be who they are.  and even the people who aren’t - even the ones who regret how they acted - it’s still so complicated!  how do you continue to live and work in that environment?  how do you navigate a history of being harmed in that way, when you still have to collaborate with and/or serve the same people who did the harming, some of whom likely view you with the exact same disdain they had for your father?

kakashi manages it, somehow, though i’ll bet he has complicated feelings about it, even if he keeps them to himself.  and that’s yet another reason why (if i can just take these thoughts on a slight detour to the present) i think kakashi’s relationship with sasuke is so vitally important, especially moving forward.  sasuke’s family was wronged by the village too, in horrific, unforgivable ways - the shinobi system swallowed itachi whole and sacrificed the entire uchiha clan on the altar of a mission, in exactly the kind of evil, inhuman decision-making process that sakumo and obito and kakashi said could never be justified.  the uchiha were victims of the same shinobi system that drove kakashi’s father to his death - the one that said “everything is acceptable as long as the task at hand is accomplished.  people are disposable in service to a mission.”  both sasuke and kakashi’s families fell to a cultural context that refused to acknowledge that it is never okay to sacrifice your comrades for a mission, a cultural context that embraced this belief to the point where even literal genocide became excusable.

if sasuke is ever going to really and truly Come Home, he’s going to need to learn how to navigate this situation.  not to excuse the wrong that was done, and certainly not to give up on getting justice for himself and his clan, but also to figure out, in conjunction with these important tasks, how to continue existing in an environment where so much officially-sanctioned harm was done to his person, and where so many people around him have at least a little bit of history of being suspicious of or uncharitable towards the uchiha clan, even though they obviously didn’t know about the impending coup or danzo’s extermination order.  

it’s an incredibly complicated situation, and even if kakashi doesn’t have all the answers, he can at least understand what it feels like to be in that kind of position.  he’s been navigating something like this for many, many years.  he’s the precedent, someone who can help sasuke wrestle with the perhaps unanswerable questions of how am i supposed to dedicate myself to a place that wronged me like this?  why should i protect people who hurt me so badly?  is there even a way for me to move forward here, if i can’t forgive the ones who took my family away from me?  can this actually be my home again, when i know what it did to my people?

kakashi has obviously managed to come up with answers to these questions that enable him to stay integrated in his community and keep building a future he believes in, though I doubt any of his answers are simple, and i’m sure there are some things that he’s just had to accept will never be fully settled in his heart.  it’s like what he says to obito in an episode i watched recently: “i don’t know anything for sure, either...i’ve thought that this world is hell, too...but...”  it’s the but that matters.  even in the face of confusion and complexity, kakashi has found a way to keep moving.  he’s learned to co-exist with the uncertainty and discomfort surrounding him, and to make his own meaning out of this life, regardless of how complicated his internal relationship with the village might be.  he’s found a way to keep his eyes trained on the light, whatever that light might look like for him, and even if said light is only, as gaara says, “the faintest glimmer.”  he has so much to teach someone like sasuke, who up until recently was responding to that same plea of gaara’s with a fatalistic “i shut my eyes a long time ago.  the things i seek now lie only in the darkness.” 

anyway.  i am just having Many Thoughts currently about the intricacies of the political and social context that kakashi is always navigating, even though he never says a word about it.  and i’m curious whether this family history will ever come up again in the last fifth of this show.  if i were going on instinct alone, i’d suspect that we weren’t quite done with sakumo yet - i feel like we barely even started with him, to be honest (and also - whatever happened to kakashi’s mother???) - but i should know better at this point than to try and predict what this show is going to do, so i’ll just wait and see.

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common,  you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. “Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

[yutahoes]

Devil Inside

pairing : childhood friends! Yuta x Y/N

genre : fluff, horror au, smut but not detailed

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: fuckboy Yuta, calling someone a 'goth girl', horror movies, Yuta becomes an incubus, too much blood, raw meat eating, flesh eating, human organ eating, slut shaming a minor character, calling Yuta a whore, killing, mention of male molestation, mentioned teacher-student intercourse, shirtless Yuta, mentions of breeding, mentioned kitchen sex, mentioned shower sex, mentioned rough sex, Y/N getting wounded, skipping classes, Yuta as a murderer, a cambion. In other words, this is disturbing and problematic.

a/n: Inspired by this set of pictures and the movie Jennifer's Body. This is my first time writing a horror themed AU and this is badly written. I just can't stop thinking about this so for me to do something productive today, I had to post this. 😂 This has uncomfortable theme so please read in moderation. I went crazy over this, sorry. Feedback is highly appreciated. 😘

You and Yuta had been friends since forever, stemming from the history of your parents being friends and all since college. Your home is his home and you have your own room in his house. Staying together inside one room isn't a problem, your parents trusted you both but growing up is different. 

You had to admit that you grew up leading a boring life, too bookish, and didn't even interact with your classmates. Yuta, on the other hand, has always been the life of the party, the school superstar, the popular guy. And that huge difference created a wall between your friendship. 

You didn't know when it started, it just did. He started hanging out with the cool kids while you were left in the shadows. You can't really get mad at him, that's growing up. And he didn't change when it was just the two of you. 

When your parents would go abroad for their business trips, Yuta would check on you every night. If you have eaten dinner, if you've locked all the windows, or if you knew the number for the police station or the fire station in case something happens. He's still the same Yuta. Your childhood friend, Yuta. 

"Did you do your assignments?" He asked, not removing his eyes from the TV where he's watching a horror film. This is something that he can't do at their home or his mom would freak out. 

You rolled your eyes, answering a 'Yes, abeoji' while opening the fridge to see what to have for breakfast tomorrow then whining since there's more raw food in there than easy-to-eat foods. "I'll probably skip breakfast tomorrow." You said more to yourself, already thinking to wake up early and just get some waffles from the shop near the bus stop.

"Just leave the back door unlocked, I'll cook breakfast for you tomorrow." Yuta claimed that made you look at him. 

You raised your eyebrow at that. "Weird that you're here." You started then sat next to him on the couch, "No date?" He showed a screenshot of her photo, a different girl than yesterday. She was wearing black, with black eyeliner, and a pierced eyebrow. "She looks like a goth. Is that your type now?" 

"She's hot!" He exclaimed and you just nodded at him. "And she wants to meet at 11 pm so yeah." That was a weird time to meet up. But you didn't react and just focused on the TV just as the jump scare happened. You quickly hid your face on the throw pillow, blowing heavy breaths that made the guy next to you laugh. You hated horror, hated blood, and you're convinced that Yuta is doing this to scare you. "I'll get going." He said, standing up. 

"Can you close the TV first? Or stop the movie, at least?" You said, face still behind the pillow. He laughed then closed the TV, engulfing you in darkness that made you more scared. The bloody face from the TV earlier flashing on your mind. 

"Sorry Y/N. I promised not to scare you like that again." You heard him say then felt something warm on the top of your head followed by a smooching sound. He patted your head, "I really have to go. I'll see you in the morning." 

You waited for the sound of the door closing before you removed the throw pillow from your burning face. He kissed your head, right? You felt that. Why would he do that? Does he know that you have a crush on him? Or is it just his manwhore ways? But why you? You screamed at the throw pillow, cursing at Yuta for being the charming guy he is. 

You cannot deny the fact that each day, your feelings for Yuta had to grow. Who are you to blame when he's getting more handsome each day? And you're just a girl who has a weak heart for him. The image was still vivid in your mind, the first time you watched a horror movie and you were already crying in fright ten minutes into the movie. "I will protect you, Y/N." And you believed that. Yuta is always there to protect you. 

A loud bang can be heard that made you wake up in your sleep. You listened for other noises and heard footsteps, someone is inside your home. The first instinct is to call Yuta but what if he's in another place, you cannot trouble him. So you just took the baseball bat he lent you for this circumstance, repeating in your mind the number of the police station. 

You quietly tiptoed down the stairs and saw the light of the refrigerator open. Is it a food thief? And how did he come inside your house? You can see a trail of blood on the kitchen floor that startled you. The bat was dropped on the floor when you saw someone seated in front of the refrigerator. "Yuta?" 

He was covered in blood, eating the raw beef as if starving. His eyes were blood cold and you stepped back in fright. He looks like a monster. What kind of a crazy dream is this? You have to do something to wake up. Anything to wake yourself up. 

And as stupid as you sound, you hit your head with the bat that was on the ground. 

You opened your eyes, the sunlight hitting your eyes and your head aching real bad as if something hit you. You groaned while stretching then remembered your dream. Yuta. Your kitchen. Quickly, you ran to the kitchen to see Yuta’s mom cooking something. “I’m glad you’re up. You’ll be late for class.” 

“Auntie, where is Yuta?” She shrugged, saying that he didn’t even go home last night. It was a normal occurrence, that’s part of Yuta’s social life. “I’ll just prepare for school.” When you glanced at the couch, Yuta’s baseball bat was there. Weird, isn’t it supposed to be in your room? 

You had a nice breakfast, thanks to Yuta’s mom, and enough time to go to school. The first thing was to get your books in your locker and walk to class, avoiding some of your schoolmates who block the way. Before you can get inside the room, you see Yuta passing by opposite your way with a new girl in his arms. You knew her, the cheerleader, the basketball team’s girlfriend. Wow, she reached the soccer team now. When your eyes met with Yuta, you were reminded of him seated on your kitchen floor. Filled with blood and with dead cold eyes. You shake your head. That was a dream. You shivered. A very vivid dream. 

It was a normal boring school day, a typical day that it surprised you when Yuta wrapped his arms around you then leaned closer. “I need your help.” A curious look was etched on your face. “Math. Help me study for the exam tomorrow.” You nodded, removing his hand from your shoulder. “Why?” He asked before putting back his hand on you. 

“I just don’t want your girlfriends to misunderstand.” Yuta chuckled then pinched your cheek. “Yuta, stop it. It hurts.” 

He smiled. That breathtaking smile which makes you weak for him. “Sorry.” He whispered then leaned to place a kiss on your reddening cheek, startling you. Your eyes widened at his actions. What is wrong with Yuta? “You do know that I like you more than I like those girls, right?” What? Your heart kept on beating wildly against your chest that you’re scared he might hear it. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” 

Once you breathe in, without realizing that you’re holding your breath, you saw everyone’s eyes were on you. Oh no! This is trouble. 

You went home early, trying to stay away from your schoolmates. You don’t want to talk to them and explain that you’re friends with Yuta, that will cause some damage to him. But why did he do that? You tried raking your brains for an answer but you can’t seem to find the right one. So you just shrugged it and maybe ask Yuta when he gets to your house. 

It’s late at night. You finished reviewing the whole chapter for your exam tomorrow yet Yuta is a no show. You lightly glanced at the house next door, seeing that the living room lights were on. Their car isn’t in the garage, meaning his parents are not at home. Then you saw the silhouette of someone making out on the couch. Oh, his ditching makes sense now. You closed the door and made sure to close the light, ready to get a good night’s sleep. 

You opened your eyes in darkness, the clock reading that it’s almost 4 am. You felt thirsty that you decided to go downstairs to get a cup of water, halfway through the stairs you can see someone on the other door’s yard digging up something. Curious, you put on a coat and exited the backdoor to check on it. The same Yuta, covered in blood, and this time you knew you weren’t dreaming. 

“Yuta?” You called but he kept digging. Blood mixed with the soil and the most horrible thing you can see, limbs. “Yuta.” You called once again, even holding his shoulder to make him look at you. He kept covering the body with the soil, even covering it up with a large pot. What has he done? This isn’t the Yuta you know and it scared you. 

“Y/N.” He called that made you look at him. The warmth of his voice is still there. “Help me, please.” He sounded broken. “I’m really scared.” The first time you saw this reaction on Yuta. He looks so fragile, so vulnerable. 

There’s a part of you that’s still wary of him. You have questions in your head that you wanted to ask him and you waited for him to finish his shower, while you make coffee for both of you, as you collect your thoughts. When he sat in front of you at the kitchen table, he looked like the Yuta you knew except there’s pain in his eyes. “Yuta.” You called, rubbing the side of your cup. “What…?” But you don’t know what to ask him. 

“I killed Miss Jang.” Your eyes widened in surprise. The assistant PE teacher? “We had amazing sex and then…” You shook your head. He had sex with a teacher? Wow, his man whoring is of another level. “You don’t understand, she’s been touching me appropriately for the past couple of months so I just gave her what she wanted.” 

A gasp escaped your throat. “She’s what?” He just stared at you. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Do you think someone would believe me?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head. “Because it’s embarrassing.” You scoffed then rolled your eyes at him. “So you killed her?” 

“I ate her.” 

“Yuta, I don’t need the details of your sexcapades…”

“I ate her organs.” Your eyes widened in surprise. What? “It’s a craving after having sex with someone. I just want to eat something raw and her flesh can’t even satisfy me.” That explains why he’s covered with blood. 

The memory of that night came to you, when he was eating that raw meat from the fridge. “When did it start?” He answered last night and you were more surprised that it is true and not a dream. “How?” He shrugged. “What do you plan to do now?” 

“I don’t know.” He held your hand that was on the table, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Help me, please. I don’t want to kill another woman again.” You sighed. This was Yuta. Your childhood friend. The guy you like. You nodded before thinking how stupid it is to do this. 

The news of Miss Jang being missing is the talk in your class the next day but what’s more surprising is some testimony of the guys who were molested by her, like Yuta. You watched as your friend fiddled with his thumbs, obviously listening to your classmates. He actually did them a favor but something isn’t right. Why is this happening to Yuta? 

A sexual thirst, a thirst for flesh. Your phone showed a result called an incubus, a demon that pursues sexual relations with women. But why does Yuta keep on eating flesh to satisfy his craving? You stood up and decided to ditch class just to have the answers to your questions, finding yourself in the back of the library. The collection of forbidden books.  

“What are you doing here?” You immediately hushed Yuta as you got hold of a black book, opening it to reveal different pentagrams and illustrations of spooky creatures. “What is that?” 

“An incubus.” You said then sat on the library floor, Yuta following you. “Demons who attract women for sexual pleasure.” Before he could say anything else, “I think that was what is happening to you.” 

You visibly saw him gulp. “You think I’m a demon?” No, you don’t. 

“Possessed by a demon, Yuta.” You flipped the pages of the book to see about the different rituals on how to summon a demon. “Did you join a cult? Or even got drugged and was offered as a human sacrifice?” You stopped. That night. That girl. “The goth girl, you saw her that night. Do you remember what happened?” 

“We had sex.” You rolled your eyes at that, of course. “I told her I’m a virgin because she likes guys like that. We had amazing sex, mind-blowing sex.” You sighed. “Then I woke up on your kitchen floor.” That’s all he remembers? Finally, your thoughts are confirmed, it isn’t a dream. You really saw Yuta that night. “You were lying on the ground as well and I had to remove my shirt before carrying you to your room.” 

The thought of the shirtless Yuta carrying you made the blood rose up your cheeks. “You were covered in blood that time and the trail…”

“I had to clean that up before you wake up because you’re scared of blood.” You stared at him warmly. He had to think about that? “You saw me?” You nodded, sharing that he was eating that raw meat when you saw him. “Did I scare you?” If there was one person you cannot lie to, that would be Yuta. He can easily see through you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I won’t hurt you, I promise that.”

You held his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll help you, Yuta. We can remove that demon inside you.”

The only conclusion you can come up with is to meet with the same goth girl he met before. Yuta remembered having sex with her and he was eating that raw meat as if really hungry so she might be alive, Yuta didn’t kill her. And you have to hurry because each night that passes, Yuta has someone to bury in the backyard. It's a female prostitute one night, then a drug pusher, followed by the girl in class who bullied you. 

It's becoming a huge issue in town, the disappearance of young girls, that your parents had to come home quickly worried about your safety. "From now on, go home early." Your dad ordered. "I'll ask Yuta to walk you home every day." How would they feel if Yuta was the one doing all these? 

He was worried about you joining him in meeting up with the girl, even repeating to you that he'll kill himself if something bad happens to you but you assured him that you'll be fine. It's not you who needed help now, it was him. You need to put a stop to this before another one gets hurt. 

The girl was laughing cynically when you asked her what to do to remove the demon inside your friend. "A cambion." She answered and you curiously gave her a look. "That's the goal of an incubus. Once there's a cambion, he will leave the body he's possessing." 

A cambion? All you need is to have a cambion so the demon can leave Yuta. You searched what it was and just facepalmed yourself. Fuck this! Will he be saved? 

----

"You want me to breed someone?" You shiver at his choice of words but nod, nonetheless. "How can I do that when eating them becomes part of the sexual process?" 

You shook your head then ruffled your hair. This is getting you crazy. "You know, this is your fault for whoring around. If you just had a fixed girlfriend then this wouldn't happen…" 

"Then why did you reject my confession?" You blinked twice as if it can clear what you heard. Did you hear him correctly? "I told you I'll marry you in senior year and what is your answer? I'm not marrying you, Yuta." He said while copying your voice, leaving you dumbfounded. "I was heartbroken that time so I started dating other girls then maybe you can finally notice me." 

"I thought you were teasing me that time." Your voice got louder that your mom knocked on the door asking if you two were fighting. He shook his head, smiling at your mom. When she closed the door, you just stared at him awkwardly. Once again, you had to ruffle your hair. This is so frustrating! "Just, make a baby with someone." 

You waited, biting your thumb as the clock struck 3 am. You haven't had the right sleep thinking of what might happen to Yuta then you saw movement in the yard. Quietly, you went out of the backdoor of your house and saw him outside, blood on his clothes. "What happened?" 

He shook his head. "Same." 

"Where is her body?" You removed your cardigan to wipe away the blood from his face and his neck. 

He looks tired, hopeless. "I left her body on a roadside." You gasped at that. "I can't save myself. I'll be like this forever." He can't, he needed to fight himself. Fight his urges. But even you knew that it was impossible. 

There was a flicker of light coming from their kitchen, someone was going to see you. They're going to see Yuta with a bloody shirt like this. "Remove your shirt." You ordered and he looked confused so you just ripped it from him. Shit, you just realized how this looked like when two booming voices can be heard calling both your names. Both your dads. 

"Where is your shirt?" Your dad asked, arms crossed. You're inside your house, both your fathers and mothers staring at the two of you. "And you're wearing only that outside?" You glanced at the thin nightgown you were wearing and Yuta handed you a throw pillow. "Please wear your shirt, Yuta." 

"I ripped his shirt, dad." You heard both your moms giggle. "Can we please not make a big deal of this? This isn't what you think it is." 

Yuta's dad sighed. "Our only concern is why bother doing it outside? We let you sleep in each other's room." What? 

"Are you exhibitionists?" Your mom asked and you gasped. Is that what they're thinking now? Your head aches, you didn't have any decent sleep yet and this ordeal with Yuta is making you lose your mind. Can't you just all talk tomorrow, not at 4 in the morning? 

Yuta held your hand, lacing your fingers together. "I'm willing to take responsibility if something happens to Y/N." Surprised, you glanced at him. Nothing happened, he knew that. What the hell is he saying so suddenly? "But can I please stay with Y/N tonight, uncle?" 

It was a surprise when your dad allowed you both to go upstairs to your room but you had to wait until they're in their rooms before getting your cardigan and Yuta's blood-stained clothes from the yard. Yuta was still seated on your bed when you went back to your room, staring at you with his misty eyes. 

He pulled you close, arms wrapped around your waist while his head was on your chest. "I'm scared." His hold got tighter. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." If you're frustrated with this, you realized Yuta might be in bigger pain than you are. You held his hair, threading your fingers along its strand. You've been together for so long but this has been the most intimate thing that you two had ever done. "You were right, this is my fault for hurting those girls. I used them for my self pleasure, to boost my ego. This is me getting punished for all of that." 

You held his hands, kneeling in front of him to see his face. "But you don't deserve this, Yuta." You held his cheeks as tears started falling from his eyes. "We'll do something, I promise." 

He pulled you up, letting you sit on his lap. The warmth of his eyes makes your heart beat rapidly inside your chest. "I love you, Y/N." Your eyes widened at the sudden confession, "I'm sorry for getting you dragged into this but I'm thankful you haven't left me yet." He hugged you, head on your shoulder and you can feel his warm breath on your neck. "I love you. I don't want you to leave me." 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He's scared, you can feel him shaking. "I won't leave you, Yuta." You let him sob in your chest like a little child just wanting some warmth. And you realized, this might be just what he needed. 

Both of you skipped school that morning since you slept at 5 am, just laying next to each other. Your head on his chest, hands held together. It was him who first got out of bed, prepared himself, then placed a small kiss on our head before leaving your room. If only you could stay like this. But he had to go and fuck another woman tonight to satisfy his thirst, making your heart ache. Can you live like this? 

Your parents and Yuta were seated around the dining table when you went down for breakfast. "We were just telling Yuta that we have a business trip in Brazil." You nodded, used to it by now. "And because of the news around, it would be better that he stay here with you." Your mom suggested that it made you surprised. After last night, they're letting you live in one roof with a guy, unsupervised? 

"Mom. I can stay at home alone." 

"I know. But just to be safe." You're not even safe with their suggestion. "I know what you're thinking honey. You're a female and a male with raging hormones, it's alright with us." Yuta choked on the food and you hissed at your parents. 

Your dad coughed lightly. "We stacked some condoms just in case." 

"Dad!" 

"Honey, we agreed to let them have their freedom." You glared at your mom. "We really wanted a grandchild." It's your turn to choke at your food. Then it made you stop. If he breeds a human, the incubus will go away. This might just be your answer. 

---

"No, Y/N!" Yuta stated firmly after explaining what your plan is. "What if I hurt you?" 

You shook your head. You're not scared of that now but you're frightened for Yuta and the things that might happen to him if this continues on. The police started investigating the missing dead girls, it's only a matter of time before they can chase down Yuta. You held his cheeks, distress can be seen in his expression. "I trust you, Yuta." 

It was a crazy plan. When your parents left that afternoon, you stacked up some raw meat that the butcher thought you were throwing a party. Yuta didn't kill the first girl, the goth girl, and you're holding to that belief that Yuta can have some control over himself. When the night struck, you locked all doors to your house that would forbid Yuta from going out. 

"I'm giving you the last chance to back out from this, Y/N." You shook your head. "I'm sorry." He whispered, carrying you to the countertop of the kitchen. "If something bad happens, I'll kill myself. I swear." 

You giggled then wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then we'll be like Romeo and Juliet." He laughed at your reference before moving closer to plant his lips on yours. Your first kiss with Yuta. His lips were so soft and he tasted so sweet that made your brain hazy. 

When he slipped his tongue inside you and his fingers dug on your waist, you knew there's no way you can get out of this. You can feel his warmth in every touch, in every part of your skin his lips touched. He slowly undressed you, making sure that he's still Yuta and whispering promises that he wouldn't hurt you. He didn't at first and you refused to believe that you made love with him at your kitchen counter. 

The grandfather clock signaled that it is midnight. Yuta just pulled you down from the kitchen counter, turning you around, and thrust into you that made you scream. No foreplay, no kissing. You turned to see his eyes, those dead eyes. His hand held your neck, the other digging in your waist. You prevent making a sound, not wanting to alert his parents next door. His teeth dig in your shoulder, an excruciating pain that makes you bite your lip to prevent a sound. This is how he kills them. 

You tried to reach for the raw meat nearby, desperately trying to move out of his hold. You pushed yourself away from the counter, causing him to fall to the ground. You watched as he took the meat and ate it as if starved, like the first night you saw him in this state. Every night, he's like this. An appetite for sex, an appetite for flesh. 

And it breaks your heart that you can't do anything to help him. 

He ate five portions of the raw meat and you mentally told yourself to get some tomorrow for what might happen at night. You covered him with a blanket as he lay down your kitchen floor, kissing his forehead. You wanted this to stop, wanted him to be normal again. You clean the wound on your shoulder as well as the scratch on your side, hissing in pain as you put medicine on the bleeding part. 

You woke up with his warm arms wrapped around you, a kiss on your wounded shoulder woke you up. "Did I do this? I really did hurt you." He grazed his finger on the spot that hurt as you shook your head. He nuzzled his nose on your shoulder and you felt his warmth. "I don't know what to do anymore." 

"But Yuta this is better. We know that you still have control over yourself." You sat on the bed and he traced the scratch on your side. "When the clock struck twelve, that's when you started having that hunger. We're slowly knowing things about you now. We can do this together, Yuta." 

He nodded, watching you stand up then head to the bathroom. You were supposed to close the door when you felt him enter the same room. The warm feeling is back when his hands touch your body, in contrast to the cold water cascading down your body. You skipped class again because of the pain in your shoulder and he went to school. 

If this continues, it's better to listen to both your parents and just get married. Live together in a far city where you can start a new life, maybe you can give birth to Yuta's child and it will end his suffering. As you put new meat inside the fridge, you heard a knock on the door. Yuta came in with a distressed look on his face. "The police are at school. They were starting to suspect a student at school." 

"Did you do anything?" He shook his head, hands clasped together. "Just lay low for a while." 

"What if they found out that it was me?" You shook your head, that's the worst-case scenario. And you promise not to let that happen. 

He stayed at your house, particularly your room that night. When the clock struck twelve, you were pushed on your bed with Yuta pounding on you real rough. The moment you felt his lips on your neck, you rolled to the bed and reached for the raw meat on the bedside table. You breathed hard, you can do this. 

The police were doing their best, you had to give them that. And it scares you that they'll narrow it down to you and Yuta doing these things. The disappearance of the women stopped but the deaths were a mystery that the police remained to look for clues. It's been a couple of nights since you've done this with Yuta and every day, a new wound would appear on your body. 

Your parents came back from their business trip when they noticed the amount of raw meat in your fridge and the wounds in your body. You tried to shrug it off, saying that it's just your clumsiness. Yet, they never bought it. You cannot ask Yuta to stay over so you keep your phone in your ear, watching his room for movements. The moment the clock struck midnight, nothing happened to your surprise. He kept saying that he's fine, that he doesn't need anything, that he's still Yuta. Maybe an off day.

You slept relieved but woke up with the sound of police sirens. You glanced at the window outside and saw the yard next door being dug out by your dad and some men in uniform, Yuta's dad watching nearby. How? You ran downstairs to check on Yuta but your mom quickly told you to stay inside. "We're sorry, we trusted you to a murderer." 

"He's not." You shouted trying to see from the window. Yuta was handcuffed, a large man holding him in place. He shook his head when your eyes met and the sight of rotten decaying bones caught your attention. 

Your stomach churned and you vomited on the kitchen sink, your mom helping you by rubbing your back. "He's such a sweet child. What happened to Yuta?" Your mom asked and you itched to tell her that it's not him. A devil inside him.

Your eyes widened at the realization. Nothing happened last night. Now, you're having this weird feeling in your body. A cambion. And you felt yourself fainting at that information.  

---

It's been years, seven years to be exact when that moment happened to your life. Yuta's parents moved to a different town but you still see them from time to time, as well as your parents. When they found out that you were pregnant with Yuta's child, they immediately sent you away to give birth abroad. Your son was three when you went back to the country and introduced him to his dad. 

"Daddy!" Your son cheered seeing his dad walking outside the huge gates of the visitor's area. The older was grinning wide, carrying his son to where you are. He kissed you on your forehead and your son giggled, "Daddy, mommy said I can go to a big school this year." He nodded, letting the young boy sat on his lap. "Grandma and grandpa are going to buy me my bag." 

Yuta giggled and you noticed how the two looked very much alike. It was the exact reason why your parents warmed up on Yuta and let you introduce your son to him. "I'm sorry. But when dad gets out of here, I'm going to pick you up from school every day." 

You can feel your eyes water at that. The younger boy wrapped his arms around his neck, "When are you getting out of here?" You both sighed. It's always his question. 

"Just another three years, then we can be together." There's a lot of pain in his words. "You and mommy can wait for me, right?" Your son nodded. 

He reached out to hold your hand that was above the table. You nodded at him. You waited this long, another three years wouldn't hurt. He engaged in another conversation with the younger boy and you gazed at him, he looks better than the first few years he's here. 

"Time to get back, Nakamoto." The police officer said and your son hugged his father's neck, refusing to let go of him. 

This has always been a problem every time you visit Yuta. "Honey, we have to go. Daddy has to get back." You said quietly, taking him from Yuta. Your son glared at the big man behind his dad and he just turned his head to look at the wall. "Honey, let's get ice cream." You said quickly and the younger smiled at you. The guard turned around, asking what happened that his head was hurting. 

Yuta gave you a worried look but you just shook your head, putting sunglasses on your son. "Say bye to daddy." You whispered and he obeyed you. "I'll come to visit you soon." 

He kissed you on the forehead, "I'm sorry." Again. you shook your head. No one warned you about having a cambion and the risk it takes to be its parents. "I love you." But right now, your son and Yuta are the most important people in your life. 

"I love you, too." And you're willing to throw everything in the past just to be happy with your small family. 

[cuddlepilefics]

Right here

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregivers: Chan & Minho

Prompt: Sneaky temperature check @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Jisung had started feeling off only a little after having lunch with his group. Maybe it was the food not sitting right but whatever it was, it certainly took a toll on the rapper’s mood. Earlier that day, he had fooled around with his friends, being full of energy, but the longer the day progressed, the quieter he became. The slight discomfort he had felt in his stomach earlier had turned into a painful ache that made it hard for Jisung to find a comfortable position in his seat. The entire group was currently at the studio recording but unlike usual, the rapper wasn’t really in it with his whole heart. Usually, he’d give his friends encouraging smiles and advice on how they could do better but today, he was quiet, only speaking when he was asked something. The same couldn’t be said for his stomach though, which often decided to gurgle loudly when everything around him was silent. “That really didn’t sound good, you sure you’re feeling alright?”, Chan frowned, sitting next to Jisung and hearing the younger’s stomach rumble angrily. Patting his tummy, Jisung laughed: “I feel fine actually. My tummy’s just really noisy right now.” It was only partly a lie. His stomach was indeed noisy but to be honest, he didn’t feel fine at all. The pain was only getting worse and all his attempts of playing it off had exhausted the rapper. He was ready to just go home and curl up in his bed. At least that was what he intended to do as soon as they were done here.

Towards the end of their recording session, he had had to excuse himself to the restroom multiple times, feeling increasingly queasy. However, when he got there, the feeling eased up, so he just stood there rubbing his tummy and taking deep breaths before going back to the studio. When he returned from his last trip, his members had already packed and only waited for him, so they could head back to the dorm for dinner. Jisung cringed at the thought of having to eat anything but knew he didn’t have much of a choice if he didn’t want to admit to feeling sick. Had he thrown up at all, he would probably open up to his members but since it was only a stomach ache up to this point, he’d rather handle it on his own. The ride back to the dorm was straining to say the least, as every turn of the road caused his stomach to slosh nauseatingly. Staring out of the window, Jisung rested his head against the cool glass and took deep breaths through his nose as he fought to keep his stomach in place. Cold sweat was running down his back as he flashed hot and cold.

By the time they made it to the dorm, the rapper’s shirt was sticking to his back and he unsteadily stumbled out of the vehicle, relieved to be on solid, unmoving ground again. Minho watched him stumble and linked their arms to steady his dongsaeng. Though Jisung wouldn’t admit it, he was extremely grateful for the support, not sure he would have made it up to the dorm on his own. He had to resist the urge to crouch to the ground and cradle his poor tummy when a cramp twisted his abdomen. Minho tried his hardest not to let the worry show, hearing the rapper’s pained gasp. He just hoped the boy would speak up about what was bothering him. The dancer also noted, that Jisung had gotten progressively paler over the course of the afternoon. At this point, he was certain the younger was sick but if he was, why wouldn’t he say anything?

At the dorm, Jisung made a beeline for his room, plopping down on the edge of his bed and hugging his cramping middle. It was a mystery to him how he could go from feeling perfectly fine this morning to being this miserable now. “Hey, are you okay, hyung?”, Jeongin frowned, entering their shared room. He had intended to get the older to join them for dinner but was taken a back when he found the rapper basically folded over his lap, hugging his stomach. Jisung nodded, flinching when he forced himself to sit up straight. The maknae wasn’t buying it but decided not to press on the topic, merely stating: “Dinner’s ready and Chan wanted me to get you.” – “O-Okay, ‘m coming”, the older muttered, struggling to his feet only to pale further. The room was spinning and he swayed for a moment before regaining his balance. Jeongin watched him closely, his brows furrowed. Something wasn’t right with his hyung at all. Joining their members for dinner, Jisung cringed at the smell of food. His stomach churned painfully and sweat dripped down his temple. How was he supposed to get through this without throwing his dinner right back up? The members had compiled a wide variety of food, partly left-overs from the previous day and partly take-out that the members, who finished recording first, picked up. Praying he would somehow be able to stomach it, Jisung settled for a small serving of plain rice as he considered it his safest chance.

The members knew Jisung was sick, from his odd behavior to his dinner choice to the tiny amount he ate. The rapper may have thought he was hiding his discomfort alright but anyone who knew him could tell something was up. Worried about their friend, they wanted to know what was going on, so they’d be able to help but knowing he would deny everything if they asked him directly, they just tried to push him to admitting it. It started with Chan scooping more rice onto Jisung’s plate, claiming: “I don’t want you to get hungry for midnight snacks during the night.” Jisung didn’t know how he did it but somehow, he managed to finish all of it, fully aware that he’d come to regret that decision later on. When they cleared the table, Felix hugged him from behind, feeling the rapper tense up in his arms. It took all of Jisung’s willpower to not throw up right there and he struggled to quickly remove the Aussie’s arms from his sensitive middle. He was just about to flee back to his room, when Minho pulled him to the living room. “We hadn’t had a movie night in such a long time and we don’t have to get up all that early tomorrow, so let’s have some quality time”, the dancer beamed, dragging his dongsaeng to the couch. “Hyung, I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I think I’ll just go to bed”, Jisung frowned, trying to get come up with some reason why he couldn’t spend more time with the group. Minho smiled and made the younger sit down next to him on the couch, promising: “You can lay on my lap. It’s no problem if you fall asleep halfway through but I really missed you, so please…”

Jisung really couldn’t bare hurting his hyung’s feelings, so he let himself be talked into watching a movie with the rest of the group. Taking Minho up on his offer, he had his head on the dancer’s lap, while the older played with his hair. Maybe it had been the right decision because it distracted him from his pain enough to fall asleep. When Minho was sure Jisung was out completely, he whispered: “Chan-hyung, could you get me a thermometer? His face feels pretty warm. The forehead one would be best because the ear one would probably wake him.” – “On it”, the leader agreed, quietly getting up and collecting the thermometer from the bathroom. When he returned, Minho had already brushed Jisung’s bangs out of his face to allow the oldest easier access to his forehead. Chan carefully approached them and quickly took his dongsaeng’s temperature, detecting a moderate fever. Just when he pulled the thermometer away, Jisung’s stomach gurgled loudly, confirming their suspicions further. “We should really get him to bed”, Chan sighed, “Can you help me, Min?” The dancer nodded and got up as soon as Chan had picked the rapper up from the couch. Minho went ahead, opening the door to Jisung’s room and folding back the blanket. They tucked their dongsaeng in and closed the door, so he could rest undisturbed.

The next time Jisung woke up, it was already after midnight. The dorm was dark and quiet, the members all except for Jisung sleeping soundly. At first, the rapper was confused as to what had woken him at such an early hour. Flushing hot, he felt his stomach twist and quickly pushed off the blanket. Jisung staggered to the bathroom, one arm protectively wrapped around his middle, as he fought off the nausea. He squinted, blinded by the bright bathroom light, feeling disoriented as he crashed to his knees in front of the toilet. A harsh but unproductive retch tore from his throat, making the boy shudder at the thought of what was to come. Sweat trickled down the rapper’s back as he knelt there, swallowing convulsively. He couldn’t be sick. Jisung crossed his arms over the toilet bowl and rested his forehead on them, drawing a shaky breath through his nose. He hated throwing up, so much so, that he was determined to fight it off with every ounce of energy he might have left. Another cramp had him cry out in pain, quickly silencing himself by biting his lip. He couldn’t wake anyone else up. In a desperate attempt to get some relief, Jisung slipped his hand under his shirt, gently drawing circles with his palm. He could feel the upset organ churn under his hand as his mouth started to water even more. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gagged hard, relieved when nothing came up. There was no way he’d let this happen.

Waking up to an empty room, Jeongin waited ten minutes for his roommate to come back. When he didn’t, the maknae decided to search for Jisung. He spotted light under the bathroom door and gently tapped his fingers against the wood. When there was no answer, he quietly opened the door and found the missing rapper curled up on the rug. Though he was asleep, his brows were furrowed in pain as his forehead glistened with sweat. Knowing this wasn’t good, Jeongin went to wake up Chan, who was up in an instant when his dongsaeng explained what was going on. “Why don’t you sleep here, Innie? I’ll take care of Jisung but you don’t need to lose more sleep, so I’ll just stay in your and Jisung’s room, okay?”, the leader offered. Still feeling sleepy, Jeongin nodded and got comfortable in Chan’s bed, while the older went to check on the sick rapper. He found the boy curled up on the bathroom rug, just like Jeongin had described and he really didn’t look good. Jisung’s face was way too pale for Chan’s liking and his bangs clung to his sweaty forehead. Not having the heart to wake his dongsaeng, he carefully brushed his hair out of his face and placed his palm across his forehead, shocked to find it burning.

Just as he was contemplating how he was going to get Jisung back to bed without waking him, Minho stumbled into the bathroom. He didn’t know what had woken him but was soon certain it had been his intuition, telling him his dongsaeng wasn’t doing too well. “Hyung?”, he questioned, startling Chan, “What’s going on?” – “I don’t know. Innie found him like this and I was just about to get him back to bed”, the leader sighed. They were both startled when Jisung curled up further, whimpering in pain. Minho knelt down next to him and nudged his shoulder, frowning: “Sungie, hey? What’s wrong?” – “Stomach’s killing me”, the younger muttered, still half-asleep. “Did you throw up?”, Chan asked as the rapper became more awake. Jisung shook his head, admitting: “Felt like it but didn’t.” Sitting up, he drew his legs closer to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. Taking a closer look at him, now that the boy was awake, Chan frowned: “How long have you felt like this?” – “Hm, kinda started after lunch. Might have eaten something wrong”, Jisung mumbled, closing his eyes again. Minho ran a comforting hand down the rapper’s back, cringing in sympathy when he felt how sweat-soaked his shirt was. “Sung, I don’t think it has anything to do with what you ate”, the dancer hummed, “You’re running quite a temperature, so I think you must have caught some kind of bug. Do you feel ready to go back to bed?” – “’m so tired, I think I’ll just sleep here on the floor”, the younger refused, keeping his eyes closed. While Minho tried to convince Jisung to go back to his room, Chan sighed: “Oh dear! I’ll grab the puke bucket and thermometer.”

After lots of convincing, Minho helped Jisung to his feet, only to have the boy bend over, hugging his middle as his stomach cramped up again. “It’s okay, just try to breathe through the pain”, the dancer hummed, resting his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. The rapper shook his head urgently, choking out: “Hyung, I don’t feel so good.” Sighing, Minho was quick to get his dongsaeng situated on his knees in front of the toilet. He could tell the younger was fighting his hardest to keep it together but couldn’t help let a tear fall down his feverishly flushed cheek. “Sungie, just let it up. I’m pretty sure you’ll feel better after getting this over with”, Minho whispered, crouching down next to the rapper. Shaking his head, Jisung grit his teeth. “Come on, if it’s making you feel this bad, it would be better to get it out than keep it in you”, the older sighed but Jisung refused: “Don’ wan’ to. Hate it.” He instantly pursed his lips, barely able to swallow back a gag. “I know it’s no fun but I don’t think you’ll feel better like this, Sung. Just get it over with and I’ll help you back to bed, so you can sleep it off”, Minho promised, running a hand through the boy’s sweaty hair. Drawing in a shaky breath, Jisung pleaded quietly: “W-Will you rub my back?” – “Of course, I’ll rub your back”, the dancer whispered back, placing his hand on his dongsaeng’s damp shirt and gently stroking up and down his spine.

Assured by the presence of his hyung right beside him, Jisung’s resolve slowly crumbled. The next time his stomach clenched, he coughed up a large wave of his meager dinner. He was really glad he had settled for something bland to eat because he couldn’t bare tasting it again. Jisung didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, lurching over the bowl as more sick shot past his lips. He shuddered in disgust, feeling Minho squeeze his shoulder before going back to rubbing his back. Just as the next wave splattered into the bowl, Chan walked in to check on the two. He had waited in Jisung’s room after setting it up with a bucket, a bottle of water and a cup of tea on the nightstand. “Make it stop”, the rapper choked out before getting sick again. Minho calmly promised: “Just hang in there, it’s almost over.” Cooing at the dancer’s rarely showing protective side, Chan grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water. “Min’s right, you’re almost there, Sung. You’re okay”, the Aussie smiled, laying the cool cloth across Jisung’s neck. The boy only whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated this.

After a while, it didn’t seem like he could bring anything else up, although his stomach still hurt. He just wanted to sleep. “Let’s go to bed”, Minho cooed, getting up to help Jisung up too. The younger only groaned, resting his head on his arms. He just wanted to sleep, no matter where. Patting the rapper’s back, Chan laughed lightly: “Come on, Sungie. Your bed is much comfier. I’ll even carry you there if you manage to stand up for a second.” Blinking at the leader with teary eyes, Jisung pouted but took both of his hyungs’ hands and let them pull him to his feet. With how dizzy he suddenly felt, he didn’t manage to stand for longer than a second but it was enough for Chan to scoop him up bridal-style and like he had promised, the leader carried him back to bed. “Do you want to have some water?”, Minho offered, uncapping the bottle for his dongaseng. Jisung frowned but accepted a few sips, just to wash away the taste. Sitting down on Jeongin’s bed, Chan reminded: “The bucket’s right next to your bed. Don’t hesitate to wake us up if you feel sick again, yeah?” Jisung nodded, curling up under his blanket. He was surprised when Minho climbed into bed behind him. The dancer knew he was taking a high risk but his heart ached for his sick dongsaeng, so he wanted to give him as much comfort as humanly possible. “It’s alright”, Minho whispered, slipping his hand under Jisung’s shirt, “Let me rub your tummy and try to get to get some rest. Hyungs are right here.”

[haifengg]

A = Affection (How do they show their affection?) The kinship type of guy. A lot of holding hands and smiling forehead kisses. Almost everywhere does he wrap his arm around his s/o’s shoulder. At a basketball game or something he will pack an extra blanket or jacket to give to them if they’re cold. He is very thoughtful about the little things in a relationship.

B = Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?) Their smile. Seeing their whole face light up when they are happy or amazed. How their eyes sparkle and maybe their dimples show? It’s his favorite thing in the world. His s/o’s smile makes his aches go away and his day clear up. It clears his mental acne really.

C = Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?) Huge cuddler. All the time. (See more at H)

D = Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?) He would want to take his s/o to Chicago and show them where he grew up. Introduce his parents and show his partner around. Make them taste his favourite pizza, maybe a road trip? The open road (the highway to heaven....), sunsets and gas stations. Have midnight pancakes and black coffee at a diner!

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?) This I am not sure about. I would say he puts in a normal level of effort. Pretty much the same amount as his s/o. He shows them they are precious and his most valuable thing in life but he won’t go full bonkers on valentines day or something like that.

F = Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?) Johnny handles it very well. He is very educated and cautious about mental health in general so he would take every fear seriously. If his s/o is anxious about anything he will do his best to make a situation more comfortable for them or try to avoid the situation as a whole. G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?) Accessories. Johnny strikes me as a men who gets his s/o small things likes designer bracelets or card holders. Things they wouldn’t buy themselves because it’s unnecessary and expensive but if he knows they will accept and like it and most importantly use it - he will get it to them. And if they say they can’t accept he would say something like “It’s alright, don’t worry. I got a discount on it because I worked with them earlier this year.” Even if it’s a lie.

H = Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?) Johnny is tall and he has long arms. Perfect to wrap around someone and should them from cold wind at a busstop or pull them in after a long walk in the rain. He knows how much his s/o craves those hugs and how protected they are feeling when he holds them tightly.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?) Has this man issues with intimacy? No?? Have you seen him??? I would be just as confident if I was him. J = Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?) Jealous boyfriend right here. Johnny might act chill about his s/o hanging out with other men on days he is also available or seeing them walk out of lecture together on a day he wanted to surprise them by picking them up. He won’t let it show because it would hurt his reputation as LBBY (Laid Back Boyfriend of the Year) but his s/o will notice. Maybe by how short his answers are or because of all the questions he asks about that friend. Or maybe by the way he kisses them later that night. Maybe he also dislikes this side about himself because he knows he can trust them. K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?) Johnny’s kisses are to melt for. Just the perfect mix of soft pecks and slightly rough ... idk how to describe it. He would randomly bite his s/o’s lips to catch them off guard and if they blush he will laugh about it and pull them into a long lingering and smily kiss ... 

L = Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?) Constantly. He will say it. He will text it. He will moan it. He will ask you “You love me right?” There won’t be a day his s/o won’t hear or read it or both.

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?) In a committed relationship Johnny would think about marriage 100% but he doesn’t have to get married right away. Maybe ever. He strikes me as the kind of guy who is happy just being with his s/o. Maybe he will think different if they’re ever thinking about having a kid. But in that case time will tell.

N = Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?) Goofy dates! Game nights! Haunted houses where his s/o clings on to him! Arcades and hours of dance dance revolution! O = Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?) I don’t think he would go to fancy restaurants. Not even for an anniversary. It’s just not his thing and this casual red wine at the river or beach is more his thing than make dinner reservations and letting waiters tell him what wine he’s having. I am not saying that he doesn’t do it at all - maybe he enjoys it on some occasions (when he has to impress parents for example) but overall with his s/o ... I think a chill open air wine tasting might rather be his thing. P =Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?) He messes around all the time. He will make himself a bra out of lather when he’s in the shower try to seduce his s/o, he will mock the radio moderator and make up an semi-interesting newsflash about their breakfast. Q = Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?) Loves to ask their s/o for their opinion so he does it a lot. Sometimes he even changes his decision if his s/o has some really good points or perhaps even better ideas. R = Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?) This man is so goofy how is he not random. He will wake his s/o up in the middle of the night just to go see the stars. He would make last minute dinner reservations and trick them into a dinner date by asking them if they come pick him up. He is so random and I love it. Though it would drive me insane. S = Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?) A lot of cuddles and soft temple kisses during the early state of the night or the going-to-bed/settling in but once everyone is comfy and tired they slew butt to butt. He jokes about that constantly. T = Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?) He lives off and thrives on trust. A relationship in which he wouldn’t fully trust his s/o is no relationship to him.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?) Johnny radiates positive vibes, which makes him insanely attractive. He is so comfortable with himself and empowering towards literally everyone it’s as if you would have your very own personal cheerleader. With him on their side his s/o could literally accomplish everything. V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?) He is pretty open about his feelings and concerns so I don’t think it would take a long time for him to talk to theyr s/o about everything. He shares his worries with a lot of friends/close friends but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s less significant when he tells his s/o. He might talk to a lot of people about things but he might only take advice from a few. W = Weather (What would he do during a cloudy and rainy day?) Coffee and galleries. A day with rolling thunder or just light annoying rain for him is the most welcome excuse to take his s/o for a classy museum tour. It doesn’t matter if it’s modern art or some good old fashioned photography. He would love to spend hours there and not missing out of anything in the outside world. X = Xylophon (What does he think about their s/o’s taste in music? Is it different?) If you they like the same music as he does - he would love it. But honestly he is such an open-minded man we would listen to anything at least once and even though he doesn’t like it would say something like ‘It’s interesting.’ On a car ride or something they would agree on something they both enjoy or put on a shared playlist and he would peacefully endure the songs he doesn’t like or enjoying them just as much because they make his s/o visibly happy. Y = Yuck (Is there anything that might bother their s/o about him? Any flaws?) So... we all know how much he enjoys coffee. Sometimes maybe a little too much. And we also hopefully all know the rules of basic hygiene and how you shouldn’t overdo it. What I am trying to say it that boy has coffee breath. He has so much coffee during the day that he can’t possibly brush his teeth every time. Not saying that he is dirty or anything. Just ... take a hint - pop a mint.

Z = Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?) This man breathes passion. I honestly don’t think he could be with someone less passionate than him. More reserved? Yes. Someone who doesn’t take the lead? Yes. But someone lacking in passion is a no-no. I’m not even talking solemnly about passion in a sexual way. It also applies to interests or hobbies. Being passionate about a certain topic or sport, music, politics, ... you name it. He is the utmost passion able person and we all know it. Period.

Taglist

@kpopsnowball​ @starrdustville @jeonghanmoon

@himitsu-luna  @pocky-otp

Masterlist

[smoochkooks]

—lost stars, part 2 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst, bits of fluff, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers

⟶ word count: 20k

⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, soft dom!jk but also bit possessive!jk, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, jk calling oc his pretty girl, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos!), creampie, implicit car sex, mentions of infidelity, smoking, both oc and jk are emotional mess sometimes.

✔ read part one here!

a/n: i’m sorry i keep you waiting for so long but it’s finally here. as i promised, by the end of october. this story has a really special place in my heart, i’ve had it in my drafts for over a year now. i hope you’ll enjoy it!

Twenty-two. No, twenty-three. Or maybe it was actually twenty-two? Jungkook starts counting again.  

Various, different certificates are aligned on the wall in front of him, every single one dedicated to the same man, sitting across the table with crossed arms and stern expression. It’s rather obvious his ego reaches far beyond the printed sheets of paper with his name written in swirly fonts. They are here just to make an impression, to fool people into believing that the pastel blue shirt he’s wearing and expensive watch on his wrist are the outcome of his hard work.  

He opens his mouth to say something, but it doesn’t reach Jungkook’s ears. He starts counting again; this time the number of letters on the first certificate.

“What do you suggest we should do then?”

The man whose achievements in marketing and public relations Jungkook currently attentively analyzes, is Lee Ilsug, or at least that’s what those diplomas indicate. To be honest, Jungkook couldn’t care less about his name or the list of accomplishments that made him be employed here.

He’s new in the company, that’s certain. Jungkook didn’t have to deal with him before but Yoongi had the unpleasantness though, when he needed to deny the rumours going all around the Twitter about his slightly too close friendship with a female singer he had collaborated with.  

Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass. 

“The photo is blurry. It’s debatable whether it’s Jungkook-ssi or not.” Another voice, this time female, cuts in. Jungkook remembers her face fleetingly from some PR meeting he had attended before. It looks like she’s now Ilsung’s assistant. “I checked SNS. Fans are on Jungkook’s side, they don’t believe what that girl had written, which is a good situation for us to interfere and release a statement.”

“What do you think, Jungkook?”

It’s Sejin. He was the one who contacted Jungkook about the ruckus in the company that has been going on since morning. The case is simple: on the day he did his walk of shame out of your apartment, he stopped to light up a cigarette that happened to be another one of his cardinal mistakes he’s made in span of 24 hours. What started with getting the temptation and alcohol got better of him and sleeping with you, ended with someone taking a picture of him while smoking.

It’s truly a miracle the photo’s quality is moderately vague. His mom always tells him he was born under the lucky star but for Jungkook it’s more like fate was playing hide and seek with him. This time, he managed to blend into the shadows in time.

Ilsung clicks his tongue. It’s not a secret he hates his job yet cherishes the money he earns. He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and leans over the table. He’s close enough for Jungkook to notice the fresh cut from shaving on his cheek and a small, golden cross hanging on his neck. 

He raises his brow, eyes trained on Jungkook. Cold, emotionless. Clearly, his ambitions don’t end on dealing with some idol’s reckless shenanigans. “Well? What’s on your mind, Jungkook-ssi? We are ready to release the statement denying rumours about the incident in an hour.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “But that will be a lie then. I did smoke, it’s me on that picture.”

Next to him, he hears Sejin clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Jungkook, I know it’s unfair but we can’t let it affect yours or boys’ reputations right now. We are a month before the comeback.” he says and no matter how much he tries to make it sound neutral, pulling the ‘what about the rest of the members?’ card is usually the last straw to bend Jungkook.

Jungkook releases a long sigh at that. He feels unworthy. He let down his brothers again, made them worry about him countless times before and that’s what he offeres in return: disappointment. He cannot risk his bandmates’ good name because of his incautious behavior. They sacrificed too much to be where they are now to lose it over a silly scandal.  

“Do what’s best for the team.” he decides after a while.

Once he’s out of the office, his thoughts drift instinctively to you. Do you already know about the mess he created? Do you even search through social media, looking for the updates about him? No, you wouldn’t go there, he tells himself. He’s almost sure. He hopes those revelations won’t ever reach you.

Sejin breaks his chain of thoughts, stepping into the elevator after him. “What were you even doing in that part of the city so early?” he asks, staring at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.

“Does it really matter?”

Sejin’s features soften a little. He’s been with them practically since the beginning. Seen their best and worst, always by their side even when the whole world seemed to be against them. Piggybacking Jungkook out of the practice room because he complained about his feet being sore, joking behind the stage about trivial things when no cameras where around. They trusted him. And he’s never stopped believing in them.

“I told you that million times before. You are allowed to lead your life the way you want, Jungkook. I know how you feel, but as a public figure you have to be extremely careful, first and foremost. People don’t forget, nothing ever disappears from the Internet,” he says, or rather repeats the same mantra he’s been telling them since they broke into the mainstream and started being overly recognizable. “I am here to protect you but I won’t be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

He places a strong hold on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Jungkook releases a sigh and the door slides open behind them. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Always, Jungkook-ah. I’m feeling like a father of rebel teenager now.” Sejin laughs lightly to clear the heavy atmosphere, making Jungkook snort.  

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”

Sejin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, ignoring younger’s grumbling protests. The walk into the spacious parking lot of the company and Jungkook suddenly stops in his tracks.  

“Does Bang already know about this?“ he asks matter-of-factly, although he’s sure what the answer will be. The confirmation he needs comes with a nod from Sejin. “Is he pissed?” he adds then.

Sejin raises his brows, looking down at him. “His golden boy let him down, what do you think? He might not be mad but he’s sure as hell disappointed.” He gestures to his car and Jungkook follows him without a word, imagining his boss’ sour expression next time he sees him. In Bang’s self-made ranking he’s sitting at last place right now probably.  

“Want to grab a proper breakfast with me? I’ve been called into the company while I was in bed. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.” Sejin offers, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“Okay.” Jungkook says, hopping in Sejin’s car. “You’re buying?” he asks, mustering a snickering smile even though he’s definitely not in the mood for joking.

Sejin rolls his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you own it to me for saving your ass once again?”

“But I’m your rebel teenager kid, remember?” Jungkook pouts. When he sees Sejin hesitating, he opts for another strategy. The one that never fails. “Rock-paper-scissors?”

“Deal.” 

Tonight, Jungkook pulls up in front of the club you’re working in with his car. It’s Friday night and he recalls you saying you work here every two weeks. He counted the days three times. There’s no way he made a mistake. He’s sober. And he has no intentions of getting drunk.  

You’re surprised when you see him. You haven’t spoken a word for a whole week since he walked out of your apartment. He seems happier when he approaches you, flashing a bunny-toothed smile like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’s good at pretending. That’s exactly what you told him to do - act like the night he stripped you bare and fucked you silly was merely a mirage.

In a way, you’re relieved he makes everything seem ordinary, even though it’s anything but normal.

He waits for you to finish your shift. Tells you he drove here with his car and your eyes involuntarily widen. When you’re standing in front of his black Mercedes Benz, you can’t help but gawk.  

“I don’t even want to know how much money this cost.” You take in the all-polished, black glory of his car, muttering “Holy shit” under your breath.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, gesturing for you to get in. You do it without a word, making yourself comfortable on the leather seat. If he manages not to make things awkward, you can do it to, acting as though he isn’t a well-known persona in your country with an addiction for unhealthy lifestyle.

He starts the engine and drives in the direction of your neighborhood, humming to himself the tune playing in radio. It’s awfully domestic, the way he navigates through the streets like he knows them like the back of his hand although you’re aware he’s glancing at his phone once in a while to check the directions. You catch yourself watching him from the corner of your eye with curiosity, biting your lip to suppress the urge to ask him million questions at a minute. Instead, you let him do whatever he has in mind. You can’t ruin this, you remind yourself.

Later that night, you’re sitting in his car in the darkness, parked on the rundown parking lot where no one’s standing expect for you. The only source of light is coming from the single street lamp nearby, illuminating delicately Jungkook’s features in dim, yellowish lighting.  

He doesn’t say much. He fumbles with the hem of his jacket almost absentmindedly and you know him well enough to sense there’s something plugging his thoughts. You call his name and he turns his head to the side. It’s too dark for you to spot the tiredness on his beautiful face, too dark to read from his eyes and find all the needed answers in them.

“Is everything alright?” you ask and it sounds awfully loud in a small space of his car. Despite the silent promise you made to yourself about keeping things between you civil, you can’t help but interfere.

Jungkook then whirls on his seat so he can face you fully, flashing you a smile meant to throw all your former worries away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to sit with you for a while like that, if you don’t mind.”  

If anything, it doesn’t cure your concerns but you shove it to the back of your head for now. Nodding at his words, you fall into the distressing silence. The street lamp nearby goes out and if it wasn’t for the digital dashboard in Jungkook’s car, you would have been surrounded by darkness completely.  

Jungkook chuckles under his breath and you follow suit. The sudden change in the atmosphere should be taken as a sign to abandon this damned parking lot and go somewhere else, but he looks like he has other plans in mind. Hearing the soft whisper of your name, you start feeling like it all was meant to happen. Him appearing in front of the club, the lights going out and enabling you to read the true emotions from your faces – it’s all like fate is again playing tricks with you.  

You don’t know who moves first, crossing the invisible oceans between you and reaching homeland, but the next thing you feel is his lips on yours.

He tastes like the non-alcoholic beverage he drunk earlier, mixed with faint bitterness of his beloved cigarettes and something akin to mint, yet you’re drowning in it, in him, in the warmth of his breath on your wet lips.

You feel the world spiraling in front of your eyes, despite your soberity. You’re moving automatically; leaning into his touch and accepting the kiss with raw passion, welcoming his tongue in your mouth willingly. It should be alarming how good it feels to have him like this, in your arms, teeth scrapping your neck until you’re writhing in your seat. Breathless, he takes the hint, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his lap.  

It feels dangerously familiar. You know what’s going to happen next, when he unzips your jacket and places his hands underneath your sweater, relishing in the way you shiver at the coldness of his touch. When he sinks his teeth in your neck and withdraws seconds before leaving a blossoming mark. Yet you make no vow to stop him.  

From this exact moment, it’s just a blur of hushed whispers, broken moans and quick caresses that leave you yearning for more. Jungkook acts like he knows your body inside and out, thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into your heat until you’re keening and begging him for more. And he gives it to you with earnest, coaxing you into an orgasm with one last, final flick of his thumb on your sensitive bud.

Jungkook groans when you palm his bulge through the material of his pants, but he’s too desperate to feel your wetness around him to let you tease him any longer. When you sink down onto him, all of your rational thoughts fly away with the breathy moan you let out in unison with his choked gasp.

It’s fast and ragged, chasing the high that it’s both forbidden yet so craved. And it hurts, when tears well in your eyes, when you’re at the brick of pleasure and you know there’s no way in the world you’re going to experience a desire so raw and overwhelming with anyone, ever again. It hurts when Jungkook picks up the pace and fucks into you with ferocity and anger, because the world is unfair and he’s a slave in the system in which freedom means fucking you dirty in his car when it’s dark out.

And he hates it, hates it so much when you unveil in front of him, whimpering his name hoarsely and tightening around his cock deliciously. He swallows every sound you make with his mouth, clenching his teeth because the pleasure is right there, but he needs an extra push to throw himself over the edge. It’s his name on your lips and the whimper of “Inside, please” that finally makes him snap.

Then, there’s only guilt and laboured breaths. In his self-made list of mistakes, you’re aiming for the top.

Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.

You would never quite enjoy doing it, not due to the constant anxiety of forgetting about buying something even if you make a list of products beforehand, not when you don’t have enough money to buy a little extra than needed (thanks to the dear capitalistic world we live in).  

Right now, you’re standing in the middle of an aisle with cereal, trying to look as much casual as possible so people passing by wouldn’t suspect you to be a wanna-be thief. The cause of your distress sits at the very top shelf and there’s no way in hell you’ll manage to snatch that Reese’s Puffs without knocking everything over.  

Defeated, you raise your hand to take your second option (good, old Corn Flakes), but a familiar voice coming from the right stops you in tracks.

“Need some help?”  

Twirling on your feet, you’re now standing face to face with Kihyun – Minho’s friend from work. Smiling sheepishly, you nod. “I do, actually. Can you pass me these ones, please?”  

You feel stupid asking that but fortunately, Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. You talked to him briefly a few times before thanks to Minho, who took his friendship with him as far as to go on a double date together.  

“So, how are you?” Kihyun asks, placing the cereal box in your cart.

“I’m good, thanks. I assume you’ve been also doing well,” He raises his eyebrows at that and you clarify, “Minho told me you got promoted lately. Congrats, chief Yoo.”

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” There’s a tiny bit of pink covering the apples of his cheeks when he waves his hand dismissively at your comment. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m sure working in a homicide department is a big deal,” you say. “And I heard it requires some extra shooting training as well.” you add, alluding to what Minho has told you the day you read the message on his phone from someone named Soyeon.

To your surprise, Kihyun furrows his brows in a manner that could only mean he’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”  

Hiding your astonishment with a light laugh, you explain, “Don’t you go to the shooting range with Minho after work? He told me so a while ago.”  

Something akin to realization crosses Kihyun’s face. He shakes his head. “Yeah, we went there together once or twice but recently he’s training there our new recruit, Soyeon.”  

His words punch you right in the guts. Minho lied to you. He wouldn’t come up with that shitty excuse if he didn’t have something dirtier to hide, right? Maybe you’re exaggerating, but he certainly hasn’t been truly honest with you for a while now. It must be a reason behind his strange behavior.

“Are you okay?”  

For a moment you’ve forgotten you’re in the middle of the grocery store with your boyfriend’s friend. Shaking yourself off your unpleasant thoughts, you send Kihyun an apologetic smile.  

“I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to go to the pharmacist’s and they’re closing soon so I gotta hurry now.” you lie. He doesn’t look like he entirely bought your story but nevertheless, he bids you goodbye.  

You leave the store with half-empty shopping bag, raging headache and a torn heart.

They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.  

It hovers in the air, heavy and overwhelming, a tension primed to snap at any moment yet it has never happened before. There’s always quiet, no hushed sentences, half-lies or stuttered confessions leaving quivering lips.  

Sometimes you wonder when will you have enough. When will you be able to resist, to say you’re hurting so bad it aches right in your heart, like there are tons of bricks lying on your chest, suppressing your breathing. And maybe this is the night.  

A few unread messages on your phone, next one popping up and the screen lights up. 

[1:23pm] jungkook:

i need you  

It pains, a dull ache and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room.   [1:24pm] jungkook:

please  

He never begs. It doesn’t suit him. There is too much pride and power inside him to crawl in front of you, to fall to his knees and plead. Yet, you falter, shaking fingertips typing a quick response. When brain screams fuck you, you don’t deserve me, a sight of him makes all the rational thoughts go to hell.  

He stands in your door, slender body leaning against the frame. You haven’t seen him for a while, a week or maybe two. His skin is pale, sheer and delicate you worry it might break if you trail your fingers over it. There are bangs under his bloodshot eyes and you know he had trouble sleeping again. It hurts seeing him like this, beautiful and broken but you’ve always loved picking up the damaged pieces.

He smiles, a lopsided smirk you know oh so well, a dark amusement because here you are, pliant under his gaze, vulnerable under his every command.  

“Hello, doll.”  

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you grimace. Nickname he uses only when you’re stripped bare for his liking, bend to his will. It means he’s been drinking. Probably the expensive whiskey you hate the taste of so much when it lingers bitterly on your tongue after each swipe of his mouth against yours. “Will you let me in?” he then asks although he already knows the answer.

It’s cruel of him how he uses your weakness. You hate seeing him like this, hate when he’s thrown apart and you’re the only one who knows how to fix him. That’s why you move away from the door in a silent invitation, biting your lip when you see his slouching posture and unsteady walk.  

It hurts when you help him sit on your bed and he smiles at you lazily, in all his beautiful yet broken glory. You almost don’t recognize him. It’s not your Jungkook. Your Jungkook would never drown his misery in alcohol, he would never sit in your room barely conscious, smelling of cheap bars and cigarettes.  

But you accept your fate the way it is.  

“I need to sober you up a little. I’ll go get you a glass of water, okay?” He hums in response, although you’re worried it might have not reach his ears at all.  

Jungkook looks up when your back, accepting the water and drinking it with eagerness. “You’re too good to me, you know that right?” he slurs a little once he’s done. “I don’t deserve you.” he adds after a moment, cupping your cheek with his unoccupied palm.  

You squeeze your eyes shut because you fear you might break down in front of him if you look him in the eyes. He strokes your skin, murming “I’m so sorry” all over again.  

You stay like that for a few beats of silence, breathing in each other’s presences until you hear Jungkook’s phone buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, you see ‘Jimin-hyung’ written on the screen. “Your friends are worried about you.” you murmur, nudging his side.

“Tell them to go to hell.” You hear him muttering under his breath. Sighing, you decide to exit the room and answer the call.  

“Jungkook? Where the fuck are you?!” Jimin’s angered, thick with Busan dialect voice rings in your ears, making you flinch. “You should’ve at least answer my text once so I would know you’re okay!”  

Mustering the courage, you take a deep breath and say, “Hi, it’s Y/N speaking. Jungkook’s friend.”  

There’s a pause on the other side, until your hear Jimin clearing his throat. “Oh, hi. Is Jungkook maybe with you?” he asks and you smile to yourself involuntarily noticing how his voice has changed once he realised he’s not speaking to his friend.  

“He is. Drunk, but in one piece.” you reply, sparing a glance at aforementioned Jungkook who’s now slumped down on your bed, probably fast asleep.

Jimin sighs with relief. “That’s good then. You know, we got into a little fight today and he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and we are right before the comeback so–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you interrupt his rushed rambling. “I’ll take care of him.”  

“Thank you, Y/N-ssi. It means a lot.”  

‘’I’ve been taking care of his ass practically since we were kids, so it’s not a big deal for me,” you chuckle lightly, even though you’re definetely not in the mood for jokes. “Well, maybe not in that way but still.”  

“I know. He told me about you.”  

Your eyes widen. “He did?” you ask, failing to hide the surprised tone of your voice.  

“Yeah, he did. When he first told us he met his childhood friend accidentally in the club he got drunk in, we didn’t believe him at first. But then he slowly started opening up more about you and even showed me some picture of you and him when you were kids.” Jimin says. “You know, Jungkook hasn’t been himself for quite a while. He kept pushing us away but ever since he met you, he’s started smiling again. Please, promise me you’ll never hurt him.”  

You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”  

It’s easy to promise such thing. Because you’re for sure going to end up being hurt first.

It’s your alarm that wakes you up the next morning.

The sight of Jungkook is long gone, the only proof he’s been here in your bed last night is an empty glass on your bedside table and a small note written on the napkin.  

Thank you for everything. I really don’t deserve you.  

Jungkook.

Sheets have gone already cold underneath your fingertips where he laid beside you just hours ago. You didn’t get much sleep the night, watching his beautiful, pale features illuminated by the moonlight slipping through your window. He looked so peaceful with his chapped lips slightly parted and in that moment, you couldn’t think of any reason to hate him and what he’s doing to you.

Later, when you’re finally out of uni, you come home and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are reserved for your small dates with Minho. The guilt you’re feeling while getting dressed and fixing your makeup is eating you from the inside. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you almost don’t recognize the shallow of a girl you’re seeing.  

You are not a bad person, you keep reminding yourself, then why did you sleep with him that night? Let him crawl into your bed again and again after?

Minho waits for you outside in his car. He’s taking you to a new Thai restaurant and you manage to hide the frown on your face, because your dear boyfriend forgot you don’t like this type of food.  

“You look pretty tonight, babe,” he says once you’re inside, waiting for your orders. You smile at him briefly. “It’s really been a while since we went out together, hasn’t it?”  

At that, you nod curtly. It’s true, you haven’t seen each other last week at all. Minho ditched your usual Wednesday date in favor of staying at work for something important. It happened second or third time this month. You feel like you don’t have right to be mad at him. If anything, that’s what you deserve for lying to him behind his back.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Your food arrives, you act like you don’t feel nauseous chewing on your pad thai and trying to break out the taste with red wine. Minho babbles about the new Netflix series he’s started watching and you’re pretending to be intrested. Wednesday date at its finest.

Then, when you’re about to pour yourself another glass of wine, Minho stops you with his hand on yours. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,”  You fight an urge to roll your eyes. He wants to discuss serious matters? What a change. “We’ve been together for eight months. My parents keep asking about you.”  

“Oh,” you blurt out. To hide your anxiety, you force out a breathy laugh. “So, what about them?” you ask, however you already know what the answer is going to be.  

“I thought we could visit them soon in Daegu over some weekend when you don’t have work,” he proposes, squeezing your hand as if to calm your nerves. It’s not doing much to put you at ease. “My mom has already started making plans what food she should make. They’re really excited to meet you.”  

You feign a smile. It should be a natural progression for couples to take things at a time, step by step but you can’t help but feel uneasy. Minho wants his parents to meet you, the girl who lets a certain raven-haired boy play with her heart and mess with her head. In a sick game where both parties are out of reach, you’re terribly losing.

“I’d love to meet your parents.” you say finally, almost breathless.  

“You don’t look very excited.” Minho comments with a smirk and you know he’s joking but the lump in your throat only grows.  

You smile meekly. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. What if they won’t like me?”  

“I’m sure they’re gonna love you. You don’t have anything to worry about.” he dismisses your concerns, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a glass. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you. I know it’s a lot for one evening but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks now so since we have this opportunity now, I’m gonna use it.”  

Color drains from your face. What else is there to converse about all of a sudden? Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a sign to continue.

“I’ll go straight to the point. I want you to move in with me,” The bomb explodes and you nearly drop your wine glass to the floor. “I know it might be a lot for your but I really, really want to see you every day in my bed. My apartment is big enough for both of us but once I get the promotion my boss talked to me about last week, we can look for something fancier.”  

You stare at him blankly. First his parents, now this? Minho from the beginning of your relationship was the one who liked to take things slowly. He didn’t kiss you until your third date, he waited unnecessary amount of time to have sex even though you told him over and over again you were more than ready to do it with him.

The sudden rush feels weird. As if sensing your discomfort, Minho clears his throat and asks, “Don’t you want to move in with me?”  

You notice the subtle change in his voice, the way he’s not as enthusiastic as he was a minute ago but you shove it to the back of your head. “I’m surprised,” you respond neutraly. “And of course I don’t mind living with you. I just thought you wanted to take things slow.”  

Minho clicks his tongue. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N,” he chuckles but you don’t mirror the sentiment. “I think it would be more comfortable for you to live with me than your current cubby-hole.”  

He’s already irritated by your reaction and you know it’s better not to poke the bear but those three glasses of wine down your throat give you enough courage to disagree. “Your place is further from my university and work. Not to mention I have a five minutes long walk to the underground now and it would take longer for me to get there in your area.” you point out.

“You can get a driving license then finally.”  

You frown. “What do you mean ‘finally’? You know damn well I can’t afford it now with the job I have and student loan. We talked about it before.”  

Minho is aware that with your current financial situation you’re barely making ends meet and you can’t let yourself have another, bigger expenses. But you’re fine on your own, you don’t mind living where you do because that’s the result of your independence. You showed your parents you are able to study and work without their extra help. You’re proud of yourself for that.

“Now you’re literally making excuses. Just say you don’t want to move in.”  

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to reason. “I’m not ready for such a big step yet. I need more time to think about it.”  

Minho snorts, rolling his eyes. “What else is there to think about? Either you say yes or no!” His raised tone catches attention from the family sitting nearby and they send curious glances in your direction.

“Stop being so loud, please. We are in a restaurant for God’s sake.” you whisper-shout.  

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he snorts, obnoxious and annoyingly snarky.

You stay quiet for a moment, debating whether you should give up entirely and hang a white flag or wait for the atmosphere to clear on its own. But you’re so, so tired. Tired of being lied to. Tired of always having to choose your words carefully and bending to his will.  

“You know, I met Kihyun the other day at grocery store,” Minho doesn’t seem much interested in your inquiry, still deeply frustrated with your tantrum. He simply hums, unfazed. “I congratulated him on his promotion. He for sure needs to visist shooting range more now, doesn’t he?”  

Minho arches his brow. “Yeah, I told you he goes there with me and that new recruit.”  

It’s ironic, how easily he can lie to you straight in the eye. But you’re strong enough now to fight back.  “That’s interesting actually, because Kihyun said something totally different.” you say languidly, watching your boyfriend narrowing his eyes.

“And what is that?”  

“He said you’re going there only with your new recruit, Soyeon. The one sending you messages on your private phone.”  

Minho gapes at you for a few short seconds and then, bursts into laughter. “What are you trying to insinuate here, honey?” he asks.  

The petname sounds mocking this time. Ignoring his lighthearted approach to the situation, you dodge a bullet. “I’m not insinuating anything yet. I just pointed out that you lied to me.”  

“Lied? That’s bullishit. I would never lie to you.”  

“But you did, Minho. The day I asked you who Soyeon was after reading the message on your phone. You said you’re visiting shooting range with her and Kihyun after work sometimes. Turns out it’s just you and her after all. Isn’t that a lie?” you press.  

Minho doesn’t like being backed into the corner. When you confronted him first, he thought he had everything under control. Now, he’s losing it and he isn’t used to being that helpless.

“So what? Maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t freak out and think I’m cheating on you. Because that’s all it is about, right? You think I’m fucking someone behind your back.” he snaps, making you wince.  

“I didn’t say that.” you counter but there’s no use for that. You stepped into the lion’s den.  

He aprubtly stands up from his chair and the cutlery on your table clutters. “You know what? I’m done. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit anymore.” He withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and throws a few bills onto the table.  

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. “Your’e leaving? Just like that?”  

“Yeah. Are you going with me or not?”  

You shrug your shoulders. “I guess someone has to finish this bottle. It would be a shame to waste such expensive wine.” you say, mustering a sarcastic smile.

Minho doesn’t utter anything more to you. He nods and exits the restaurant, leaving you sitting by the table alone. Despite the stares, hushed whispers and an urge to run away and hide from the audience, you stay a little longer and drink up that damned bottle of wine until there’s no droplets left inside.  

Once you’re outside, you inhale greedily the fresh air. Your head spins a little and you’re debating whether to take an Uber home or just walk thirty minutes on your own to sober up a little. You choose the latter.  

You don’t know what makes you dial his number. You’ve never done that before. He was the one calling you in the middle of the name and begging without words to tend his wounds. Tables have turned, and here you are.  

You call once, twice. After the fifth attempt you give up, showing your phone into the pocket of your coat. As the first tear rolls down your cheek, you realise he would never be there to pick up your pieces.

Three missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:11pm] jungkook:

I’m so sorry y/n. I couldn’t pick up the phone cause we had late practice  

Please call me back. I’m worried

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:36pm] jungkook:  

At least text me if you’re okay

Please  

[11:39pm] me:

I’m fine

[11:39pm] jungkook:  

Thank God

You sure you don’t wanna talk?

[11:41pm] me:

Maybe next time

[11:41pm] jungkook:

Okay  

Night, miss grumpy  

You’re sitting in your favourite cafeteria, typing furiously on your laptop the last paragraph in your assignment. Your philosophy proffesor has been a bitch lately, telling you to write essays about the most uninteresting stuff she could possibly think of. And here you are, writing about Hegel’s triads, reminding yourself the semester soon will be over and so will be your mandatory philosophy classes.

Taking a moment to sip on a caramel macchiato you ordered, you notice a message popping up on your lockscreen.  

[10:45am] jungkook:  

Do you have time now?  

I need to tell you sth  

It’s been two days since your date with Minho. You’re still mentally flogging yourself for calling Jungkook that night repulsively because of your tipsiness. In that exact moment, he was the only person on your mind you could talk to. Once the fresh air cooled down your emotions, you realised how stupid your idea was. 

With slight resistance (and raced heartbeat), you type a response. 

[10:46am] me:  

I guess  

[10:46am] jungkook:  

Great. I’m gonna call you now

Eyes widening, you stare at your phone. What is so important that he cannot just text you instead? Not even a minute later, you hear buzzing. Exhaling shakily, you answer it.  

“Hi, Miss Grumpy,” Jungkook says and you could tell by the tone of his voice he’s in a good mood. He sounds like the old Jungkook you know well. It’s a pleasant surprise. “What’s up?”  

“You called me to ask how am I doing?”  

Jungkook chuckles and something inside you flutters hearing that. “And what if I did?”  

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Let’s just say it’s unusual of you. Shouldn’t you be at some dance practice right now?” you ask.

“We just ended a company meeting. And this is exactly the reason why I’m calling you.”  

“Should I be scared?”  

”Not at all. I’m gonna move straight to the point,” he says and your pulse involuntarily quickens. “Are you free next weekend?”  

You bite your lip. There’s a part of you that wants so bad to counter with “What? Do you need a booty call?” but you don’t let your facade break that easily. Instead, you tell the truth. “Yeah, I am.”  

“Would you like to go with me to Busan then?”  

You nearly spill the coffee onto your laptop. “Oh.” You can’t quite hide the surprise in your voice. You would never expect him to propose you such thing, yet here you are.

It’s been a while since you were home. Not like you don’t want to see your parents, it’s actually the opposite. The reason you haven’t been in Busan for months is simple: you don’t have extra cash on the side to afford a two-way train ticket.  

Sensing your bewilderment, Jungkook takes your silence as a sign to explain further his sudden proposition. “Our company gave us few days off to relax before final comeback preparations so I decided I could go home,” It’s what he says and unsure of what to answer with, you only hum in response. “You told me some time ago you haven’t seen your parents since Christmas so I thought you might accompany me.”  

Something squeezes in your chest hearing that. You fail to hide the smile creeping on your features and despite the many obstacles that should be a warning sign for you to say no, you find yourself reminiscing in the idea of spending a weekend at home with Jungkook. Just like old times.  

“Okay. I agree.”  

Upon hearing your response, Jungkook breathes out a sigh of relief to the phone. “I thought you would ditch me.”  

“Excuse me? Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to eat my mum’s bulgogi.”  

You can’t ignore how you’re feeling, cheeks flushed and a silly smile stretching on your lips. But there’s still that bugging thought present at the back of your head, reminding you of your illicit affair and every mistake you’ve made so far. Maybe agreeing to a small trip down childhood memory lane is one of them.  

Right now, sitting in a cafeteria and talking on the phone with Jungkook about the details and your mum’s cooking skills, you pretend like you’ve turned back the time and everything else is a mere drawback to deal with later.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do that.”  

That, is a blatant lie. You know damn well why you’re standing on the pavement in front of the building you live in as Jungkook pulls up with his high-priced, straight-from-the-salon black Mercedes. Something ignites in your lower stomach at the mere memory of what you’ve done there inside last time.

When he exits the car, you disregard as best as you can the aloof feeling in your chest, seeing him adjusting his bucket hat further down. This is the life he’s living, you remind yourself. If he wants to minimize the risk of people with preying eyes recognizing him.

Dressed in all black, he comes up to you and lifts his head up. That’s when you see him fully for the first time since he stumbled through your drunk and barely conscious. He smiles widely approaching you, not an ounce of uncertainty in his movements when he wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.  

“What’s that for?” you mumble.

“Just missed you.”  

He smells like the flowery fabric softener you know he likes. It almost lulls you into paying no mind to the thumping of your heart against your ribcage and redness blossoming on your cheeks.  

It almost makes you forget he’s not yours, and you will never be his.  

You’re the first one to withdraw, stepping away. “You’re such a sap.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind to say after such intimate moment  – twist it into something without depth and meaning you’re so afraid of facing.

He shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just happy we’re going to spend some time together with our families.”  

You know he is. Jungkook has always been a family person. Moving out at a ripe age of fourteen paradoxically strengthened the bond he has with his parents and brother.  

He picks up your bag from the ground and throws it into the trunk next to his. Getting into the car, you mutter, “You know, I tweet ‘eat the rich’ every two days but you are safe from my hatred for high class as long as you drive my ass with this expensive car to Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles, starting the engine. “Thanks for your kindness, love. Good to know I’m pardoned.”  

“Jokes aside, I mean it though. I might want Jeff Bezos to rot in hell but at the same time I think you deserve that money because I know you worked hard to achieve it.” you say, buckling your seatbelt.  

He spares you a quick glance and arches his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you are actually a fellow comrade Y/N, Miss Grumpy.”  

“Oh, boy. Follow me on my private account. You’ll see then how radical I can get.”  

You earn another laugh from him and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable in the situation, sitting in his car and venturing onto a weekend trip to your hometown. The perspective of spending a couple of hours with Jungkook in the same car doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did the whole week before.

Tapping the unknown rhythm on your thighs, you reach to press what you think might be the radio button. Your aren’t good with modern technology, so you smile triumphantly to yourself, hearing the first tunes blasting from the speakers. 

The slow pop-ballad ends and radio host announces next song as ‘fan favorite’. You look out of the window for a short while just to be brought back to the reality by the sound playing in the background. You know this song more than well.

“No. We are not listening to this.” Jungkook reaches to change the radio station with a speed of light, but you swat his hand away.  

“Jesus christ, stop being so dramatic. I love Blood Sweat and Tears! It’s a masterpiece.” you protest.

“I thought you don’t listen to our songs.”

You gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been to your concert twice, dumbass. And I’m saving up money for another.”  

That, is true. You like listening to BTS not because of Jungkook (though he might one of the reasons you fancy them) but it’s their music and message in general. Now, since they’re over their badboy phases and objectifying women in every ‘love song’, you’re fond of them even more.

You start humming Namjoon’s part when Jungkook cuts in. “Okay, then. Who’s your bias?” he asks.  

You don’t miss the way he seems to grip the steering wheel tighter. Of course he would be that petty to ask you this. To entertain yourself a little, you quip, “Take a wild guess.”  

“It has to be Jimin-hyung.” he says right away.

You shake your head. “Boo. Try again.”  

“Namjoon-hyung. You bit your lip when he started rapping his part.”  

“That’s bullshit. Namjoon’s hot but not my type. And you should keep your eyes on the road, buddy.” Placing your fingers on his chin, you turn his head away.

Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”  

“Taehyung.”  

Hearing your response, he snorts. “I should’ve known that.”

“And why is that?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

“Because he’s the most good looking from us all. He dresses stylishly,” You could tell by the tongue in his cheek you’re irking him right now. Adding to the irony, Taehyung’s part in the song comes blasting from the speakers. “He has a nice, deep voice.” Jungkook adds and before he can name another positive trait of his friend, you chime in.  

“Is somebody jealous?”  

Though you’re clearly making fun of him, he decides to chuckle like he doesn’t give a fuck anyway. “Jealous? Of Tae? Please. I have no reason to be.”  

Smirking to yourself, you find his demeanor too entertaining. “That’s good then. Because I think you’re handsome too. And I love your voice when you sing.” you say, turning your head to the side to observe his reaction.  

No matter how much he tries to hide it, clenching his jaw and giving you an eye roll, there’s no use for that. The blush covering his cheeks gives him anyway. His agony ends with one last beat of the song.  

Hiding a yawn behind your palm, you lean back onto your seat. Last night you didn’t get as much as you’d like to and your four hours long drive to Busan seems like a great opportunity for a compensatory nap.  

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you remember is Jungkook’s hands on the steering wheel and his soft voice humming the song playing in the radio.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up. We’re almost there.”  

Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with familiar-looking streets of your hometown, Busan. You jerk abruptly, straightening your posture. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” you ask, looking to your left at Jungkook.  

He shrugs in response. “You looked like you didn’t want to be waken. And trust me, I know what it feels like to be brought back to reality from a good nap too early.”  

You don’t dwell on that more. Instead, you look out of the window, greedily drinking in the city. You’re now driving through downtown, passing by shining skyscrapers. Both yours and Jungkook’s houses are situated in a more peaceful area of Busan, closer to the sea. That’s why you spent most of your childhood and teenage days there as long as the weather was merciful.  

Spring has always been your favourite time of the year but spring in Busan hits different. You don’t have an occasion to sit by the sea and watch the sky burning in orange and red in Seoul. Here, where you used to grow up, spring is the cherry tree blossoming, your mum planting vegetable seeds in her small garden behind your house, you and Jungkook smoking cigarettes underneath the pier while the sun hides  behind the horizon.

“Did you tell your parents you’re coming?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.  

“No, I didn’t. I want it to be a surprise for them.”  

“Oh, that’s cute.” he comments curtly and turns right. You’re approximately thirty minutes until you reach your destination. “I need to talk with you about one more thing before we get there.”  

You focus your sight on him, however he seems to avoid your eyes. You give him a sign to continue. “Go on.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with his hand and then sighs. It’s a nervous habit of his, you recognize. “I just want to apologize for causing you so much trouble. Not only last time but in general,” He stops at the red light and cocks his head to the side to look at you. “I acted like a complete dick and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry for everything. I thought this small trip here would be some sort of redemption for me, I don’t know.” The lights turns to orange, then to green and he focuses his eyes on the road again.

Reaching over the gearshift, you place a hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he peeks at you with the same, round, sparkly eyes you’ve grown to adore, all you can do is smile softly. “I’m okay, Kook. If that’s what you need, I don’t mind helping you. If only it means you’ll be okay too.”  

Perhaps he notices the sadness in your eyes when you say it. Perhaps he can tell your smile is not the happiest he’s ever seen. If he does, he chooses to stay silent. Instead, he nods. Taking his action as a sight to withdraw, you straighten on your seat.  

“There’s one more anything, actually,” Jungkook adds after a while.  

“What is it?”  

“You’re invited to a party.”  

“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.

‘’We are celebrating Junghyun’s engagement.” he says casually.

Eyes widening, you let out a shocked gasp. “What?! Your brother got engaged?” 

Jungkook sends you a look. “Jealous, buttercup?”  

You roll your eyes. “I told you I had a crush on your brother when I was ten. It’s been twelve years since then. Twelve!” you exclaim, but he only smirks in response.  

The reason you liked Junghyun as a kid was simple: he was your best friend’s older brother. He was just there yet unreachable at the same time.  

(And he didn’t have as many pimples as Jungkook.)

But Junghyun getting married? That is a news to you. You clearly remember him telling you one day he would never form a serious relationship before he reaches thirty. Looks like he made up his mind.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised he decided to settle down. Junghyun has always been more of a free soul when it comes to dating. I even remember your mum throwing him a tantrum during barbecue because of this.” you say.

“Honestly, I’m not that shocked. You should’ve seen him looking at Hyerin during our Christmas dinner. This boy is whipped.” Jungkook chuckles.  

“Your parents must be happy.” you comment absentmindedly.

He nods, the corners of his mouth stretching in a small smile. “Yeah, they are. They really like Hyerin. And considering they won’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon thanks to my line of work–” he trails off, “–they are even happier that hyung is settling down.”  

The air seems heavy now inside Jungkook’s car. He said an obvious thing you were aware of but something aches in your chest at the thought.

You will never understand why there’s so much stigmatization surrounding idols dating other people. Wanting to be loved by someone is a natural, human need. Prohibition won’t magically stop them from catching feelings.  

But there’s also another side of the story – the one Jungkook referred to. In his line of work even if there are no obstacles, it’s hard to maintain a long-lasting relationship. And he knows that.  

You still remember vividly his first girlfriend. Her name was Eunbi and she was one of their manager’s daughter. Her dad used to take her to the MV sets, introduced her to the boys because she was a fan of them. And that’s how she met Jungkook.  

Jungkook, age seventeen, was too shy to hold a proper conversation and keep eye contact with a girl at the same time but somehow, him and Eunbi got along pretty quickly. They shared a sympathy for the same video games and for Jungkook back then it was enough to fall head over heels for her. She was his first kiss as he told you (”First real one, because I don’t count that peck Jisoo gave me in fifth grade as a kiss.”)  

After that moment you decided you’d never like Eunbi. Not because you were furiously in love with him, no.

You just didn’t want to see him form such a close bond with anyone else but you.

Their fairytale love story ended when Eunbi’s father found out about their secret randez-vous. Jungkook sulked for a week and then eventually got over Eunbi.  

(And he was again texting you about that video game you had no interest in but you pretended to be a good substitute for Eunbi and her nerdiness you lacked.)

“What are you thinking about?”  

You’re standing on the red light again. Glancing at Jungkook, you find him staring right back at you. “I’m wondering whether I’m invited to the wedding.” you lie.

“Of course you are. I’m sure hyung is going to do it officially tomorrow,” he answers with a grin. “I think Taehyung is coming too. He loves weddings.”  

Narrowing your eyes, you reply with a saccharine sweet voice, “It’s about time you introduce me to your bandmates. Especially Taehyung-oppa.”

“Oppa?”

You bite your lip. There’s no doubt you did that on purpose. You find it rather amusing to see Jungkook so worked up over such a silly thing. You wonder how far you can go before he finally snaps.  

Smirking to yourself, shrug your shoulders. “The light’s green. Watch the road, Kookie.”  

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. It’s approximately fifteen minutes until you reach your destination. “I’m sure you will be delighted to meet him.” he says with enough amount of sarcasm for you to know he’s irritated.

“Oh, I will be over the moon.”  

“Good.”  

“Amazing, even.”

You hope he doesn’t notice you failing to maintain a serious expression.

You moved with your parents to your new house in Busan at the age of eight, two ponytails, overalls and sparkly sneakers every kid wanted to have adoring your small frame, a look of pure concern worrying your childish, chubby features. 

It was a quiet neighborhood, on the suburbs of the town, a row of similarly looking terraced buildings and small gardens in front of them, every single one akin to the other. There was nothing distinctive about the area, it screamed dullness and tedium but for years you have grown to call this place home.

You know every corner here inside out. A local grocery store owned by a lovable, elder woman known as Miss Kim, who always has spare candies underneath the counter for children who come to buy something for their parents. Next to the store, there is a florist’s. Your first, high school part-time job. The intense smell of roses makes you nauseous to these days.

There is also your primary school, huge backyard behind it with a run-down playground. You never minded it though, spending there probably too much time for your parents liking. Many memories were made there. First, innocent childish peck placed on your cheek from a 6th grader named Jinyoung. Twisted ankle, tears, pain and regret because you decided to jump off the highest step of the climbing frame one Friday afternoon after classes. A punch to the face of school’s bully Dongin, who called your new pair of Converse trainers ugly.

It was exactly fourteen days before the end of August when you met Jungkook.

You had been living in the new house for almost a month but still felt too insecure to explore the neighborhood. Most of your time you were spending inside, missing your old friends and reading books to distract your attention from the approaching start of the second semester in school.  

It was probably one of the last scorching-hot days of the year and you were sitting in your garden alone, family’s cat named Leo purring on your lap, when all of a sudden a ball bounced on the grass right in front of you, landing perfectly at your feet and almost scarring Leo to death.  

And then, you looked up and saw him.

A pair of big, black doe-like eyes hidden behind a fringe of onyx hair staring at you through the fence curiously. The boy was not much older than you, probably around your age. He was wearing a striped football t-shirt with some popular team name.  

You fidgeted slightly on the pavement where you were sitting, glancing at the boy shyly like you didn’t know why he was looking at you so intensely. You noticed a small scar on his left cheek, his knees were bruised, splashed with dirt just like his sneakers.  

“Can you give me my ball?” he asked suddenly, startling you.  

Your eyes widened. Of course he would talk to you, you scolded yourself, he wants his ball back.

When you didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “I kicked my ball here by an accident. Can you give it to me?” He pointed at the object lying at your feet.  

You nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. You threw it over the fence, so it landed directly on the other side.

“Thanks.” the black-haired boy said. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. What’s your name?”  

“___.” you responded and the boy, Jungkook, grinned at you friendly, showing his bunny-like smile. He looked cute.  

“Bye, ___! See you tomorrow!” he beamed and headed back to his house.

Tomorrow. He wanted to meet up with you and what? Play football? You were petrified, as the eight-years-old girl should be after hearing such thing from a boy.

And just like he promised, Jungkook visited you the next day. He took you to that playground behind your new primary school. You came home with bruised legs and splotches of dirt on your skirt, to your mother’s dismay.

You also came home with a content grin plastered on your face and a new friend.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook appeared to be a pleasant company and you found yourself enjoying his boyish bickering while fulfilling the rest of the summer break doing things your old friends would consider inappropriate for a girl.

You never thought you could be friends with someone like Jungkook. He was a boy, for God’s sake, and your eight-years-old-barbie-phase-self absolutely despised boys. But months passed quickly and you both found yourselves stuck to each other sides. Something in your relationship simply clicked.

The neighborhood you grew up in isn’t a suburban area but it definitely seems more peaceful than busy streets of downtown. You pass by local church, miss Kim’s store and the big, luxurious house owned my Gwon family you dreamt of living in when you were a kid.  

And then, approximately two hundred meters further, there is your house.  

“Here we are.” Jungkook says, pulling up at his parent’s driveway. They left the gate open, anticipating their son’s arrival.  

Jungkook hands you your belongings, offering you sheepish smile. “I thought that once you unpack and eat dinner, we could go to the beach together,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course, only if you want to.”  

You don’t give his proposition a second thought. “I’d love to.”  

He grins in response and you take it as a sign to leave and finally meet your parents. From the distance you see your mother in the garden, dressed in her usual clothing – black and red checked shirt and cropped denim pants she wears while gardening.

She doesn’t notice you yet, too busy pulling weeds from her precious tulips. You know her better not to creep behind her like that, so you take a deep breath and shout, “Eomma! It’s me!”  

She stands up and twirls around to face you. Her eyes visibly widen, like she actually thought her mind is playing tricks on her and she might have misheard you.  

“Good Lord, Y/N, sweetie, is that really you?” She throws away her gloves and jogs up to you, enveloping you immadietly in a bear hug. “I missed you so much. Why didn’t you say anything you’re coming?”  

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mumble. “Jungkook took me with him.”  

At that, your mother pulls away. She arches her brows. “Jungkookie is home as well?” she asks, earning a nod from you in response. “You’re talking with him again?” Her voice is laced with apparent bewilderment but that’s exactly what you expected her reaction to be like.  

Your mother is aware you and Jungkook haven’t been keeping in touch for three long years. She was basically your only source of information about him (besides Twitter) thanks to her close friendship with his parents.  

“That’s quite a long story. I will tell you everything later.” you say. Well, maybe not entirely everything. You’re for sure going to miss out the parts you’re not proud of.  

Your mother doesn’t press you more about it. Instead, she puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “It’s your lucky day sweetie, because we have your favorite bulgogi for dinner. Honey, come here quick!” she shouts and you chuckle, hearing your father responding with: “What is it again?”.

The door to your house creak open, revealing your flustered dad. His expression morphs into a genuine smile when he spots you. “Is it really my daughter or are my eyes deceiving me?” he asks.  

‘’Your eyesight is fine, appa. It’s really me.” You come up and give him a small hug. He was never the affectionate type of parent but once you moved out, he let his facade break a little.  

From where you’re standing now, you have a clear view of Jeons’ house. Here, fourteen years ago, sitting on your porch, you met Jungkook for the first time. You see his window upstairs, alligned perfectly with yours. You wonder if he’s already there, inside, unpacking in his blue-painted childhood room.  

(What if it isn’t painted blue anymore?)

“Come on, let’s go. You’re probably starving.” your mother says, pulling your mind back to the present.  

Walking into your house, all you can think about are his tears-filled eyes when you were bidding him goodbye almost ten years ago in his blue bedroom.

It takes you more or less thirty minutes to reach the bay.  

When you were younger, you used to ride there by bikes practically every single day during summer. You loved sitting on the beach and observing people enjoying their time; swimming in the sea, kids building sand castles and their mums trying to relax among childlike chatter and the smell coming from nearby fishmonger’s store.

It was Jungkook who discovered the spot underneath pier. His curiosity only a twelve-year-old can posses led him there one day after school. At first, you were rather reluctant to go and didn’t mirror his excitement but once he actually showed you it, you changed your mind completely.  

It was a perfect place to hide from the world. You called it a ‘temple’ because it really felt like no one beside you knew about its existence, and that’s what made it sacred to you. When Jungkook moved away you were left to go there by yourself. Without him, it always felt like it was something missing.  

Right now, sitting here feels like you’ve you’ve turned back the time.  

It’s like you’re eighteen again, running away from the whole world, starting your own rebellion with a cigarette caught between your lips and sun disappearing behind the horizon. Listening to the songs Jungkooks had saved on his old iPod and catching up with everything that happened during the last few months when he was absent in your life. 

When you were eighteen you didn’t even know how to smoke properly, blowing out the fume too quickly and stiffing a cough so Jungkook wouldn’t laugh at you. Now it’s a different story.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you notice how much he’s changed physically over these five years that have passed. Gone is the baby fat on his cheeks, replaced with sculpted jawline and prominent nose. His hair is longer, falling on his forehead. There’s more piercings on his ears, an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.  

He looks breathtaking. It never occurred to you before just how beautiful Jungkook really is up close, when there’s no flashing cameras around and make-up covering every imperfection on his face with concealer.

This is your Jungkook. The same one whose competitive nature never let you win any of his computer games, who called you after their debut showcase with quivering voice, who always treated you as his equal even when other boys were making fun of him for being friends with a girl. Your Jungkook, who’s too good for this world to be treated so unfairly.  

“I think Minho is cheating on me.” you blurt out.  

It’s been sitting on your tongue for weeks and now you finally let the words slip. You don’t see his reaction but from the sharp intake of breath you assume it’s not something he’s expected to hear from you.

“Few weeks ago I read a message on his phone from some girl asking when he will be free next time,” you continue before you could stop yourself. “He’s been meeting with her alone behind my back this whole time and I didn’t notice anything until now.” A pair of arms wrap around your frame. Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. “I don’t even know if that’s true or I’m overreacting but I just can’t understand how he can lie to me one day and the next propose to move in with him.”  

You don’t realise you’re crying until you feel Jungkook hugging you closer to him. You burry you face into his chest as sob after sob shakes your body. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “I’m here.”  

Few minutes pass until you calm down, wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your hand. Jungkook offers you a tissue and you thank him with a small smile. You can only imagine how ridiculous you look right now, with smudges of mascara underneath your eyes and red nose. Not a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest.” you say after a moment.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I’m still your friend, right?” Jungkook asks, meeting your eyes.

You nod, although he’s anything but friend for you. “Right.”  

Because friends don’t console each other with burning touches on bare skin. They don’t give into carnality and submit to pleasure, putting it before everything else.  

From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s jaw clenching. “I’m gonna kick his ass when I meet him.”  

Before you could stop yourself, you mumble, “He should probably kick yours, too.”   

Jungkook visibly stiffens, hearing your words. He avoids your eyes, staring down at his lap instead. You wonder what he’s thinking about now. Does he regret his actions? Do you regret letting it happen? No matter how much you know you did wrong, there’s a part of you longing for more. Because with Jungkook, you felt alive. Minho could never compare.

Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.  

You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.  

It’s Jungkook who speaks first.

“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”  

“I do.” you whisper truthfully.

He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”  

You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.

There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.  

But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.

The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.  

He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.  

The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.  

“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.  

“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.

Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.  

Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.  

“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”  

Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.  

“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.  

“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.  

“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.

Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.

“Tell me about it.”  

She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”  

Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.

Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.  

Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.  

“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”  

Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.  

As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.  

And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.

You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.

“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.

For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.

“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.

“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.

“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.

You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.

“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.

Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”  

“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.  

Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.

“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.  

Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”  

“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.

Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”  

You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.  

“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”  

Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.  

That your little infatuation had a sequel.  

Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”

Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.

“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”  

“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”  

Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing  stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”  

The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.  

Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.

What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls.  You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.

“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”  

To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.  

Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”

Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.  

But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?  

The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away. 

Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.

By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.  

Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.  

Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.

“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”  

Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.

Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.  

And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.

“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.  

“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”  

From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.

“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.

Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.

“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”  

“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”  

You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”  

Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”  

You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”  

“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”  

Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.  

(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)

You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.

“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.

Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”  

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  

You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.  

“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”  

Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.

“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.

Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.  

Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.

“Want to get out of here for a while?”  

Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”  

“But–”

He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.

Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”  

“Ladies first.”  

“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”  

You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.

“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.

You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”

He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”  

“Exactly!”  

You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.

“So you did get rid of him after all.”  

Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.  

Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”  

“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”  

Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.

Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.

“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.  

“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”  

It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.  

Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.  

It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”  

You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.

“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”  

You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”  

It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.  

“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.

It’s longing.  

“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”  

You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.  

“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”  

He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”  

He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.  

“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”  

And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”  

You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.  

And you need to hear him say it.

“Promise?”  

Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.

For now, it has to be enough.

Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.

But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.

“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”

“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”  

“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”  

He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”  

Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”  

Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”

You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”  

He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.  

You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.  

“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.

He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.  

There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes. 

Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.  

You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.  

“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.

Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”  

“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.

Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.

“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.  

He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”  

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing.  You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”  

‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.

He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening. 

“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.  

“So good,” you mewl.  

“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.  

“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”  

“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.

His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.

“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”  

He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”  

Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.

Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.  

He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.  

You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.  

“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.  

Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.  

You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”  

He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh. 

‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.

“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”

“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”  

He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.  

It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).  

He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,”  You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”

Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”

“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”  

You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.  

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.  

You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.  

He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.  

“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.

Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss. 

He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”  

Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”  

By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.

When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”

Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.

Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.

“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.  

You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.  

“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.  

“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”  

“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.  

You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”  

He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.  

“Always.”  

You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.

[4 months later]

“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”

You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.

The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.

Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.  

The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.  

He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.

You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.  

[5:55pm] jungkook:  

We’re departing in 20 minutes  

I’m missing you already so much:(

You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.  

[6:01pm] me:  

Miss u too!!

And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.  

The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.

You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.  

However long it takes.  

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

hiya!!! mind writing a fern x gender neutral! reader scenario? maybe the reader is a wizard n they need to get some stuff from a dungeon, so fern comes with n they both have some fun moments together!! maybe its vault of bones styled? thank u!!! [also btw, the anon button is off!!]

Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! Anon feature is now switched on babes, so feel free to send in requests to my decrepit, dank and dusty inbox.

Anyways, here you go!! I hope you enjoy you freakin honey bun.

This work has vulgar language, moderate, nondescript violence and descriptions of menstruation and endometriosis. Dw, reader is still gender neutral.

Note: This and other works (unless directly specified) are to be as inclusive as possible. If there is any sort of undue coding for any race, gender or sexuality that has not been requested, please tell me! :)

Title: Dungeons and Fern

Considering how many things there were in Ooo, one would think that there could be a cure-all potion for cripplingly low self-esteem. Or, at least some sort of medication for said problem.

Alas, Glob was more detail oriented than goal oriented. You could see sentient mountains whining at violence and grow rock-scale skin from drinking gruel, but intrinsic personal problems? Those were still a mystery.

You wish you could give Fern a potion to make him happy. A tincture for all the wounds eyes cannot see. You feel like your boyfriend has done so much for you, and seeing your favorite grass man spiral does a number on your own self-esteem, to be honest.

Anyways, that's codependency for another day. Right now, a dungeon needed exploring.

A cave. A little darkness, and then, light. Being a wizard was handy sometimes. Fire in your palm, you lit the way.

Walls were lined with red words, little orange cones and yellow stripes on the ground that were just at the threshold of ditches with long, metal tubes. You knew what trains were, but the trains down here looked more like metal coffins. They were eerie. So were all the skeletons at your feet.

You looked back at Fern. You smiled, and he blushed. His eyebrows were furrowed.

Ah! A map, how handy. It wasn't too hard to figure out, too!

'You Are Here,' Follow the red dot, and then the blue line, and you could get where you're going. You jumped into the pit, and vanished into the dark tunnels. Fern trailed behind you.

"You're quiet today. Anything wrong?" It was a hushed question you spoke. There was A Vibe in these old tunnels you did not want to mess with too badly. After awhile, you learned to appreciate them, all the colorful graffiti scrawled on them too.

"I'm evil," His words crept to your ears like perfume. It was there, and then gone.

"We've been over this. You're not,"

"There's literally a demon inside of me," A little louder this time. Perfume turned to smoke.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around fast enough to see Fern's pupils still having to adjust to the lighting change. There was a moment of tenseness you both felt, slightly predatory and preylike on both ends.

"That demon does not constitute who your whole self is. A part of you is formed by the new experiences you go through, and some of that in your personality is completely isolated from what you've been born as," Your wizard mind liked to go on tangents and force your mouth to voice them. Sometimes they helped Fern in his journey, and sometimes they did not.

He still looked conflicted, damn.

"I'm evil," Smoke turned into a thick fog.

"Prove it, kill me." A gamble, sure. But you knew your bet had won when Fern's face went from anger to shock.

"I-I'd never!-" His voice got a lot higher when you said quick stuff like that. When you disarmed his defenses in less than a second. To be fair, you do the same thing when roles are reversed.

"Then you aren't evil, dingus. C'mon," You grabbed his hand, interlaced his fingers with yours, and gave him a kiss. You always liked how his grassy lips tickled yours. He's such a sweet man, how you've fallen in love with him. "Let's go explore the rest of this stupid station,"

...

'Oh my GLOB what the FUCK is that-' This is your first thought. There is no time for a second.

The thing, made of shiny steaming hot tar swung at you. You had enough wits to dodge, but you still screamed in terror while doing it.

Fern was immediately at your side. A grass sword, mighty and green as he, grew out of his arm and before one could blink, a chunk of tar monster was separated from the host.

'Tar, tar, dude what spell is even good against tar?' This was the forefront of your thoughts against the backdrop of Fern holding the thing at bay.

"Hey, babe, mind retreating for like three seconds? Gonna teleport this thing to the Fire Kingdom," Such important words spoken in such a casual tone. There was a moment where Fern wondered how much life you had been though to earn such eccentricity in such a stressful situation. He loved you.

When Fern stepped away, you did as you said. The last thing you heard before closing the portal was a fire guard screaming "What the GLOB-"

"...I, I didn't go too far this time, did I?" His voice, back to perfume.

"No! No, not at all!" You gave him a forehead kiss that he would appreciate more than you would ever know.

You both giggled to yourselves before continuing.

...

"Ah! Finally!" The joy in your voice was palpable enough to grab out of the air and eat. Fern turned towards you and-

"...Train tickets?" There was a hint of annoyance in there. You simply knew it.

"Yeah, I know, right?" You chuckled nervously before continuing, "I need it for a potion for Marceline. Endometriosis is really a fucker sometimes and this can help with that,"

You both walked in silence as you felt sunlight on your faces. Smelling fresh air after breathing in so much stale made you feel a special type of joy. "That really wasn't too much for you? I know you need to photosynthesize every once in awhile and I just don't want-" He kissed you. It was your turn for your face to get warm.

This silence was peaceful, as you two walked to your home in the forest. It overlooked grassy plains and was just at the edge of a thick line of trees.

"My love?"

"Yeah?" You adored his nicknames for you.

"What's endometriosis?"