#running through the monsoon

[angel1d0ll747o]

This era omg

[greysfields]

yearning

n. A feeling of intense longing for something

Autumn’s Song by Stephen Day // The Night We Met by Lord Huron // This Year’s Love by David Gray // Milk Fed by Melissa Broder // The Scientist by Coldplay // Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) // Another Brooklyn by Jaqueline Woodson // Lie With Me by Philippe Besson // Interstellar (2014) // If Cats Disappeared from the World by Genki Kawamura

[eldritchblcst]

so... my town is literally under water, I've never seen anything like this before

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Gloomy

Synopsis: Finding solace and warmth in your chambers with your constant and only companion, Ser Aemond. Warnings: None (yet), Domesticity, Aemond and Princess Growing Closer, Realizations, Fluff PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: Aemond's love language: Acts of Service (and maybe touch)

“Is my sister inside? It’s our time for supper,” The prince questioned as Ser Aemond stood outside of your chamber doors, finally obliging you with a moment of privacy as you tried to regain composure after your mother’s outburst. “The princess does not wish to be disturbed,” He relayed your wishes, looking upon your brother to deduce if the prince was aware of your mother’s treatment of you. He had witnessed the queen’s harshness— how she almost laid a hand on you and how you had flinched as you had expected such cruel actions. He began to wonder how many times your mother had been so cruel to bestow upon you such behaviors and if others were aware of it, and if they were, why they had not hindered her. 

“Oh… is she well? Is her injury bothering her once more? Shall I fetch the maester?” The prince fretted, and Aemond was half-convinced that your brother had no clue that such heinous happenings had occurred as he witnessed his concern for his sister. “She did not say; all she said was she wished not to be disturbed,” Aemond answered, not certain if he should be the one to say what had transpired just hours before. The prince parted his lips to speak, but a loud clap of thunder echoed through the castle, catching the two men’s attention and startling a princess who tried to sleep her sadness away. “Very well, I’ll have her maid send her supper— and I think it’s best if you return to your post inside her chambers… my sister is quickly frightened by thunder; she would want companionship.” The prince advised, and Aemond nodded, wholeheartedly obeying the prince’s orders. 

Aemond opened the door to your chambers, his gaze immediately moving towards you, who lay in your bed, clutching your pet cat in comfort as another roar of thunder came. “Princess, it’s alright,” Aemond said, announcing his presence. “I hate storms,” You suddenly said as you braced yourself as a flash of lightning shone and was accompanied by another clap of thunder. “Your brother had mentioned,” He hummed, turning to the candles that flickered from the wind and to your balcony as heavy drops came pouring down. Unlike you, Aemond found monsoons quite comforting. 

A knock sounded out, and Aemond opened your door to reveal your handmaid who brought your supper. As your mother had promised, the sweets were kept from you, noting the absence of your usual dessert from the tray. You moved to the common area of your chambers, looking with disinterest at the food brought for you. “You must eat, princess,” Aemond said as you only stared at your supper, the once steaming meal growing tepid. “What’s the point? There is no confection at the end of it,” You sighed, running your finger through Theodore’s fur to soothe yourself. Aemond sighed, shaking his head. “You still need nourishment,” He countered. “Skipping one meal will not be the death of me, Ser Aemond.” You sighed, further pushing away the plate. 

Aemond pursed his lips, watching your desolate frame. He observed your tear-stained cheeks, your swollen eyes, your cracked lips, and the mere sadness in you that was a stark difference from your actuality. “You staring me down would not make me eat this meal,” You sighed as you burned from the gaze of your knight’s lone eye. Aemond blinked, growing conscious of your awareness of his stare— he did that quite often as of late, and he began to wonder if you were aware of it the other times, and if you were, why had you not told him or at least reacted? As a gust of wind came once again, you sighed, “Good night, Ser Aemond.” You say, moving to stand to tuck yourself and Theodore in your bed. “Good night, princess,” Aemond nodded. 

“Are there no custard tarts?” Aemond asked the cook. After his quick meal, he rushed to the kitchens in order to sneak away some sweets that your mother deprived you of. You had skipped your supper the night before and even your meal that morning; it was noon, and Aemond deduced that you still would not eat, concerning him. “The queen ordered that we cannot make them for a month— a shame since the princess truly enjoys them,” The cook sighed as she stirred the food she was preparing. Aemond turned to the window; the sun that they usually looked upon to tell the time was hidden by thick, dark clouds. Aemond turned to what his hands were carrying: a few pieces of lemon cake that he acquired just for you. You were not keen on them, but he had naught a choice since those were the only desserts he could find. “Could you not make at least a small batch? I’m certain the queen will not come to know,” He whispered, trying to convince the cook. 

“Ha! You are asking me to get myself in trouble,” the cook said. “There are other sweets by that table— mustn’t be picky, Ser,” The cook added, thinking it was Aemond who wanted the sweet treat. “It’s not for me… it’s for the princess,” He whispered, further trying to convince the cook. The elderly woman raised a quizzical brow and rested her hand on her hip. “The queen has banned her from eating desserts… but I’m certain you know how much she loves them. She won’t eat her meals unless she has a sweet treat at the end of it,” Aemond informed, the cook nodding in understanding as it did sound like something that you would do. 

After a moment, the cook sighed and gave a nod. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do… but in the meantime, take the creams and berries cake instead— the princess does not like the lemon—but you could give her the candied ones atop of it,” The cook said, pushing towards Aemond a few a hefty slice of the cream and berries cake, the knight bundling it into a cloth as if it were contraband— and perhaps it was. 

Aemond returned to your chambers, relieving the knight who watched over you as he had his quick meal. You turned to your newly returned knight as you sat across your untouched meal for the afternoon. “You cannot convince me to eat this,” You sighed, startled as another clap of lightning came. Aemond turned to look upon the sky as he threaded closer to your place. It would seem the weather was controlled by your mood. Your light that often shone upon them grew dim and cold, and so did the sun. “Really?” Aemond questioned, slowly unwrapping the sweets he brought for you. You nodded, but your gaze was caught by the cream and berries cake, and candied lemons your knight had brought you. You moved to take hold of the sweets, but Aemond was quick to steal them away before your hands could grab them. “Your meal first, princess,” He smirked as you had no choice but to eat. You nodded eagerly, eating your meal as fast as you could, as you were already craving the sweets Ser Aemond so kindly acquired for you. 

“Thank you, this is very sweet of you.” A smile finally came to your lips, and Aemond nodded, contented to finally see a speck of joy in your eyes. It should be concerning how easily your mood was altered by just mere sweets, but Aemond could not be wholly concerned as it provided him with an easier way to cheer you up. “You’re welcome, princess,” He nodded. “I’m guessing my Mother had ordered them to stop making custard tarts,” You say as your knight observes you savor the treat he smuggled into your chambers. “She has. How do you know that?” He questioned, watching you slowly eat the cake and candy, prolonging it. “Well, she knows that’s what I enjoy the most.” You shrugged. Aemond could not hinder the frown that came to his face. “That’s quite… mean,” he commented, but you breathed out an unamused laugh. “That’s how she administers her punishments… once when I was a child, she grew cross with me, and in consequence, she sent home some of the court members whose daughters were my friends as my punishment.” Aemond’s frown deepened. “That’s why I am often alone… the other girls my age grew scared to befriend me because their family might face the same fate.” 

“Did you not tell the king?” Aemond questioned, moving closer to you just in case you would need comfort once more. “I tried to, once. I waited for him in his study, but Mother caught me, and that only made her angrier so I never attempted to do it again,” You said, acting as if you were not bothered by it, hoping your feigned emotions on the subject would eventually turn true. Aemond sighed, not knowing what to do; he had the sudden urge to throw his arms around you, his only attempt at comfort because he never had the right words, but the knight restrained himself as he tried to push down and repress his realizations made only a few days before because he knew what he felt must be ignored— that it was perhaps only brought by the unfamiliarity of someone genuinely caring for him. He had to remind himself that your treatment and kindness were nothing out of the ordinary— that if it were any other person in his place, you would offer the same kindness you so graciously bestowed upon him. He had to convince himself that he was not exceptional, though it was only you who could tell him otherwise. 

When night came, your brother returned to your chambers, but you once again refused him entrance, Ser Aemond standing outside your door to wait for the prince to relay your wishes. The prince sighed and shook his head, not entirely privy to what had fully transpired between you and your mother. “Had she at least eaten?” Your brother questioned Ser Aemond. “She has, my prince,” Aemond confirmed. “Really? I heard mother had disallowed her to consume sweets— she never eats her meal without the promise of it,” He muttered. Aemond could only stay silent as the prince began to be bewildered about your behavior. “Am I truly not allowed inside?” Aemond stared at the prince in question— with his station higher than his and yours, he could do whatever he pleased and push past the knight, but still, your brother was gracious enough to respect your wishes. “She only said she does not wish to receive anyone,” Aemond answered. “Very well,” the prince sighed before walking down the hall, Aemond waited for a moment before he once again returned to his post inside your chambers. 

“Do you have siblings?” You suddenly questioned as your knight entered, closing the book you read to turn your full attention to Ser Aemond. “I do, princess,” he answered curtly, but your expectant gaze left him no choice but to explain further. “I have two brothers and a sister,” He added, and you nodded. “Are you the oldest?” You asked, but you quickly regretted your question as you remembered that Ser Aemond came from noble birth and only became to be a knight since he was set to inherit nothing, the plight of a child who was not meant to be the first. “No, princess, I have an older brother and sister,” He replied, ignoring your lapse. “Oh… what are they like?” Aemond questioned as you tried further to get familiar with your knight. If it were any other person, he would ignore their prying, keeping his familial matters to himself, but he observed you, toying with your hands in anxiousness as the persistent storm only grew; he could not be so cruel as to deny you of conversation that would distract your mind. 

“They’re… there. I was not particularly close with any of them growing up.” He informed, “But I must say that I do have a slight favor to my sister— my brothers and I never particularly saw eye to eye.” Aemond did not expect a small, sad smile to come to your lips. “I’m sorry about your brothers… but I must admit I envy you, for you have a sister,” Aemond did not even realize it; it was a force of habit as he threaded closer to your sitting frame. “I’ve always wanted one— whether she is younger or older than me; it did not matter because at least I would have had a constant companion.” You smiled sadly, “You would like her— my sister Helaena. Your tempers are very much alike.” Aemond informed, and that only widened your somber smile. 

As days proceeded, your mood and the weather never returned to their sunny, cheery state. However, Ser Aemond did provide you with some comfort in not letting your demeanor grow worse. It had been a week since the sun last shown upon them and since you last stepped foot out of your chambers. Aemond was not certain if he liked the ordeal or should grow wary of it. With every day passed, it was only you and him, a sense of domesticity forming between the two of you to the point your knight no longer resisted when you would offer him to sit or find respite, and Ser Aemond even began to have his meals with you, so that you would not feel so isolated and lonely. He was as well successful in convincing the cook to make you your favored custard tarts— you were eternally grateful for your knight, for no one beside him had dared to go against your mother’s orders. You had the urge to embrace him, to show him how grateful you were because you feared that your words were not enough, but you knew your knight would not care for such gestures, so you settled to giving his hand a grateful squeeze to relay your thanks. The action only brought heat to you and your knight, who were still left cold by the absence of the sun. 

Aemond glanced outside your window, which overlooked the gardens that were starting to flood from the constant rain. The flowers you loved so much did not even bloom because they missed the warmth of the sun, and he wagered your gentle touch as well. “Will you truly not leave your chambers?” Aemond asked, now unable to stomach to see you still glum. Though he enjoyed the moments it was just the two of you hidden in your room and away from the scrutinizing eyes of the court, he could not be so cruel to let you continue on with such melancholy consuming you.

“What’s the point? I cannot go to the gardens. I cannot have my afternoon tea and treats; I cannot even paint my useless landscapes, for the fog would not leave.” You sighed, toying with a feather that Theodore tried to take hold of, distracting yourself as you distracted your pet from boredom. “You could go to the library,” Aemond suggested, turning to the towering bookcases that rested on one side of your room. “What for? I have books here,” You answered. “You could go to the prince… I’m certain he has missed you; he had come twice today,” He added, and you only shook your head, having no wish to be in the presence of anyone besides Ser Aemond. 

“What about the jesters and performers? I’m certain that they are still here— you could command them to perform a show to entertain you,” Aemond pursed his lips as you shook your head once more. “Their material is trite— I have seen all that they can do,” 

“You cannot stay here forever,” He said, “And why not? Is it not the custom to lock princesses up in their towers? Who am I to break such traditions?” Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose,  confused about whether he should be amused or concerned. He moved forward to get closer to you and implored you to leave your chambers, as he made himself believe that the inclement weather was because you stayed in your chambers and stewed in your sadness. As Aemond reached you, the door of your chambers was forced open, and he was quick to draw out his sword and tuck you behind him, the shock making you cling to the cloak of your sworn protector. When the two of you set eyes on the interloper, both of you let out a relieved sigh. 

“You have been hiding here for a week! Enough now!” Your brother boomed. You frowned and still hid behind Ser Aemond, who cautiously sheathed his sword, his hand itching to take hold of yours as a sort of comfort. “I do not want to— and I do not wish to speak to you nor see you!” You said, still clutching the cloak of your knight that smelt of him—the mixture of mint, spice, and leather bringing you an odd sense of comfort. Your brother let out an exasperated breath and ran his hand through his face. “Ser Aemond— could you step outside for a moment?” The prince requested, and usually, Aemond was quick to oblige such orders, but you tightly clinging to him made him forget all of his duties. “No! I want him to stay,” You countered, glaring at your brother as you peeked up at him through Ser Aemond’s shoulder. Aemond bit the inside of his cheeks at your words and how you moved your hand to cling to his arm. 

“Sister— you have been here for a week! The court is starting to wonder and be concerned by your absence, and I no longer have half-truths to offer Father when he questions your absence during supper! Come now,  I can even convince Mother to remove her ban on sweets!” He tried to convince you, but you were not persuaded, for your knight was more than generous to acquire for you the sweets you loved, and the peaceful moments with Ser Aemond were more than enough to let you stay in your chambers for a prolonged period of time. “No!” You said stubbornly. Your brother’s agitated gaze turned to your knight, imploring him to convince you as well. He had come to learn that Ser Aemond did have a way to persuade your stubborn mind. Aemond blinked, not liking his station between you and your brother, not certain as to which side he should take. 

There was a silence that befell the room, and you finally removed yourself from behind your knight. “If that is all— you can leave. You cannot convince me otherwise. I will leave my chambers once I wish.” You said civilly, gesturing towards the door for your brother to exit. The prince had no choice but to. The look in your eyes told him that you truly could not be convinced. You rested your uninjured arm on your chest and huffed, stomping towards your feathered bed in frustration, leaving your knight to return to his post and make him miss the arguments he would have with his own brothers. 

Night came, and you and Ser Aemond sat before the hearth, playing a round of cards. You two had grown a routine since your first day of locking yourself in your chambers. It was a rare occurrence that your knight forgoes his duty and obliges you with his companionship, but you were grateful for it. “You win again?” You sighed in disappointment as Ser Aemond had a small smirk rising on his lips. He tried to let you win some rounds, but his competitiveness got the better of him. And he must admit, he quite liked the pout on your lips every time you would lose. Aemond took the cards in your hand to shuffle it and begin a new round. He purposefully let your fingers brush to feel the familiar heat whenever they touched. 

You bit your lip as you felt the familiar flutter in your heart and heat rise to your cheeks whenever your skin touched. You turned to the fire to hide it from your knight, and as your room was enveloped with silence, the door being forced open caught your attention once more. Aemond quickly stood, ready for an attack, but it was only your father, the king; the knight quickly bowed and placed further distance between the two of you. “You have been in hiding for a week,” Your father stated, his gaze flying to you, then to the cards on the floor, and then to your knight, who still bowed. 

“I have no wish to venture outside— they might force me upon a lord once again.” You said in truth, keeping the true reason for your hiding to yourself, though you knew your knight assumed it was because of your argument with your mother; it was not. It was not the first time she said such hurtful words to you; in truth, you had gotten quite used to it. Your father sighed, moved to you, and assisted you to stand just so the two of you could sit on your settee. Aemond moved silently towards the door. He felt like he should be stationed outside, but he could not do so just in case your father had the same reaction as your mother. 

“You need not fret about such matters, my darling,” Your father comforted you as he came to know of your mother’s outburst in your chambers a week ago. Ser Aemond stoically stood by the door as a witness,  a protector, and, if need be, a shoulder to cry on as you were once again distressed about the matters of courtship— your knight finding some relief in your reluctance. “But mother—“ Your father hushed you. “Though lord Dumont’s house does hold a hefty influence in the kingdom, you forget, we are still the rulers of it,” Your father said lowly, trying to comfort you, his confidence in his station effortless and edging into smug. “Mother and brother are insistent on me meeting my suitors, but father… I do not wish to get married yet or be betrothed!” Aemond breathed out in relief as he heard your words. 

“I know, my darling, I know. And you must not let them get to you— you have my word, I will not force you upon a betrothal until you are truly ready, pay no mind to your mother and brother. I still have the final word— and you will not be married until you wish it to be,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead as you gave him a smile. “Thank you, Father,” You said in relief. “And mother anbd brother?” You questioned as he stood. “Your mother has been wanting to see you married off the moment you were born,” He admitted, his heart lightly pinching at the devastation in your eyes. “And your brother only does her bidding.” He added, cupping your cheek. “I’ll handle them. As long as I live, you will not marry until you wish— if you want, you could be a spinster and be in my care forever,” Your father smiled reassuringly, as he, too, was not ready for the day you shall be taken from him. “Now, I hear the cooks made cacao pie. Shall I send you a piece? Or perhaps two?” He questioned, glancing towards your knight, who he came to learn had always been by your side. That Ser Aemond was the one to break your habits of escaping and even became your companion, for everyone in court never had the courage to grow close to you as they feared your station. You smiled a true smile and nodded, watching as your father went towards your knight, who straightened his stance. 

“I commend you, Ser Aemond. May you not falter from your duty,” The king said lowly, clapping the knight’s shoulder before he exited the room. When the door closed, Aemond turned to you, and all the melancholy you harbored disappeared as your lips finally regained your constant small smile. Aemond swallowed thickly as the conflicting emotions in him battled. He had to force himself to remove his gaze from your frame as the look in your eyes made his knees weak. Aemond turned his eye towards the window, the thick dark clouds departing, and finally, the light of the sun that refracted to the moon finally shinned down the kingdom; just as he wagered, the weather improved the moment your mood did. 

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Zoro knows your father would never let him date you. That doesn't stop him from climbing through your window in the middle of the night.]

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The night is hot and humid but you feel unbelievably cold. Part of you wants to blame Roronoa Zoro for that state of things, although you know only your lovesick heart is to blame. Ever since you accidentally fell asleep against him while watching the stars, each night without him is a dread. The kingsize bed feels overwhelmingly big and empty, despite being the same bed you've been sleeping in your whole life.

You're sitting at your vanity, blindly staring at your reflection in the mirror, the activities of your nightly routine long forgotten. The nightgown you're wearing is so thin it's almost see-through and yet you still feel sweat running down your back. You've opened the window and unbuttoned half of the garment but it changed nothing. Monsoon season is truly uncomfortable.

"You look nice," a low voice speaks behind you.

Your blood runs cold as your heart halts for a moment. Quick enough to give yourself whiplash, you look over your shoulder at the unforeseen guest.

Zoro is sitting on your windowsill, back comfortably leaning against the window frame. His swords are propped up against the wall. It seems that he has been perched there for a while now, quietly watching you in your natural habitat. Beads of sweat on his forehead are glistening in the twilight of your candle-lit room. His hair, a deep shade of green, looks almost black in the darkness of the night. The intense look in his eyes makes you flustered, almost forcing you to look away. Still, something about his presence is so magnetic, you can't force your head away.

The initial dread of someone being in your room with you subsides but then another terror creeps in - the terror of someone stationed barely two rooms away. The very same man who sees anything pirate-related as problems that require violence as the solution. Even pirate hunters.

Nervously, you clench your hands into tight fists. "Do you have the slightest idea what my dad will do if he finds you here?" you hiss at Zoro, afraid that any sound would awaken your father.

The thought of 'You're worth it' is the first thing that crosses his mind. But no matter how true, Zoro can't find the courage to let such vulnerability be known.

"I don't care," he answers. Zoro gets up from the windowsill and lays in your bed with such casualness as though there is nothing out of the ordinary in his behaviour. Like he's not risking bodily harm to be within the confines of your bedroom.

You watch him in shock, eyes wide open. "He could come in at any moment, Zoro."

But he's just laying there, hands under his head as he's staring at you out of the corner of his eye. "Your old man's sleeping like a log," he states, uninterested.

The short moment of silence between you is filled with your father's muffled snoring. It's still a mystery to you how your mother can sleep with him in the same bed and wake up well-rested in the morning.

"Well, what if he wasn't?" you continue to argue but you already feel the need to do good by your father withdrawing, its place taken by something much more motivating and hard to explain. A calling, one might say.

"Just come here." Zoro motions at you.

Your flowy gown shuffles quietly as you get up from the chair by the vanity and gently lay on top of Zoro on your bed. As the familiar scent of wood, hay and metal hits your nostrils, you can feel all of your muscles immediately relax. All of the tension you carry in your shoulders and back is suddenly gone. In some unconscious reflex, one of his arms circles your waist, keeping you firmly in place. The strength of his hold couldn't be challenged even by a fatherly wrath.

Despite neither of you saying anything for a good moment, your bedroom is not filled with silence. Various sounds of the tropical island are pouring in through the open window: rustling bushes, laughter of late-night drinkers, cicadas, packs of stray dogs barking at each other in the distance. And, above all, the calming hum of the sea as its waves rhythmically wash the shore. The music of life as it follows its mundane, routine path.

"I can't sleep without you," you finally whisper against his firm chest.

"Me too," he admits quietly.

Although Zoro knows how ridiculous of a euphemism this really is, he never lets on. All of his waking hours are accompanied by thinking of you ('Are you safe? Are you alright? Do you miss him? Are you taking care of yourself? Do you ne-'). He's gone from taking multiple naps a day to barely one, only because he feels desperately uncomfortable sleeping alone as though his physiology knows that something important is missing. And when Zoro does finally fall asleep, you appear in his dreams. Sometimes he wakes up with the memory of your scent and touch lingering for a moment until he comes to his senses.

"Will you be here in the morning?" you ask hesitantly. It's selfish to ask Zoro to stick his neck out like that but at the same time, you desperately don't want this moment to end.

"Do you want me to?" he whispers.

As you nod, your cheek rubs against his chest.

You feel his chin resting on top of your head, further encircling you in a tight hold like a child who refuses to let go of their favourite toy. Perhaps Zoro is not the best with words but his actions tell you more than enough - if he could, he'd keep you close just like that until his last day. But knowing this moment ought to end in a few short hours, he wishes to memorize every detail of the way your body fits his.

That night Zoro wasn't sleeping in his own bed but still, he felt he was home.

[inbabylontheywept]

The Condom Bomber

The crux of the story is Brother Dean. Brother Dean was…is…a hate preacher. Red or blue, everyone agreed on that. His origins and his motivations, those were a little more mysterious. Different groups had their own legends. I had a class with a guy that was part of the campus pro-life movement, and the tale he gave me is the one that I give the most credence to. According to him, Brother Dean had started out as a “normal” pro-life preacher. He’d gone around campus, led parades, given speeches… And then he’d gotten punched in the face.

This led to a lawsuit against the school. Something about failing to provide adequate protection? The main result was that he got something like half a mil. Half a mil is an incredible amount if you’re still working, but he’d tried to use the money to fund a sort of pro-life career, and it had just… trickled down. Ten years later he was running dead low on funds, and had taken to the particularly dumb strategy of trying to get punched in the face again. You know. For economic reasons. It had become kind of a vicious cycle: He’d started off saying some objectionable shit to try and goad someone into taking the punch. The worse the shit he said was, the harder it became for him to find work doing anything else, and the harder it became for him to find work doing anything else, the less he had to lose by saying really objectionable shit. Throw in two years of living on ramen, and he was so desperate to get punched that he was quoting the Westboro Baptists. If you know, you know. The pro-life group, to their credit, hated him the most out of anyone. They viewed him as the ultimate sellout, someone who was actively making their positions and beliefs look worse by the day, solely for his own enrichment. The other conservative groups held him in the same regard. The rest of the campus hated him for simpler reasons. It would be difficult to find anyone more detested anywhere else on site. Brother Dean’s antithesis was the Trojan Warrior. TW was a normal student by day, but maybe once a month or so he’d don his hoplite armor and roam around, handing out free condoms. Trojan condoms. It was kind of his shtick. Between the costume, and the whole character that he had going on, most people didn’t really recognize his alter ego. I myself am pretty good with faces, so one day I noticed he was behind me in the foodcourt and decided to thank him by paying for his smoothie. Small tangent, but if you’re looking to get good stories, buying lunches for interesting people works like magic. TW decided that he was going to thank me for thanking him by giving me something like 10 feet of condom roll. I was mortified, aggressively single, and on SSRI’s. He was not sure how many of those were permanent. I wasn’t either. He wound up giving me just a handful, and said that if nothing else, they could probably be used as water balloons. I accepted. Who doesn’t like water balloons?

I finished my lunch with the warrior and left, considering targets for the "balloons". I passed by Brother Dean near the main commons and had my lightbulb moment. I spent a few minutes watching him from a distance, trying to find the optimal angle to get him without getting caught on camera (he always had someone filing in the background, it was a necessary thing for his hopeful future lawsuit). The time delay was useful for helping me realize that it really wasn't worth it. The sun had been bearing down so hard that the glue in my shoes had melted, and getting him wet would be a favor that day. 

So, mildly disappointed, I shelved my dream and left. 

A week later the monsoons hit. I left one class and ran to a campus computer commons to try and get some shelter and study between classes. Just before I got through the door, I saw Brother Dean, umbrella in hand, setting up his speaker and mic. He wasn't technically allowed this far into campus (the commons were owned by the city) but he'd gone to where his audience was and security was probably holed up somewhere cozy. I could hardly blame them. 

I made it up to the second floor and started studying when the mic picked up. All glass buildings are not very soundproof. He was loud, and he was annoying, and he was outside a library, under a balcony, and-

And I had condoms. Water balloon condoms. 

And he was under a balcony. 

I put my laptop away, pulled out my condom roll, and went to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure how big a condom could actually stretch, so I just kept filling it until it was about the size of basketball. Maybe a smaller watermelon? And thus armed, I waddled my way out into the halls. I cannot emphasize enough just how unsubtle this was. I was cradling this big, overfilled condom like some sort of phallic ghost baby, and it was so heavy that I sort of had to squat as I went. People saw me. Lots of people saw me. I passed by one room full of computer science students, all learning C++, and three of them waved at me. And I waved back in that my-arms-are-full-but-I’m-excited-to-see-you-too way, where you jut your wrist up a little bit and flap your hand around excitedly. I did, eventually, make it to the balcony. The building’s high ceilings made the second-floor thing kind of a misnomer: I was easily forty feet up. I scooched my way to the edge, and the view I had… it was perfect. Brother Dean was directly underneath, thank God. If he’d been even seven or eight feet out, I’m not sure if I could’ve shotput the condom-bomb far enough to hit him directly. Better yet his cameraman was only a few feet away from him, far too close to catch any action going up 40 feet above. I managed to wrestle the payload onto the balcony, and with a gentle push, I sent it and Dean to destiny. I realized that I’d made a mistake almost as soon as the condom began to fall. You know that sound that bombs make in cartoons, that long drawn out whistle? The condom made that sound. I had a second education in the seriousness of my mistake when the condom hit Dean’s umbrella. It did not pop. Of course it didn’t pop. I had no experience with condoms, I swear to you, I promise, I did not know how much they could stretch. You can fit your whole leg into them. You can fit them over whole park benches. A gallon and a half of water was nothing compared to that. It broke Dean’s umbrella. It hit the top, and it snapped the stem like a twig, and then-

Violence. Unspeakable violence. It clipped Dean’s shoulder and stretched down to his knees before recoiling back to its original shoulder height. It did not bounce. It floated in space, no wasted energy in the collision. One hundred percent of the kinetic energy, all 3300 Joules of it, were discharged into this sad wretch of a man. He did not collapse. There was no time for that. He rotated on his axis. It was as if the hand of God had reached down and grabbed him about his waist, only to twist. In a fraction of a second, his head filled the space where his ass had been and his ass filled the space where his head had been, and then his cheek, carried by the shuriken motion of his body, slammed into the pavement with a noise like Shaq slam dunking a porkchop. Maybe wetter.

He did not move.

I panicked.

I want to make it clear: I did not mean to assault this man. I meant to get him wet and embarrassed. But I also have to confess that this was a beating. Mike Tyson himself can only put about 1600 Joules into one of his punches, and if he hit me I would bounce off five walls before I fell. I would not wish 3300 Joules upon anyone.

I walked into the building and sat myself in the back of the C++ class. The people next to, to my immense and eternal gratitude, did not question why I was wet.

A minute later, Brother Dean stormed into the building with his microphone.

He yelled. He screamed. He hollered. He informed the entire world that he had been assaulted, with a condom, by someone on the second floor. I was ecstatic that he was alive. 

Every person in that class knew who had brought this hell upon them. Every single one of them knew it was me. And if I’d done this to someone else, some Steven Crowder, some Ben Shapiro, someone would’ve thrown me to the wolves. It would have only taken one person in that room of sixty. But Brother Dean was hated by everyone, literally everyone, and so the entire class sat in silence.

Some of that silence was gleeful, and some of it was bored, and some of it, a very small amount, was directly disapproving, but even the disapproving silence carried an understanding. A note of, “Yes, yes, that was very irresponsible, and you should not do that again, but who could blame you? Something needed to happen. Not that something, but…something.”

Security could be given grace to ignore the man when it was raining, and he was just outside the building, but they were not given such grace when he was inside with a microphone. Just a few short minutes later, a golfcart pulled up, and he was summarily marched out. There was maybe a minute of silence after that before the professor announced that his class was not open to visitors.

I left. He’d made his point.

It was a few weeks before I saw Brother Dean again, and his black eye still hadn’t healed all the way when I did. He was, however, still preaching the same old things as always. Percussive maintenance works better on vacuum tubes than human brains. I will say that he definitely made a point to stay away from balconies after that. And the next time it rained, I actually went out to watch him put his speaker and his mic into the back of a wagon and wheel it off the campus.

It appeared that he’d developed some opinions about the kind of weather he was willing to preach hate in.

[vagabond-umlaut]

affaire de cœur

Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone'; gallons of domestic fluff between sukuna and reader; hints of spicy times; no warnings except sukuna is very much sukuna here but you too are there, so he's sort of a better sukuna... [not loads better, though]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Repeat those words after me, my lord."

"No."

The pouty face you vault his way from the other end of the bathhouse makes Sukuna huff an annoyed sigh. Few monsoons back, you would never even see him in the eye, gaze trained on his feet – until he lifted your chin up; even then you would shyly avert your gaze — yet, now?

Now, you show the boldness to wear such a pathetic expression while making such an imbecilic request– nay, demand of him– locking your gaze with his the entirety of the time, no less.

Another sigh finds its route past his lips. Watching the way those sin-filled lips of yours twitch in a tiny smile before dipping into a pout, he groans.

"Alright. Fine," Sukuna grumbles, resting his two arms on the edge of the tub while the other two move to card through his damp hair, "Will you ever leave me for another, woman?"

Your eyebrows rise for a beat, the second the question you chomped his ears off earlier for, leaves his mouth. Your lover rolls his eyes, loud scoffs erupting from him at the utter inanity of the whole situation at hand — you, not beside by him, but beside those damned towels and bath soaps; him, not soaking in the warmth of your flesh but of these bath waters; the humid bathhouse not resonating with the sounds of your whines but with the remnants of a query, whose answer he does not care the least for, for no matter what you say or do, he will not—

"Yes, I will."

Your clear voice scatters his thoughts away, akin a strong wind and a handful of chaff. Sukuna freezes, every crimson eye of his fixed upon your approaching figure– your soft footfalls, your yellow yukata, your simple hairdo, your angelic smile...

Your husband takes a while too long before discovering his lost voice, eyes narrowed, throat tight and chest heavy as he asks you, "You will leave me, pet?"

"Uh-huh, I sure will," you hum in response, sitting on the stool next to the tub and moistening a towel. Sukuna moves to grasp your wrist in his palm but pauses when he catches you switch your attention from the towel to him, a terrifying emotion brimming in your tender gaze.

You draw in a tiny breath before speaking, voice now a mere whisper.

"Show me someone who is the most feared creature to ever exist, yet is a sulking mess if he isn't being cuddled in bed till noon every single day; someone who detests humans like I detest carrots, yet visits the monthly market in secret, to get gifts for his close one; someone who everyone's told me is the worst, yet goes on to prove, again and again and again, how he's the absolute best in this world—"

You stop suddenly.

Chest growing heavy from an entirely different reason now, your lover drinks in the manner your smile widens, your fragile fingers letting go of the cloth to trace those markings on his skin instead – you resume.

"Show me someone whose embraces feel the safest place in all the three realms, and I swear, my king, I'll leave you and run to his arms without thinking twice."

For the first time in his millennium of existence, the two-faced curse feels the same distress of being paralysed, as his mere mien induces in the muscles of his miserable victims— except, it isn't the fear of an end to his life which is causing this abhorrent weakness to him unlike those worthless mortals— no.

It is the fear of the unknown, of the uncharted, which is rendering his powerful self so, so powerless before your blinding brilliance. Sukuna thinks death might be an easier journey to undertake than these odd realisations your voice and touch elicit in him always.

These days, more so.

This moment, very much so.

The addicting timbre of your voice rouses him from his musings, the second time that night.

"Is every–"

"Is that supposed to be a love confession?" Your husband cuts you off before you can finish your question. You slowly blink at him once then twice, before leaning backwards and picking up the forgotten cloth, a visibly coy giggle bubbling out you as you return to washing his skin.

"Yes," you agree after a beat, gaze darting to his face before skittering away again, "That is supposed to be a love confession for my beloved king; though I wonder what my lord thinks of it. Was it heart-touching as I intended to make it? Or did it sound too tedious to him?"

The addressed being deliberately makes a big show of rolling each of his four eyes at your query. "Neither," he says, curling his lip in a show of vexation before they lift a little at the lower lip you jut out, "And you should count yourself to be lucky that you're my wife, not a worthless mortal, pet. For if you were not my wife–"

"– you would've sliced me into halves without a moment's hesitation," you finish the rest of the sentences for him with a fond shake of your head. "Trust me, my king, I know you. I do, I rea– Sukuna!!!"

The startled shriek of his name— not my lord or my king but Sukuna —parts the curse's lips in a smirk, which widens on noticing the warm water slowly seeping into your clothes, making them translucent; and you staring up at him with a disbelieving look etched onto your pretty face.

Sukuna allows his smirk to melt away into a genuine smile, for once.

Nestling your drenched form closer to himself, he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on your shoulder, palms holding you as if you were not a member of the race he lives for the sake of tormenting, but an invaluable blessing, beings he has never believed in, sent earthward for his damned self.

Which is true, the curse reckons. You indeed are a blessing he knows he doesn't deserve – yet will keep for and with himself for an eternity and some more.

Pressing you closer to himself, your husband lifts his head to plant a kiss to your forehead, followed by your warm cheeks — hoping you'll understand the meaning behind every reverent contact he's marking your form with now.

After all, you know him really well, don't you?

[You do— which is only why you reciprocate every brush of his sharp canine over your skin, with a brush of your soft palm over the wicked, handsome, wickedly handsome visage of the love of your life.]

▸ masterlist

[xerotiny99]

Attention

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x (f) Reader

Warning: smut! Gamer!Yunho, Bored!Reader, Cockwarming, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Oral Sex (m!receiving), Unprotected Sex, Cuddles.

Note: mdni! do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with any aforementioned tags in the warning. this is the first ever smut i wrote, so don't judge.

Gist: Yunho had been gaming a lot, during the day and night. You were starting to get needy, for his attention, and his touch. So, one fateful night you decide to take the matters in your own hands and show him you're better than gaming. Though...would he agree?

Word count: 3,630 words.

Cold bed. You reach out next to you to find the space empty and cold. Where your boyfriend should be, next to you in the bed, is the space you yearn to be warmed by him. Instead, he was busy warming his gaming chair. You weren't the kind of girlfriend to get jealous over little things—let alone be jealous over something so trivial. You did crave his attention, however. Pouting and sulking, tossing and turning in the bed, your eyes move along the lines to find his silhouette hidden by the gaming chair. The tip of the cat ears affixed to his neon blue headphones peak from the headrest of the chair; your pout grows even bigger on your face. You throw the blanket away, letting it furl to the side you hop off the bed and stomp your feet to stand behind him.

In the dimly lit bedroom of yours, the blaring lights from his computer screen flash across and hurt your eyes; you still hold your composure and try your best to not react to him in any way. The lights on his computer screen flicker harshly before turning to a black screen reading 'game over'—and he groans out loud, almost biting back the urge to fling his controller across the room. Yet, he was unbothered by your warmth lingering behind him. He sighs and restarts the game, pushing his thumbs on the controller and grasping it in his hands. You stood behind him with your arms crossed over your chest, your focus never dithering from the man spewing incoherent curses into the microphone.

"Oh god," you mutter under your breath, annoyed.

The night outside was pleasantly drowning in the peace of rains; monsoon was surely a romantic season, unless you have a gamer boyfriend who only views it as an opportunity to game his time away. As the raindrops patter down on your windowpane, a cold and windy breeze wanders through, heckling you with a sudden urge to drown in your boyfriend's warmth. Standing frozen in your spot, staring at the drops of water running down the glass, you eventually do come up with an idea to get your boyfriend off his chair and into the bed. You didn't think twice before slipping past his chair to get down in front of him; he gives you a quizzical look at first, but then shrugs your intentions off and focuses back on the screen. The rattling of his controller and him cursing, are the two sounds dissolving your conscience for any rationality. Pushing his chair slightly off from the desk, you slip your body under the desk upon which his computer was perched on. No hesitation scatters in your head when you pull his chair close, he does yelp to your act, regardless, he doesn't let his concentration waver off for even a second.

It infuriated you.

Of course, it would.

It was time to execute your foolproof strategy.

Kneeling under the desk, and right in front of him, you place your hands on his knees and push his legs apart. He's compliant with your actions because he's long gone into the world of gaming—and your way of distracting him might cost him a win. Keeping one of your hands flat on his knee, you trail your other hand along his inner thigh, inching it closer and closer to his crotch. You were practically drooling at the sight; the faint outline of his cock, through the flimsy material of his sweats, was too much to handle. You needed him, and when that notion crosses your mind, you were filled with fantasies—the same kind which make you squeeze your thighs tightly together.

When you start palming his cock through his sweats, you get his attention.

He whisper-yells at you, eyes affixed to the screen, "babe, what are you doing...stop distracting me."

As if that would stop you. If you're starting something, you're going to go all the way to the end.

You don't utter a word, continuing to palm him—rather now, you were rubbing your fingers along his length. With few more rubs and occasional squeezes, you felt him getting hard under your touch. A victorious smirk stretches your lips, your face shrouded with pride as you glance up at him to find him squinting his eyes shut and breathing heavily. The rise and fall of his chest were a clear indication of how bothered he was; in a way, your tricks were working.

He throws his head back against the chair, his headphones stumbling off from his ears and grunts lowly, "I swear, if you don't stop, there will be consequences."

Of course, you have enough spite in yourself to ignore his said warning. Oh, this was risky, very risky. You do halt your actions for a hot second, admiring the mess he was gradually coming to. His chest heaving in mere attempts to control his staggered breathing, while his eyes half-lidded, were staring down at you. Baring his teeth on his lower lip, his eyes soften in a plea. You were surely not going to stop, even when his brown doe eyes were gleaming with desperation. You do give in, for the time being. Folding your arms over your chest, and leaning back, you offer him a lighthearted jerk of your shoulders to let him know you won't be going any further than this. He smiles at you and resumes to his game—tapping on his controller and speaking into his headset.

"Sorry guys, got caught up in something," he murmurs, "but I'm back."

It was adorable, him being unversed to your tactics. At the same time, you were raging inside—he clearly had a boner, you could see the tent in his pants, yet he wanted to play his game and not want you to take care of it. When he was much engrossed with the game, you bring both of your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants. Not giving it much thought, you pull them down along with his briefs. His cock springs up, standing at the attention you gave it before. Licking your bottom lip, you lurch forward by placing one of your hands on his thigh to support yourself; using your other hand, you wrap your fingers around his cock, and stroke him along the shaft. The moment your hand encompasses his cock, he whimpers his neediness out. His fraught groans and grunts were music to your ears, it meant your plan was working. Guiding the palm of your hand around his length, and rubbing it to and fro, you offer him a conceited smile. To the sensation of your soft hand stroking his now hard cock, he lets a moan slip past his lips. Soon coming to a dire realisation, he bites his lips and shuts himself up. This does not stop you from leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his reddened tip. A rumble erupts from within his chest—followed by a subtle thump of the controller falling down. You steal a glance at him, finding him with his head thrown back and his lips parted; his eyes clamped shut to the pleasure your hand gave.

"Ah fuck," he curses under his breath, keeping it under the bounds of his mouth; while he does address his companions playing on the other side, "guys...I'm out, ther-there's a-an emerg-emergency."

You've rendered him breathless, and speechless too. The stutter he cased his words around got you too excited—you let your hand slip from his thigh and snake it under the oversized shirt you wore. It was one of Yunho's shirts, which, to your body and size was an oversized shirt; you only wore your panties underneath, having ditched the bra. Your fingertips urged to get close to your dripping pussy, anticipating your touch. You rub along the folds, dipping your forefinger in the slit, while you rub it along—you too, whimper softly. Although, you were starting to get aroused by your own hand, this wasn't solely about you. If you had planned on torturing him with your touches, then you were going to focus on him. You bring your hand out, keeping his eye contact—raising it up, you dart your tongue out and lick up the length of your finger. It must be agonisingly painful to watch, for him. You start sucking on your finger, your stare never breaking with his.

Yunho is amused, very much so. He's bewildered at your wild behaviour—internally, he's taking his pleasure in watching you get bold and cheeky. If this is the result of not giving you enough attention, then he doesn't mind doing it so often.

As for now, you were treading on thin ice. You were aware of it. When you do bring your finger out of your mouth, while still holding his gaze, your heart does a little flip inside your chest. There swirls ambiguity in his haze of brown eyes, devious and dark—you were starting to discern what every speck of black meant in his eyes. Sin. Lust. Carnality. The usual happy go lucky guy had disappeared under the facade of cataclysm. It happens suddenly, his hand snaking around your neck, pulling you close to his cock, while his other hand takes the headphones off. He flings it somewhere; you could hear the somber thudding of it somewhere in the room. Although, that should be least of your concerns when your lips are prodded open by the tip of his cock. He pushes you further, prompting with a click of his tongue to take his cock in. Having no choice to oblige, you do, lowering your mouth and delicately wrapping your lips around him. You suckle softly at the tip, and he continues to push your head down until you feel the very tip hitting the back of your throat.

"You were playing a very risky game there, weren't you, babe?" he feigns his concern as he grunts. "What, sad because I wasn't giving you enough attention? So, now you're an attention-whore?"

You nod, your lips stinging from the stretch you endured for stuffing his cock in your mouth. There would be no delicate way to say he had a big cock, lengthwise and a thick girth too. Your tongue lays flat, till you raise it and lick at under his shaft. For a while, you twirl your tongue around, hollowing your cheeks.

"Ah, so we can use our tongue for better reasons than whining. How fascinating," he slurs his words, throwing his head back. "Do it more." He breathlessly utters, which fuels you to do it more.

It was just tongue action for a few minutes, you didn't bother sucking him off like you'd usually do, neither did he tried thrusting himself into you. All you could do, or perhaps, were forced to do nothing, while your nose was pressed up against his pelvic bone, skin tickling with his pubic hair. It was starting to suffocate you, making it hard to breathe with your face squashed against his crotch. Placing both your hands on either of his thighs, you squeeze at his flesh, and he gets the indication. He pushes your head back; a lewd 'pop' resonates in the air as you back away, saliva drips down your chin, a few drops forming strings with the tip of his cock.

No words were exchanged, what had to be said was said with a gentle nod of his head and you took the sign. Scrambling up on your feet, you cautiously slither out from below the desk and straddle his lap; he's quick to grab your waist to stable you before pulling your shirt over your head. Throwing it off somewhere behind, he leans in to nibble at your perky nipples. The warmth his tongue gives, while swirling around the surface of your tits, entices more of you. This time, you're the one throwing your head back while keeping your hands on his shoulders for support. Nipping, and sucking at your tit, giving the other attention by groping and rolling its sensitive bud in between his thumb and forefinger.

You mewl, shutting your eyes close, feeling your arousal drench your panties. "Yunho, please..."

Hands tangled in his hair now, you push his head into your chest. How the turntables had turned now—what was initially thought to be a torture project for him, was now biting you back. Letting his mouth slip from you, pleased after grazing his teeth and rubbing his tongue over your nipple, he smirks up at you. The absence of his warmth from your chest, makes you glance down at him, catching the most furtive smirk on his face.

"So so desperate for my attention," he tuts, shaking his head, "well, you ruined my game—" he tilts his head to look at the computer screen. Jostling the chair, he pulls himself to the desk and quits the game, disconnecting the computer. "—hmhm, I don't want anyone else listening to you moan and beg for my cock."

There you are, trapped against his body and the desk, its edge digging into your skin, knowing it was leaving marks over your back. The stinging compares to nothing when you hear a loud snap; glancing over, you find Yunho's fingers wrapped around the flimsy straps of your panties, and with his brute strength, he tears them off. Discarding your ruined panties aside, he skims two of his fingers along your wet slit, nudging and rubbing further down till the tip of his fingers circled around your pussy. You close your eyes shut, screwing them tight enough to dissipate the pleasure into breathless moans; Yunho luxuriated himself in the sounds which left your parted lips, the tears which were pooling by the corner of your closed eyes—and by how wet you had gotten for him. Gasping for air, you tighten your hold on his shoulders, and anticipate of what's to come. Before you could react to it any way, Yunho slips two of his fingers inside you, grunting lowly under his breath when he feels your walls clench around them. He doesn't really move them right away, but at a painstakingly slow pace, nudging and thrusting them deep inside.

"Yunho, I need—I need you," you try to make sense of your voiceless moans, opening your eyes in hopes he'd catch the plea in them.

He does.

He does it quite well.

Clicking his tongue, he lets out a playful titter and takes his fingers out of you. He leans in to capture your lips into a passionate and thriving kiss, which, no matter what, only grew fervent with each of your lips lapping and sucking over others'. Yunho's chest rumbles when your hands trace back from his neck to his hair, your fingers tangling with his soft strands.

"Hmm, have patience, darling," he murmurs into the kiss, pulling back to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

His lips curl indecently, the mischievous spark in his eyes conveying the unsaid already to you; grabbing your thighs, he lifts you up gently. Having caught on his intentions, you align his cock with your pussy and sink down—with him guiding you. His grasp on your thighs intensifies, when he feels your pussy engulf his cock in the warmth and tightness. Gradually, and gently, you take all of him in you, causing Yunho to exhale a breath of relief and satisfaction. His chest convulses, raising up high to meet yours, his lips bared with his teeth—both of you were trying to adjust yourself to each other, him to your clenching pussy, and you to his cock. You felt a subtle sting when your walls stretched out for him; neither of you move for a while, both needing time to tune into each other's bodies. Heaving out a strained sigh, you glance at Yunho, lips trembling with anxiety. Regardless of your jitteriness, you dare to roll your hips into his, making his cock thrust itself in you.

Yunho smirks, tutting, "impatient and desperate. Such a whore for my cock."

He doesn't let you respond, bucking his hips upwards, silencing your mouth with his own—his thrusts were rhythmic, adapting to yours, they were concise and short yet you felt his entire cock ram into you. Biting on his lower lip, you let your moans get absorbed into the heated kiss; Yunho, unable to contain your tight tug on his hair and your teeth on his lip, growls, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. He heaves out a dry chuckle, pulling back, but doesn't let his thrusts falter. Before you could squeak out his name, you're tumbling down on the carpeted floor. You're writhing and squirming under him, ignoring the ache on your back from the impact of falling. Yunho takes a moment to take his sweatshirt off, along with the shirt he wore underneath it. Throwing it aside, he grabs your thighs by their underside and props them up to your chest; it gives him a better angle to fuck you, to pound his cock into you—and he leaves no room for doubt, when he does thrust deep inside you. You couldn't keep up with his animalistic pace, your chest heaving uncontrollably as you reach out for his shoulders, eventually, you drag your fingernails along his back, hoping to hold onto it for your dear life. Your nails scratch on his skin, leaving trails of clotted blood under it—you screw your eyes shut, and arch your back, feeling ecstatic from the way his cock plunged into you. His hold on your thighs tightens, pushing them further down to your chest, this position helped him reach deeper in you. Continuing to pound mercilessly in you, you feel a knot tighten in the pit of your stomach, making you feel hot out of nowhere. Sweat covers both of your body like a thin sheet, glowing on your skin; a few sweat drops trickle down from his forehead and drip down on your face. He leans over to lick them off, tracing his tongue to your lips later on—he presses a gentle kiss, before murmuring foul words into your ear.

"A good little slut, taking me in so deep, and so obediently," he whispers, licking the shell of your ear, he bites down your earlobe and continues, "fuck, don't hold back...make some noise for me."

And you do, letting it all go, scouring your voice from your lungs as you moan, "Yunho, I'm close..."

"A little more," he grunts.

In those hot seconds, he goes complete berserk; thrusting deep and fast, making your body tremble as the knot tightens in your lower stomach. You knew you couldn't withstand the abuse of his cock any longer, you arch your back off the floor, letting our voiceless moans as if you were being strangled by pleasure. As his cock reaches deep into your cunt, you let a scream rip through your chest—you couldn't hold it in anymore. The tightness in your stomach on the verge of loosening, just coming undone when you hear him chuckle; he grunts loudly, scrunching his face and burying it in the crook of your neck. He couldn't handle your clenching pussy around him either and he was close too. Really close.

You take a sharp intake of breath, your chest heaving up into his—you let go. Relaxing your muscles, you give into the soreness and feel yourself coming undone; your climax hits you harder than anticipated, rupturing your senses to the absolute pleasure you felt. Your release dribbles down your thighs, trickling along your skin as you try to ease yourself down. Your ragged breathing soon turns placid and quiet; although, Yunho's struggling grunts and moans tell you how close he was to his own climax. His thrusts become more concise and more intense, keeping his head buried in your neck; he tried in his own way to relax himself—and soon, he was cumming inside you.

The warmth of his release makes you full. His thrusts become concise and short, he rides his high out, easing in and out of your pussy. Eventually, he pulls out and lays next to you on the floor; both of you unable to move because of lethargy. He snakes his arm around your waist and leans his head sideways on your shoulder, you're both breathless to speak of anything. But even so, Yunho's mumbling becomes prominent and clear to your ears.

"I don't mind giving you attention if you distract me like this..."

You were relighted by the thought but at the same time, infuriated and defeated.

"You would still choose your game over me?" you whisper.

"As long as you get my attention, I don't think that matters, does it?" he turns on his side to wrap his body around you, snuggling close to you and peppering your cheek with kisses.

"But I think I can compromise...you're better than gaming."

[snowyquokka]

MONSOON - L. MINHO

cw - mature themes MDNI, fem!reader, brothers best friend!Minho, swearing, angst, fluff (kinda?), mentions of alcohol, mutual pining, somewhat proof read, yada yada yada

wc - 3k

a.n - I FINISHED IT. im not sure how many parts there’ll be but here’s this for now :)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Your heart is beating at the same frequency as the music blaring through your ears whilst making your way to the front door of the shitty little run down frat house. You’ve managed to throw back three rounds of vodka shots without puking and you were feeling a bit proud of yourself. But you have enough self respect to know when to call it quits. The cheap liquor did it’s intended purpose. That purpose being forgetting about someone.

Or not. 

You roll your eyes drowsily as you push your way through the door and onto the surprisingly somewhat empty porch. Plopping down on the top step, you pull out your phone before pressing the only emergency contact you have. 

“Aw you do care enough to call me,” Jisung’s grin is present in his soft voice.

“Mhm, yeah care- sure. Erm, busy?” There’s some muffled laughter in the background followed by some shuffling before he finally answers. 

“I- are you-“ he cuts himself off and whispers something incoherent, “Scale of one to ten?” Due to your recent lack of responsibility, as Jisung calls it, he’s set up a scale system to determine how wasted you are. 

One being buzzed, tipsy at best. 

Ten being, well, absolutely plastered.

“Eight and a h-half?” you hiccup. 

More muffled whispers are followed by, “What am I going to do with you.” and “Send me your location,”

-

After what seemed like an eternity of being surrounded by makeout sessions and college kids blowing chunks into the nearby hedges, a familiar car finally pulls up to the curb. 

You stand up, albeit a little too fast, but you still make it to your feet. The sound of a car door slamming rings in your ears, leading up to warm, gentle hands carefully lifting your arm over their shoulder in order to help get in the passenger side of the car. 

“Han- Minho?” Big brown eyes stare into yours as he leans over you and buckles your seatbelt. His expression’s blank, but it always is when he looks at you. 

Minho looks at you for another moment before shaking his head, as if he’s snapping himself out of a trance, and shuts the door.

-

It was only about halfway to your dorm that you realized you didn’t have your keys and your roommate was out for the night.

“Ughh.” You whine and Minho eyes you like you’re crazy. 

Maybe you are. 

Crazy for leaving your stuff at home.

Crazy for catching feelings for your brother's best friend.

Crazy for trying to drown him out of your thoughts with shitty tequila and obnoxious music. 

Crazy for actually thinking that you could distract yourself, let alone forget about him.

“Hello? Earth to her majesty.” he pokes your shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Please don’t stop talking to me.

“Ah, see I like bothering you too much for all that,” he glances from the road to your curled up form. Your ‘defensive pose’ as he likes to call it. It’s not the first time he’s seen you absolutely shitfaced.

“Wanna tell me why you’re throwing a fit over there?” 

“No key,” you mutter and press your head against the cool glass of the window, reveling in the way it soothes your massive migraine.

“No k- what are you talking about? You went to a frat party with no keys? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Minho lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh, making you curl into yourself tighter. He sighs softly and prays that Jisung won’t kill him for taking you home with him.

“Why are you smiling like this is funny? None of this is the slightest bit funny. You could’ve been hurt and then I would-” he snaps his mouth shut and grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white.

-

There’s a small amount of pressure on your stomach when you wake up and the sound of light purring fills the room. You peek your eyes open cautiously until you spot the orange and white cat resting on your lower abdomen. 

“Soonie,” you hum with a smile. 

Wait. Soonie?

You sit up fast making Soonie dart off the bed in surprise. 

You’re in Minho’s bed. And not for the reason you would’ve preferred. 

You’re engulfed in his scent, tangled in his sheets, hair spread across his pillows. You wonder how many girls he’s had here before and mentally gag at the thought.

“Morning,” Minho nods as he sets a tray with a bottle of painkillers and some water on it next to you.

Memories of the night before flash throughout your head and your cheeks flush red with embarrassment while your hands run down your face.

You made a fool of yourself in front of Lee Minho. This is a new low for you, you think. 

But then again this isn’t his first time tending to you and your drunken stupor. 

Maybe not in his own home, and maybe without you knowing but he’s done it enough to be well versed with handling you.

You down the water along with one of the capsules and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, trying as hard as possible to avoid Minho’s gaze. 

“Better?” He whispers. 

No.

“Mhm, fine.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it now or-”

You climb out of his bed groggily, “I don’t want to talk about it at all, actually.” Minho does a double take and you realize that your dress slid up your leg and exposed almost the entirety of your legs, dangerously close to your core. 

He looks away long enough for you to fix yourself before clearing his throat. “That sucks because we’re going to.” His annoyance is obvious, the tips of his ears pink from being flustered. As much as you really really want to push his buttons, your head is pounding and you feel simply, well - gross.

“I uh- I went and bought you some stuff so you could go shower,” he says, almost as if he read your mind. He rubs the back of his neck nervously with a grimace.

You look at him with a confused expression, “Huh? I’m sorry, I must not have heard you correctly.” Minho rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t argue with me. Just go,” he points to the adjacent door which connects his room to the singular bathroom in his one bedroom dorm.

He pauses and tries to gather this words, “See, the thing is I didn’t really get a chance to get you clothes…” Lie. “So you could just, I don’t know, wear some of mine?” You stop mid walk and turn on your heel to see Minho with a hoodie and sweats in his grasp.“Please cooperate with me for once.” You sigh and hold out your hands for him to place his clothes in them. 

“This is the stupidest idea i think I’ve ever heard come out of your pea-sized brain,” you grumble and stalk into the bathroom unbeknownst to the massive smirk adorning Minho’s face.

-

You were right when you thought you’d look absurd. Of course you were, anyone could look at you and tell you wouldn’t fit in his clothes. You step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and teeth brushed.

You’re practically swimming in his shirt and you had to tie the drawstring on the sweatpants so tight that it was a literal struggle.

“You were in there for an hour.” He deadpans.

“How’d you know what shampoo I liked,” you ignore him and ask as he eyes you. His gaze drags up your body as you run your fingers through your damp hair.

“I don’t know. Lucky guess?” Minho shrugs it off and folds his arms over his chest.

“Okay then,” you roll your eyes and copy his stance. You two stay silent for a solid ten seconds until he finally speaks,

“This is ridiculous.” He says as he glares at you.

“If anyone’s ridiculous it’s you.” 

“Me? You’re the one being an ungrateful brat,” he steps closer to you until you’re face to face, “I’m the one who came to your rescue. I could’ve told Jisung no, could’ve said I had better things to do than save you from yourself.”

You shake your head, “Then why didn’t you? I’m obviously just a bother to you, aren’t I? A burden that you can’t wait to be freed of.”

Minho furrows his brows, “Bullshit. That’s complete and utter bullshit and you know it.” 

You inch closer to him so your chests are pressed against one another. “Do I, Minho? Because it seems like you only enjoy being a dick to me,” your hands curl into fists at your sides. Never in the four years you’ve know him would you have ever expected to have an actual argument with him. Usually it’s all meaningless jabs at each other, but right now you can tell that it’s more than that.

Minho’s eyes search yours as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Don’t fucking do that,” his voice comes out in a harsh whisper. 

“Do what?” 

“Act like the fucking victim of the situation you put yourself in,” His expression has grown agitated which only pisses you off to no end. You decide you’ve had enough and turn away from him to collect your stuff. “What are you doing?” 

“I am going to text my roommate and she’s going to take me home.” You don’t bother looking at him as you speak, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand and typing out a ‘send help’ message to your roommate. Before you could send it though Minho has yanked your phone out of your hands. “Seriously?” You huff. He holds it above his head as you poorly attempt to reach for it.

“No. Until you can have an adult conversation with me you aren’t leaving.” 

“What, are you gonna hold me hostage? Tie me up?” You realize that was the wrong thing to say when a smug smirk tugs at Minho’s lips.

“You’d like that too much. Wouldn’t you, princess?” Your breath catches in your throat as you fall dead silent. You’re still leaning against him, using him as leverage to get your phone. “Cat got your tongue? Never thought I’d see the day where you’d fail to find a snarky response. Always need to have the last word, don’t you.”

Your brain is so fuzzy, a mix of emotions jumbling your thoughts around. You slowly stand flat and remove your hands from his arms with palms on fire from the contact with his bare skin. 

“You’re a dick.” You say while you take a few steps away from him.

“So you’ve said.” Minho stares at you with ice in his gaze. He slides your phone in the pocket of his hoodie and folds his arms over his chest. “You can go when you tell me why you’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” You say though you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You are quite literally self destructing. Why?” He narrows his eyes at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. Unfortunately for him, it’s going to take more effort than that to get you to spill.

“That’s none of your business. Now give me back my phone, I want to go home.”

“No. I’m not just going to sit back and watch my best friend’s sister practically kill herself over something that is probably meaningless.” You keep backing up as he walks towards you until you collide with the wall behind you. 

How cliche.

“Just tell me so we can move on with our lives. But just so you know, I will not hesitate to keep you here as long as I have to until you help me understand why you’re acting so stupid when we both know that you’re far from it.”

Minho leans in closer, invading your space and allowing himself to be as close to you as he’ll ever be able to. He cares about you more than he cares about himself. His best friend’s little sister. At this point he’s a walking romance book trope. 

“It’s nothing I’m fi-” Before you can utter another word Minho has his index finger pressed against your lips and an eyebrow raised. 

“I’m going to give you another chance to rethink your words. Choose carefully.” You roll your eyes, prompting him to drop his hand.

“I’m trying to get over something.” You look down at your hands as you refuse to make eye contact. 

“Something or someone?” You sink back against the wall. 

You weigh your options: you could either lie to him, or you could confess and hope that you don’t die of embarrassment when he rejects you. 

“Someone.” When you finally look up at him you’re surprised to see his boba eyes clouded with - jealousy? No, you’ve got to be imagining it. There’s no way. 

“Who?” Are you imagining it?

“Just..someone.” Minho shakes his head as if saying ‘not good enough.’ But you’re not backing down that easily, this is just too good. So you do the next best thing: you mess with him.

“It’s someone from school..?” you wince, the statement coming out as more of a question. 

Minho’s eyes narrow and he finally steps out of your way. He stares at you dumbfounded before pulling your phone out of his pocket and holding it out to you. As you reach for it your fingers graze his and you’re reminded of the situation you’ve put yourself in. 

“Like I said, meaningless.” Minho’s voice pulls you out of the endless rabbit hole that is your stupid, insecure brain. 

All of this for nothing, he thinks. This whole time he was dumb enough to believe that you had feelings for him but instead you were treating it like a joke.

“Whatever, come on.”

-

Two weeks have passed since you woke up at Minho’s place. Two weeks have passed since you came home trying to determine if you were being delusional or if he actually got jealous of the idea that you were thinking about someone else. 

But hey, even if he didn’t actually feel that way you figure it’d be fun to play with him. 

Why not? It’s all harmless anyway. What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily for you he’s supposed to be at Jisung’s place, where you happen to have just made a surprise appearance at. Your top tier excuse? There’s family drama that you want to gossip about with him. 

Now you’ve finally comprised a seemingly fool proof plan to get a reaction out of Minho. You threw on his hoodie and a pair of shorts before leaving the house. 

To your delight when the door opens to reveal Minho sitting on the couch he looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head. He can’t believe you even kept it, let alone willingly wore it. He wonders if it still smells like him or if you washed it, ridding it of any traces of himself.

“Hi, Sungie,” you pull your brother into a hug and make eye contact with Minho over Jisung’s shoulder. 

“Why are you- I mean don’t get me wrong, I love it when you visit but like…you never do.” Jisung pulls back and gives you a skeptical look, preparing himself for whatever you’re about to ask him for. 

“You never invite me,” you pout and slip past him into the living room. “Did you hear about auntie?” You say, turning to Minho before continuing, “You remember her, right? The one with all the cats, tried to get you to take them all? Yeah, you remember.” You smile before sitting next to him on the couch. Meanwhile Jisung - completely ignoring your babbling - has moved into the kitchen to make you a cup of tea, just like any other time you’ve shown up at his place unannounced.

Once you can tell that he’s out of earshot you look at the boy next to you who is painfully obvious in trying not to look at the exposed skin right underneath where his oversized hoodie, that could be classified as a dress on you, stops.

You look down at your body with an amused pout, “What’s the matter?”

Just as Minho was about to open his mouth your brother comes in with your tea, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you. 

You thank him before crossing your legs and sinking backwards into the couch. You play with the end of your sleeve which goes an inch or two past the tips of your fingers as you wait for someone to speak.

Just as you thought you’d be playing the quiet game for the next three hours Minho answers your silent prayers.

“So, I decided to take a BDSM test,” he says just as you took a sip of tea, you almost choke on it but manage to cover it with a cough.

Jisung’s complaining is drowned out by the words that have been engraved in your brain for the past two weeks,

“What. You gonna hold me hostage? Tie me up?”

“You’d like that too much. Wouldn’t you, princess?” 

Touché, you think. This little game has gotten ten times more interesting.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

tags: @skzstarnet @godslino @seungseung-minmin @myseungsunglove @azuna-sz @solisyeah 

[bigtreefest]

Marshmallow Dream

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader

Summary: A rainy day can still be a good one if the right person knows how to turn it around. Jake is perfect for that.

Word count: 2,562

Content/warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, unhealthy eating habits, feeding a partner pizza, cockwarming, p in v sex, light nipple worship, indoor flames, what’s a word for a mixture between smut and fluff?, crying, torrential downpour, swears

A/N: Written for my 300 follower summer celebration. Prompts include: rain spoils summer outdoor plans and bonfire.

Jakey never leaves my mind. You know that. Enjoy dear hoes. I luv you. A special thanks to @stargazingfangirl18, I told you, I swear I don’t hate the CE babes😉

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

Today was not off to a great start. You forgot to set your alarm clock before you went to sleep last night, so you left for work late after scrambling to get into clothes you weren’t fully sure were clean. In your haste, you forgot to grab your lunch, and with endless meetings, you had no time to go out and get one at the office, either, so you were stuck with a grumbling tummy throughout the entire day, a product of not really eating breakfast, either. You didn’t drink any water, your bottle sitting empty on the corner of your desk, and hardly had the time to stretch your legs between meetings twice, but were ready to go home as soon as the clock hit the mark.

The thing was, in your marathon of work, you’d hardly looked out the window. At some point between a call with Russia and a talk with your boss, the sky had opened up. Rain poured and hit the glass in sheets. You had no idea how you hadn’t heard it thus far. It was like a monsoon, and that’s when your phone went off with the severe thunderstorm warning. Great. Just as you were ready to head home. And to top it all off, your car was at the far side of the parking lot because you got in so late today. If one more thing went wrong, you were going to combust. You just knew it.

You looked out the window one last time, gathering your things, and let out a huff. Well, fuck it. The weather report you pulled up on your phone showed no signs of stopping for the next several hours, which was a total contrast to the way it said clear skies earlier this morning. Might as well make a run for it then, before the nearby river flooded the parking lot and engulfed your car. You just needed to get home. That was it. It would be fine.

Well, it wasn’t really fine, was it? Your drive home took way longer than usual, as you passed accident after accident, causing traffic and a slow meandering pace. You would’ve rather had that instead of crazy drivers, though, who went way too fast for weather conditions like this. But every call you tried to make home to Jake failed because of the cloudy skies disrupting your signal. And then, your phone died because you forgot to charge it last night, of course.

You finally returned home an hour later on a drive that was supposed to be twenty minutes and parked in the driveway, throwing your forehead on the steering wheel. You were trying to build up the courage to go inside. It wasn’t because the rain was still pouring. Your clothes, and now your drivers seat, were already thoroughly soaked, but it was the fact that Jake’s niece was there.

She wasn’t bad, or a terror, she was actually a delight, but after the day you had, there was no way you held the energy to keep a smile on and entertain her. With a sigh, you opened the door, rushing into the house, hoping you, and your resolve, didn’t crumble from the rain.

Jake was in the kitchen stretching out pizza dough when he heard the door open. He brushed off his floury hands on his apron before untying it and hanging it on the hook, meeting you in the hall.

He’d expected you to be home awhile ago, and none of his calls and texts seemed to be going through, but he’d figured you were just running late, and apparently he was right.

The view he was met with was…out of the ordinary. You were standing there, work bag in hand, soaked clothes draping off your body, and hair matted down as your shoulders slumped. Normally, he would’ve laughed at the sight of you looking like a drowned rat, water dripping onto the floor in a puddle, and especially if it were one of his buddies, but when he caught a glimpse of your face, he came rushing towards you.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

His hands flew to your shoulders as he checked you once over, trying to see if anything was physically wrong. You shrugged and shook your head, then tried to give off a fake smile, although it was more of a grimace, in anticipation of his niece running in your direction at any second.

“Nothing, nothing Jake. Just a long day at work, but where’s our little visitor, is she excited for a sleepover?”

You were looking over his shoulders back into the house to see if she was waiting somewhere else, but it was quiet, besides the faint music playing from the kitchen speaker.

“No, baby. The concert got rained out so my sister and her friends are staying home. So it’s just you and me tonight. And if I’m being honest, you look like you need it.”

You dragged your eyes from the floor up to meet his. His brows were pulled together in concern, bright blue irises darting all over your face from behind his glasses. At his care, you couldn’t help how you broke down.

You threw your head into this neck and sobbed as Jake pulled you closer, one hand flat and rubbing you between the shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of your head as you let it all out and told him about your day where nothing could go right.

Rain water was seeping into his clothes from yours, but that was the least of his worries right now. Jake was so sweet about it all, comforting you and whispering reassurances of active listening in your ear, holding you tight until your shoulders stopped shaking from the gasps.

“I know, I know, baby. It’s okay. You’re home now, I’m gonna take care of you, alright?”

He pulled away and put his hands on your cheeks so you could see him. “Why don’t you go take a shower. I don’t care if you strip right here, I’ll take care of it all. I’ll lay you out some dry, comfy clothes, finish up dinner, and you and me can have a nice, relaxing night together in the living room. Sound good?”

You sniffled and nodded your head, as Jake softly smiled at you and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “Atta girl. Take as long as you need to, okay? There should be plenty of hot water. You do what you gotta do. And if you need me, call my name.”

You shuffled off towards the bathroom, shucking off your clingy clothing piece by piece, leaving a sopping wet trail, as Jake got to work.

When you emerged from your shower into the steamy bathroom, a warm, plush towel and clothes were sitting on the sink. You reveled in the softness and the scent of the materials. The sweatpants and shirt laying there, folded with military precision, were Jake’s. Your favorite. You brushed your hair and slipped it on, along with a nice pair of fresh socks and padded out to the living room.

You expected to see Jake just lounging there, one of his favorite discovery shows on the TV, but you were met with something totally different. Definitely not your everyday view. The first thing to hit was was the sweet smell of tomato sauce. The next thing you noticed was the video of a crackling bonfire playing on the TV, and in your line of sight just below that was a pillow and blanket fort made out of the couch. Emerging from behind the sheet that served as the fort’s roof popped a set of frosted tips, slowly ascending, making way for your boyfriend’s smiling face.

“Hi honey, all better?”

You nodded and beamed back at him, happiness rising in your stomach, dissipating the storm clouds that had overtaken your mind all day. You waltzed around the end of the couch and over to him, when your eye caught the spread on the coffee table: fresh, homemade pizza next to a sweet-smelling lit candle and a tray with all the necessary materials for s’mores, beautifully and methodically arranged. It must’ve been what he planned to have for his niece, especially if the rain had held off enough to make a fire in the backyard, but it didn’t cheapen the gesture at all.

Your eyes began to tear up, and you pointed your gaze back to Jake, seeing his nervous and tentative demeanor. You didn’t think it was possible, but you loved him more right now than ever before. You needed him right now, more than you’d realized, so you pounced, tackling the heap of muscle into the pile of pillows scattering the living room, turned on by the domestic gesture.

Jake was taken aback, eyes wide in surprise before they fluttered shut when your lips greedily met his. He was pinned down, almost, your hips straddling him as your hands roamed everywhere, pushing up his shirt so you could tuck your fingers under the band of his underwear and sweatpants, shoving them down his thighs. You were speaking in whispers while still keeping your mouth pressed up against his.

“Thank you. It’s perfect. I love you. Need to show you.”

Jake hummed and pulled away from you as much as he could, gasping in deep breaths and watching the way your hand stroked up and down his length, already half hard from your actions. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping the motion as he pressed his eyes closed and swallowed, gathering himself.

“Baby, baby, wait. Hold on. I get it, and I appreciate it so much that you wanna make me feel good, but I need to take care of you first. You need to eat.”

You whined, hand still trying to move despite his soft, yet strong hold on you. Jake let out a small huff with the little hopeful smile he gave you, but you were unrelenting.

“If you really cared about me, you’d be inside me right now, Jakey.”

His face grew into a mischievous grin. “I’m going to try and not take that as a jab at the significance of the beautiful spread I made for you, but that’s besides the point. I think we can find a compromise, honey.”

His hands stroked over the softness of your hips as he looked up at you with a raised brow. You bit your lip and leaned in for a peck, nipping at his lower lip as you retreated, relishing in the groan he unsuccessfully stifled.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Your voice was smooth and sultry, in contrast to the rough, strained words that came out of Jake next.

“Yes, baby. If you’re good, you can warm my cock while I feed you pizza, which I slaved over all day, and you and I can make some candle s’mores. And once you’ve had your fill and I decide that your soft tummy is nice and full, you have me for whatever you want. Deal?”

You tapped a finger on your lip, acting like you were contemplating the flawless offer, before nodding and leaning in for another kiss. “Deal. But I refuse to lift a finger. Gotta save my energy to ruin you.”

You didn’t miss the way Jake’s teeth gritted in restraint at that statement, but he nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now open up, love.”

You didn’t miss the double entendre as he helped you to slip off your sweatpants and comfy underwear. You resettled into this lap and closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel him as his tip caught your entrance, slowly sliding in and stretching you as you did your best to release all the tension in your body to take him as deep as possible.

Four slices of pizza and some progressive squirming later, you were leaning in to kiss Jake, testing the waters with a circle of your hips. His fingertips dug into your ass as he gave you a warning glance.

“Not yet, sweetie. S’mores first?” You huffed, but assented, leaning back as he shifted forward to gather everything needed, holding the marshmallow on a small stick above the flickering flame. You made one, as well, for him so the two of you could share in having them at the same time.

The background held the sounds of rain pelting the windows, mixed with the crackling fire of the TV, while you waited for the marshmallows to toast.

Jake fed you a bite first, though, watching as a string of marshmallow pulled from between your mouth and his fingers before kicking up onto your cheek. Your eyes squinted slightly at the interesting flavor as Jake’s thumb swiped off the melted mallow and rested at your lips. You took his finger into your mouth, looking straight into his eyes but he couldn’t pull his eyes from your lips, as you released his thumb with a pop.

Jake smiled up at you again, this time with eyes half-lidded as you felt his dick twitch inside of you. “How is it, honey?”

You huffed a small breath out of your nose as you laughed a little. “Waxy.”

Jake winced at your admittance and the way your body shifted as you turned around to look at the candle. You faced him again as he set down the s’more.

“Marshmallow dream.”

Jake tilted his head to the side. “What? Is that like a new nickname for me or something?”

You giggled and shook your head. Jake admired you as he observed your response, a satisfaction brewing deep inside of him that he helped you reach this good mood again after the day you had.

“No, silly. It’s the candle scent. Marshmallow dream. Although, I don’t think it would be an inaccurate name for you. You’re a big softie, and totally dreamy. Not to mention sweeter than any treat.”

You wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, leaning in for another slow, deep kiss, smile still on your face as you listened to his soft breaths become moans, then groans, then near-growls as he devoured you.

Jake flipped the two of you over and you squealed at the sudden motion, feeling the pillows cushion your back. You needed that, though, as his first thrust hit you hard, practically knocking the wind out of you as you screamed in pleasure. Jake couldn’t help the way his pent-up energy manifested. All that self-control had to go somewhere, but now he was smoothly rolling his hips against yours, keeping you filled and beyond satisfied. His fingertips traced up your hips and soft tummy, pulling your shirt up with them, as your hands ran through his hair.

He pushed the fabric above your chest, leaning in and sucking a nipple into his mouth, massaging the other in his hand as his tongue danced across the skin. Your breathing was getting heavier by the minute, music to his ears as he turned his head, face still pressed to your soft skin.

“These, baby. These are my marshmallow dream.”

You giggled and slapped his shoulder playfully, allowing him to continue on, take whatever he wanted because he deserved it. And he did take you, all night, shrouded in a pillow fort of comfort, fairy lights, and unbridled love.

Bonus A/N: I’ve had an idea similar to this swirling in my head for awhile, I think I said something of the like in an ask, but I can’t find it now. Anyway, when a candle burns, wax vaporizes, which is why it likely caught on the marshmallows hovering above the flame. Yuck, but at least the candle fit the theme? 😂

Related: Jake’s Rough Days That Should Be Me

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 13: One Of Us

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook doesn’t seem to be angry for the reasons you expected.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, injuries, blood, more guilt and self-doubt, past parental death

a/n: something about jungkook skidding a 180 to stop his bike and just running into the storm.... yeah🥵

A faint knock disturbed Jungkook.

Half-standing from where he had been sat rigid on his bed, he found himself facing Jimin. The other man peeped sheepishly around the door, head dipped apologetically.

Although Jungkook didn’t want to scare his hyung, it was impossible to shake the tension from his frame. The venomous exchange with you still ran hot through his veins. He did feel somewhat responsible for dispelling the group with his foul mood when he had returned upstairs. Maybe they had gathered up and saw fit to invite him again?

It was probably what he needed, even if he didn’t feel particularly sociable right now – so long as you weren’t there. He could do without a reminder…

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Eyes snapping back to Jimin, Jungkook’s brows twitched irritably.

“No,” he shot, incredulous.

At Jimin’s slight wince, Jungkook did feel a bit guilty and swallowed away some of his attitude.

“Okay, I didn’t think so…”

Still, Jimin hovered there biting his lip instead of leaving. He took a breath and eyed Jungkook carefully again.

“But you guys… spoke, right?” Jungkook’s brow raised. That was a generous way to put it. Jimin pressed on, “where did she go after?”

Jungkook straightened up fully.

“I don’t know…” he blinked, confused, frown rapidly clearing to be replaced with apprehension. “Why?”

Jimin’s hand curled tighter around the door. He dropped his eyes before speaking.

“We just… can’t find her right now.”

Jungkook’s face screwed up, uncomprehending.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“Yah, Jimin-ah,” a call stole both men’s attention.

Stepping further into Jungkook’s room, Jimin made way for Yoongi to stride in. The older man stopped, looking to Jungkook.

“Do you know where she is?”

“No!”

Yoongi breathed out steadily, then turned to Jimin. Dipping his chin, his next tone was quieter, making Jungkook strain to catch it.

“The training rooms are clear. Jin’s lab, too.”

Huffing quietly, Jimin shifted on restless feet. Suddenly looking up, he decided to keep questioning Jungkook.

“What did you guys even talk about? What did you say to her?”

Jungkook’s head was spinning. Had you seriously gone missing? Would you have left? He thought his heart dropped enough at the notion that he could have driven you out with his words-

Until the next thought crossed his mind with terrifying clarity.

Oh. Oh.

“Shit.”

All eyes snapped to Jungkook, who stared ahead without seeing. For a moment, they held their breath with him.

Then he blinked rapidly, shutting his gaping mouth.

“She’s gone after him.”

It was Jimin and Yoongi’s turn to gape.

“What?” Jimin shook his head, blinking.

“She’s really not here?” Jungkook reiterated.

Yoongi shook his head.

Jungkook’s only response was a decisive step forwards, walking between the others, who backed out of his way, startled.

“She’s gone after Monsoon?” Jimin echoed as he passed, his voice a hollow whisper.

Equally horrified, Yoongi stared at Jungkook.

“Is she mental?”

Jungkook cocked his head but didn’t stop, only looking over his shoulder in the doorway.

“You hadn’t noticed?”

Carving a beeline through the space, Jungkook drew the eyes of the rest of the group that stood nervously around the space. Even Namjoon was there. Hobi was still looking around, as if he might find you under one of the sofa cushions if he just looked hard enough.

Scurrying after him, Jimin offered an explanation after Jungkook stayed stubbornly quiet.

“He says she’s run off to… to Monsoon.”

Namjoon’s head snapped around to Jungkook.

“She told you that?”

“You think she would tell any of us if that was her plan?” Jungkook retorted, without looking around. He was bending down to observe something below the counter.

“What-? she wouldn’t,” Jin insisted.

“Then why are there keys missing?” Jungkook straightened up.

Namjoon cursed.

“She’s walking to her death,” he then muttered, marching to the door, “we need to find her. Now.”

And so it was all action for the second time that day.

Jungkook was close behind his leader, already swinging a set of keys from his fingers. Tugging a hand roughly through his hair, his feet flew down the steps to the garage.

“And where are we meant to look?” Jin asked, rushing to catch up.

Pausing in the entrance, Namjoon locked eyes with Jungkook.

“Wherever we might find Monsoon.”

Jungkook gave a single nod.

“Alright. Hope, Jimin, with me,” Namjoon jabbed his thumb towards a car and they were off.

Jin peeled away with V and Yoongi while Jungkook forced his legs not to break into a sprint. He hot-footed it to his bike, threw a leg over and was away before any of the others.

Whizzing into the night, rain whipped about his face. Speeding through the buffeting wind forced his mind outwards, on squinting through the storm and not on you. Wherever you had got to. He prayed he wasn't right – but picturing the way you had never quit when he fought you, how you had recklessly trained even at the risk of losing control of your powers… he couldn’t see another explanation for your disappearance.

He couldn’t explain the certainty he felt about it. Didn’t want to.

So he urged his bike faster, the engine roaring below him the only comfort as it ate up the road between you.

The radio crackled through the storm, the others coordinating their destinations. Needless to say, you would be somewhere along the docks, but that didn’t narrow it down much. Jin was heading north, the others central.

Jungkook never responded, his original intentions unchanged.

At the first opportunity, he turned towards the river. He ditched his bike right at the end of the docks, where the concrete became earth banks again. Hardly caring to park it, he only left it upright by sheer luck as he took off running the moment the engine cut.

The storm was thicker here, rain slicing his vision. Blundering on, frustration knotted tighter within him at each stretch of empty paving. Dark shapes loomed, but each was just a piece of machinery, or another container dotted about between the floodlighting.

His heart jolted dangerously at a sound from the radio.

“We’re definitely on the right track,” Namjoon spoke, “the car’s here.”

Somehow that didn’t make Jungkook feel any better. An abandoned car, an abandoned dockyard… where were you?

One more look back, just in case, before he rounded the next large container, impatient eyes roving the desolate scene. It was as he stepped into the light on the other side that a rogue wave was thrown against the bank some way ahead. The slap of water and fountain of spray drew his eyes. Flecks caught the floodlight and rained back to earth in a shower of gold, before the wave was beaten back by the same wind that coaxed it up.

A gust pushed damp hair into Jungkook’s eyes. He brushed it back, eyes fixed on the same spot.

Where the river retreated, something remained.

Heart plummeting like a stone, his vision tunnelled, only seeing the path to you.

His feet moved before his thoughts. Racing towards the body slumped on the ground. No, no, no…

Then, movement. Slowly, you brought your elbows up, palms pushing you from the ground. One hand stayed there, steadying, as you clumsily got your legs below you.

Standing with trepidation, you hardly had time to look around before Jungkook was on you.

He ran to you without slowing, grabbed you, his rough hands finding your arms, wide eyes scanning you intensely. One hand held you steady, but the other shifted instantly to your face.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Breathless, you simply stared at the man in front of you. No answer found its way to your lips even when his eyes flicked up to meet yours. They burned, but not in a way you were used to. Fear and disbelief blazed brightest in his gaze.

The fingertips at your jaw shook. His thumb hovered on your cheekbone, where blood wept from the cut, diluted in spots by the rain.

His gaze swooped back down to eye it, thumb finally making careful contact with your cold skin. Next, he found the gash above your eye. His jaw tightened, but his severe grip eased to a something gentler at your shoulder.

After the last hellish moments, it felt all too good to be held within his hands.

Meeting your eyes again, he suddenly blinked. Pulled back minutely, as if startled.

As mild mortification took over his features, his touch lightened on your arm, but didn’t disappear. His hand lifted from your face, and for a moment he stared in horror at the bloodied digits.

Then he dropped it, looking sharply back up at you.

Before he could make his last ditch effort to save face and step back completely, he felt you sag into his hand. With the shock of your most blatant injuries wearing off, he tuned into the way you shivered, out of breath, and cradled one arm closer to you.

“What the hell were you thinking-? What did he do to you?”

Jungkook’s heated tone wore off halfway through the questions.

Giving in, he stepped closer, raising a hesitant arm on your other side. Still breathing a little too fast, you latched onto it without a thought, grasping his elbow to lean on, panting.

Even through your exhaustion, cold shame permeated you. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I couldn’t get it back,” you admitted.

Jungkook frowned down at you incredulously, even though you didn’t see.

“And you’re insane for trying,” he muttered, already twisting to scan the area you found yourselves in.

Releasing the hand on your shoulder but keeping the arm which bore your weight, he steered you both towards the nearest shipping container.

“We’re going home, alright?”

It hardly sounded like a question.

More wobbly on your feet than you were ready to admit, you followed without protest despite your confusion. Jungkook should be throwing you to the curb! This was your second failure of the day. Your whiplash only increased when you stopped in the relative shelter of a container and Jungkook shook one arm from his jacket.

The river had chilled you, but it wasn’t only the temperature difference that burned when his hand touched yours. He eased your fingers from him for a moment, just long enough to slip off his other sleeve.

It was only then that he hesitated, glancing at the jacket in his hand, and then at you, a little shaken.

He didn’t look you in the eyes as he slung it around you at last. But his pretence at concentrating on fixing it around your shoulders was disrupted at a hiss from you.

You bit your lip, but it was too late. Jungkook pulled back, eyes zeroing in on the slash through your sodden top, hanging away from the bloody cut beneath. Then to the wrist you hurriedly shielded with your other hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, “let me see.”

Before you could convince yourself to object, tentative fingertips were gingerly sliding up your waterlogged sleeve to reveal the deep bruising there, patterned by the sole of Monsoon's boot.

Pure worry filled Jungkook's eyes and he gulped. It was too much for you to look at.

“Thank you,” you murmured, tugging at the heavenly warm jacket and ignoring the sting.

Jungkook nodded absently.

“We’ll wait here… Do you need to sit down?”

Neither of you were meeting the other’s eyes. You chewed your cheek. As much as you wished you could stand strong and prove to Jungkook that you had any respectability left, your legs were not on the same page.

You sank to the ground, grip on Jungkook slipping away. Your frozen hands retreated to the warmth inside his jacket instead.

Only letting his eyes linger on you for a moment, Jungkook forced his gaze to the churning river as he finally remembered his radio. It was hopeless really; he only got as far as lifting the device to his mouth before his eyes were back on you. You were too static, hunched into yourself. The only movement was the creeping of droplets from your hair down his jacket.

This was not what you were. Quiet and surrender were not things that went together with the girl he knew.

Had he done this?

“Hey, hyungs–” so lost in thought, he surprised himself when he spoke “–I found her.”

The response was instant.

“Thank fu-”

“Hey, you really got her?”

“Where are you guys?”

Quickly sending over the location, Jungkook eyed you again. You hadn’t reacted to anything going on around you.

“Hey, I think she needs to go back in the car,” he added quietly.

He pocketed his radio. Then instantly regretted it. Now he was at a loss for what to do with his hands, and he hesitated between staying standing or sitting beside you. Opting for the latter, he purposely tore his eyes from you to lessen the effect.

Stiffening as he lowered himself to your side, you glanced over at him. The floodlighting looked gold on his cheeks, his skin glowing with the sheen of rain coating his face. It only made you feel duller in comparison.

Unable to resist the insistent feeling of your eyes on him, Jungkook finally glanced back.

You sucked in a breath, shoulders raising. Your gaze was all too nervous, watching him warily. And though you were clearly soaked to the bone, he wasn’t sure all the water on your face was from the river and not your own eyes.

The strength of your remorse removed all words you could have used to express it.

I’m so sorry… You sounded pathetic even in your head. Was there anything you could say to Jungkook to make what you had done better?

The warmth of him beside you was already more than you deserved.

Jungkook’s hands were sandwiched between his knees, carefully leaving a space between the two of you. But the longer he looked, his limbs acted almost by themselves. He pinched his lip between his teeth, but didn’t falter. Pulling one hand free, he crossed the no-man’s land. Towards the blood he couldn’t bear to see there, where it cascaded into your eye, one drop outlining your jaw.

The back of his fingers drew closer. When they met your cheek, running steadily upwards to wipe the bleeding, you could have cried. Holding your breath, you gave in and closed your eyes. It shouldn’t feel so… intimate, but the drag of his hand was too visceral to ignore.

Light behind your eyelids made you snap them open again. And then squint.

Blaring headlights swung around, illuminating your momentary hiding spot.

Jungkook’s warmth retreated, leaving you with only the heat of your own blood spilling over your face.

Straightening up, you heard an engine cut out and doors slam. You were still struggling up from the floor when the guys reached you.

“Are you okay?” Hope was the first to ask.

Then Jimin’s hand was on your shoulder. Namjoon emerged behind them.

“Glad we found you,” he said.

Blinking uselessly at each of them gathering around you, your throat was totally uncooperative. You parted your lips, but gave up just as Jin completed your group. Looking you up and down, he tried to ease the tension with a chuckle.

“Wow, you look like you came from the river!” he joked, until his face fell a second later. “…wait- did you-?”

All you could do was stare, too distracted to answer him. What were they all doing here? After what you had done, they came after you?

You should have hated it. You were sorely ashamed, bowing your head under the weight of their concern. But somewhere deep down, you weren’t surprised. Back there in the river, you had dared to hope they would come for you, like they always did. Like you would for them.

But you felt incredibly small for having to count on them nonetheless.

Unconsciously, your feet took you a step back, closer to Jungkook. Shrinking away from the overwhelming tide of emotions you weren’t prepared to face yet.

“I think we all just want to get home,” Jimin smiled softly.

Namjoon nodded, the first to turn away, lessening the glare of the spotlight you felt on you in the centre.

“Yoongi’s going to take the other car,” he said.

Good – you had completely forgotten you had driven here at all. Everything was a blur between your consecutive fights with Jungkook and Monsoon.

Just as you were beginning to debate which one had stung more, a soft hand in yours tugged you from your mind again. Looking up, you found V quietly pulling you along towards a car. He didn’t meet your eyes. Your throat felt tight again at such a simple act guiding you when you needed it.

Blindly following your friend, you glanced back once more. Jungkook’s eyes were already on you, unreadable.

“See you back home.”

Then he dipped his head, slipping past you into the storm.

Your tired body had clearly clocked out on the drive home, finally able to sink into yourself in the silence of the car. You had to admit you felt a bit bad for Jin, who loved to talk. Being stuck in a car with you while you were practically too ashamed to speak, and V who was always quiet, must have made it a long journey.

He got a few words out of you. Honestly, you felt obliged to answer his questions. You owed him – owed them all – some honesty.

If you had to say anything unprompted, though, you were sure all you would muster up was repeated apologies. You felt the heat of them frenetic beneath your skin. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

When you arrived, pulling in just after the other cars, only Jungkook still to follow on his bike, you realised just how drained you were. Each step felt like a balancing act as you climbed the stairs, like your legs weren’t quite attached to you.

“So you remembered Monsoon’s base just from seeing the maps way back?” Jin carried on the conversation you hardly registered having, “no wonder Kuyang had you as his secretary. Too bad, we’ve got you now!”

Those words cracked through your distracted haze. As he left you with a pat on the back, you stared after him.

Had he not seen what had happened all day? A treacherous glimmer of hope sparked in you, as if they could still want you on the team. He must be pretending.

“Any dinner requests?” Yoongi asked from the table.

“Uh, um, I don’t mind,” you spoke quietly, “anything is good… thanks.”

Stopping in front of a chair, you never sat. The lot of them filled up the house like always, thankfully not all staring at you, but the appreciation you normally felt for the buzz of people only made you feel far away right now.

Eyes darting to your feet, you noticed the water clinging to your shoes, miniature pools left in your footsteps. Everyone was damp from the rain, but you were a different story. Your clothes clung uncomfortably, and you were suddenly aware of the constricting fabric now it pressed against your skin like this.

“I’ll just… go clean up,” you muttered, finally taking the chance to flee from the people you had wronged. The people who shouldn’t have cared enough to come pick you up from a death wish of an escapade in the middle of a storm.

Falling against the bathroom door at last, you put up with the soggy clothing for a moment longer, needing a pause. Head resting back against the wood, you breathed. Closed your eyes, felt your hands shaking.

Then you pushed away. A spurt of energy had you ridding yourself of your clothes in a hurry, tugging free of the fabric weighted down with cursed water.

Hurling them into the bathtub, you grabbed a towel next and sunk into it. The soft fabric felt like a dream, from somewhere warm where you hadn’t made such a terrible mistake.

When you pulled away, it was bloodstained.

Shoulders drooping, you continued to dry yourself without looking at it. Nor did you want to look at yourself in the mirror. Somehow, you would have to attempt a fix for the wounds you had just acquired, which pulled and stung as you twisted to dry your back. Gritting your teeth, you kept at it. You didn’t really know what you should do, and were mainly counting on your powers to heal them up fast, but you weren’t about to trouble any of the others for help. They had done enough.

You turned next to a stack of dry clothes.

It was as a sweater dropped over your eyes that someone knocked.

The sound wasn’t soft. Only hesitating for a moment, you gave in and found the person on the other side just as decisive as his knock.

Jungkook stood with his arms folded. Expectant.

Your poked your head out, looked at him warily.

He had enough of your waiting and tugged his arms free, pulling the door open and marching inside.

The breath caught in your chest as you backed up, bracing yourself. He would be right to chew you out right now. He had been right earlier too, you saw that now-

“We could have lost you!”

Your eyes were fixed on him. Couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

You thought you had been prepared, but the fierceness of his tone took even you off-guard. Not to mention the words it was paired with. You hadn’t expected that. But as they sunk in, they brought your heart down with them.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” your voice was quiet, but perfectly clear in the confined space.

His eyes only hardened.

“Don’t talk like that.”

While his eyes pierced you, his tone was less abrasive. If you hadn’t known better, it would almost have sounded like begging.

It even succeeded in making you shut up for a short time. But you forced your jaw to cooperate, breathed in.

“But… but I-” sighing roughly, you dropped your gaze to the side. Glared at yourself in the mirror. “I fucked up. I ruined it, I let Monsoon get what he-”

An abrupt step forwards cut you off. Startled, you looked up to find Jungkook snatching the first aid box from the side and stalking towards you.

“Sit down,” he instructed.

Struck dumb for the second time, you did.

He followed. He knelt down right in front of you, and started unpacking stuff from the medical kit as if this was completely normal. Or perhaps to avoid having to face that it wasn’t.

“I would say you should’ve known he would do a number on you-” Jungkook began, to which you sighed.

“I’m lucky I even made it out alive, I know, I know-”

“Hardly,” Jungkook scoffed, turning back to you with a small cloth in hand, “if it was luck, yours would have run out by now.”

You blinked. And then tried hard to avoid blinking, because he leaned forward to press the wipe above your eye.

You swallowed against the sting. Swallowed harder when his other hand lightly steadied your temple on the opposite side.

“You really think I’m good luck, after today?”

A self-depreciating downward tilt dragged at your lips.

Jungkook, on the other hand, chuckled. It was brief, but it was there, a joyful quirk of his mouth.

“No.”

Your heart shouldn’t have sunk at his agreement.

His eyes flicked to yours, then away again as he focussed on his task. But he surprised you, and spoke again.

“I thought you were good luck before today.”

Though your mouth opened, you found all words had been robbed from you. Now, with your staring, he refused to catch your gaze again.

Resigned to not understanding him at all, you shut your mouth and sat in the silence for another minute. He changed cloths, chucking a now-red one away and moving on to swipe at the stickier blood that lingered on your cheek and jaw.

Somehow, in the peaceful bathroom, with his light touches on your skin, you could finally look over the recent whirlwind of events with clarity. Unfortunately, your embarrassment only burned brighter when you examined it through such a magnifying lens.

Looking hesitantly up at Jungkook as he worked, you cleared your throat.

“How did you find me?”

He spent a second longer, one more long swipe over your cheekbone, before sitting back.

“Because that’s what I would have done. If I wanted to make things right.”

“But I didn’t manage to.”

Jungkook just shrugged.

“That depends. What were you trying to prove?”

“I-I- nothing! I don’t know” – you fell forwards, elbows on knees – “I wanted to get the gun back... that’s what we lost. What you were mad about, before.”

Jungkook didn’t move away, even when you slumped closer. His face looked a little pinched.

“Sure,” he spoke, voice only loud enough to travel the short distance to you, and no further. “But it was also… I was afraid. Because I had started- no, I trusted you. I didn’t want you to throw it back in my face now that I care-”

The end of his sentence snapped into silence like bone china, but the silence after the break was deafening. Reeling from what was thrown. The echoes rang in your skull.

He removed his gaze, staring somewhere to the side.

When you finally recovered your voice your words were simple, quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

Another moment passed. You couldn’t even hear your own breathing. Only saw his chest rise as he inhaled.

Then he levelled you with a gaze. His eyes sharpened as you observed each other.

“What for?”

You swallowed, shoulders sagging, but forced yourself not to look away.

“I’ve broken it. Our trust.”

“You showed me how badly you didn’t want it to break,” he pointed out.

Slowly, your mouth opened, something leaping perilously in your chest. Denying it, you frowned.

“Does that make a difference? I still didn’t fix anything…”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Jungkook dropped his cloth into the first aid bag and folded his arms loosely.

“If you still need to prove it to me, you can tell me why, then. Why you fight.”

His head raised as he cocked his chin up. Face blank, save for the challenging glint of his eye.

Shocked, you straightened up without thinking. Drew your arms back to your sides. This may have been the first time he had given you the chance to explain yourself. The first time he had offered himself to listen.

It took you a moment to gather yourself. Or rather, to wait until you were sure he wasn’t joking. What you had to say was already there, waiting on your tongue.

“I was just a spare… I was in the way, and that was all he needed to dispose of me. And other people… aren’t so lucky. I was given another chance, somehow. I needed to do something with it. I wasn’t part of Bolt’s plot, but that shouldn’t mean I’m not allowed to have my own.”

“You’re right.”

You could only stare, a curious frown shifting your face imperceptibly when Jungkook responded so promptly.

“Other people aren’t so lucky,” he carried on, slower now. His eyes shone under the bathroom lights. “My dad–” his voice unexpectedly gave out on him. His eyes darted down, only for a second, tongue briefly wetting his lips “–my dad was a guard. We didn’t have much money, he didn’t have much choice. So he worked for the first guy who would pay him a steady salary. Then Bolt-”

Horror had well and truly sunk into your bones before Jungkook even had to stop for the second time, choking on the word. Your body felt far away again. All you could see was Jungkook’s face as he staunchly forced his lips into an even line.

“He left the boss alive,” something bitter edged Jungkook’s voice. “He’s in prison. Bolt got his trophy. He has the kind of power that means people will overlook the cost.

“I was thirteen.”

You were stunned. You could only stare at him, lips parted stupidly as what he just told you sunk in. All this time, he had looked at you the way he did because… because you were exactly what he and his dad never got. Not only did you survive Bolt, you then basically became him.

You weren’t Bolt, not by a long shot. Jungkook had made sure of that, all while trying to prove to himself that you were.

But even trying to imagine what he must have thought of you was making your head spin. It would have been easier on him to hate you.

You could hardly breathe, but words were tumbling from your mouth anyway.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, Jungkook…”

Jungkook was looking at you again. His eyes glistened, yes, but on the surface he held it together, the depth of his sadness flowing beneath.

Bending your head under the weight of understanding, your eyes rested on your hands. Lifting them, you turned them over. The same lightning that ran through your palms had torn his life apart long before Bolt ever turned his sights to you.

You had lived. Why you?

“I’m sorry he never got the chance I did.” Your sentences landed far apart, sparing. What could you say? “It should have been him.”

“I’m glad you got them.”

Time slowed down as Jungkook’s words made impact. You nearly choked on them.

You stared back at him, not breathing. The gaze he returned was level, totally serious. Had you heard him right?

“You’re good, Y/N-”

He dipped his head at last, but didn’t break the eye contact for long. He eyed you as if waiting for you to laugh in his face. Like he couldn’t believe he was saying this, either.

“And you do the right thing. So when you screwed up… I know you never meant for that to happen. You know what went wrong, and you won’t do it again. I know that. So I shouldn’t have-”

Huffing, he looked roughly to one side, jamming a hand into his hair. Glowered into the counter as he kept speaking.

“But it hurt more because it was you. I want you to be with… us. The-the boys all love you a lot, okay? You’re one of us now.”

Jungkook was distracted from his determination to avoid looking at you by a sniffle. You had already pushed the back of your hand against your mouth.

Though you tried for a glare, the awe in it did weaken the effect. You shook your head.

“I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The look that flashed over his face was almost comically hurt.

“I-I thought I was done,” you rambled, “all I want is to be part of this team, I thought I had blown it- and now you’ve made me cry!”

Swiping at the couple of escaped tears with one hand, you jabbed the other one accusingly towards Jungkook. But you only meant a fraction of the venom, and he knew it. His lips tightened the way they did when he tried to suppress a smile.

When he held his hands up as if in surrender, you lowered yours. A watery sigh escaped you.

“You say this now, after you made me think I had to prove it to you all over again-”

Deflating, his stance softened. Dropping his hands, one of them hovered before landing on the closed toilet lid an inch from your knee.

“I never meant that. About you needing to suffer… I know you already have.” He chewed his lip for a moment before something sparked behind his eyes. “But hey, you ran off and did exactly that! I thought your whole point was that you didn’t want to-!”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the grin breaking out. Shifting, your leg dislodged Jungkook’s hand. His fingertips stilled where they now found themselves grazing your leg.

“We’re both idiots,” you concluded.

“Hey, don’t tell the others!”

With a breathy laugh, you gratefully felt some weight dissolve from your shoulders. Even after the laughter wore off, you felt yourself smiling faintly at your lap and took the chance to blink back your tears.

One was knocked free, shooting down your cheek-

Only to be intercepted by a finger.

Jungkook froze, hand still on your face, and gulped. A second too late to look natural, he glanced down with a gesturing nod.

“That’ll hurt like a bitch in that cut.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

The pad of his thumb dragged away the salty water while you tried very hard not to look too hard at anything. Or to close your eyes. Would that be worse?

Then he moved backwards again, reaching for something new. The wound on your cheek was a cleaner cut, easier to deal with. As he wiped it a few times with a fresh gauze, his hand finally placed itself steadily over your knee.

A new kind of silence settled as he pressed two strips over each gash.

“You, um…” he withdrew his hand, “you should rest. And eat. Yeah. Eat, and rest.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, I should.”

Looking over to the door, you dragged your lip between your teeth. In fairness, Jungkook had been your biggest concern. But you had still royally fucked up today. Twice. You had the rest of your group to make it up to.

Maybe braving it sooner would be easiest. As much as you didn’t have the energy for it, they could recharge you. You all gave back to each other in the end.

Sensing your reservation, Jungkook stood.

“Hey,” he called your attention back to him, “they were just worried.”

“I guess they’ll be a piece of cake now, after you,” you couldn’t help smiling, “you’re the most obstinate one, after all.”

As you finished speaking, you followed him to stand, shooting a smirk into his affronted face. It looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused – until all that was erased as you crossed closer to him on your way to the door.

Your expression, too, faded. Your steps fell too sluggishly, but his gravity slowed them without your meaning to. It left you locked in his eyes for too long.

With your breath trapped in your throat, you had no idea how you managed it. Your voice sounded without premeditation, low but clear with your sincerity.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

And then you turned, leaving him trying to recover his own racing heart behind you.

Thank you for reading!!💜💜

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[angel1d0ll747o]

The best band everrr argue with the wall 😘

[jenctrl]

alien✧˖*°

"in the future, they would barely call it a full conversation, however, they had to start somewhere; in other words, that time Y/n and Hanni interacted for the first time"

warning; part of the 4221!Y/n series, the parts don't have to be read in order!

It could be cliché, it could be something unique, it could be nothing or maybe a mix of something. From what Y/n could remember, she had been called special, but that speciality had never served her anything, but agony until she realised what was so special about standing out. 

Y/n stood out, but she was never seen, she never felt seen or understood. Could have been many things, a lot of parts of her life probably played an important factor, but what was the most important was what she could do with what she had in the moment to build towards her goals. 

It was a gift and a curse, to never be seen, but to be able to see. 

If no one could help her, the least she could do was help everyone else to be seen and reach their dreams.

What was Y/n’s biggest dream? She tended to be so busy with helping everyone that she forgot about it. 

“You look like you need to cry–” Y/n stopped as she reached for another box, glancing at Yohan who was swaying back and forth in his seat. Over the past years she’s lived in Seoul, South Korea after coming from Japan, she found two people who became family. She valued them, nothing brought her more joy than the deep connection she had with her two bandmates.

They were her roots, they had started together, basking on the streets and hadn’t stopped even during the monsoon season. No matter how hard it had gotten they stuck together in the pouring rain. They had a dream, Yohan and Eunki had a dream, one that continued to spark Y/n’s dream. She’d give up everything for them, for a lot of people close to her, hard work paid off in the long run no matter the struggles. 

“I just need something to distract myself with,” Y/n hummed, giving a nod, her eyes glued to the two baby pink boxes filled with donuts. There were probably a dozen too many for them and their crew, but Y/n always ordered too much. “I always get nervous before we get on.” The girl was aware, but she also knew that the guy had a hard time as he tended to doubt himself. 

She wouldn’t be afraid to claim that she could read people well and just knew people. 

She picked up both boxes before walking over to Yohan and crouching down in front of him. The guy ran a hand through his blonde hair, brushing it out of his eyes before meeting Y/n’s eyes. “Or you could let out your emotions.” The girl suggested, willing to listen to the guy whenever he needed someone to listen to him. 

“You could also take the donuts,” Y/n added as the two boxes with a dozen of donuts in each rested on her lap as she stood crouched. She opened the box and they both looked down at them, the sweet scent of chocolate and strawberries filled their proximity. 

“Later?” Yohan questioned, seeing that the green room was quite busy and they could talk on their way back from Music Bank. “Anytime you want. Will you hand these out to the staff?” The girl asked, looking up at the guy with a tilt of her head, the stars hanging from the pastel crochet beanie’s cat ears dangled with the movement. 

Yohan blew hair away from his face as he reached into the box and grabbed a donut, taking it between his lips before grabbing the box and standing up together with Y/n. 

“I will find Eunki,” she informed, knowing that the guy tended to be out and about, talking with others and possibly forgetting the time. He gave her a nod and Y/n walked towards the ajar door of their green room.

She pushed it open with her back, stepping out and closing it with her heel, the box of donuts in hand. It was quiet, most groups were busy getting ready or performing, but someone would always mingle around. 

Y/n huffed, letting out a cough at the impact, gripping the box harder to not drop it. She wouldn’t say that she was a friend to all, Y/n would say that she only had a handful of people she would call friends. It wasn’t because she didn’t want friends, it was just hard to let anyone in and simple meaningless friendships never satisfied her. 

However, she was content with the few friends she had as she had created a deep and meaningful bond with them and that was far better than lousy friendships in quantity. 

“Hi, baby.” 

“I almost dropped my donuts.” 

“So that sweet scent wasn’t you?” Y/n laughed at the words and stepped out of the tight embrace before turning around to face Karina. She hummed, the latter's hand coming up to the stars hanging from the crocheted cat ears. 

“Think it’s your aura spreading that scent and not me or the donuts.” The band member mumbled before she poked at the corner of her lip with her tongue as she opened the box while the older girl toyed with the star. 

“Cheesy, I like it when you are though–” Karina let go of the star and Y/n shook her head to get the star out of her face after it got in the way. The Aespa leader reached for a chocolate-covered one. “You know that my members will come running the second I walk back into our green room.” 

Y/n smiled, looking down at the slightly shorter girl, she scrunched her nose with a shake of her head, “I don’t mind, I’m not finishing them all on my own either way.” 

“They will do that for you.” It made the latter chuckle and with minimum struggle let go of the box with one hand to show a thumbs up before they bid each other goodbye.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It wasn’t long before she ran into other people. 

“Yunjin, you guys are six, that’s seven.” 

“I need one for the walk back. Oh, I also would love it if we could meet up again soon, I wanna hang out…I also need some help.” 

Y/n was swarming with work, she had been feeling a little under the weather lately. Not in a serious way, not how she would describe it. She had been a bit uninspired lately and her company expected a new EP to be ready in a few months. It would become serious at some point, but she was too busy worrying about the people around her. 

She could focus on herself after.

She hummed at that, looking over Yunjin whose hands were occupied with donuts that laid on the lid they had ripped off. Y/n wouldn’t want Yunjin to feel like she didn’t want to hang out with her or think that she had done something for her to deny it even if she would explain the situation. What if Yunjin would get her doubts about it?

“Anytime, just text me whenever you wanna hang out.” 

“You should text me some time too, you know?” Y/n rolled her eyes at the sassy comment, giving Yunjin’s boot a light kick. 

“I don’t wanna steal you away from–”

“Uhm! I am not up for any teasing, I get laughed at by my members enough–look, you have some new company, Komatsu!” Yunjin stuck her tongue out, making Y/n do the same before she walked off, making the latter turn around to be faced by three girls.

“Please tell me there’s something left,” Ningning exclaimed, sounding exhausted.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

By the time everyone around her scattered away, she was left with one donut and no Eunki in sight. Y/n sighed at the outcome of things, looking at the now single donut in the box that had the lid ripped off earlier. 

There was one last place she could check and it was the usual stairs where everyone would film their challenges. Her strides were languid yet long as she hummed a melody under her breath, hoping that somewhere along the way something would spark her world and she would have something to work with. That one of these melodies would find a muse. 

She rounded the corner, but with doubt because it was filled with silence. 

Y/n sucked air through her teeth, it was almost empty aside from one other person who was sitting on the stairs with their face buried in their palms while tapping their feet in rhythm. There was no reason for the frontwoman to waste time and continue looking for someone who didn’t want to be found.

The younger girl looked up at her and Y/n smiled, “hey.” Her greeting seemed to silence the girl sitting on the stairs. Y/n stopped in front of her and tilted her head in confusion, maybe she didn’t recognise her as she looked rather shocked. They had never spoken to each other despite seeing each other around at the company and music shows and whatnot. 

It was odd, it made Y/n frown in thought. She had talked to almost everyone in the company and become extra close with a handful of people. Despite preferring solitude most of the time, she was quite social. 

The girl stood up, giving a small bow, making Y/n do the same. 

“Oh, hi…I just–” Y/n watched the girl who stumbled over her words, she observed her, watching her body language and facial expressions, learning this new person in front of her. She smiled and Hanni stopped talking, pursing her lips and Y/n could tell that the girl probably thought that was the better option than talking without a point. Not that she minded it.

“No need to stand,” She reassured the girl whose cheeks were growing flushed, Hanni nodded and sat back down in a clumsy manner. It let the latter walk closer before carefully taking a seat beside her, releasing a long sigh. Y/n let the box rest atop her lap and leaned back against her elbows on the step behind her. 

“Did you…need anything?”

“I’m sorry for intruding, I wouldn’t, but to be honest this is the only silent place for some odd reason,” Y/n explained. She could tell that much; Hanni was here for some peace, but Y/n needed the same thing. The usually loud spot was now empty and just what they both were looking for. She stared ahead as she got a hum from the girl beside her. They could be silent together, hopefully. 

However, considering the girl was from the same label, she could ask one last time. 

“Actually,” she started and pushed herself up to sit straight and looked at Hanni, the girl looked away. Y/n hadn’t noticed that the girl had been keeping her eyes on her until now. “You know who Eunki is, part of my band…I’ve been looking for him.” 

This time Hanni looked back at her, her eyes scanning Y/n with curiosity and confusion, however, she still answered the question as her eyes at last met Y/n’s. “He’s recording a challenge with Minji and Hyein.” 

“Is it fine if I wait for him here?” She got a nod in return, the girl looked away and Y/n pursed her lips before humming. 

Before she could avert her gaze, Hanni looked back at her, the action caused them both to halt for a second as neither expected eye contact again. The younger gave a half smile, doing a small once over Y/n who waited, seeing that there was something on the girl’s mind.

“You don’t look like a band member,” she pointed out.

There was a certain preconception about their band, and Y/n was aware of it. A rock band had to have a deeper motive, didn’t it? In the public's eye. They have been accused of trying to become a cult-like band with a following of the same type. Not all esoterism had to be bad, Y/n related to her band though; she was just as misunderstood, but it wasn’t something she minded most of the time. 

The negative people who didn’t matter to her wouldn’t get in the way of her or their hard work. She never expected everyone to understand them. 

Aside from that, Y/n’s clothing style differed from her members as they most of the time didn’t have stylists, but wore whatever they wanted on stage. 

This was one of those days. She liked the loose jeans that she had drawn on, the pink bar buckle belt, the white baby tee with doodle-like art on it and the crocheted beanie together with the charms attached to her belt loops. 

She couldn’t tell which one Hanni was referring to. 

“I like to view myself as more than just a band member,” Y/n replied, there was more to her than the surface, but how did she reveal that to someone? It was difficult, especially when she was occupied with everyone else and forgot what was beneath her surface from being so focused on making sure everyone else was achieving their dreams and doing well. 

Her eyes curiously gazed at Hanni, somewhat feeling entranced by the girl who was a bit more awkward than she would have expected her to be. She could see the little regret wash over the girl who failed to mask the way she cringed at her choice of words with a deeper flush on her face now.

“I’m sorry.” She apologised with an awkward smile, her eyes falling to the little space between them. 

Y/n tilted her head, feeling the weight of the beanie whose stars dangled. Her fingers tapped the box with the donut she had been planning to eat, knowing that everything else had been devoured with no trace left behind. 

“No, I’m sorry.” The band member said as she released a small breath, deciding to follow Hanni’s gaze that was on the stairs they were sitting on. She usually didn’t have much trouble with connecting with people, but Hanni was oddly shy even if she usually managed to make people comfortable around her. 

Why was she so awkward and shy; she had no clue.

“Why?”

“It didn’t come out the way I wanted it to, don’t worry about it,” Y/n replied and looked up at the same time as Hanni did, making her smile with a breathless chuckle. The latter diverted her gaze that kept travelling back and forth, between Y/n and any object in sight. 

Y/n kept observing Hanni though, reading her body language; the way she tugged on her sleeves, her feet gently tapping the floor; restless to say the least, nervous. 

She smiled wider when Hanni took a deep breath and looked in front of her, clasping her hands together with pursed lips. “I think I misunderstood you.” It wasn’t the first time someone misunderstood Y/n by her words or by the person that she was or by the thoughts that she carried with so much passion. 

Y/n hummed and looked down at the single donut left; food always lightened up the mood. The frontwoman turned slightly as she lifted the box from her lap: it grabbed Hanni’s attention as she looked at her, blinking her eyes a few times. 

“Do you like chocolate-covered donuts?” She questioned and they both gazed at the one donut. 

Hanni shrugged as her hand came up to her nape, scratching it.

“Here, you can have it.” The older girl offered and the girl beside her looked up, squinting her eyes slightly. 

“What about you?” 

Y/n stopped for a second, she was mostly used to giving, worrying about everyone around her and helping in whatever way she could and rarely did she hear anyone ask ‘what about you’. People probably didn’t do it because they were so used to her being there for them and maybe after a while there was no need for a thank you or question about how she was doing. 

It wasn’t like she often thought of it either, until it hit right to the core, seeing no one appreciate her efforts. 

“I already had one earlier and we have more in the green room.” She shared an innocent lie, offering Hanni a gentle smile. The younger girl reached for it and suddenly Y/n felt a little palpitation of nervousness, somewhat flustered because of the simple question. 

“Thank you,” Hanni timidly thanked her and Y/n gave her a nod of affirmation, the sounds of footsteps made her stand up and she could hear Eunki talking to who she assumed was Hanni’s member. 

She stepped aside, creating some more space between herself and Hanni who also got up. Y/n halted, thinking it over before she turned the box to the side where the order sticker was. The sound of the box tearing startled the girl beside her who looked at the band member with wide and questioning eyes. 

“That’s my manager's number, if you would like to hang out sometime, text his number and I will send my number to you.” Y/n offered, holding out the torn-off piece of the baby pink box. 

Hanni took it and Y/n stepped down the two steps, coming face to face with the shorter girl who was on the steps; donut and paper in hand. 

“It was nice talking to you, I hope we can get to know each other better, Hanni,” Y/n said with a small bow, the ears and stars hanging from them falling forward before coming back, making the girl scramble from her frozen state to reciprocate the gesture. When Hanni looked up, Y/n bowed again, making the girl follow suit.

She glanced one last time at the Newjeans member, “make sure to eat it ‘cause it’s melting, I will see you around.” She bid one last goodbye smiling with a glance at the piece of paper in Hanni’s hand with the number before she walked away and got the guy.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“Guess what.” Hanni prompted after she had jumped down the stairs and met Minji halfway who had come to get her. Minji frowned, looking over at the flustered girl with confusion, wondering where she got the donut from. 

“No,” Minji deadpanned and Hanni gave her a dirty look. 

“Just guess what, man.” She said with a click of her tongue while they started their walk back to the green room. The girl took the advice, deciding to eat the pastry before it could have the chance to start melting. 

The leader heaved a sigh and let out a lazy, “I don’t know, you realised that you can’t hide your lack of brain cells with a wig.” It made Minji chuckle at what she said to the girl. 

“Only you laugh at your jokes, and no.” 

“Then I don’t know.” The latter replied with a shrug.

Hanni had a smug look on her face as she licked the corner of her lips. “I talked to Y/n,” the smugness on her face was just as present in her voice and it made Minji stop, Hanni following suit as they looked at each other. The older girl stared at Hanni for a few seconds who took another bite of the donut.

“Did you talk to her or did she talk to you while you stared at her like a fool? As far as I remember you’ve been,” Minji raised her hands, doing air quotes as she spoke, “trying to talk to her since they debuted–over a year ago–but each time you’ve chickened out or come up with some lame excuse.” 

The smugness on Hanni’s face disappeared and her hand dropped to the side. Could anyone blame her? She couldn’t help but freeze up while her brain tried to comprehend the situation all while trying to listen to what Y/n was saying to her. It was the whole reason why she blurted out nonsense at some point: she was trying to make conversation but her mind was short-circuiting. 

She remembers the first time she saw the girl before 4221’s debut and there hadn’t been a word about a new group debuting, everyone was surprised when it was a band that debuted. 

Anyway, Hanni had stayed curious about the mysterious girl she had seen walk by a few times before learning who she was when their first EP dropped with music videos, followed by interviews, reality shows and whatnot. 

Ever since Hanni decided to listen to their debut EP–on the same day it dropped–she had grown even more curious about the abstruse band and maybe slightly infatuated by the even more alien frontwoman. Everyone was drawn to mysteries and Y/n was one. 

Hanni had stayed watching her with a desire to approach her, talk to her, befriend her and get to know her, but she was nonetheless a coward. How could she walk up to Y/n when the frontwoman was friends with everyone at the label and always busy with someone? Not only that but aside from having an infatuation with her mystery, their band's concept, music, lyrics and more, she had a small crush on the undeniably pretty yet somewhat odd girl. 

She admired from afar; Y/n was like an alien that accidentally got put in a band and now stayed on Earth and Hanni wanted to hear more about it. It was safe to say that she was somewhat of a fan. 

It wasn’t something she had kept to herself either as her members made fun of her for it. 

 “Well, you didn’t have to go that far you know?” Hanni said with a frown, her lips forming a faint pout while she bitterly stared at Minji who rolled her eyes.

“Okay, but which one is it?”

“Maybe the second, but!” The girl started as they continued with their walk back. She lifted the torn-off piece of box that had the number, waving it in front of Minji. “Bro, she gave me her number–well, her managers, but she would send hers after I text.” Hanni still couldn’t believe it, she had heard that Y/n was friendly, but she hadn’t expected this outcome.

“And what are you going to do? Go out with her and continue staring?”

“Could you be supportive for once and stop roasting me?”

“Fine, but you always fumble,” that was one thing Hanni refused to do with Y/n even if today was a bad start. However, it couldn’t be that bad if they had somewhat of a conversation and she got a number without even asking for it. 

“Says you.” 

“I don’t fumble any women.” Minji proudly stated and Hanni scoffed. 

“That’s because you can’t fumble something you don’t get,” she bit back as they approached their door, already hearing the rest of their group members from the inside.

“Okay, bro.” The leader dismissed with a sour tone as she opened the door, Hanni following after her as she looked down at the number with a giddy feeling on the inside. 

"She even knows my name."

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: VII-Betrayal-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king.jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 3.6k+

♠︎Warning: murder, creepy, blow job, suffocation.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist.

Questions. They were running in Coronis's head. Was it her fate? Or was it the people who made her life harder every day? The spiralling cycle of life was getting into her head. She felt a cyclone inside her nerves. The thunder in her chest.

They say that after a bad thing, something good happens. However, in her life, there was no word called good ever written even with mistakes, just never. Something in her life was twisted more than what she had realized. She had underestimated everything to the point where thinking for even a breath was heavier than a mountain.

Monsoon arrived. The days looked gloomier and nights looked creepier. Every gust of wind sent tremors down her spine. It felt like those winds were the whisperers who whispered tragedy winding its way to her footsteps.

The roads were muddy and reeked of old blood. The trees were hunched over, looking like ghouls that fed on dead bodies. Everything was covered with a stiff horror of the unspoken stories that were buried deep down in this realm of dead and gone.

All of this horror was doubled when the men who came to see Coronis for tying the knot started to get slaughtered day by day. They were not being hung on the pole but rather left rotting in the meadows and not as intense as the punishments were.

Nori has been acting weirdly. Especially after she visited her home. It was a couple of days later when she caught Edwin at her shack.

~

Coronis was walking back to her shack as the rain was pouring. It was getting stronger as she took each step. Her black straight gown was wet and the skirt was covered in mud halfway. Her pretty belly shoes were squeaking and were unrecognizable. Her kohl was running down her cheeks and her hair was sticking to her face. She tried her best to not let the stuff in her hands get dirty as she struggled to walk through the puddles.

As she reached back to her shack, she saw Nori standing outside, about to leave with a tarpaulin sheet above her head to at least keep her head covered from the unforgiving showers.

As Nori's eyes fell on Coronis, her expression changed and looked panicked. Coronis wanted to stop her and talk to her, however, the girl quickly bid goodbyes to her mother and stumbled away as quickly as she could.

Later that day when Coronis was sitting by the fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands with her mother who was knitting a sweater for Coronis, the girl asked her mother, “What was Nori doing here?”

Martha looked up with a tiny smile. “She said she was in the market and stopped by. We drank tea and talked a bit and then she left. I asked her to wait longer and meet you but she said she had things to take care of and then left.”

She nodded slowly and took a sip out of her warm drink. “What did you talk about?”

Martha stopped knitting, placed the material in the basket and faced Coronis. She took a second to formulate her words. “Honestly, Coro, she was not alright in my opinion. I have never seen her like the way she was acting today. She was… jittery and uncomfortable if I'm not wrong. But she was polite as ever. Greeted me with warmth and held a decent conversation. Though she kept looking at the door as if waiting for someone,” She said. “And we talked about things and she asked about you!”

Coronis's mind was boggling. “What did she say?”

“She asked about the people in our shack the other day,” she informed.

“And then what did you say?” she pressed further.

“I told her about us wanting to marry you somewhere better. She asked about Edwin and the other boys as well. She seemed to be quite interested in the chat. She wanted to know every single detail and joked about how she could keep one for herself as well. But I don't know, Coronis… I don't feel like she was fine. I think someday, you should go meet her. I don't see her with you as often either. Maybe she just needs a friend to talk to. And I am nowhere near that friend,” Martha shook her head as she thought other things to herself but did not voice them. “Anyway, Edwin will visit tomorrow. So, look prettier.”

~

She had seen Nori around. All the time she looked guilty of something. She would look but never make a move to talk to Coronis and when Coronis would try, she would run away as soon as possible. The situation between them was too intense.

Coronis felt guilty for doing whatever she did. Instead of running away, she could have talked and told Nori what her life had become, or better, shouldn't have tried to get into it. Her selfish motives were the reason why the poor girl was now looking like a long aching soul, running away from what she once found solace in.

She couldn't imagine what Nori was feeling. One day they both were lying in bed, kissing and hugging, and the other day, there was nothing left. The person Nori loved so dearly was not supposed to prepare for marriage and it wasn't even theirs.

It was Coronis and a third person.

How could Coronis even expect her to talk to her when she crushed the blooming flower of love under her feet?

Her teary eyes were looking for answers, silently. Waiting for Coronis to tell her story. But her mind was not ready. Nori knew they were not possible even if Coronis was not getting married because the two girls could never make it together.

Maybe another story was going to be left untold.

As Coronis was stepping closer to her shack, everything started to get quieter and quieter. The day was still young and paths were busy. No way it could be that silent the only thing she could hear was silence and the rain hitting the ground.

The closer she got, she saw people surrounding her shack. The crease between her eyebrows grew deeper as fast as her heart started to beat. She carefully squeezed her way in to see why people were standing there so quietly. Did something happen to her family? No, she pleaded silently as tears brimmed her eyes.

Her feet were met with dirty muddy water mixed with blood. She looked up and saw Draco, Onyx, and Martha standing there now looking at Coronis. A sigh of relief left her trembling lips. But it didn't stay for longer.

Because the moment her eyes fell down, in front of her shack, her heart dropped in her stomach. She couldn't see the face but the Golden curly hair was enough for her to know everything that was needed to know.

The tears in her eyes were pooling to the brim but not a single tear dared to roll down her cheeks. They were stuck there, just like Coronis, in shock. Her pupils shivered as the tremor of horror passed through her body.

The regret was seeping into her soul making her her own villain. Her heart refused to believe otherwise. The selfish mistake was now weighing her down as she fell to her knees. Her breath got stuck in her chest as she saw the lifeless body lying down there with deep slashes out in the open for everyone to see it like a drama.

The blood was still dripping out into the muddy water as the rain mercilessly poured onto his abused body. His skin from where the clothes were torn apart was pale and blue, drained of any blood in his veins.

Coronis crawled towards him. Holding his shoulders, she turned him around and that's when a piercing scream was heard in the crowd. Coronis had no conscience for her actions. She had no idea that the loud, heart-wrenching screams were leaving her mouth.

Her head was empty of any sane thought. The only thing that mattered at the moment was for Edwin to open his pretty gazy eyes and look into her dark orbs and tell her in his own words that it is going to be alright and that he is going to be alright. They will be alright. She wanted him to tell her that all the little dreams they dreamt would come true under the same roof where they were going to begin their new life.

“Why?!” she screamed again. “Why? What did he do?!” she kept repeating. “Please give me back my Edwin! I'll do anything for him. Please give him his life back!” she begged. She cried and cried.

She didn't care about the mud or the rain soaking her. The only thing she kept hearing was her inner voice asking her how much she could be thoughtless and selfish.

How many more dying souls did she need to see before knowing that her single action could lead to some genuine man’s life? Her previous proposals were murdered but they were not morally sane men at all. They deserved worse than what they got.

However, Edwin was a man of words and class. He was a gentleman every woman desired in their life. The way he talked was out of this world. His poetic essence was never enough and the bubble of safe emotion was his walking definition. No one was like him.

Edwin was the shade of the tree on the hottest summer afternoon. His voice was a mellow music in the midst of spring. His eyes were a warm blanket on the coldest winter night. His smile was the twinge of spice in the autumn evening. He was perfect as is. His way of living life was simple and eventful. He craved to make a difference in the world with his kindness. He found the luxuries in the smallest things and cherished them till he could remember them.

He was once a man full of life and now a lifeless Angel. Some evil spirit took his golden wings away and left him dead in the footsteps of his future.

Nobody said a thing. They stayed and listened. Nobody tried to console the hurting being on the ground holding her soon-to-be husband tightly as she held him and cried on his slashed chest.

Coronis looked up as she felt a burning glare piercing her skull. There stood Nori. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were red. No emotions of love, grief, shock, or any feelings were on her face. She stood there numb and blank looking at Coronis, thinking Lord knows what. She had an almost grim face and her skirt had red splotchy patches as if it was blood. Again, who knows what she has been up to?

Coronis was about to say something to her but stopped when she saw Nori slowly backing out. She took steps backwards and slowly turned around all while looking deep into Coronis's eyes. It felt like hours before she got lost in the crowd.

That was the moment when she knew she messed up.

She was left on the ground, bawling her eyes out, with a man with whom she saw herself smiling and laughing through thick and thin. With the man made out of jewels, his heart now felt like a cold diamond.

And there she realized… she lost…

The rivers of tears stopped and whimpers quietened down. Her face depressed down in misery as the reality of her fate washed over her.

It was she who created these fates of chaos, Coronis was. Her actions became the numbness of one and the death of another.

She looked down at the man and slowly laid her head on his cold, still heart as the acceptance shook her body, trying to not accept but her brain knew better than that.

Love, lust, hate, infatuation… feelings. These are trouble to get into. It felt like all of these emotions burned Coronis like a fire in the forest or perhaps killed her like an overdose of drugs.

Her body trembled like an addict wanting that dose of drug. As if she was possessed by a demon. The catch was that she was indeed an addict and was possessed by a demon of her own. Of the people she killed without knowing.

She was indeed lost…

…

The hands of the maids trembled as if they saw a ghost. Their heads lowered painfully to the point their chins were stuck on their chests as they slowly removed every single piece of clothing from His Highness's body.

The scent of roses and vanilla fogged around them as the water in a gigantic floor bathtub filled with water and milk. The petals of the black rose looked pretty on the milky water.

The last piece of his clothes was gone. There he stood. All naked in his glory. His broad shoulders, tight muscles, hard chest, perfectly carved abs, his biceps looked ripped, and his thick thighs highlighted every hard part.

Along with that, his long, fat cock stood proudly, hard and filled with pride. His thick vein on the underside throbbed harder than a racing heart. His veins were thick and poking out, and his pretty mushroom head looked angry and red in need of it to be touched and abused.

However, his jaw was clenching and a frown was settled between his eyebrows and on the chin. And his brain was going back to the picture of Coronis standing in her shack.

“Jimin-ah,” his hoarse voice echoed in the bath.

Jimin’s eyes met with the back of his Lord. “Yes, my lord?”

“My little birdy was a bad girl,” His Highness shook his head and stepped in front of a kneeling woman. “She was not wearing the necklace I gave her. I asked her to always wear it. How could she not listen to me?” He fisted that woman’s hair and shoved his hard cock down her throat with a hum.

The boy looked at the scene and hesitated before saying something. “Perhaps it was hidden under her dress,” he stuttered.

A scoff left the lord’s mouth. “Hidden under her dress, you say?” He bobbed the head of the woman as if she was a toy. Well, for him she was indeed just a filthy toy. “I could see her fucking breast crease through her black gown and you say ‘Perhaps it was hidden under her dress’” he snapped.

The anger boiled inside his chest. And he let it out on the poor woman who had no choice but to take his cock, trying not to gag at the taste of alcohol that lingered in his precum. He had started to drink more alcohol than before. His sweet taste now turned bitter. Her nails dug into her thighs to keep her going. She felt lightheaded.

Jimin gulped and cleared his throat, “My apologies, my lord… I didn't see her Highness. I was merely guarding you just how you prefer.”

Hearing this, a side smile stretched on The Lord's lips. “No wonder why you are my favourite, Jimin-ah,” he rasped. “You always keep things in your mind and act like a loyal bitch,” he sighed, “if I had an eye for a man, I would fuck your holes and fill them up. But alas! It's not for this life.” He grunted as he fucked her mouth harder and faster. The woman could not breathe properly but she did not say a word knowing well enough what he could do if she did not do what he wanted. She just kept on digging her nails into her thighs. Her eyes started to roll back and black spots blurred her vision. The rest of the women kept their heads hung low. “It's about time I punish her.”

With that, he came down her throat with a grunt and pushed her back. She lay down there unconscious, cum staining her mouth. No one dared to treat the woman but scurried into the bath as he stepped into it.

His Highness rested his back against the warm dark marble and spread his arms. His body relaxed and his muscles loosened. He sighed as the hands of his maids started to clean him. “Do me a favour, Jimin-ah. Call the ministers and the headguards in the court. Tell them I called an emergency court.”

He cracked his neck and relaxed, feeling the hands washing him. And thinking about how he only wanted one pair of hands on him sooner.

“Wait for me, little birdy. Wait for the punishment that is going to come your way…”

…

“Coronis, my love,” Martha called her daughter as she looked outside from her window with a black face but a thousand emotions in those dull eyes.

It had been days since Edwin passed away. Coronis stopped speaking and rarely came out of her slot. She wouldn't eat more than two bites of rice. Her cheeks hollowed out and became paler.

Her long black locks were tangled just like her fate. Her inner turmoil disrupted her sanity. There was none to begin with… one of the things that came with living in this realm— no sanity.

“Can you go out, honey? We are short on some stuff. Can you get it for me?” Martha just wanted her daughter back. She thought maybe if she went outside, she would feel different and at least come out of her slot.

Coronis slowly turned her face towards her mother and looked at her old wrinkly face. Her mother's eyes had a subtle shiver in them. It wouldn't be wise to let her go outside at this age and the muddy roads might make her fall.

She nodded slowly and stood up, brushing her hair a bit back. “What do you want?” she asked.

Martha sighed and let her know the necessities.

Heading out, Coronis walked straight to the shop. Her body swung with each step. Everything was rotten around her. The people, the animals, the village, the houses, herself… everything. Everything was rotten just how she felt inside.

She wondered if she would ever be free from this rotten fate. A scoff bubbled in her throat. She cursed inside and thought how impossible it sounded. Free. Never, that would never happen. It almost sounded humorlessly funny.

From the corner of her eye, she saw someone familiar. She looked to her side and saw Nori going somewhere. “Nori!”

Nori looked and froze for a moment and tried to walk away but Coronis was quick to catch up with her and pull her by her arm. “Nori, please talk to me.”

The girl scrunched up her nose, “what do you want from me, Coronis?”

Coronis flinched at how she spat her name. “Please, just one talk,” the dark-haired girl begged.

Nori sighed and got tugged by Coronis towards a narrow alleyway, away from the people. There she looked at Coronis and how terrible she had become. Her eyes lost hope and were dead.

“Nori, I should have told you everything before,” Coronis whispered.

Nori felt like her blood was boiling. “Tell what? That you were fucking another man while fucking me too?! Is that what you should have told me before?! Are you fucking dumb, Coronis? I loved you and you do this to me,” she raised her voice. She showed no remorse for Coronis's loss or her soundness. However, the feelings washed over her. Her eyes burned with feelings and love she hid behind them. “Why would you do me like this? Hm? How could you fuck around like this, hurting people?” she lowered her voice.

“It is not like that, Nori. I would never do this to you,” she whispered.

“But you did,” Nori said in a barely audible voice and held Coronis's arms. “You broke my heart like it was worth nothing. You- you could have just told me that you liked someone else and I would have been out of your hair,” she sniffed.

Coronis shook her head, “my hands are tied, Nori. I- I’m just a puppet. You see these?” she opened her pale hands and showed her, “These have nothing in them. These lines are handled by someone else and it's not even God.”

“You could have said something,” Nori held her tightly. “I could have loved you a little less.”

“I could have…” Coronis nodded and let her tears fall.

“But you chose to hurt me more…” Nori sadly smiled.

Before Coronis could say something. The clops of the royal horses echoed and slowly came close to the alleyway and stopped at the end.

Coronis’s breath hitched seeing those dark, sharp, and calculating eyes that pierced her soul while staring into her eyes.

The King got down from his horse and slowly stepped forward. Nori looked between the two, not knowing what was going on. But she didn't dare to open her mouth and kept her head lower.

The King stood right in front of Coronis. With the back of his hand, he wiped off the tears and ran his thumb lightly over her lower lip and pulled it down. His hand moved down to her neck and felt around… but nothing.

His sharp eyes snapped back into hers. Under his mask, a deadly smirk formed. “You broke the order, my little birdy,” his voice was deeper and viscous. “You must get punished now.”

Coronis shook her head furiously as she felt shivers of horror travelling her body head to toe. “No,” she whispered. Her body was covered in sweat in no time as she felt her heart picking up pace. It was the feeling that ran over her that this was the end. This was the end of the hope.

“No, my love. You must know what it costs for your actions. For your betrayal.”

…..

Sanaa’s note:

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae;

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jksgirlhere @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby @vantelover07 @douknowbts @andioppsworld @xicanacorpse @ttanniett @koohrs

Have a nice day/night💓

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

Finallyyyyyyy finished my first little one shot!! This is somewhat different from what I normally write so I’m definitely a little nervous to post this! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Who Did This to You?

Julien Baker x Reader

Description: y/n is in an abusive relationship and is pushed to her limits. Julien has been one of her best friends for years and has been trying to keep it a secret from her. That is until she has no clue who else to turn to.

Contains: hurt x comfort trope, fluff, graphic depictions of injuries and and graphic discussions of abuse. please please please read with caution!!

Word Count: 3k

I was going to fall into a ditch and break every last bone in my body if I wasn’t careful enough… hypothermia to boot, a mildly beat up face was going to be the least of my worries. But I wasn’t exactly sure what else to do. It felt like any second dangerous headlights were going to pull up over my shoulder and give me even more to really cry about. My dorm wasn’t safe either. She could find it. And once she realized I wasn’t coming back for a while she most definitely would.

The monsoon couldn’t have come at a worst time. Oh Gods, it was freezing, the biting rain slamming into my bruised eye and busted lip. Still I peddled like my life depended on it to the one place I knew I would be safe. Julien’s place, my best friend… the best friend I had been hiding this massive secret from for the past few… months?? Years even?? It was hard to remember whenever the abuse got to that extent. Google called it disassociative amnesia, but I wondered if the head injuries had anything to do with it.

I couldn’t remember if she had ever made me fear for my life before. My girlfriend. The one I should’ve been running to to comfort me right now, the one who never should’ve rose a hand to this extent. Most things I could brush off, excuse with her temper or her own trauma, etc etc… tonight was different though. Tonight felt like nothing but a streamline of breaking things, hitting, kicking, screaming, insult after insult after insult. Fuck what could I have done to push her like that?

Julien lived in an off campus apartment, a cozy one bedroom with autumn themed lights that seemed to shine from the windows all year long. I almost cried from relief whenever I saw the beacon of hope, my legs shaking as I didn’t hesitate to slam the bike into the rack and loosely wrap the chain around it. Not like I cared if it got stolen at this point. One foot in front of the other… I can do this. One foot… one foot… one foot.

“Julien?” I echoed, blinking away the rain as I gave the door a shaking knock. It felt so hard to stay awake, like I was going to hit the ground any second as I heard footsteps from the other side of the door. “Julien, please…”

“Hang on, hang on, I’m coming!” I heard the locks click out of place, swaying on my feet before the door swung open with a start. “H-Holy shit… y/n what happened to you? You’ll catch your death out there.”

“I-I don’t wanna soak your apartment, I’ll change.” I stammered through chattering teeth as she didn’t hesitate to usher me inside, my clothes soaked through from the rain and dripping all over her clean floors. I admittedly didn’t think this through all the way, the only thing that had been on my mind at the time was escape. Fight or flight. Like if I stayed any longer she wasn’t going to let me survive the night.

“I don’t care about any of that right now, love.” I faintly heard her speaking through layers and layers of white noise. My feet leaving the floor like I was nothing more than a rag doll. A touch that wasn’t rough for once, but the worse part about those were the winces that came from every tender spot that had been sparked since then. “Let’s get you changed and I’ll get my shoes on and we can get you to a hospital, okay?”

“N-No, no hospital!” I immediately protested, a sentence of words never making me light up so quickly as my eyes widened.

“Y/n, you could have a major head injury right now. Don’t fight me on this.” She kept pushing, and I knew she would. In fact I even had loads of vague arguments I had dreamed up to prove her that this was in fact, not the best course of action to take right now. But they had all departed somewhere between the rain outside and the pain that felt like it was coursing through my entire body.

“Please… Julien.” I choked out, my hand wrapping around her shoulder as if in some attempt to hold myself up more. “Please.”

“If something happened to you because I didn’t take you to the hospital whenever you needed it then I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“If I’m not doing any better in a few hours then you can take me but… no… no hospital right now. P-Please, please Julien.” I didn’t realize how badly my voice was shaking until I actually heard it. Past traumas of other hospital visits and the prying questions of police officers wondering what I could’ve possibly done to provoke her to that extent. The theatrics she always managed to put on, how she wasn’t ‘in a good headspace’ or ‘taking her medication right now’… and so on so on so on. It was always what I could have done. Never her.

The pleading must have worked though as I saw Julien’s own reserves start to crack. Brown eyes seeming to study every cut and bruise on my face as she placed me a top her bathroom counter. And I watched her worry turn into pure rage. “Who did this to you?” She questioned, breath hitching in her throat as she busied herself with finding a dry pair of clothes and a towel. So she herself didn’t end up flying off the handle as well I presumed.

“I… I just-“ I started searching my brain for another excuse, another lie, anything to brush it off like I always did. Like it was an instinct almost. But I think even I knew on my way over here there wasn’t any other way to cover this up. “She got so mad and I-”

“I know.” Her words were soft, much calmer than I expected them to be as she wrapped a warm towel around my quivering shoulders before setting a folded pair of dry clothes next to me. And I hadn’t even needed to say anything. “Thank you… for telling me, love.” Her gentle hands felt soothing on my aching face, brushing away stray tears and raindrops. She didn’t press the issue further after that, she didn’t pry or ask difficult questions. Her biggest concern in that moment seemed to be taking care of me… which almost didn’t even feel real after so long of the opposite from someone else. “Do you need help changing or do you want me to stay?”

The question almost made me bristle, the introduction of boundaries I wasn’t quite used to as she took a cautious step to the door. I did need help, I know I did. Every inch of my body hurt and shivered from the cold. But was I already crossing the said boundaries by asking her to help? My girlfriend would find some way to blame it on me, or at least some way to deflect the blame from herself.

‘I knew you always had feelings for her. Of course you ran to her the second things got too hard.’

‘You were the one who chose to walk out. This is your fault.’

Your fault… your fault… your fault.

I didn’t even feel the sob coming until I heard it tearing through my voice. Racking through my whole body as I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes until colorful dots danced across them. “Hey… hey, baby, breathe, I’m gonna help you okay? It’s gonna be okay.”

“She’s gonna be so mad at me.” I stammered, only to feel Julien’s hands wrapping around my wrists as carefully as she could before prying my hands from my eyes.

“Fuck her, y/n. She doesn’t get access to you anymore, okay? If you wanna be done, then be done with her. Damn all of the excuses, the blame, all of it, I don’t give a shit what she was feeling or if she’s taking her medication or not. Fuck her. She is never going to lay another finger on you again, okay?” Her words almost took me aback, blinking away tears while she cupped my face in her warm and comforting hands. The first gentle touch I had had in a while it felt like.

“Now let me get you out of these wet clothes and take care of you, okay?” It felt almost impossible to say yes, to nod my head and let her do what she needed to. But I did. An agreement that almost felt like a collapse. I couldn’t afford to keep running out of that house and stitching up the wounds myself anymore. I didn’t want the strength of sticking it out. I wanted to be cared for. I wanted softness and security. Something my girlfriend could’ve never provided from me.

I let her peel the wet clothes from my body, immediately tossing the sopping fabric into her tub before enveloping me in a towel to dry off and protect my modesty. Her clothes felt oversized and warm, still lightly dusted with her cologne that I always felt myself picking up every time I came over here with her joking it was too expensive to share. She never even took one look at me as I was changing, never stole one greedy peak even as she pulled the shirt over my head.

“This might sting a little.” She whispered as she wet the edge of a piece of gauze. Immediately I sucked in a breath of pain as she pressed it to the light scratches that slashed into my cheek. Harboring a small wince of pain as I brought my hand upwards to rest on top of hers where it currently held my chin. Something that almost felt instinctual for a moment before I flushed and drew it away.

“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head, gentle fingers seeming to overtake mine as she slid them through the little gaps. “You can hang onto me as much as you need to.” She whispered, continuing to dot the wounds with antiseptic and gauze. It still hurt but for some reason looking into her eyes seemed to diminish it. She was just so so delicate with all of her moves, soft taps and gentle brushes. Delicacy and warmth I wasn’t quite used to anymore but I missed so severely.

“I just… don’t understand,” She finally muttered after a moment of silence. Those same little elevens that creeped in between her brows whenever she was concentrating hard on something. “how someone could ever do this to somebody like you.”

“I probably provoked her.” I whispered, always finding some way to shift the blame.

“I doubt you could’ve done anything that would’ve ever warranted this.” She shook her head once more, hands still wrapping and squeezing my own like it was a miracle I was even still here. And if I hadn’t gotten away whenever I did it probably would’ve been. “Promise me… please promise me, y/n, you won’t see her anymore.”

I didn’t even notice the tears rolling down my cheeks until I felt her warm hands brushing them away again. Cupped around my bruised cheek before they could even fall, “I don’t know how to leave somebody I’m scared of… how- how to leave the only thing I’ve ever known.”

“I know, love.” She sighed, a soothing touch running along my knuckles. “So let me help you… let- let all of us help you. I’ll go back to the apartment with you to get all of your things and- and you can even stay here until you feel safe again.”

“And if I don’t ever feel safe again?” I questioned, my voice cracking around the words before I could feel a sob breaking through them. Her arms felt like a protective shield though as they finally enclosed around me, a tear soaked face being pressed to her shoulder as she held me.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make room for you.” She whispered, hands rubbing soothing circles on my back as she did so. “Say yes? Please? Say you’ll let me help you.”

My whole body felt like lead slumped against her, taking in her warm scent as she held me up the whole time. I didn’t think she’d give me a choice in the grand scheme of things. Throughout our whole lives of being friends I had always viewed Julien as a protector of sorts. I couldn’t remember a single time that I hadn’t felt so safe around her. So welcoming. So… the opposite of what I had been given before.

It felt like it took every ounce of strength left in me just to nod, but I did just that, my weak arms clutching onto her to the very best of my ability. “Thank you… for everything.” My words still trembled though I tried to keep them strong.

I felt the careful brush of her lips against my hairline before she lifted me from the counter with ease. Holding me like some knight in shining armor would as my eyes fluttered and drifted off against her shoulder. “Always, love.” She whispered, carrying me through the bedroom to settle me against the king sized bed, satin sheets so much more comfortable than mine or, well, my ex now I presumed, could’ve ever been. I was too tired to protest as I curled up to the mound of pillows, burying my face into the silky fabric as I took in the lavender scent of her detergent. “Let me get you some ice and I can take the couch tonight.”

Those words had my eyes darting open however, a hand jutting out to grip her hand and keep her from slipping off. “No, please… stay, Julien please.” I echoed the plea once more as I slipped my fingers around her wrist, and I could nearly feel her pulse hammering against them.

“I- I just didn’t wanna be disrespectful or-”

“You won’t- I- I trust you.” I managed a weak smile, almost tempted to reach out with both hands with every flair of melodramatics I could. Anything to keep her from leaving. “I’m okay with it.”

Julien hesitated much too long, a pause that almost left my heart clenching with failure and my body shaking with dread. Her nod felt like a million pounds off of my shoulders though as she nodded and pressed her lips to my forehead for the millionth time. Each little kiss feeling like they were washing away every trace of the headache I had remaining.

“Okay darling, I think I can do that.” She said with a soft breath, a tiny breath hitching in my throat as I watched her lifting my hand upwards to the same soft lips she kept laying against my head. “Just let me know… if I get carried away.”

“Okay.” I whispered, my tiny smile only growing as I watched her exit the room. Maybe a part of me had always felt something for her? Maybe in some way it was considered infidelity to its core? But was it in the way she looked or the way she treated me? I don’t think I had seen the girl be mean to a single person unless she felt like someone she loved was in danger. She was always the one holding me after fights with my now ex. Always the one telling me the things she consistently said wasn’t true. That I wasn’t crazy. She was gentle and kind whenever nobody else was. Maybe that was why I felt anything at all.

“I’m putting a wallflower in because if I light a candle now we might fall asleep with it lit and… you know.” She chuckled weakly, setting what looked like a glass of water and a plate on the tv stand.

“Yeah… fire- I get it.” I spoke with a little snicker of my own as she trotted closer. My eyebrows then scrunching together at the contents of the plate. Two Tylenols and a couple ice packs, as if she knew that I’d need more than one.

“Do you wanna watch anything? Or- I can make something to eat if you’re hungry?” Her eyes were wide and innocent, trying her hardest to think of anything she possibly could to help.

“No, I think I’m okay right now. It already feels so hard to keep my eyes open.” I shook my head, watching her frown and nod as she crawled into bed.

“I get it.” She stated, eyes trailing on me as she watched me swallow down the pills and attempt to lean forward to place the ice pack on my ankle. Though I couldn’t help but let out a small yelp of pain as I tried to force myself up to a sitting position.

“Here… let me.” Julien darted forward, eyes going wide in worry as she did so.

“I’m sorry.” I replied with a sucked in breath of pain, inching backwards to lay back down as carefully as I could. Groaning ever so slightly as I placed the other pack against my head.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She denied with a quick shake of her head as she lounged back on the pillows with a hand propped behind her head. “Do you wanna lay on me?” She questioned, as if already noticing the expectant look in my eyes as my cheeks flushed in mild embarrassment.

“Is… that weird?” I wondered sheepishly, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth.

“Nah, get over here.” She smiled that same soothing smile that always, without fail, made me feel like everything would be okay. Even if it felt like it wasn’t even close right now.

She let me curl up to her like a cocoon, placing my head on her chest as her careful and safe arms wrapped back around me. Rubbing the same soft circles on my back like she did before. And I think in that moment I would’ve done anything to never have to leave. “I’ve got you, y/n. No matter what, I’ve always got you.”

[aurora-313]

I never understood why there had to be such a massive conspiracy around Masaki. It detracts from the tragedy of Memories In The Rain and Ichigo's character as a whole that she was a Quincy.

Look at that flashback objectively if Masaki were a powerless human:

It's bucketing down rain, a deluge in the middle of monsoon season. You're eager to get your son home from his karate practice. Conditions are dreadful but as long as you're on concrete, you're both okay. Then your son suddenly stops. Something only he claims he can see catches his attention. You've indulged his talk about ghosts because he's a boy, he's allowed to have an imaginary friend and its never harmed anyone. But suddenly, your son's shouting. Launching into a full sprint down that steep slippery hill, at the base of which is a dangerous rushing river. Or potentially slip on a loose bit of stone or root, and break his neck. You can't see what he sees. As far as you're aware, your son's taken absolute leave of his senses and is charging headlong into a certainly fatal situation. Naturally, your response would be to freak out and throw yourself after your son, hoping to catch him before he could jump into the water, very probably drowning. Then CHOMP. Hollow chow.

Revealing Masaki was a Quincy is irreparably cheapening her death.

Let's pretend for a second Grand Fisher wasn't there. And the same thought process outlined above occurs.

In an attempt to stop Ichigo running down the hill, Masaki could've slipped, fallen and broke her neck instead. Or took a bad tumble, ending with a fatal blow to the head. The effect on Ichigo would've been the same. He would've developed a massive guilt complex because his tragedy of impulse caused his mother's death.

That is the whole crux of Ichigo's guilt. His actions caused this outcome. And it was the hardest lesson he had to learn.

Grand Fisher or no, if Ichigo hadn't acted the way he did, if he hadn't tried to save the 'girl' from falling into the river, then his mother wouldn't have died in the first place.

Revealing Masaki as a Quincy, and that her powers were """conveniently""" stolen at exactly the time she needed them most, completely invalidates the human randomness, tragedy and relatability of that death.

It invalidates the guilt that drives 99% of Ichigo's character and actions. That same guilt, now predicated on false pretenses, fueled his desire to protect, to suffer through hell if it meant he could protect the people he cared about (at times to their detriments). Especially since that desire can rage dangerously out of control, and at one point literally got Ichigo killed and reanimated as a monstrous hollow hellbent on destroying everything around it, muttering 'protect, protect, protect' like a zombie.

It's a flaw Ichigo had to overcome by coming to terms with it and using it to as motivation in a healthier manner. Not be absolved of.

A prime example of a character carrying their guilt and growing past it done well is Edward Elric from Full Metal Alchemist/Brotherhood.

Edward and Alphonse never got over Nina and Alexander. They were never absolved of their guilt. Its a mark permanently etched in their collective psyches and reconciling with the fact alchemy could be used in such vile ways drove a huge part of their early characters.

What they did was learn to grieve and cope and move on with it as motivation. They vowed never to allow that kind of monstrosity to happen again. Even when Ed's about to give up his alchemy forever, he declares 'I'm just a simple human who couldn't save a little girl. Not even with alchemy.'

Rather than have Ichigo go through a journey like this, EBTR removes the burden of guilt from Ichigo's shoulders completely when Isshin tells him "No, it wasn't your iconic recklessness that got your mother killed. It was an ancient prophecy and you never should've felt guilty in the first place."

Isshin may as well have said "Everything you believed about yourself since the moment you were born is a lie. The foundation of your personality since you were 9 is a lie. Have fun finding a therapist to deal with the crippling psychological ramifications of that bombshell, but do it after you win another war for us."

It irreparably damages Masaki, and by extension Ichigo's and Isshin's, characters that she had powers.

If Masaki was a Quincy from the jump. Cool, why didn't she teach Ichigo basic control of his reiryoku? Or how to tell the living from the dead - something Ichigo canonically struggled with for as long as he could remember? Basic safety measures that would've avoided those kinds of situations in the first place.

You don't wait until a toddler get splattered by cars before telling them not to play in a busy road, or not to stick a fork in a power point after they've been electrocuted and rushed to the hospital. You teach them rules and install safety measures to prevent those situations in the first place.

There's four main interpretations I take from Masaki's decision to willfully neglect Ichigo's education in the spirit arts:

Well-meaning but naïve and frankly reckless desire to preserve Ichigo's innocence for as long as possible. Fair and the most benign explanation.

Threatened into maintaining her silence by either Kisuke or Isshin (or both depending how generous I feel), lest the seal on her hollowfication "mysteriously" weaken.

Realizing she was a dead woman walking since been bitten by White, Masaki partook in the conspiracy to turn Ichigo into a living weapon and purposefully martyred herself to make it happen.

Masaki having powers is the cosmic retcon of retcons and Kubo didn't think about the implications of his own writing...

If Masaki absolutely HAD to be a Quincy for the sake of turning Ichigo into Aizen's gary stu project, then fine.Yhwach's influence should've been kept far FAR away from it.

Maybe Masaki couldn't use her powers because if she tried, it would've destroyed the seal keeping the hollowfication in check. When Grand Fisher emerged, she baited it to kill her instead.

"Oh, but we need to explain why Ichigo's so powerful."

Ichigo's sperm donor is an ex-Captain and member of one of the royal families, who are noted to have above average base stats. His powers took a hollow aspect thanks to the encroachment temporarily transforming him into a hollow at the base of shattered shaft. Hollowfied Shinigami are naturally stronger (on paper) than their non-hybrid counterparts.

"Why does he two spirits?" The awakening of his power was so fractious it literally splintered into its component pieces. The hollow is the repressed parts of Ichigo's, so its a psychopathic reflection of himself. The old man is the other half of his soul realising the best way to get through to Ichigo is by giving him actual fucking parent.

Sometimes Occam's Razor is the best solution.