#she feels safe with her and feels no shame seeking comfort and protection from her

[the-lark-ascending69]

Ronance according to haters

"I'm so sorry Nancy, i know you're the love of my life and all, but bro code goes first 🤷‍♀️ your ex's feelings are more important than yours and mine combined"

I simply hate whenever someone says "Robin would never date Steve's ex who broke his poor heart".

Like, are they for FUCKING REAL?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

It's crazy how they both take Nancy out of the equation and insert a man into it in one sentence. Like imagine the fucking heartbreak Nancy would experience liking a girl, having the girl actually like her back, but refuse to date her because of her ex boyfriend who broke up with her two years ago. It would hurt so much. Also, and like, I'm not even a fan of Steve but his own fans aren't giving him enough credit. He let Nancy go! He told her to go with Jonathan way back in '84 and he'd want his best friend to be happy and hopefully he'd want Nancy to be happy, too. The entire situation would just make everyone miserable because Steve is never gonna get Nancy back, Robin is never gonna be with the girl she loves, and Nancy is gonna be completely isolated by some of her only friends?

[von2dutch]

Sugar baby | Jey Uso

Chapter Five

Synopsis: Sex is not a big deal. ...You can have a no-strings-attached arrangement with someone you don’t care about.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Black Female reader | word count: 3.1k | Warning: smut, toxic behavior, protected sex | 18+ ONLY

Hey my loves! This is part five to three series near the end and I just want to say I thank you all so much for reading and enjoying it. God bless 🤎.

Series master list

Tag list

@shayaaaaaaa

@trashbin-nie

@paigereeder

@whatdoeseverybodywant

@empressdede

@superpietom

@bebesobrielo

@solefae

@skyesthebomb

@reci1996

@christinabae

@xseetdellzx

Lastly, enjoy

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Last night I cried, tossed and turned

Woke up with dry eyes

My mind was racing, feet were pacing

Lord, help me, please tell me what I have gotten into

Ran my three miles to clear my mind

As the hauntingly emotional notes of "Emotional Rollercoaster" by Vivian Green filled the air, Dakota huddled in the bathtub, her legs pulled close to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably as tears of despair streamed down her cheeks.

It had been a full five weeks since the incident, and her mental state had steadily deteriorated. The world appeared devoid of vibrancy in her perception, leaving her submerged in an unrelenting state of anguish and hopelessness.

Dakota had fled back to her hometown, Chicago, to seek refuge with her grandmother. She couldn't bear the thought of staying in her apartment where Jey could easily find her, and the mere sight of him filled her with anger and resentment. The distance from Jey also served as an escape from the constant barrage of calls and texts from Joshua, whom she had tried in vain to cut off all contact with. Despite her efforts, Joshua's persistent attempts to reach her were like a relentless wave, always finding a way to push through her defenses. She hated him.

Dakota's mental state was in shambles, and the online exposure of her private pictures had left her feeling humiliated and defeated. The once confident and radiant woman had succumbed to a deep depression, her self-image shattered into a million pieces. She felt violated and hopeless, unable to shake off the shame and judgment that now weighed heavily on her soul.

Depression had slithered into the depths of Dakota's being and settled in, refusing to be shaken. She embraced its cold embrace, isolating herself from the world around her, turning even her closest friend Jasmine away. The only person who had access to her was her grandmother, who provided a safe haven for her to retreat to. Anger mingled with her depression, fueling a bitter and resentful fire within her. She was overwhelmed by her emotions, struggling to breathe under the weight of her emotional turmoil.

The only thing she wondered was why? The one person she thought loved her so much and respected her put her private images online to possibly sent to someone to hurt her. She couldn’t bear to believe but it was true in her mind. Jey the one person who cherished her with so much love and affection crushed her in the most gut wrenching way possible. She couldn’t understand how someone who hurt her so bad she still loved someone she wanted to hate so bad she still loved so deeply.

Yesterday, I told myself I was gonna be okay

Gonna start a new day, be truly happy

I was gonna take control of me

But eventually reality hit me mentally, physically, emotionally

And I opened my eyes and realized

As Dakota sat still in her bathtub, her knees tucked up against her chest. The cold, porcelain surface felt like a sharp contrast to the numbness that had settled over her soul. Her eyes were red and puffy from countless tears shed in sorrow and heartbreak. The warmth of the water that enveloped her body was the only comfort she could find in a world that seemed to have turned against her. Naked and vulnerable, she stared listlessly into the water, a silent testament to her emotional turmoil.

"Just why?" echoed through the bathroom as Dakota sobbed, tears streaming down her face without an end in sight. The pain and betrayal she felt were etched onto her features as she repeated the question, her voice cracking with anguish. She couldn't understand what could have possibly driven Jey to hurt her in such a devastating way. The thought of him sharing her intimate pictures online felt like a knife twisting in her heart, shredding whatever trust and love she had left.

Just why?

Before Dakota could do anything else Jasmine stormed into the bathroom, her eyes wide with fear and determination. She found Dakota sitting in the bathtub, her body curled up with her knees against her chest. "Dakota stop!" Jasmine shouted, her voice a mix of desperation and firmness. "You're not going to do this to yourself." As she knelt down beside the tub, she grabbed Dakota's trembling hands, her grip firm but gentle. "I’m not letting you go down this path again Kota stop please.”

“Jas just leave me alone.” Dakota sniffed , keeping her eyes on the wall infront of her not daring to look Jasmine in her eyes.

Jasmine's words sliced through the air, sharp and demanding. "No, you're my best friend, Dakota. Do you honestly think I'm going to let you drown yourself?" The tone of her voice was filled with determination and concern, leaving no room for argument. She stood there, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and worry, refusing to let Dakota give in to her despair.

Jasmine's tone was firm and resolute, her eyes fixed on Dakota with a mixture of urgency and determination. "Dakota, get out of this tub now," she commanded. "Or so God help me, I'll drag your ass out of there myself." The threat was clear, and there was no room for negotiation. Jasmine was not going to let her friend give in to her despair.

Jasmine knew all too well the depths of despair that Dakota had sunken into before. She had witnessed her friend's struggles through various trials and tribulations, but nothing quite compared to the time when Dakota lost her mother. Losing the only parent she had left Dakota feeling shattered and alone, like a ship lost at sea with no one to cling to for comfort. Jasmine understood the weight of that loss and the toll it had taken on her friend's delicate mental state.

Jasmine finally convinced Dakota to get out of the tub, wrapping her in a large, fluffy towel. She led Dakota towards her bedroom, sitting her down on the edge of the bed. "You need to snap out of this," Jasmine said firmly, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "You can't keep punishing yourself like this."

“Jasmine what the fuck else am I supposed to do huh? My life is over I don’t want to be here I love someone that fucked me over so what else should I be happy about to stay here.”

“Dakota stop that shit! You have many reason why you deserve to be here not only because of me but because of everyone that loves and cares about you think about your grandma, think about your passion for fashion but most importantly your self.”

Jasmine's words hung in the air, the weight of her truth impossible for Dakota to ignore. "Stop punishing yourself for things you can't control," she implored. "Me and you both know Jey hadn’t done that Kota that man loves you and I’ve seen it with my own eyes he loves you.” The conviction in her voice was palpable, as if trying to shake Dakota out of her despair and make her see the truth of the situation.

Dakota turned to face Jasmine, her eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and anger. "You're taking his side now?" she accused, her voice trembling with emotion. Her hands clenched the towel tightly around her body, as if trying to shield herself from the world.

Jasmine met Dakota's gaze, her own expression resolute. "No, I'm not taking his side," she replied, her tone steady. "But I won't watch you drown in this cycle of self-blame and despair."

“Dakota I just think you’re taking this too far without hearing him out.”

“Hear him out for what Jasmine! What could he fucking possibly say oh he’s sorry?.” Dakota laughed historically as she found it funny in a dark way. “Sorry huh? Fuck him I don’t give a damn what he has to say I’m done.”

Jasmine flinched at the venom in Dakota's voice, her heart aching for her friend. "I'm not asking you to forgive him," she reiterated, her tone gentle.

Dakota's laughter echoed through the room, a harsh, bitter sound. "Sorry? As if that could fix any fucking thing," she mocked, her voice filled with hurt and anger. "I don't give a damn about his apologizes or explanations. I'm done, done with him."

“Kota just hear hi— no Fuck you jasmine.” Dakota shouted startling her grandmother that was next door to her room. Dakota walked closer to Jasmine staring into her eyes.

“Fuck me?”

“Yes! You.”

“Dakota you’ve lost your fucking mind! I’ve been your best friend for years and the one time I try to tell you that you’re taking things too fucking far it’s fuck me?.” Jasmine snapped her tone hissed and groaned in disbelief as she took a step back.

Dakota's voice rose, filled with raw emotion and unchecked anger, as she yelled, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, well let me guess, you feel companionship for him, huh?" Her voice trembled with pain and frustration. "Well good for fucking you! You and him, him and you, you and fucking him can go to hell!" The words spilled out like venom, pouring out of her like a torrent of suppressed emotions finally unleashed.

The anger in Dakota's voice was palpable as she faced off against Jasmine. "You and everyone else picked him over me!" she yelled, her eyes burning with betrayal. "The one person you've known all your fucking life!"

Jasmine flinched, the hurt and shock visible on her face as Dakota's words hit her like a gut punch. "Dakota, please, just listen..." she tried to interject, but Dakota wasn't done.

The weight of betrayal and hurt was evident in Dakota's voice as she stood in the middle of the room, her cheeks stained with tears. "No!" she cried out, her arm shaking as she gestured emphatically. "Why, Jasmine? Why did he do that to me?"

Jasmine's heart ached, seeing her best friend in such a devastated state. She stepped closer, her own eyes filled with tears. "I-I don't know, Kota," she stammered, her voice choked with emotion.

Jasmine wrapped her arms around Dakota, pulling her into a tight embrace. She rocked her back and forth on the bed, offering comfort and support. The air around them was thick with sadness and grief as Dakota's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her emotions completely frayed and raw.

She was a wreck.

Jasmine held onto Dakota tightly, her arms wrapped around her like a lifeline. The two friends sat silently on the bed, the room enveloped in a heavy silence punctuated only by Dakota's occasional sniffles.

Jasmine finally spoke, her voice soft and gentle. "I know it's tough," she murmured, her hand stroking Dakota's hair soothingly. "But you'll get through this, Kota. I promise."

Dakota sniffed, her voice cracking as she looked up at Jasmine. "How?" she whispered. "How can I trust anyone again after what he did?"

“By putting your trust in god Kota, all we can do is pray.”

A Grandmother’s love

• Instagram close friends

Dakota.Valentine • 50 mins ago

“So are you gonna hide here forever?”

“Huh?” Dakota said as she turned to look away from the tv towards her grandmother as she sat on the couch watching The Wayne brothers.

“I said are you going to hide here forever babygirl?” She asked once more as she stared at Dakota waiting for an answer.

“Well yeah if that’s what it takes.” Dakota shrugged unsure of her answer but confident with it. If this what it took for peace of mind then so be it.

"Suga, running away won't fix your problems," she said again, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "And thinking it'll bring you peace of mind is only going to make things worse."

Dakota's grandmother's words cut through the air, her tone laced with a mixture of love and sternness. She fixed Dakota with a knowing gaze, her eyes reflecting years of wisdom and experience.

Dakota shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling the weight of her grandmother's words. She knew she couldn't hide forever, but admitting it was another thing altogether.

Dakota's grandmother continued, her gaze unwavering. "Baby, you may think you're in control by running away, but you're not. You're just digging yourself a deeper hole."

Just then, Dakota's phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. She rolled her eyes, assuming it was Jasmine trying to reach her.

"Answer it, suga," she urged. "Might be important."

Without much choice, Dakota reached for her phone and hesitantly answered the call. As soon as she answered, the familiar voice on the other end confirmed her suspicions.

"Ko baby," Jey's voice echoed through the receiver, soft and strained.

Dakota's heartbeat quickened, the mix of anger and pain flooding back in an instant. She froze, her mind racing as she held the phone to her ear.

She froze for a moment, her emotions swirling within her. Hearing Jey's voice stirred up a mix of anger and pain that threatened to break her resolve. But then, with a clenched jaw, she mustered all her willpower and pressed the hang-up button, cutting off the call abruptly.

Dakota dropped her phone onto the couch, shaking her head. "He can forget about it," she muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm not falling for his apologies this time."

Her Grandma watched her with a mix of sadness and understanding. She knew the pain and anger were eating away at Dakota, but she also understood that sometimes tough love was necessary.

"Honey, hanging up on him like that won't solve anything," she said gently. "You need to confront this head-on, not run away from it."

Dakota rolled her eyes again, frustration boiling up within her. "It's easy for you to say, Nanny," she retorted, her voice slightly raised. "You're not the one who got betrayed and hurt."

Grandma took a deep breath, her patience visibly wearing thin but her love for Dakota unwavering. "Exactly," she said firmly. "That's why I see this situation more clearly than you do. You're too blinded by your anger to see the truth."

Dakota huffed, her eyes narrowing defiantly. "And what truth is that, huh?" she challenged, her voice dripping with skepticism. "That he really didn't leak those pictures of me online? That he's completely innocent and blameless in all this?"

Grandma regarded her granddaughter with a steely gaze, refusing to back down. "Yes," she said simply. "That's exactly what I believe. You're just too stubborn to consider the possibility."

Dakota scoffed, her frustration mounting. "And how can you possibly believe that? He's the only one who had those pictures, Grandma. It's like you're just blindly trusting him!"

Grandma shook her head, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "No, sugar, I'm not blindly trusting him," she corrected. "I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, something you refuse to do."

Grandma took a deep breath, her tone softened as she recalled the memories. "Girl, don't you remember how he was there for you during your hardest moments?" she reminded Dakota, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

"He helped pay for your mama's funeral, without a second thought. And remember how you called me after you got into a relationship with him? I could hear the excitement in your voice, honey. You were happier than I'd ever heard you."

Grandma's eyes searched Dakota's face, hoping to see some flicker of realization. "And let's not forget about the support he gave you whenever you needed it," she continued, her voice steady. "He was there for you through it all."

Dakota's expression remained defiant, her anger still clouding her judgment. But a tiny crack in her wall of rage appeared, as if Grandma's words had momentarily weakened her defenses.

Her grandma only wanted the best for her but she could tell Dakota’s anger got in the way of that no matter how much pull she tried to ease the situation nothing worked.

He was the love of her granddaughters life she had never seen her so blossomed with love till she met him and now everything was broken to glass that she thought maybe she could fix.

Grandma pounced on that sign of vulnerability, hoping to keep pushing forward. "Baby girl," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "You've always been a fighter, yes, but you also have a good heart. Deep down, you know he didn't do this to hurt you."

Dakota paused, her expression conflicted. There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, as if Grandma's words were starting to break through the thick wall of anger she had built around her heart.

Grandma pressed on, sensing that she was getting to her. "Just think about it, darlin'," she pleaded. "Why would he help you through everything if he didn't truly care for you? Why pay for your mama's funeral if his intentions were malicious?"

Dakota's resolve wavered, her shoulders slumping slightly as Grandma's words echoed in her mind.

Grandma leaned forward on the couch, her gaze steady. "You're a smart girl, Dakota," she said firmly. "You know the answers to those questions. But you're just too angry to accept them."

Dakota's eyes darted away, a mixture of anger and uncertainty swirling within her. "But the pictures..." she protested weakly.

Grandma shook her head, gently shutting down Dakota's protest. "Those pictures don't prove anything, darlin'," she said, her voice soft yet firm. "They could have come from anywhere. You're just assuming the worst without even talking to him about it."

Dakota fidgeted on the couch, her defenses weakening more by the minute.

Grandma placed a comforting hand on Dakota's knee, offering a gentle touch. "Baby girl, you have to confront this head-on," she urged. "Instead of running away, you need to talk to him and get to the truth. Only then can you move forward and find some peace."

Dakota chewed on her lip, her expression conflicted. She knew Grandma had a point, but her stubbornness and anger held her back from admitting it. She just wanted to forget him but she couldn’t because she loved him dispite her anger towards him.

Grandma softened her tone even further, trying to appeal to Dakota's emotions. "Think about it, sugar," she pleaded. "You two have been through too much to throw it all away over a misunderstanding. You owe it to yourself to at least talk to him and figure out what really happened."

Dakota's gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumping even further. The fire in her eyes was starting to dim, replaced by a hint of acceptance.

Grandma could sense that Dakota was starting to crack, and she cautiously continued. "And let's not forget that communication is key in any relationship," she said gently. "You can't just shut him out without giving him a chance to explain."

Dakota let out a sigh, her eyes still fixed on the floor. She was visibly struggling with her emotions, the anger and betrayal warring with rationality in her mind.

Grandma noticed the struggle within Dakota and seized the opportunity to push a little further. "You don't even have to forgive him right away," she reassured her. "But give him a chance to explain himself, at least."

Dakota's eyes flickered up for a moment, her guard slowly dropping. She still held onto her anger, but there was a hint of curiosity as well.

Grandma saw the flicker of curiosity in Dakota's gaze and used it to her advantage. "Isn't that what you want, sugar?" she asked gently. "To know the truth? To finally have an answer?"

Dakota's resistance wavered even more, her expression conflicted. She wanted answers, but she was terrified of being hurt again.

That was all she wanted was the answers but could she handle it? Could she handle being also wrong to run away from her problems rather than face them and learn the truth.

Grandma leaned closer to her Dakota , her eyes filled with empathy and understanding. "Listen, darlin', I know you're scared," she admitted. "You've been through a lot, and it's natural to want to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But sometimes, to truly move on and find peace, you have to face your fears and take the risk."

Dakota swallowed hard, her eyes still downcast. Her mind was racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Grandma reached out and took Dakota's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not asking you to forget what happened," she said softly. "But give Joshua a fair chance to explain himself. At least listen to what he has to say."

Dakota's grip tightened on her grandmother's hand, but her expression was still conflicted. She knew her grandmother was right, but the scars of betrayal ran deep.

Could she forgive him ?

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2.am

As the night grew darker, a soft knocking echoed through the quiet house. Dakota’s Grandma stirred, casting a brief glance at the clock—2:00 AM. She slowly rose from her bed, a mix of curiosity and concern coursing through her.

Approaching the door, she fumbled with the lock before slowly opening it. Standing there, silhouetted against the dim lighting, was Jey. His eyes were heavy with fatigue and determination.

"Can I come in?" Jey asked quietly, his voice gravelly. She regarded him with a mixture of surprise and concern before nodding and stepping aside.

Joshua entered the house, his movements clumsy in his late-night stupor. They made their way to the living room, the tension between them palpable.

He took a late night flight to Chicago the minute he found out where Dakota was hiding at from jasmine. He wasn’t going to risk anything to speak to her no matter how tireless he was from a match he had earlier on in the night he was still going to fight his way to her.

"Is she here?" Jey asked, his gaze darting around the room, searching for Dakota.

Jey's eyes were visibly red and puffy, evidence of the tears he'd shed. His mullet was disheveled, and his usual confident demeanor seemed to have crumbled. He looked weary and vulnerable, as if he'd been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

As he spoke, his voice wavered slightly. "Is Dakota here?" he asked once more,, his gaze searching the room for any sign of her.

She nodded, her expression softened by the sight of his weary appearance. "She's in her room," she replied quietly. "Probably not asleep, though. She's been restless since that incident."

Jey's shoulders slumped at the mention of the incident, guilt etched across his face. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, attempting to compose himself.

His heart twisted at the sound of her pain and animosity, each word she spoke like a knife twisting deep into his chest. The idea that he had caused her pain, that he had hurt her to the point of her hating him, cut through him like a hot blade.

The realization that he had caused so much harm stung deeply, and Jey felt a wave of guilt and self-loathing wash over him. He wanted to scream at himself, to beat himself up for being so careless with someone he cared for so deeply.

She was his beautiful bloom tree that made him bloom.

As Jey ran his hand through his hair, the movement revealed his signature mullet, now with the distinctive red tips at the ends. The stark contrast against the muted light of the room only seemed to emphasize the weariness in his expression.

Grandma's gaze stayed on Jey, her maternal instincts stirred by the sight of his disheveled state. "You look like you've been through the wringer, honey," she observed, her voice laced with concern.

Josh let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping further as if the weight of the world was pressing upon him. "I have," he admitted softly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Dakota slowly stepped out of her room, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She rubbing her eyes, her hair disheveled and a blanket draped over her shoulders.

"Nanny, who was at the..." her voice trailed off as she noticed Jey standing there. Her guard immediately went up, and her expression hardened. "What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Dakota!” Her grandmother shouted out at her with a glare for her language.

“Sorry nanny.” Dakota sighed trying to contain her anger which held high.

Jey looked up as Dakota appeared, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. He swallowed hard, mustering the courage to speak. "I needed to talk to you," he said quietly. "Please, just hear me out."

Dakota's eyes narrowed, her walls firmly in place. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, a futile attempt to fortify her defenses.

Josh took a tentative step toward her, his movements slow and measured. "Can we talk in private?" he asked softly.

Dakota hesitated, her gaze flickering between her grandmother's retreating form and Jey. After a moment, she relented, her resistance cracking slightly. "Fine," she said grudgingly, gesturing toward her room. "But make it quick."

Jey followed Dakota into her room, the door closing softly behind him. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small bedside lamp.

Dakota leaned against the wall, her arms crossed defensively. A tense silence hung in the air, the tension between them palpable.

Jey stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. He glanced around, his gaze lingering on the photographs and trinkets that adorned her walls and shelves—reminders of happier times between them.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before finally looking at her. "I know you're angry," he began quietly. "And I don't blame you."

Jey took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them a fraction. "I didn't leak those pictures," he said firmly, his voice tinged with desperation.

Dakota's gaze flickered up to meet his, her eyes cold. She didn't respond, but her expression remained guarded and skeptical.

Jey could see the skepticism in her eyes and felt desperation well up within him. He took another step forward, his voice growing more insistent.

"I swear to you, Dakota, I would never do no shit like that to hurt you," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. "I love you. I would never betray you like that and you know that.”

Jey's eyes were pleading, his expression filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "Please," he said softly, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Please believe me. I didn't do this."

Dakota's expression wavered, the wall she had built around her heart cracking ever so slightly. She wanted to believe him, but the pain of betrayal weighed heavily on her heart.

Joshua took a final step toward her, closing the gap between them completely. He gently reached out, placing a tentative hand on her arm.

"I swear, Dakota," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would never do anything to hurt you.."

Dakota's gaze flicked up to meet his, her walls slowly crumbling under the weight of his earnestness.

Josh’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. He stepped even closer, closing the remaining gap between their bodies.

"Please," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers. "I need you to believe me. I love you. You're the most important person in my life, and I would never intentionally hurt you like that ko.”

Dakota's expression softened, her defenses slipping further. A hint of doubt and confusion warred with her anger.

Jey's expression hardened as he locked eyes with her. "You hate me, huh?" he said quietly, his voice laced with resignation.

Dakota nodded, crossing her arms defiantly. "Yeah, I do, I really fucking do.” she replied, her voice cold and distant. "And nothing you say is going to change that."

Jey let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes narrowing as he observed her stubborn expression. "You don't believe me," he stated, his voice tinged with anger.

Dakota shrugged, unfazed. "Damn right, I don't," she retorted, her gaze flickering away from him.

Jey felt a surge of irritation, his frustration mounting. He took a step closer, closing the space between them again.

"Why the fuck you gotta be so damn stubborn Dakota?” he asked, his voice raising slightly. "Why can't you even consider the possibility that I could be telling the fucking truth?.”

Dakota's eyes flared with defiance, her stubbornness refusing to waver. "Because it's easier for me to hate you than to believe in you," she shot back, her voice laced with bitterness.

Jey's anger flared at her response, his jaw clenching. "Nah it’s just easier to believe I did it then to believe I didn’t ," he snapped, his gaze burning into hers.

"Is it, though?" Dakota retorted, her eyes narrowing. "Or is it easier for you to blame me for being stubborn than to accept that you played a role in all this?"

Jey clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin. "Played a role in what? I ain’t did shit Dakota," he growled. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"You think so?" Dakota scoffed, her voice filled with skepticism. "You really think you didn't do anything wrong at all?"

Josh’s irritation boiled over, his voice rising to a near-yell. "Fuck Dakota, I already told you I didn't leak that shit!”

“But you just can’t fucking seem to get that through your damn head can you?” Josh replied but he stopped in his tracks as he saw red roses sitting on her nightstand with a card written on it big and bold. “Joe Anoaʻi.”

"Joe," he muttered under his breath, his expression darkening with jealousy. “You can accept gifts from him but not me right?”

“Josh it shouldn’t even matter we ar— It should fucking matter Dakota!” Joshua shouted startling Dakota as he stared at her with almost darken eyes.

His shout echoed through the room, its intensity shocking even to him. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, now seemed almost dark as he locked gazes with Dakota.

He had grown weary of waiting patiently, feeling drained not only by his efforts but also by the fact that she could hold conversations with Joe, while she seemed unable to do the same with him.

“It doesn’t matter though because we aren’t to fucking gether!”

“So what you fucking with my cousin now? Is that what it is.” He asked, he could see the anger and frustration building within him as he walked back and forth, each step punctuated by his clenched fists. The tension in the room was palpable as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“No! But that’s the problem you get to assuming things without knowing the fucking truth.” She shot back.

“I fucking hate you.”

Joshua came to an abrupt halt as if everything else around him vanished in that moment, fixating on the single word "hate." He made his way towards Dakota, his gaze fixed on her, and his features softened. "You don’t mean that ko.”

“No I do.” Dakota's response cut through the air like cold ice water. She pivoted on her heel, deliberately turning her back on him, refusing to spare him even a single glance.

“I know you’re mad at me right now but Dakota me and you both know you don’t m— NO I do mean it I mean it so fucking much I hate you!”

“Everyday I wish I hadn’t met you but I did and I have to live and regret it so yes I do hate you matter fact you can leave.” Dakota said once more as the tears she so desperately didn’t want to drop did.

“Aight I’ll go…but before I leave I want you to know ko that even though you hate me I still love you and never will stop loving you.” Joshua said as tears filed his eyes he walked towards the bedroom door walking his footsteps becoming faint the more he walked away.

Hate is a powerful emotion, and when it emerges between people who love each other, it can feel like a natural part of the relationship. No matter how strong the love may seem, true colors are bound to show eventually. It's important to ask yourself.

Is hate a strong word for you?.

To be continued…..

So this is the end of chapter five! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Y’all I’ve been so busy watching interview with the vampire and all I can say is girl it’s crazy but so good! So far Claudia is my favorite. I kinda of used one of the scenes from I think season two with Claudia and Louis arguing about amand.

AND most importantly I want to thank you all for getting me to 6k followers! I appreciate it so much!!!! 🫶🏾

Feel free to drop any opinions on the characters or chapter and a till next time. God bless🎀

[werdlewrites]

ł ฿Ɇ₵Ø₥Ɇ ĐɆ₳₮Ⱨ - ₱₳Ɽ₮ ₮ⱧⱤɆɆ

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: He couldn’t live in peace knowing what he'd done. Unable to enjoy a stupid party with a pretty girl without the flashbacks of war plaguing his mind. He wasn’t the kind of guy anyone should want–or have. Logan was a monster. warnings: alcohol, smoking, brief NSFW, mentions of blood and death wc: 2,341

Previous - Next

The night was long–nearly endless. Dawn had made it home safely without trouble like she always did with the presence of Death creeping at her back. The apartment echoes with emptiness–soon filled by tumbling shoes as she kicks them off, and the heavy sighs of relief. Charlotte doesn't stumble through the door until her roommate is already tucked into bed, yet knowing she's still awake, she calls out, “I'm home!” She only receives a mumbled reply in return.

Dawn lies awake for most of the night. Tossing and turning with her mind replaying the events of the day, her heart nearly beating free from her chest as she debates over what will happen to her come Monday morning. Cast out of the school and shamed, unable to show her face again. It leaves her chest aching–constricted and emptied of air, yet filled with consuming fear. It fills every space, leaving her in a momentary panic.

It’s October–but her body is burning up. Dawn kicks away the sheets and flips onto her stomach, arms clung tightly around a folded-up pillow for a sense of comfort. It’s not nearly enough. Her heartbeat is somehow louder and more disruptive. Thoughts fuzzy and unfocused–until something familiar creeps in. 

The smell of earth–nature. The smell of wood caught on fire–a delicious spice on her tongue as she drinks it in. A tired mind fights for recollection–a moment in time where she could place it. It’s there, just barely. In the dim light of night, the moon casts a glow through an uncovered window, adorning clothes from only hours ago laid out over the edge of a hamper. It’s a bizarre sign from the universe. Taking an unsettled mind and forcing it to think on something that brought her some joy–even if it was brief. 

The smell of Logan lingers, as does his rough but soothing voice. That particular look in his eye that says he’s curious–but keeping some distance for either his or her protection. It’s insanity the way his smirk suddenly fills her mind. Or the way his tongue glides along his lips after a shot of whiskey to collect the remnants.

The warmth of overworked nerves is replaced by something else–a scorching need building up in the pit of her stomach, spreading outward like a fire until she's squirming, seeking something–anything. She doesn’t even notice the sudden rotation of her hips. Acting on autopilot to quench a thirst–a desire between her thighs.

The gentle movements are enough to spark that small fire until it’s burning up her insides. The air sucked from her lungs as the smoke of lust creeps in–all-consuming and suffocating. Her cheek is damp from open-mouthed whimpers, but it's the last worry on her mind as desperation forces her hand. A gentle touch glides along the front of her underwear with thoughts drifting to him and what his hands would feel like. 

Was it soft and delicate? Sweet kisses masked by the scratch of his beard, heavy breath along her neck with passionate words pulling her in closer. Would he treat her like this? Knowing exactly where to touch and what to say. Letting her grind down into his hand until she’s come down from her high, whispering reassurance.

Was it rough and heated? Barely giving one another the chance to strip their bodies of clothing before she’s bent over and onto her knees. Would her skin grow flush from the contact of his hand? Bite marks of temporary claim that would be long gone by morning. Their bruises would be the only reminder it had ever happened. Would she ache for that breathless feeling? Chasing after one another until they’ve exhausted every ounce of strength.

By morning, Dawn is glowing. You couldn’t tell the girl had lost an ounce of sleep, smiling from ear to ear. Her roommate pried for the details over coffee–not getting a solid enough answer, which only aggravates Charlotte more. She wears a look of pure annoyance, glancing in the other woman's direction as they decorate for the upcoming party. It’s when she asks about the potential of meeting someone that Dawn finally breaks and confesses the details of her night. No matter how small they were.

“You invited him over?” She asks with a look of pure joy and surprise.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Charlotte leans against the door frame, arms folded across her chest with streamers hung from her fists. “You’re over here smilin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush, and it’s not a big deal?”

Rolling her eyes, Dawn steps down from the ladder, rolling away the spare pieces of tape stuck to her fingertips. “I hardly know him. It’s just…fun, s’all.” 

Fun is hardly how she would describe it. She was antsy–fidgeting or pacing nonstop as she searched for something to do–anything to pass the time. Dawn was giddy and full of excitement about the possibility of seeing him. The entire scenario is playing out in her head like a silly movie. She’d be lost in the music–no longer focusing on his arrival as she takes another shot, and he’d part the dancing bodies like the sea.

But by the third hour of the party–the real party, he’s not there. There’s no thunderous knock of his large fist against the door or the smell of his cigar. He’s not standing just at the corner of the room, watching and imprinting every sight to memory. The man named Logan is simply a story, and she can’t hide from the look of pity Charlotte gives her as she pours another drink into an empty cup.

Maybe she's a little hurt–maybe she feels foolish for being so affected by his absence. He's a stranger, after all. But she's already tipping that red cup back and singing along to another song. She's living without care–or is it a mask to hide the fear? A wary eye on the image of Death, hoping the night won't end in tragedy with a friend splayed out across the floor, blue in the face.

The following day, he's a distant memory–at least, for a short while he is.

Dawn is too lost in her hangover to acknowledge the ache of disappointment in her chest. Already forgetting hazy dreams where she reaches out to him, just to feel the heat of his body. But her bed is cold just like the day before–and long before that. In some way, it almost feels like every smile he spared was only a figment of her imagination. There had never been a Logan she shared salty snacks with at the bar. She chased after a hallucination. Thighs dampened by an illusion.

But the smell of his cigar stuck to every fiber of her coat, taunting her as she debated over tossing it into the washer with the rest of her dirty laundry. It’s the only proof she has of him.

When the day passes and the apartment is cleaned, she makes up some excuse to brave the cold winds of November. Charlotte is too tired to question–laid out along the sofa with legs dangling over the edge. She simply waves her hand dismissively, eyes half-opened, as she fights off an overdue nap.

Dawn can’t help but scold herself for the slouch of her shoulders once she enters that bar. There’s no leather jacket and wisp of black hair among the crowd. New faces and familiars fill up the space–but it surprisingly feels empty. He’s gone–and it’s disheartening. Why is it disheartening? The woman knows little to nothing about him, yet there’s still a tug on her heart, seeking to pull her right out the door and into the night. Maybe it’s just the excitement of something new. She can’t quite understand it.

She takes up her usual spot on the stool with a defeated sigh. She was slumped forward between two bodies that engage in separate conversations, loud and full of energy. There’s a forced smile in Barry’s direction, shaking her head as he holds up a glass suggestively. One Halloween and birthday bash was enough for the remainder of the week.

“I'm just tryin’ t'find my way.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was all it ever would be. Just two souls passing in the night, and she’d have to accept that. Add his face to the list of people she admired but could never touch.

Maybe it was better that way.

Iced water lands before her, kindly offered by the owner with an all-knowing smirk of just how intoxicated she had been the night before. She tilts the glass in thanks, and as it hits her tongue, something in the air seems to shift. The bell above the door chimes as another customer strolls in–the smell of something deliciously familiar in the distance. That familiar spice filling her senses and washing over her tongue. She’s hardly given the chance to inspect before his voice pulls her from scattered thoughts.

“Lookin’ for somebody?”

He stands tall at her back–an intimidating presence with a smirk on his face. She could hear it in his tone.

“That depends,” she begins. Her body easily twists to get a better look at him, proving her suspicion right as the cigar hangs from between his lips. “Do I have somebody t’look for?”

His smile is unwavering, though his gaze shifts to the stranger at her side. Smoke comes spilling out as he speaks, “Hey, bub.” A firm tap on the man's shoulder, luring in hazy eyes and seeming almost startled by him. “D’you mind if I-?” His finger gestures towards the girl and the occupied seat, his tone suggesting but eyes demanding–and the man doesn’t hesitate.

“Oh! Yeah, here.” He pulls himself away, beer in hand, as he effortlessly transitions back into his previous conversation, though casting a glance or two over his shoulder, unnerved by the once silent bystander.

“You didn’t show.” 

The words fly past her lips before she’s even thought it all through. Not even a “Hello” before she’s digging through misplaced feelings and biting her tongue. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. A thick brow raises with curiosity, a silent encouragement for the woman to continue. “I was looking forward t’see your costume.”

He chuckles, and it’s like a song. Working every string in her soul until she feels the flutter of soaring notes within her chest–a choir. A familiar feeling from that night creeping in, leaving her cheeks flushed before she was downing her water in large gulps, desperate to beat the heat.

“Do I look like a costume kind of guy?” he questions before taking another drag. It's an awful habit some women turn their noses up at. But there's an odd sense of comfort in the smell–thinking back to cozy fires in a home that no longer existed.

“Maybe.” She answers with a casual shrug. “Maybe like a…pirate or something.” 

He gives her a pointed look. Amused by the thought of where her mind has wandered in their short time apart. “You'd look good in a patch.”

It happens before she can stop it. A sudden drop of the lowest level compliment possible, and still, she has to turn away and hide her embarrassment. Unaware of the crooked grin he wears or the sudden spark in his dark eyes. Dawn wanted to crawl into a hole and forget it ever happened. While he found it endearing and sweet.

“You think so? No hook or nothin’? Peg leg?” 

She swallows her pride, along with the racing heart that is suddenly lurched up into her throat, just to face him again. She wears a brave face, but the stutter and weariness in her voice betrayed her. “D-dancin’ with a peg leg sounds…hard. Especially while drinking.”

He snorts, averting a blazing stare down toward the end of the bar, a simple raise of his fingers asking for a drink. It’s a well-known look for the frequent flyer. “M’not really a party kind of guy.”

“Then what kind of guy are you?”

The glass meets his palm, filled with ice yet still warmed by the water from being recently cleaned. He thinks of the fresh blood on his hands–he can see it even now. The blaring music turns into the sound of gunfire and the clash of blades–the crackle of a roaring fire. The eruption of laughter at his back transitions into the cries of pain and horror from his past–the thing he runs from. 

The lives he's taken–whether by his own hand or from a failure to ever speak up until it was too late. Until the body count had grown and towered high above him and every mercenary he stood alongside. He couldn’t live in peace knowing what he'd done. Unable to enjoy a stupid party with a pretty girl without the flashbacks of war plaguing his mind. He wasn’t the kind of guy anyone should want–or have. Logan was a monster.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” she begins, successfully pulling him out from the darkness of his mind, looking to the ray of sunlight at his side. “I think you enjoy the noise. You do busy work–loud work. Nonstop, all day. But you don’t go home–you come here instead. Then, when you get home, the radio goes on. The TV, anything–but it’s low. Loud enough to keep your mind busy, but quiet enough t’let you fall asleep on the couch. You just hate socializing.”

It’s the first time his smile falls in her presence–though not out of offense or disturbance, more so…intrigue. “And you’re sayin’ I could be the serial killer?”

“I’m sayin’ I know the type.” Her body tilts away from him, now facing forward to study their muddled reflection in dirtied glass. He’s got his eyes on her, lips parted and words stolen right from his tongue–and she sees something else standing in the distance. A familiar creature with dancing stars where a heart should be. The thing that she searches for in moments of uncertainty–yet despises for the pain it brings. “Because I’m the same way.”

[chuckduckling]

Okay okay, for realsies now, since I did a QiJiu post on Yue Qingyuan’s feelings for Shen Qingqiu, here are more of my thoughts on SQQ’s affection for YQY.

When I think about what initially drew Shen Jiu to Yue Qi, sparking his loyalty and devotion... I feel like it has something to do with SJ's deep craving for safety.

And by safety, I don't just mean protection. In my other post about YQY, I give some examples for why I don't think SJ saw YQ merely as a source of protection. If anything, he saw himself as YQ's protector, as much as the reverse.

In my opinion, one of SJ's fundamental drives is the desire to feel safe and, just as importantly, a desire to feel like he's around safe people. And by that, I mean the kinds of people who won't take advantage of him or hurt him.

More thoughts and quotes under the cut...

SJ is psychologically scarred into seeing everyone around him as a threat to his safety. Even as a peak lord, with more status and power than the majority of people have, he still feels so insecure that literal children count as potential threats.

Right before the scene where he almost qi deviates, we see how his heart demons have driven him into a deeply paranoid spiral where everyone is out to get him:

Furthermore, Shen Qingqiu had told Ning Yingying thousands of times to stay far away from Luo Binghe and that she wasn’t allowed to get involved with him. So why did he see them every day, whispering together before his eyes? Shen Qingqiu was filled with paranoia; he forever felt like everyone was secretly talking behind his back, discussing how he’d been unable to attain Core Formation even after this long. That it was unbecoming for one in his position. That they hoped to secretly finish him off and replace him.

His visits to the brothel are also explicitly due to the safety and comfort that the women there give him. He finds women nonthreatening compared to men, and he sees them as a refuge from abuse.

All those years, whenever one of his beatings from Qiu Jianluo was over, or whenever he had a premonition of another beating, he had crawled to Qiu Haitang’s room and remained there, quivering. As Qiu Jianluo was unwilling to let his sister see the side of him that was perverse and lunatic, that had been the only place where Shen Jiu could hide. And even longer ago, there had been some girl in their group, their big sis. But after she reached a certain age, that big sis had been sold to a withered old man to be his second wife. Afterward, they’d left that city, so they’d never seen her again. Liking women wasn’t the least bit shameful, but treating women like saviors, cowering within their embrace and seeking courage from them…even without anyone saying it, Shen Qingqiu knew that was horrendously shameful.

Even though YQY is a man, I think SJ's attachment to him is similar to his attachment to the women who make him feel safe. YQY is the kind of person who wouldn't hurt or control SJ the way other men in his life have, and I think SJ has always been attracted to that.

(Also, I talk about why I don't see YQY as a controlling person, even during the times when he and SJ argue, in this meta.)

YQY's temper is generally mild and steady, which balances out SJ's more volatile temper. When SJ criticizes YQ for being "too good of a person", I believe that's actually something he greatly values in him. So much so that, despite scolding him, he prioritizes YQY's safety multiple times across his life, even after YQY breaks his promise, even at the end of his life.

This sister from the PIDW comments section hits the nail on the head:

*whispering, silently floating by* Does anyone here like Sect Leader Yue? I like the gentle top type the most.

In short, I believe Shen Qingqiu is a big fan of 温油攻. And honestly, who can blame him.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

No Wonder (Part I)

No Wonder

Avengers AU. Steve Rogers x Mutant!Reader “Serenity”. Tony Stark x Mutant!Reader “Serenity”. Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader “Serenity”.

Wordcount: 2487

Summary:

You're in a situationship with Tony, Steve and Bucky. Things become too much when Tony finds out about Bucky's involvement with his parents death. Sending your world into chaos. The world is on fire, I'm so fucking tired And equally wired, so Am I to blame for my sick, frantic brain?

Warnings: 18+ Only MDNI

Angst and Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

Notes:

Hello Heathens, I was originally going to post this as a single part, but the flow just was not working. So I have decided to make it two parts and post what is already set. I am hoping this will reinvigorate my muse to finish this story out the way I have envisioned it. I am really happy with this part and I hope you enjoy it as well. Quick not about the reader(you) just for context: This a Found Family story. Reader is mutant and a former addict. She Used to use to help suppress her empathic powers, turning her emotions into forms of the elements. She was found by Clint and Nat and they are very protective. Happy Reading 🖤 *Heavily inspired by the song Antsy by UPSAHL

Banner @cafekitsune Divider @firefly-graphics

No one on the compound is unaware of the situationships I’m entangled in. I didn’t ask for this, but I’m not denying any of them either. Steve and Tony need me to feed something missing inside of them and I’m weak to deny them that.   

Steve, ever the fixer, feels drawn to the broken parts of me. Wanting to be the one to hold me and piece me back together.   

Tony connects with my destructive parts. No stranger to that darkness himself. I became his own personal addiction. Seeking out my body for the dopamine rush of pulling orgasms out of me.   

Then there’s Bucky. Full of such rage and sadness my powers are intrinsically drawn to him. He may look stoic on the surface but he’s an array of emotions on the inside. I can’t explain why it feels as if we were made for each other. But I’ve learned not to go against my instincts.   

I know he feels undeserving of me. Even though he keeps me close. Especially at night when the nightmares and flash backs are the worst.

I take the pain away.   

We work it all out in the training room. Then end the night tangled in the sheets, surrounded by wildflowers. Proof of our time spent together.  

I’m afraid to acknowledge what I know deep down in the core of me. I’m in love with him. My feelings for Steve and Tony are nowhere near as complex. I know I’m more of a place holder in their lives than they seem to realize. I knew from the start that love was not on the table for me. Most certainly not with them. This love for Bucky threw me for a godamn loop.  

Then Bucky’s past under Hydra’s control comes back to bite him in the ass and sends my world into chaos. The anger and guilt floating around was enough to suffocate me. My body stuck in a cycle of fire and ice. I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I did what I do best.  

I ran.   

I got the hell out of that compound and went to the one place I knew I could deal with all of this safely. 

Clint’s farm is my sanctuary. With open spaces and a small little cottage built a safe distance from the world just for me. No need to call ahead. I let them know I’m there by lighting the largest fire in my fireplace that I can. The smoke from the chimney signaling my arrival. Laura will show up eventually with a meal and ear to listen to my bullshit. But before I can let my guard down I need to reach out to Dr. Cho and see if she can prescribe me something to help deal with all these emotions. A relapse feels imminent if I’m left to my own devices.  

They way Tony was spitting so much vitriol to Bucky and Steve was just too much to bear. I felt like I was going to combust before suddenly feeling like I was plunged into the artic waters of Antarctica when the feeling of shame and guilt overwhelmed me. The drastic change of hot to cold over and over was a torture I never experienced before.   

I vaguely remember shouting as I grasped my stomach in pain. “FUCK! At least wait until I’m out of the room before you rip further into each other! My body can only take so much!”   

I didn’t wait for a response. My pain barely registered to Steve and Tony. Both too self-absorbed in their convictions, to care what this was doing to me. But Bucky turned to me with sadness and an apology in his eyes as he watched me slowly make my way out of the room.   

I don’t blame him for what went down. I don’t even blame Tony or Steve. Emotions are a wild beast and even the calmest individual can fall prey to their whims. I can wield them to my will and yet I can still fall victim to their toxic ways. That’s why I prefer to be numb. If I can’t feel. Then nothing can hurt me.   

Tony is the first to reach out. Hacking into my phone to unblock himself so that he could text me.  

T: I understand things got out of control. But you of all people understand the grip anger can have on you. Steve and Bucky have left. Come back home. It feels empty around here without your sunlight and flowers decorating the halls. We can lose ourselves in each other. I’ll even do that thing you like with my tongue that makes daisies sprout in your hair.   S: I’m perfectly content and safe where I am. I need to recover from the damage done to my body and soul. This wasn’t just some regular fight Tony. That shit was toxic on so many levels. How could I return and go back to being your little emotional sex doll, when my physical pain didn’t even register to you as you spit your hate at them. I’m sorry T, but I’m not coming home. Not until all this shit is resolved.    T: Babygirl, don’t do this to me. I need you. Come home.  

Having already said all that I needed to say, I didn’t respond. Instead I just turned my phone off and tossed it in a drawer. I wasn’t in the mood to play emotional phone tag with someone who clearly only sees me as a body to ease their troubles in.  

Damn therapy giving me self-respect at a time like this. Or is it just the influence of having Bucky in my life as of late? A man who feels so undeserving of the things I give him.   

“ Doll, you don’t have to sleep in here every night. You have others who want you in theirs. It’s okay. I’ve dealt with them for years. I can handle them.”  

“But you don’t have to anymore. And honestly, your bed is so much comfier than mine. And don’t get me started on that rock of a mattress that Steve sleeps on. And Tony never stays in bed long enough to actually sleep. He gets more sleep with his head resting on his lab desk than his California King. I am happy right where I am. Stop trying to send me away.”  

Steve and Bucky show up on my doorstep a few days later. Steve is upset that I chose to leave the way I did and that I asked Cho for drugs to numb myself. Thanks Nat.    

“You’ve come so far. How could you so easily want to fall back into that darkness?”  

“Easy Steve. I was tired of feeling. Not to mention the physical beating those emotions were taking on my body. If you have a better way to deal with it, please let me know. But that would be hard to do, seeing as how you are one of the main causes of that pain. How long did it take for you to realize I was gone? Before you left the compound? Or after everything settled and you needed something else to focus on?”  

“That’s not fair Serenity. I was taking care of my best friend. He needed me.”  

“And I didn’t?” I sneer.

“It’s not like that. Please, come on. You know I love you. I’ve told you this before. I wouldn’t abandon you like that.”  

“And yet, you did. It didn’t even take Tony 24 hours to reach out and ask me to come home. So he can ‘lose himself’ in me and begin to heal. I refused to of course. Not until all this toxicity is dealt with. It’s been almost a week since the incident, and you finally showed up. Good for you Steven.”  

“We were trying to figure out where it was safe to go for Bucky. Traveling under the radar is not easy. We got here as soon we could.”  

“I call bullshit. And here’s why. If you cared to listen to me speak about things other than my dark past you would know that I have a place here on Clint’s farm. That it is my safe haven and where I go when I need a reset. You would also know that this place is safe for any of us. It would have been your first stop. But it wasn’t. So who told you I was here. Nat? Sam?”  

“Me.” Bucky deadpans. “I told him we could find you here. Just as you said. I knew you would be here. We took a week because I was waiting for his emotions to even out before we put you through any more pain. I never want to see you go through what you did that day ever again.”  

“Bucky, I…” I can feel my body responding to his honesty. “I’m at a loss for words other than thank you.”   

“Your eyes.” Bucky points out.  

“What about them?”  

“They’re amber. Almost glowing like the flames of a campfire. They’ve never done that before. Are you angry?”  

“N-No. I’m definitely feeling something. But it’s not anger.”  

“Than what could it be?”  

“Love.” Steve pipes in. “She’s in love with you Buck. Love is as fiery as anger but it’s more subtle. Hence the changing of her eyes instead of flames along her fingertips.”  

“Huh. That’s a new one.” I surmise.  

“Y-you love me?” Bucky whispers.  

I fidget with my hands. “Yeah. I think I have for a while now but was just too scared to address it. Didn’t want to overwhelm you. I know you think you don’t deserve love because I feel the same way. But I do. I love you.”  

“Fuck. I thought it was just me.”  

“Wait, what?”  

“I’ve been love with you from the moment after you soothed me from a nightmare the first time. But I knew you also had something with Steve and Tony and they are so much more deserving of you than me so I just never said anything. Tried everything in my power to hide it down deep so you wouldn’t be influenced by it.”  

I start to laugh. “This is like some romance novel shit. Two idiots in love. Scared to tell other because of their fucked-up pasts.”   

“Those tend to conclude with a happy ending. Our mess is far too complicated for that.”  

“I’m a mutant James who can weaponize their emotions. I’ve never known uncomplicated. I can handle messy. I’m great at messy. I can deflect and suppress and then use it to my advantage in battle. But you and I aren’t that, are we? Tony, Steve and I are a complex puzzle of complications. While you and I have always been easy. I’ve tried to deny it, push it away. Because I knew you thought of it as complication to the life you were trying to live under the radar. So I happily soaked up whatever piece of you you’d give me.”  

“You really are self-destructive, aren’t you? Denying yourself what you truly wanted while feeding off of the scraps you were given. Either by men who only wanted you for what you could do for them or the man who felt undeserving to be in your presence.”  

“When you put it that way.” I shrug. “Feeling sucks. This is why I preferred to numb all those pesky emotions with whatever substance would help me float away. I stopped doing that and well look where it got me. Chasing that high between the bedsheets of men who’s hearts belong to another while secretly hoping the one you truly want comes to his senses.”  

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers.  

“No need to apologize. You did nothing wrong. You’re allowed to feel broken and take all the time you need to heal. Just like Steve is allowed to try and fool himself into thinking he could truly love someone other than Peggy. Or Tony with Pep. I don’t fault any of you for your actions. I know better than anyone that emotions are chaos. That’s why I did what was best for me and came here. Protecting the little peace I have left.”  

“And you wonder why I felt undeserving to love you. Even now you’re thinking of everyone else. Making them feel better about their actions. But I’m not okay with what happened. Especially because I was the catalyst for what resulted in physical pain to the woman I love.”  

“It couldn’t be helped Buck. There will always be something out there to cause me harm.”  

“But it shouldn’t be because of me!” He grits out. The pain evident in his voice.  

On instinct, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. As if my embrace gave him permission to surrender, Bucky’s shoulders sag and he heaves a heavy sigh. Wrapping his arms around me tightly. Tucking his face into my neck and inhaling my scent as if it were a calming balm.  

“I’m going let you guys work this out alone. I’ll be up at the main house when you need me.” Steve declares.  

“You don’t have to go Steve.”  

“Actually I do. I have some things I need to think and work out myself in regard to our relationships. This has been eye opening in a way I can’t ignore.”  

“I never wanted to hurt you, Steve.”  

“You didn’t, doll. Don’t worry about me right now. I’ll be okay. Buck needs you.”  

With a soft smile he walks out the door. Leaving Bucky and I to the quiet of my cabin.  

“How do we fix this? How do I make it right? We can’t go back to the compound. Not with how mad Tony is.” Bucky rambles.  

“Shh. You have to try and not spiral into panic. Everything will sort itself out in due time.” I begin to rock us back and forth. “We can stay here as long as we need to. Clint will keep us safe. No one will get to you that isn’t allowed access.”  

He nods his head against my collarbone. “Okay.”  

I feel the lightest touch as he places his lips to base of my throat and leaves a featherlight kiss.  

I weave the fingers of my left hand through his brunette locks. Pulling his head back and placing my right hand against the scruff lining his jaw. I then lose myself to the icy blue depths of his soulful eyes.  

“Your eyes are shining amber again.”  

“Seems I can’t control it yet. Looks like they’ll be giving me away every time I look at you for more than a moment.”  

“I like it.”  

“Great for the ego, I’m sure.”   

“Fuck my ego. Makes my chest feel all warm knowing that I’m the only one who has ever made them do that.”  

The only appropriate response my body can give is to lean down and kiss his stupid handsome face.

[honeyhere]

Unbreakable Spirit

In the heart of a small town, where the sun set over the river and the temple bells echoed in the evening air, lived a girl named Ishani. To those who crossed her path, Ishani seemed quiet, a little withdrawn, but no one knew the storms she carried in her heart.

When she was thirteen, Ishani lost the one person who made her feel alive—her father. He was her anchor, her safe place, and when he was gone, a part of Ishaani disappeared with him. She retreated into her room, closing herself off from the world, trying to shield her broken heart from the harshness outside. But the walls she built around her couldn’t keep the pain out.

While she grieved in silence, the world around her became colder. Her mother, once distant, seemed to lose herself after Ishaani’s father passed. She wasn’t there to protect Ishaani when her aunt’s family moved in, and the abuse began. Day after day, they would torment her, making her feel small, worthless. But whenever her mother was around, they put on masks of kindness, pretending everything was normal. Ishani wanted to scream, to tell her mother the truth, but no one would listen.

When the relatives finally left, Ishani hoped things would get better. But instead, the abuse shifted—it came from her own mother. Every day, her mother’s words cut deeper, filled with bitterness and shame. Ishaani, once so full of love and life, began to doubt herself. She longed for someone to see her, to love her the way her father had, but the world only seemed to offer her cruelty.

It was on the very first day that her tenant harassed her, further compoundings her feelings of helplessness. She tried to confide in her mother, to seek comfort, but all her pleas were met with cold regard.

With nowhere to turn, Ishani's pain grew. She became deeply depressed, spiraling into a state of hopelessness. Unable to find a way to express her emotional agony, she started self-harming. The physical pain seemed like the only way to escape the torment she endured, daily. Each cut was a release, but also deepened her isolation. She searched for love and comfort in others, hoping someone could fill the void left by her father. But the relationships she found were toxic, leading to more heartache and reinforcing the belief that love might never come her way.

But amid her darkest days, something miraculous happened - she discovered Krishna. It wasn’t a sudden revelation but a gradual, growing connection. At first, it was small prayers, whispered in the hope that someone, somewhere was listening. And slowly, as she began chanting and immersing herself in Krishna’s teachings. She found a new sense of purpose. The desire to self - harm faded as she embraced this newfound faith, realizing that Krishna’s love was the pure, unconditional love she had been searching for all along.

Ishani’s journey to recovery wasn’t easy, but her devotion to Krishna gave her strength to push forward. Her life began to take on a new shape. Although the scars of her past was still there, both physical and emotional, they no longer defined her. Krishna became her anchor in a world that had once felt so hostile. Despite her newfound faith Ishani still longed for human connection. Her search for love hadn’t ended, but her past relationships had left her cautious, unsure if she would ever find someone who truly cared for her. That’s when Kartik entered her life. A beacon of light in a world that seemed endlessly dark. With his practical mindset and future-focused determination, he grounded her in ways no one else had. His presence felt like safety, a sanctuary where Ishani could let her guard down, if only for a moment.

Ishani and Kartik had a connection that transcended words. In the quiet moments, they found peace in each other, away from the world that often felt too harsh. Kartik, with his practical approach to life, brought stability to Ishaani’s turbulent world, but when they were alone, it was the softness in his actions that touched her heart the most.

Kartik, too, had his share of struggles. Life hadn’t always been through relationships that left him questioning his worth. He carried the weight of the past, the scars of trust betrayed, and the pain of unmet expectations. Yet, despite everything, Kartik remained resilient. When he met Ishani, something within him softened. He saw in her a reflection of his own pain, and it made him even more determined to be the steady presence she needed. No matter how hard things got, he always found a way to be there for her - whether it was a late-night call, a surprise visit, or simply holding her when words failed. For Kartik, Ishani wasn’t someone to love, she was someone to protect, to cherish, and to fight for, even when the world around them seemed to fall apart.

From the very beginning, Kartik and Ishani shared moments that made their bond feel almost unbreakable. There were times when they would sit in silence, letting the world fade away as they found peace in each other’s company. On weekends, they would escape to quiet cafés, Kartik’s hand resting on hers while they talked about their dreams and the future they both hoped to create. One of their favorite pastimes was watching the sunset together, often sitting on a quiet rooftop or by the beach, where the horizon painted their world in hues of orange and pink. Kartik loved these moments, not just for their beauty, but because they gave him time to see Ishaani as her most serene self, her worries melting away under the twilight sky.

Once, during a particularly hard week for Ishaani, when the weight of everything seemed unbearable, Kartik had called her late one night. She didn’t want to talk at first, feeling overwhelmed by her struggles, but something in his voice—steady, patient—gave her the strength to pick up.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I know it’s hard right now, but I’m here. Just talk to me.”

For hours, Kartik stayed on the line, his voice a constant source of comfort. He listened intently as Ishani poured out her fears, her frustrations, and the pain she’d been carrying for so long. Even when she fell silent, too emotional to continue, he never rushed her. Instead, he whispered words of reassurance, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. The soothing rhythm of his voice made her feel like he was right there beside her, even though they were miles apart.

At one point, Kartik softly asked, “Do you want me to come over?” His voice was tender, full of concern, but Ishani hesitated. She didn’t want to burden him, but he could sense her need without her saying a word.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said, hanging up before she could protest. True to his word, Kartik showed up at her doorstep in the dead of night. As soon as she opened the door, he enveloped her in a warm embrace, holding her close as if he could absorb all her pain.

They sat together in her room, the dim light casting soft shadows across their faces. Kartik gently wiped away the tears that had fallen, his touch featherlight on her cheek. “You’re going to be okay, Ishani. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

They stayed like that for a long time, their breaths synchronized, finding solace in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Eventually, Kartik pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. He smiled, a small but genuine smile, and kissed her forehead gently. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Afterward, he made her tea, like he always did when things got tough, and they spent the rest of the night talking. As the conversation grew lighter, they began reminiscing about the funnier, happier moments they had shared. Kartik leaned back against the headboard, pulling Ishani close to him, her head resting on his chest. His arm wrapped securely around her, and for the first time in days, she felt a sense of peace.

“Promise me something,” he said, his voice quiet. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have moments like this. Just us, together.”

Ishani nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. She knew that with Kartik by her side, she could face anything. In those moments, his love became her shield, protecting her from the storm inside her heart.

Kartik encouraged her to stand up for herself, to distance herself from the toxic influence of her family, and stop letting their cruelty define her self-worth. For the first time in a long while, Ishani felt like someone truly believed in her. But as much as Karik cared for her, he was also clear about his future. He had his own dreams and couldn't afford to take risks with them, not even for love. He gave Ishani one month-one month to prove that she could change her life, to become the woman he believed she could be. If she couldn’t, he would have to move on.

The ultimatum tore Ishani apart. She loved Kartik deeply, but how could she undo years of trauma and neglect in just a few weeks? She wanted to be the person he saw in her, but healing wasn’t something that could happen overnight. The pressure weighed heavily on her, and every day felt like a countdown to losing the one person who gave her hope.

But she tried. For Kartik, for herself, she tried. She stood up for her mother and brother, refusing to let their cruelty break her any further. She distanced herself from them, hoping that by cutting them off, they would realize her value. But it wasn’t easy. Her love for her family was still there, tangled up in the years of pain.

Despite her efforts, Kartik’s words echoed in her mind-he couldn’t take risks, and he couldn’t give her more time.

The days passed, and Ishani’s heart grew heavier with every moment she spent thinking of Kartik. He was her anchor in a world that often felt unstable, the one person who saw her potential when no one else did. But his words haunted her-he couldn’t risk his future for her, and he couldn’t give her more time.

Ishani wanted to become the person Karik believed in, but the scars of her past were deep, and healing couldn’t be rushed. She spent nights awake, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts spinning between the love she had for Kartik and the reality that his future didn’t seem to have space foe her anymore.

One evening, after days of praying and searching her soul, she met with Kartik again. Her heart raced as she tried to hold back the tears. She knew what was coming, but didn’t make it any easier.

“I love you,” Ishani whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve given me strength when I had none left. But I know you can’t wait for me to become the person you want me to be.”

Karik looked at her, his expression conflicted. He cared for her deeply, but his focus on his future, on his plans, wouldn’t allow him to risk waiting any longer. “Ishani, you know I care about you,” he said softly, “but I can’t put my future at risk. I can’t give you more time”

The weight of his words crushed her, but she nodded. She had known all along that this was the end. No matter how much she loved him, how much she needed him, she couldn’t force him to stay. Love wasn’t enough if his dreams took him down a different path.

Tears filled her eyes as she spoke again. “I never wanted to give you up, Kartik. I can’t even imagine a day without you in my life. But I love you too much to hold you back from what you need to do. And I can’t change myself overnight. I need time to heal, to grow into who I’m meant to be, and I can’t ask you to wait for me.”

Kartik’s silence was answer enough. He understood, but it didn’t make the goodbye any easier. They sat in quiet for a while, neither of them wanting to break the fragile peace that hung between them.

Before leaving, Kartik took her hand one last time. “You’re stronger than you know, Ishani,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always care about you. But we need to follow our own paths now.”

As he walked away, the weight of his absence fell on her shoulders, and the tears she had been holding back spilled over. The world felt hollow without him, and the thought of facing tomorrow without Rohan by her side was unbearable. She couldn’t imagine moving on, couldn’t picture a future that didn’t have his presence in it.

But as she sat alone, Ishani felt a familiar warmth wash over her. It was the same feeling she had whenever she prayed, whenever she placed her trust in Krishna. Through her grief, she whispered a prayer, “Krishna, I don’t know how to do this without him. But I trust you. Please show me the way.”

The ache in her heart didn’t go away, but in that moment, Ishani realized that even though she couldn’t move on from Kartik, she wasn’t entirely lost. Her love for him would remain, a part of her that she couldn’t give up, but she had to trust that Krishna’s plan was greater than her pain.

In the quiet of her room, with the soft glow of her Krishna murti watching over her, Ishani understood that this was her path. She couldn’t rush her healing, nor could she change for anyone else. Her heart was broken, but her spirit wasn’t. She would carry the love she had for Rohan with her, even as she walked forward alone.

The journey ahead felt uncertain, and the road was full of heartache. But with Krishna guiding her steps, Ishani knew that somehow, she would survive this, even if the pain never truly left. She couldn’t let go of Kartik, but she could learn to live with the love she had for him, trusting that her path, though difficult, would lead her where she was meant to be.

Months had passed since Ishani and Kartik parted ways. During those months, Ishaani threw herself into her healing, working on herself spiritually and emotionally. But despite all her efforts, there was one part of her heart that still longed for Kartik. No matter how much time passed, the love she felt for him remained as strong as ever. She often found herself thinking about him—his smile, the way he listened to her, the comfort he brought even in his absence.

One afternoon, while Ishaani was sitting in her favorite café, lost in her thoughts, her phone buzzed. She looked down at the screen and saw a name she hadn't expected to see again—Kartik.

Her heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since they last spoke, and yet the sight of his name brought back a flood of emotions. With shaky hands, she opened the message.

"Ishani, can we meet? I really need to talk to you."

Her heart raced as she read the message over and over. What did he want to talk about? Had something happened? For a moment, she considered not replying, afraid that reopening this chapter would hurt even more. But she couldn’t ignore the pull she felt toward him.

"Okay, let's meet," she finally replied.

They decided to meet at the park where they used to go on long walks, talking about everything and nothing. It was a place filled with memories—some sweet, others bittersweet.

When she arrived at the park, her heart pounded in her chest. She saw Kartik sitting on the bench, looking out at the trees. He looked different, more mature, like someone who had been through a lot since they last saw each other. As soon as he saw her, his face softened, and he stood up, walking toward her with a tentative smile.

“Ishani,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

“Kartik...” Her voice was barely a whisper. She couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her again after all this time.

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Kartik spoke again. “Can we sit?”

They sat on the bench, the familiar space between them filled with tension and unspoken words.

“I’m sorry,” he started, his voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s been a long time, and I know I hurt you. I had to take care of my career, and I thought I was doing the right thing... but I’ve realized something important.”

Ishani looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. She had been preparing herself for this moment for so long, but now that it was here, the emotions were too overwhelming to put into words.

“I thought I needed to focus only on my future, but I was wrong,” Kartik continued. “None of it matters if you’re not a part of it, Ishani. I tried to convince myself that I had to choose between you and my career, but the truth is, I want both. I need you in my life. You’re the reason I want to succeed.”

Tears welled up in Ishani’s eyes. She had waited so long to hear those words, but now that they were being spoken, she didn’t know how to feel. “Kartik... you left me. You said you couldn’t give me more time because of your career. How can I trust that things will be different now?”

Kartik sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I know I messed up. I thought I had to choose, and I was afraid that if I didn’t focus on my career, I would lose everything. But I realized that I lost something far more important when I let you go. I was chasing success, but all I could think about was you. I didn’t want to admit it, but every step I took felt empty without you.”

Ishani wiped away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I missed you, Kartik... every single day. But I can’t go through the pain of losing you again.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me blindly,” Kartik said, his voice gentle yet firm. “I’m asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. I’ve been through my own struggles too, Ishaani. I’ve faced failures, dealt with disappointment, and questioned everything. But the one thing that stayed with me through all of that was you. I couldn’t stop thinking about the love we shared. I don’t want to be successful if I can’t share it with you.”

Ishani looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. “Do you really mean that, Kartik? I don’t want to be left behind again.”

“I mean it with everything I have,” Kartik said, reaching out to hold her hand. “I want us to face the future together this time, not apart. I’m not perfect, but I’m willing to fight for us if you are.”

There was a long pause as Ishaani took in everything he had said. The memories of their time together flooded her mind—the late-night phone calls, the quiet moments watching the sunset, the way he had always been there for her, even when life got hard. But she also remembered the pain of their separation, the long nights of missing him, wondering if she would ever feel whole again.

“I need time to think,” Ishani finally said, her voice trembling. Kartik nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait, Ishaani. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the moment hanging between them. Ishaani wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt hope. Kartik was back, and maybe—just maybe—this time they could make it work.

[jazzywritesworld]

11/11/22

53 days ago. I began a journey. A journey of surrender, of evolvement, of seeking inner peace.

The love I have for myself, bleeds into the love I have for others. The love I show myself, I grant to others.

The self care I give myself, heals. The time I take to engage in free spirited activities, I heal my inner child.

The moments I choose to center myself and look within my spirit, I find myself caring for her. Toddler Jazz. Innocent, lost, scared, hurting in more ways than I can explain. I see her, I feel her & I embrace her. I pull her to my chest, lay her head on my arm and let her legs extend over my other. As I hold her in my lap, I rock her. In the same rocking chair my mother did before she abandoned herself and therefore left me. It is a wooden chair, with a terribly ugly salmon color and yellow polka dots. That hideous image is the most comforting thing in the world to my spirit. I rock her, guide my fingers through her hair. I sing to her, I tell her affirmations & I see her smile in relief.

In this journey, I have been blessed with the gift of clarity. I am a codependent addict and alcoholic. I am an ex wife. I am a motherless adult woman. I am a valued daughter to my father and step mother. I am a beloved sister to two boys that have my heart. I am a niece. I am a friend to many. I am a best friend to the most selfless, loving, humble person I know.

The fact that I abandoned these roles, to stick my head in the sand. To engage in anything but my reality. I lost myself, and therefore all my relationships (some for better and some for worse).

Since my life changed in March 2021, I ran from myself, my shame, my pain for nearly two whole years. But where ever I go, there I am.

You can’t outrun mental health, you can’t outrun pain, you can’t outrun grief. You cannot outrun an addiction. The hold on you is irreversible. It will always be within you. But we all have the ability to process, to feel, to let this reality move through us without applying attachment.

The Buddhist say, “Attachment is the root of suffering.”

Feelings, moments, interims of time, anxiety, peace, love, hate, pain. They are all a process, but not something we have to attach ourselves to. We don’t have to take pain and snuggle into it’s depths to feel safe. Even if that’s a comfort that you well know.

On that note, let’s look at the urge to self-sabotage. Why is it that we choose to suffer the same pain, again and again? We must stop punishing ourselves for the pain we have already survived. Remember your worth, even at your lowest, you are so valuable. There is not a person in this world like you. You are gifted, talented and underestimated (especially by yourself).

New habits, routines and choices are terrifying but beautiful. Choosing to protect yourself. Choosing to be on defense for your heart. Choosing to lovingly guide your actions through positivity and grace. Choosing to process your feelings openly, through writing, a safe person or a counselor. Who will you be if you surrender the pain? A hole in the donut? Or does it clear away the wreckage you’ve lived under for years. Does it give you the opportunity to breathe? Yet we don’t know what this full contraction of our lungs has felt like before. We could not breathe that deep without being engulfed in our racing thoughts and pain. The magic happens outside of the comfort zone. Remember that.

Remember your unshakable role in this life.

Nobody is coming to save you. No one is sending an SOS for you. No one is going to rescue you from a tower. No one HAS to protect you as an adult. You are your ultimate protector, nurturer. You are the key to this life, to the relationships you have. They wouldn’t be those connections if there was no you. So fully engage in the healthy love that’s offered around you. Immerse yourself in understanding of oneself. Save yourself. Lay a foundation. Maybe start washing your face morning and night, no matter how you feel inside. Act as if you care for yourself. Start small. Those little actions will add up.

May you always come back home to yourself. No matter what has happened each day or how far you stepped out of character. No matter who hurt you. No matter the grief you carried in your tender heart. Come home, baby. Your safe within yourself. Breathe, all the way in to your tail bone. Slowly let it out. Look around you, ground yourself by the things around you held down by gravity. Feel the weight of the earth on those items. Feel cradled by the precious gift of gravity from the universe.

In case no one’s told you today, I love you.

[seaoftales]

He hadn't even had the chance to retort how he felt it was a shame that they couldn't seek out the safety of the moss covered cave, when he noticed how Amalthea stilled, steady breathing and closed eyes a clear indicator that slumber overtook her fast, and he wasn't too far behind her, either. Eyes heavy, Mihawk willed himself to stay up somewhat longer, the events of that day still having him in their clutches and refusing to let go. He was paranoid to a certain degree, expecting the Marines to strike at any moment, and eventually, he, too, eased into the security that the greenery provided them with. Surely by now, he'd hear the nearby animals run away in panic, or men shouting from the deck were any ship to approach the beach.

Sleep took over fast, heavy eyes now closing as the swordsman made himself comfortable on the ground, something he found was quite easy to do, especially with Thea's tunic draped over him to protect him from the chilly night. The scent of florals she always had around her were comfort and safety --- they always had been, since the first day they met and she saved his life not all too differently than this time. Whatever he had done to even deserve to be in her presence and have her friendship, he didn't know, though what he did know was that he was eternally grateful for it.

No matter how light of a sleeper he normally was, nothing could have woken him up. Exhaustion had him good, keeping him in a dreamless sleep even way past his usual wake up time.

The swordsman hadn't even made a move when Amalthea healed his wound once more, though the warmth of her healing powers had him smile a bit, leaving feeling at ease and safe. As she finished, however, her closeness and scent was quite enough for him to shimmy closer, arm wrapping around her waist and staying there, face pressed against the top of her head, essentially buried in her hair. Were he awake and aware of what had been going on, he'd apologize for his subconscious advances and wouldn't even blame her should she smack him away, though he kept on sleeping all until the sun was high up in the sky, the rays of light shining on them through the treetops.

One said ray, as the leaves swayed in the wind, shone on his face, a groan leaving his lips when it finally broke his sleep. It took him several moments to even will himself into opening his eyes, a curse leaving his lips under his breath while he took a few moments to come properly to his senses and remember where he was and what had happened. Most importantly of all, the first thing he noted was the way him and Thea were sleeping in --- her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist, both snuggled up comfortably. And then there was his wound. He could have sworn it looked much worse the previous day. Did she--?

With a soft smile, the swordsman leaned in and placed a soft kiss on top of her head. ❝ Good morning, ❞ he whispered.

There is a slight twitch in her thigh as Mihawk binds it, but otherwise she is too worn out to respond to any pain or discomfort. Her senses felt dull and dazed, there was only enough control over her Ability to maintain her satyr-like shape and nothing else. Had she any more presence of mind, the fact Mihawk kept his hand on her leg, and even gently massaged it, would've made her squirm with embarrassment. Yet for right then, she allows it without comment or protest.

Her tail swishes into view, the long silky tuft of hair tickling as it skims over the swordsman's arm. "A night's rest will be enough, and it'd be too risky to stay here longer than a day or two. The Marines will regroup and search for me, guessing I am probably still within the area." Here she stifles a yawn, the sound melting into an exhausted groan of discomfort. Another moment of wiggling a bit, until she freed her two daggers from beneath her shirt and set them aside. Now she could settle more comfortably.

For a moment, it appears as if Thea has dozed off, her eyes lulled and face slack. But then she stirs again hearing Mihawk shift to lay down beside her, the warmth of his hand grasping her own. It was a strange comfort. "We'll go looking for my ship in the morning, along with food and water.. I'll be better then," she uses her other hand to grasp for her discarded tunic, and drapes it over the swordsman like a makeshift blanket. "The cave is still here, might be a home for other animals though."

A deep inhale and then exhale, followed by quiet snoring that was similar to a cat's purr. She'd fallen asleep entirely at the end of her sentence.

x

Amalthea sleeps soundly and without dreams, too fatigued for her mind to conjure terrors or memories of decades past. She has always been an early riser regardless and she rouses at what she assumes to be near dawn. Consciousness regained slowly, soreness in her muscles demanding to be stretched and promising another few hours needed to fully recover herself.

She's also nestled way too close to Mihawk, with even her tail encircling him like a lifeline. Which is a little awkward given circumstances but her rational mind suggested it was from the night getting chilly. Of course they would huddle close while asleep to share and preserve warmth. Well… Thea makes no attempt to move too much or make a sound, lest she wake him, but she does press her fingers carefully to the half-healed wound on his chest.

A bloom of starlit radiance that brings heat crawling under his skin, her Power warming through his veins and tissue as it took effect. The last of that ugly gash knitting closed entirely, no longer scabbed and jagged, but smooth skin glossing over. There's the faintest scar left behind but even that would fade in the coming months. She removes her hand and presses her forehead to his shoulder, letting the ensuing tiredness overcome her.

[hauntedselves]

Managing Flashbacks

Focus on the bold parts when a flashback is active.

Say to yourself: "I am having a flashback". Flashbacks take us into a timeless part of the psyche that feels as helpless, hopeless and surrounded by danger as we were in childhood. The feelings and sensations you are experiencing are past memories that cannot hurt you now.

Remind yourself: "I feel afraid but I am not in danger! I am safe now, here in the present." Remember you are now in the safety of the present, far from the danger of the past.

Own your right/need to have boundaries. Remind yourself that you do not have to allow anyone to mistreat you; you are free to leave dangerous situations and protest unfair behavior.

Speak reassuringly to the Inner Child. The child needs to know that you love her unconditionally- that she can come to you for comfort and protection when she feels lost and scared.

Deconstruct eternity thinking: in childhood, fear and abandonment felt endless - a safer future was unimaginable. Remember the flashback will pass as it has many times before.

Remind yourself that you are in an adult body with allies, skills and resources to protect you that you never had as a child. (Feeling small and little is a sure sign of a flashback).

Ease back into your body. Fear launches us into 'heady' worrying, or numbing and spacing out.

Gently ask your body to Relax: feel each of your major muscle groups and softly encourage them to relax. (Tightened musculature sends unnecessary danger signals to the brain)

Breathe deeply and slowly. (Holding the breath also signals danger).

Slow down: rushing presses the psyche's panic button.

Find a safe place to unwind and soothe yourself: wrap yourself in a blanket, hold a stuffed animal, lie down in a closet or a bath, take a nap.

Feel the fear in your body without reacting to it. Fear is just an energy in your body that cannot hurt you if you do not run from it or react self-destructively to it.

Resist the Inner Critic's Drasticizing and Catastrophizing:

Use thought-stopping to halt its endless exaggeration of danger and constant planning to control the uncontrollable. Refuse to shame, hate or abandon yourself. Channel the anger of self-attack into saying NO to unfair self-criticism.

Use thought-substitution to replace negative thinking with a memorized list of your qualities and accomplishments.

Allow yourself to grieve. Flashbacks are opportunities to release old, unexpressed feelings of fear, hurt, and abandonment, and to validate - and then soothe - the child's past experience of helplessness and hopelessness. Healthy grieving can turn our tears into self-compassion and our anger into self-protection.

Cultivate safe relationships and seek support. Take time alone when you need it, but don't let shame isolate you. Feeling shame doesn't mean you are shameful. Educate your intimates about flashbacks and ask them to help you talk and feel your way through them.

Learn to identify the types of triggers that lead to flashbacks. Avoid unsafe people, places, activities and triggering mental processes. Practice preventive maintenance with these steps when triggering situations are unavoidable.

Figure out what you are flashing back to. Flashbacks are opportunities to discover, validate and heal our wounds from past abuse and abandonment. They also point to our still unmet developmental needs and can provide motivation to get them met.

Be patient with a slow recovery process: it takes time in the present to become un-adrenalized, and considerable time in the future to gradually decrease the intensity, duration and frequency of flashbacks. Real recovery is a gradually progressive process (often two steps forward, one step back), not an attained salvation fantasy. Don't beat yourself up for having a flashback.

- From Flashback Management in Treatment of Complex PTSD, Pete Walker (2005)

[l-r-christian]

This is about the request about the ED and I wanted to clarify that the reader is anorexia. She begins to become insure about her body because of Hayley or anyone else and stops eating, excessively working out.

Okay. I am going to kinda put my self in the reader's shoes for this one as I have been there only it was a toxic relationship so I kinda know the feelings. This is gonna be be therapeutic for me.

Warnings: Angst, Toxic behavior, Hayley being kinda bitchy, Protective Mikaelsons, Fluff,

A/N: please if you are going though any of this please please seek help. Get a support system and get heathly as you matter no what anyone says.

It started off as a small off hand comment from Hayley about Y/N's weight and the woman brushed it off. But soon Hayley's comments turned to backhanded remarks and a bit bitchy. It was summer as the family was out in the pool and Y/N put on a two piece swimsuit looking at herself in it seeing how gorgeous she looked.

"Wow a two piece? I wouldn't have if I had your belly Y/N but that's brave of you." Hayley said looking Y/N over as the woman wore a cute two piece swimsuit that Rebekah bought her. Y/N flushed feeling a little self conscious as Elijah smiled gently at her waving her over to his sun chair so he could put sunscreen on her.

"You alright, baby?"

"Yeah...." Y/N tells him feeling Elijah kiss her neck as Hope's laughter reach her ears and saw the girl in the pool with Klaus and Kol. Y/N smiled and relaxed ignoring the old dark feelings creeping back in her mind.

"Your thighs are looking a bit chubby. Surprised that Klaus can even lift you." Hayley says as it sounds like she was harmlessly teasing Y/N when Klaus came in carrying the woman on his back. Y/N was quick to get off Klaus's back making him frown with the sudden change of behavior but let it go.

Y/N stood in front of her mirror in just lace bra and panties while she looked okay to the outside world. Y/N thought she was too heavy there was fat and needed to lose the weight that was in her belly and thighs.

'They'll never find you attractive fatty.'

'Why wouldn't they want a fat girl.'

'Look at you so fat. Wow how could you let yourself go.'

Y/N put a large shirt on before heading down stairs to join her lovers for dinner which caught their attention. Y/N smiled sitting between Rebekah and Kol getting some dinner, Elijah had made her favorite.

"Not that hungry love?"

"I had a big lunch." Y/N answered Klaus when she got a small portion of food this seemed to get her lovers to back off for a moment.

"You're working out a lot more than normal." Camille said joining Y/N on her workout as lately Camille had became worried about her best friend. The therapist in Camille was screaming at her that something was wrong with Y/N as the blonde noticed that the other woman hadn't been eating much.

"Well summer is coming up and I just wanna be toned." Y/N said smiling as they entered the gym and Camille didn't buy it but made notes to keep an eye on her friend.

Y/N was a bit heavier when she was teen and was mercilessly bullied for it and when one summer passed she loss the weight. Only to be leered at by boys as she had curves and got attention because of it which she got bullied by the girls in her school.

Old insecurities had came back and was worse than ever the more Hayley pointed out Y/N's weight or seemly playfully flirt with Elijah. Y/N had only ate when her lovers weren't around which wasn't much and she hadn't been intimate with them. Y/N found herself working out more, throwing up whatever she ate and abusing diet pills.

'Hayley is more gorgeous than you.'

'I bet Elijah is fucking her. Why would he want someone as disgusting as you?'

'Ugh even Kol, Rebekah and Klaus are disgusted by you.'

'They shouldn't be with you. You don't deserve them.'

The dark thoughts whispered as Y/N swallowed after having thrown up her dinner and got up feeling weak. Y/N was pale, her hair was dull but to Y/N she thought she looked fine while those around her was worried about her. Y/N was circling back to her old teen mindset of a vicious cycle of throwing up and working out.

'I need to be beautiful. I need to be beautiful.'

Was an old dangerous thought that had came back in full force in Y/N's head as she headed for the gym again getting the other's attention making them frown.

"She is too thin Elijah. Something is wrong but she won't talk." Klaus said pacing as the four was talking about Y/N. For the last month they noticed the decline in their lover's health.

"I am aware Niklaus. But we can't just tie her down and force her to eat."

"Well we can't do nothing."

"Then let's find out why."

It took one slip up from Hayley for Rebekah to over hear as the hybrid making Y/N feel small as she said some hurtful words.

"Shame Elijah is dating a human like you. Weak and unattractive, I bet he has to be careful to not hurt you." Hayley said poking Y/N's thigh when the human walked past her.

"Your thighs look a lit......" Hayley was cut off by Rebekah's growl as the Original marched into the room glaring at the hybrid.

"So you been tormenting my little wife?!" Rebekah said getting protective getting the boy's attention as they walked in. They saw an angry Rebekah and an annoyed Hayley with a worried Y/N.

"Rebekah?"

"Nik the mother of your daughter has been hurting Y/N." Rebekah said as Klaus glared and Y/N was getting anxious as this wasn't what she wanted. The human moved to walk away as they were fighting with Hayley but because she hadn't been eating she fainted which Elijah caught her.

When Y/N woke she saw her vampires around her bed worried Elijah sat next to her cupping her cheek rubbing it frowning with how thin she felt.

"Why have you been staving yourself?"

"I haven't." Y/N said sitting up but layed back down feeling light headed as she was trying to push back the thoughts. Whispers of her being a burden enter her mind, now they won't want her but felt Rebekah cup her face.

"You aren't a burden and we would always want you." Rebekah said as Y/N realized she had said that all out loud and began to cry only to get piled on by her lovers. It was one step at a time as none of her lovers left her alone, Elijah made she stay in at least one of their beds and Klaus and Kol made sure she ate while Rebekah had been keeping Hayley away from the Abattoir.

Y/N was at a heathly weight but far from being okay so Klaus had her talk with Camille to get her to be in a healthy mindset. Y/N's road to recovery was rough as a few times she fell back into old habits but her lovers was quick to get her back on track.

"Thank you for not giving up on me." Y/N whispered as she as cuddled up to Kol with Rebekah as they all was watching a movie. Both Rebekah and Kol placed kisses on her skin as Elijah and Klaus smiled softly.

"We would never give up on you love." Klaus said as Y/N smiled feeling comfortable. By all means Y/N wasn't better but for now she felt loved and safe knowing that they would never allow her to feel like that again.

[nejibaby]

Memories

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: There are a lot of terrible things that have happened to you as an Uchiha that you wanted to forget. But with Neji’s help, you’re able to move on and move along. Things have started getting better for you, however, once the Fourth Shinobi War was declared, time seemed to start running out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: I didn’t exactly follow the plot and somehow it turned so angsty 🙈 Please let me know your thoughts~

There are memories you hold so dear that you refuse to have them tainted no matter what. Most of those memories are of the times you spent playing or training with your brother Shishui, his best friend Itachi, and Itachi’s brother Sasuke. Those times were the golden days for you; the best of the best, if you may.

Conversely, there are also memories that you just wish would disappear. They’re the memories of incidents you wish didn’t happen at all. They’re the type of memories that you push at the back of your mind, because you believe that if you think about it or even spare a single second for it, then it’ll be more real. Because you’re in denial. You’re in denial not only about the death of Shisui, but also of the Uchiha clan.

But then there’s a single memory you have that always stands out. It’s a memory that you both want to forget and remember.

The tragedy of the Uchiha clan had changed the only survivors — you and Sasuke. You had already started changing a little because you had to deal with your brother’s death, but seeing the horrible scene in the clan’s district had been the icing on top.

Your drastic change had been evident on the day you came back to the Academy after you were discharged at the hospital. What once was a girl full of life had become an empty shell.

The moment you sat down entered the room, people had started talking. Mostly it’s just about asking someone else if you were an Uchiha or if they know about the clan’s misfortune. They were meaningless chatters so you easily drowned them out.

But there was a comment that had reached your ears. “Why is it such a big deal? People die anyway, it just so happened her clan died on the same day.”

The comment kept ringing inside your head but then someone beside you spoke up, “Don’t you have anything else better to do than talk about someone else’s life?”

He was met with silence so he continued saying, “People die everyday, it’s a fact. Some die because of illnesses, some because of old age, some because of poverty, accidents, or murder. As shinobi, we can die in the line of duty. But that doesn’t make death any less painful to the one left behind.

“If your family is alive, then good, but maybe use that brain of yours because logic says not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

Naturally, you want to forget about the unsolicited comment of your classmate, but you want to remember that among the students inside the room, one boy had stood up for you. Quite frankly, you needed his saving that day. Otherwise, you would’ve beaten yourself up for mourning too long.

And when you realized who that boy was, his words weighed even more. Because Hyuga Neji was a boy notoriously known for thinking that everyone’s fate is predetermined from birth and that luck plays absolutely no part in it.

“Not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

And for a hot minute he had abandoned his belief as he stood up for you.

It sounds hypocritical if you think about it.

But maybe just as he had saved you, you had opened his eyes just a little bit and helped him see that his beliefs were skewed too. In a way, you had helped each other, at least you hoped.

It’s because of that day, that memory, that you find yourself gravitating towards Neji.

It isn’t attraction at all at first, more like genuine curiosity about him and his life. But you didn’t get to know him further until the Chunin exams where he had disclosed the way of their clan. It’s at that time where you understood why he acts the way he acts.

You can’t help but wonder about how two clans with almost similar circumstances— both with kekkei genkai, both living in Konoha, both considered to be one of the strongest clans in the shinobi world— could have completely different ways of living. One clan is almost completely annihilated, while the other has slaves of their own blood. And if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t exactly sure which is better.

You have gotten the urge to talk to him after hearing his story, although you really didn’t know what to say. But then the chance never came up because of the chaos orchestrated by Orochimaru.

After the Chunin exams and the attack of Orochimaru, you hadn’t heard of Neji for a while since you’ve been tasked to help with the repairs of the village. And when you did hear about him, it was terrible, terrible news.

Sasuke left the village to seek power from the very person who just wrecked havoc in Konoha. His leaving alone left you in despair. What Itachi was to Shisui is exactly what Sasuke means to you, and him doing such a thing without even letting you know makes you feel like a failure both as a friend and as a family.

The news didn’t end there, however. Apparently the squad that Shikamaru had led to retrieve Sasuke had been severely injured and were on the brink of death — one of them being Neji.

You remember feeling guilt and regret burning your skin. You remember the shame of not being able to save Sasuke from the darkness and not being able to help the retrieval squad in any way. You blame yourself for the horrible things that happened.

Since then, you have made it a point to visit the squad in the hospital every day, making sure you apologize and thank them for their service. But admittedly, it’s Neji that you always stay with longer.

It’s not that you aren’t comfortable with the others, they’re really nice and easy to get along with. But they always have other visitors with them, mostly their team members and relatives. Neji, on the other hand, didn’t get as many visits since his other teammate, Rock Lee, was also injured because of his fight with Gaara. So Tenten and Guy sensei would switch visits between the two every other day.

Besides that, his clan members rarely ever visited. And you didn’t want him to be alone in such trying moments, especially when you didn’t get to do anything to prevent this from happening.

As closed off as Neji is, because of your constant visits, you have found a way to worm yourself into the walls he put up. And by the time he’s discharged from the hospital, you somehow became close friends.

From that moment on, you find yourself coming to Neji on times that you’re in despair and in doubt. You trust him enough to tell him your stories, worries, and fears because he doesn’t judge you. And he does the same with you.

Neji listens when you want him to listen, and talks when you need him to talk. He’s quite level headed and very much rational, and because of that he gives the best advice.

With him, you find yourself healing and growing. With you, he finds himself learning to forgive.

Neji easily makes you see things in a different way; a different light; a different perspective, and helps you become a better shinobi and a better person in general.

For you, Neji has such a comforting aura. While he’s sometimes cold and stoic around others, with you, he softens up. With you, he’s gentle; careful even. And it’s because of this that you find yourself admiring him more and more.

But before anything could happen — before you could even confess — the Fourth Shinobi War was declared.

Just like that, time seemed to start running out. And you have lost all hopes of being together with Neji as a lover rather than a friend.

The war is awful. Quite frankly, it overwhelmed you too much, too easily. The bodies lying on the floor with dried out blood reminded you of the massacre of the Uchiha clan. But the only person who’s able to calm you down and help you move along is Neji.

The both of you fight side by side, always nearby Hinata in case she would need help. When the night comes and the enemies cease their attack, it’s your turn to talk Neji into relaxing a bit because he’s started straining his eyes from too much use. And because it’s you who asked and it’s you who’s there with him, he knows he and the rest of the Allied Forces are safe, so he rests.

But somehow chaos ensues and in the middle of it, you both get separated. You’re worried deeply, but you trust his skills and his strength, and you know you’ll be reuniting with him again.

And reunited with him you did. But when you have found him once again, he’s blocking out the Ten Tails’ attack with... his body.

With desperation, you transported to his side as quickly as you can. Summoning your last bits of chakra, you use Susanoo to protect him, Hinata, and Naruto. The last thing you remember is the look of relief on Neji’s face, but before it could morph into worry, you have already blacked out.

By the time you have woken up, you’re in Konoha’s hospital. The first thing you see is Neji resting his head on the side of your bed, peacefully sleeping, looking as angelic as ever.

Your body aches with every breath you take, even more so with little movement. But you didn’t let that deter you from weaving your fingers along the Hyuga’s hair. He stirs almost immediately and then he opens his pretty eyes. He sits up upon seeing you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You softly ask.

He doesn’t respond to your question. “You’re awake,” he sighs in relief. “You’re finally awake. Let me go call Lady Tsunade and Sakura.” He stands up.

But before he can even take a step, you grab his wrist. “Stay,” you mumble.

Neji looks at you, reading your face. But then he nods and sits.

“Is it over?” You ask.

“Yes, the war’s over.”

“What happened after?”

“It’s a long story… but tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine. My body aches, but it’s not a big deal.”

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?!” Neji looks upset that it takes you by surprise. “Do you remember what happened? Didn’t you know you almost died?! You almost used up all your chakra to use Susanoo! That’s so stupid and reckless!”

His aggressive tone effectively gets you angry. “I did it for you!” You snap. “Of course I remember what happened! Even if I want to forget, the memory is branded in my mind! You fucking wanted to use your body to shield Naruto from that attack, didn’t you? How is that not stupid and reckless? Huh?”

Neji’s chakra flares up as he clenches his jaw. Yet, he doesn’t speak.

You breathe out, trying to calm down. You rarely ever fought with Neji and he’s never really raised his voice to you. With your body still tired and aching from the war, you didn’t want this conversation to escalate further so you try to diffuse the situation before it blows even more out of proportion.

In a low voice, you speak, “I was so scared, Neji. I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved.”

A tear falls down from your eye and Neji’s heart breaks at your forlorn state. “I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t…” you squeak. “I love you so much, I can’t lose you.”

Neji’s breath hitches at your declaration. He could hear his heart drumming against his chest.

You love him?

He doesn’t know if he heard you right or if his mind is just playing tricks on him. It happened before. He’s loved you for so long… and there have been plenty of days he dreamt of hearing you say you love him too. And right now he isn’t sure if this is the reality or just another one of his dreams.

As if you’ve read his mind — like you always seem to be able to do — you repeat your words. “I love you, Neji.”

It’s the confirmation that he needs. And hearing your words knocked the wind out of him. “I… I…” he starts saying.

But you’ve taken his stuttering and his pale, panic-stricken face as a sign of an incoming rejection, so you look down instantly and say, “It’s fine if you don’t like me the same way. I just hope we can still be friends after—”

“No, I… I love you too,” he breathlessly confesses before you even finish your rambling.

Your head whips up after the words left his lips. You stare at him, unbelieving.

And just as you did a while ago, he repeats his words with conviction, “I love you too.”

A smile makes its way to your face, and when he smiles back, you immediately know this is a memory you won’t ever forget.

[tarnishedxknight]

When Maris said that Vossler's behavior was not his own, Soryn could not help but think how wrong she was. "Perhaps not, but the actions of one Knight reflect upon the Order, and those of the Order upon the Crown. We are all of us bound to act with honor, 'tis set in the solemn oath we have taken. When one of us forsakes that honor, the entire Order falls to shame," Soryn said. It was clear from how he spoke that, unlike Vossler, he took both personal honor and his knightly vows extremely seriously.

Oh, how it broke his heart to see this poor woman, a refugee of the catastrophe of Landis, and his respected Knight Captain's cousin, rattled so deeply by the actions of a man who has seemingly forgotten to maintain any semblance of honor. His gaze was a bit sad, his brow wrinkled softly with concern as he viewed her.

Soryn's first instinct was to embrace her, to help her feel cared for and safe, but... in this situation such a gesture would certainly not be appreciated. It was clear from the way Maris was holding herself that she felt partially violated by Vossler's lack of respect for her personal space. Now was not a time to use physical affection as a means of comforting someone.

His head canted as she began to ask him something and then cut herself short. "Aye, Lady Maris?" he prompted, all ears for whatever it was she would ask of him. And then she finished her question, inasmuch as she got most of it out before she stopped short of the word... safe. That was what she was going to say, wasn't it? On pure instinct alone, Soryn knew it was. "'Twould be no trouble whatsoe'er, my lady," he said kindly. As she spoke again and confirmed that she was indeed afraid to potentially encounter Vossler again in the shadowy nighttime halls of the palace, Soryn could not keep the sympathy laced with guilt from his gaze. "I understand," he said gently. "Come. I shall take you the whole of the way there."

As they began to walk, he looked to her with concern. Her illness was still plaguing her, as it did the Captain as well. Nethicite was an insidious thing. Or rather, the Mist that resulted from it was. It was beautiful and powerful, useful and necessary. It kept airships afloat and fueled magicks that saved lives and yet... just one explosion could wipe an entire nation from the map and cause suffering the likes of which few could ever imagine.

"I wanted this shift specifically," he said, hoping to occupy her mind so she would not focus on her distress. "Too oft I have seen Ser Azelas engaged in questionable activities at best, and if I'm to be perfectly candid, they have disturbed me greatly. I find these activities are performed with greater disregard for potential discipline during the nighttime hours." To put it bluntly... "He knows our Captain sleeps at hours such as this, and he seeks to use it to advantage. Once I became aware of this, I requested of Ser Ronsenburg that I be permitted to share this patrol route with Ser Azelas. For your sake, I am glad I did."

When they arrived at Maris' quarters, Soryn smiled at her. "Here you are. Would you feel better if I ordered one of the guardsmen to stand without your door? Or... do you need a sage to tend to you?" he asked, still so concerned for her. Not only did she seem a sweet woman, and she was his dear friend and Captain's cousin, but Soryn... liked Maris very much. For that reason, he felt protective of her, perhaps a bit more so than he did for any other citizen.

@tarnishedxknight - continued from here

Maris was tired of being sick, though she dared not voice that aloud. There was little to be done about the nethicite poisoning, other than treat various symptoms and pray she would not worsen. The only... fortunate thing (if she could call it that) was that, all things considered, her poisoning was not severe. It was not like it had been for her dear cousin. It was not like it was for many others.

But there were days it would take hold. Days were she would be forced to remain in the care of doctors and healers to alleviate her symptoms until the worst came to pass. Until she was stable enough to return to her own quarters and rest. It had been no different, this time around, and although they had offered her to stay another night, she wanted nothing more than to be in her own bed. It mattered little that it was late. As grateful as she was for the doctors who treated her, she was rather weary of their care.

Quickly, however, she came to regret her decision when she saw a certain Knight along his patrol. Too late, did she see Vossler, and before Maris could turn and retreat back to the safety of the medical wing, he spotted her, and her heart sank. Her jaw tense as she narrowed her eyes, and said nothing in greeting. She cared little for formalities with him - not with the predatory gleam in his eyes, and not with the disrespect he showed to everyone he considered beneath him. Women, the poor - even his own soldiers and fellow Knights. No, he showed no respect, and she would show none in kind.

But, try as she might to remain in the middle of the hall, to avoid being blocked, she was still unwell and far from the soldier Vossler was. She was forced against the wall with little room between, and before she could begin to yell at him to back off, another voice interrupted, and the relief she felt could have brought her to her knees.

Maris wasted no time in moving the moment Soryn pushed himself between her and Vossler, and stood behind the Knight that had come to her rescue. Her heart hammering almost painfully in her chest as her hands shook - from fear, from exhaustion, she wasn't sure - and came to stand to his other side, though still kept behind. Just enough for her to run if needed, but when Vossler tried to defend himself and said they were merely talking--

Oh, the outrage that welled in her chest was almost enough to make her snap, but Maris held her tongue - her fury flashing across her face, and drowning out her exhaustion.

Gods be willing, Basch was going to hear of this in the morn.

Yet, even with her anger, she could not shake how terrified she was, and it only seemed to fill her as Vossler challenged Soryn before storming away. Her heart in her throat - her stomach in knots. She could not win against him, she knew, and-- Oh, gods, she didn't want to think about what he would have done if Soryn had not come to her defense. Just the very brush of such a thought made her feel ill.

Although shaken to her core with anger that did little to serve her well, Maris drew in a shaky breath, and did her best to pull herself together. To hold her arms close to herself in an attempt to hide how her hands still shook. "Thank you, Ser Vedrai," she whispered - her voice almost failing her. Unwilling to answer the question her body answered far too clearly. "He is-- No, his behavior is not your doing." Soryn's apology was not one she wanted to hear. Nor her cousin's, for that matter, but the apology she wanted was from one she knew would not give it. "Would you--"

She paused, and drew in another breath to steady herself, and wondered if it would be best to return to her quarters or to the medical wing. Was it the poisoning that made her feel ill? Or just how rattled she was from the experience? "Would it be trouble to ask for an escort to my quarters? I-- I do not feel..." I do not feel safe, she wanted to say, but was unable to spit out the words. "I do not wish to encounter him alone again."

[levworship]

Hiiii can I get a sfw of manager headcannons? Of maybe all the guys crushing on their manager and how each guy would be as well as how they would deal with literally THE WHOLE GROUP liking you? The manager is bubbly and affectionate with them so it’s what makes them love you. Could it be inarizaki and fukorodani?? (Pls mention my boy konoha hes always left out 😔🤚) thanksss

decided to just combine these if that’s fine. sorry this took my longer than i thought it would.

no warning. just the boys crushing hard and getting a lil possessive over you.

inarizaki

i’d say that collectively, the boys are pretty discreet in comparison to the other teams’ behavior. they’re much more chill with you mostly because of the fear that they’ll chase their adorable little manager away.

and god knows they wouldn’t be able to replace something like you.

everything you did was just so god damned cute. the way you brought them little snacks to enjoy before and after their games, and how while you did care for them as a team, you also cared for them as individuals.

and that’s exactly what put them in their current positions.

at first it was weird, all of them realizing around the same time that their affections for their manager went much deeper than they probably should have.

and on top of all that? you were completely oblivious to it. they considered this to be both a blessing and a curse, as while they could get away with a lot, it was just so frustrating how you never seemed to pick up on their advances.

atsumu was the most bold of the group. he’d have no shame, commenting on how “your hair smells nice today” and how “those bottoms make your legs look so good.” it never failed to tank your once overly bubbly self down to a flustered mess, thanking him before dismissing yourself.

aran figured it was better for him to show you rather than make an attempt with words. always helping you when you struggled to lift something that you should’ve known damn well was too big for you. ushering you away from tsumu when his compliments became just a bit too overwhelming for you. he was like your hero.

suna decided to take a much more slick approach. making and sharing playlists with you with multiple love songs that he could only pray would get your attention, only for you to complain that you needed something “more upbeat.” he even offered you an earbud to listen with him on the rare occasion that he was able to snag a seat next to you.

osamu was also more of a shower than a talker, as his brother already did more than enough of that. his favorite thing was to bring you gifts. foods and maybe even small knickknacks that he claims he picked up because “they reminded me of you.”

and kita, while relatively quiet with you, decided that the best approach was to simply hold his silence with you. he worried you’d become overwhelmed by the others, especially with the team visibly doting over you more and more everyday, so he saw no problem in letting you seek comfort in his silence. besides, you took up most of the time running your mouth to him anyway. not that he was complaining.

while there were some minor disagreements and rare arguments over you, there was one thing they all seemed to agree on. all they wanted was for you to be safe.

which is why they were so protective over you. they couldn’t let their poor, sweet manager get her heart broken by some jackass just looking to manipulate them and toy with their heart! she was just too precious for that.

they didn’t do much directly. not immediately, anyway. if they saw someone seemingly flirting with you, they would wait until they went away to pull you aside, calmly encouraging you not to engage with that person again.

and how could you not listen when they all sounded so certain? it’s not like your favorite boys would ever steer you wrong.

no. never.

fukurodani

i’d also say that this team is also pretty discreet about their little crushes on you.

except for one of them.

“bokuto koutarou” and “discreet” don’t exactly belong in the same sentence.

but for the most part, everything was fine. you kept them all on track, and were even there to help bokuto through his mood swings better than anyone else. you were like a gift sent to them by the gods themselves. and, on top of all of that, you were so sweet and considerate. your energy brought light into the darkest of room. it’s like you wanted all of them to fall for you as hard as they did.

akaashi attempted to show his feelings by putting an effort into caring about yours. he was there to make sure you didn’t overwork yourself, and offered you such kind and reassuring words after a particularly hard day because god he loved the way your smile looked when he did. and even more, he enjoyed being the cause of it.

bokuto was much more straight forward. or, he was trying to be. but somehow you always seemed to brush it off without even realizing. he was always rushing up to you with a “you look so cute today, y/n.” “i’m so glad you’re our manager.” and you just couldn’t resist smiling and giggling at the walking ball of sunshine in your day.

and konoha— well, he pretty much just assisted you in brushing off bokuto. tugging him away whenever he kept bothering you for just a bit too long, and always jokingly reminding you to focus when your eyes wandered around the room too much.

as for other people trying to approach you? and with the intention to flirt? don’t expect to experience much of a reaction at the time, rather, they’d sulk in the realization that none of them can control you or tell you what to do.

still, they avoid this happening as much as they can. sending blank stares at those who look at you for too long. throwing “casual” arms over your shoulder in public while sending a sharp warning glance. even bokuto showed a bit more ice in his veins at the potential threat.

they wouldn’t be in denial about it either. they wanted you for themselves. you were too sweet to let anyone have, including each other. they all knew they shared the same feelings

they just never spoke on them.

nekoma

now now.

these mfs? zero chill. and zero shame or remorse about it either. it’s like a constant battle for attention.

even kenma craves your attention.

it’s literally a fucking wonder and a mystery how you stay oblivious to all of this when they’re literally always smothering you.

how could they not? you were so nice and patient with them, allowing them to bother you all day like that. it wasn’t a job many would be able to handle. but you genuinely enjoyed their company!

kuroo would compliment you constantly. got new shoes? he’s first to point them out. dyed your hair a slightly different color? you bet he noticed. oh, and if you ever need help with even the tiniest thing in any subject? you bet your ass you’re getting trapped in a tutoring session. but that’s okay! you were so thankful for him. the way you remained so positive and patient with him nearly melted him on the spot every time.

kenma attempted to show interest in you by doing exactly that. he paid so much attention to you as well. which, while it doesn’t sound like much, it was always a shocker for the people constantly around him to see just how much attention he showed towards you. it wasn’t to the same extent as kuroo, but it was enough for him to learn your favorite snacks and share them with you after he “accidentally” got too much for him to handle by himself. he could even be caught deep in conversation with you about a game you have never and probably will never play. still, he loved seeing how your eyes lit up as he shared his favorite things with you.

yamamoto was just what you’d expect from him. clingy, forward, and perhaps even creepy if you weren’t so sweet about everything. always giggling and pinching his cheek like a baby. you were going to be the death of him.

lev was just annoying. at least, anyone else would probably find him annoying. but of course not to you! he followed you around all day like a stray cat, finding comfort in the way you treated him so nicely and refused to scold him like the others. your words of encouragement only sent him spiraling in adoration for you. so you best believe your ass that if you asked for literally anything, he was more than happy to take care of it for you.

and yaku? he plays your white knight. always there to pry off yamamoto kuroo and lev, only to plop himself right into their spots. it was a constant game of tug of war and you barely even acknowledged it. it was almost painful to witness.

and even though there was lots and lots of bickering amongst the team over you, all of that was thrown out of the window at the idea of someone trying to take you away.

perhaps they were a bit dramatic, but that guy’s hands were a bit too low for their liking. why were you going around hugging bozos like him anyway? so like the feral pack they were they wasted no time springing into action, tugging you away for “important team matters.”

while you were naive, you weren’t a complete idiot. you scolded each of them quietly and sighed as they lowered their heads in shame. you ruffled lev’s hair as he stood in front of you.

of course you forgave them. which is why the same thing kept happening. over and over again.

requests for haikyuu and bnha are open.

[smoochkooks]

—lost stars, part 2 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

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

⟶ word count: 20k

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

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

✔ read part one here!

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

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

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

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

“What do you suggest we should do then?”

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

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

Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass. 

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

“What do you think, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it really matter?”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.

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

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

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

“Need some help?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”  

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

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

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

They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.  

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

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

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

[1:23pm] jungkook:

i need you  

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

please  

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

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

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

“Hello, doll.”  

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

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

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

But you accept your fate the way it is.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. He told me about you.”  

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

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

You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”  

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can get a driving license then finally.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is that?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:11pm] jungkook:

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

Please call me back. I’m worried

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:36pm] jungkook:  

At least text me if you’re okay

Please  

[11:39pm] me:

I’m fine

[11:39pm] jungkook:  

Thank God

You sure you don’t wanna talk?

[11:41pm] me:

Maybe next time

[11:41pm] jungkook:

Okay  

Night, miss grumpy  

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

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

[10:45am] jungkook:  

Do you have time now?  

I need to tell you sth  

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

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

[10:46am] me:  

I guess  

[10:46am] jungkook:  

Great. I’m gonna call you now

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I be scared?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. I agree.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that for?” you mumble.

“Just missed you.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”  

“Taehyung.”  

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

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

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

“Is somebody jealous?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”  

“You’re invited to a party.”  

“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?”  

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

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

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

“Oppa?”

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

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

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

“Oh, I will be over the moon.”  

“Good.”  

“Amazing, even.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, you looked up and saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.  

You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.  

It’s Jungkook who speaks first.

“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”  

“I do.” you whisper truthfully.

He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”  

You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.

There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.  

But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.

The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.  

He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.  

The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.  

“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.  

“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.

Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.  

Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.  

“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”  

Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.  

“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.  

“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.  

“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.

Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.

“Tell me about it.”  

She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”  

Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.

Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.  

Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.  

“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”  

Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.  

As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.  

And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.

You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.

“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.

For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.

“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.

“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.

“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.

You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.

“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.

Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”  

“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.  

Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.

“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.  

Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”  

“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.

Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”  

You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.  

“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”  

Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.  

That your little infatuation had a sequel.  

Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”

Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.

“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”  

“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”  

Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing  stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”  

The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.  

Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.

What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls.  You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.

“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”  

To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.  

Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”

Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.  

But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?  

The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away. 

Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.

By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.  

Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.  

Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.

“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”  

Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.

Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.  

And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.

“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.  

“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”  

From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.

“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.

Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.

“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”  

“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”  

You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”  

Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”  

You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”  

“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”  

Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.  

(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)

You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.

“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.

Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”  

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  

You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.  

“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”  

Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.

“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.

Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.  

Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.

“Want to get out of here for a while?”  

Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”  

“But–”

He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.

Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”  

“Ladies first.”  

“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”  

You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.

“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.

You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”

He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”  

“Exactly!”  

You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.

“So you did get rid of him after all.”  

Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.  

Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”  

“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”  

Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.

Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.

“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.  

“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”  

It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.  

Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.  

It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”  

You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.

“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”  

You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”  

It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.  

“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.

It’s longing.  

“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”  

You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.  

“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”  

He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”  

He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.  

“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”  

And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”  

You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.  

And you need to hear him say it.

“Promise?”  

Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.

For now, it has to be enough.

Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.

But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.

“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”

“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”  

“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”  

He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”  

Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”  

Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”

You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”  

He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.  

You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.  

“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.

He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.  

There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes. 

Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.  

You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.  

“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.

Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”  

“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.

Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.

“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.  

He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”  

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing.  You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”  

‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.

He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening. 

“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.  

“So good,” you mewl.  

“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.  

“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”  

“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.

His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.

“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”  

He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”  

Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.

Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.  

He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.  

You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.  

“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.  

Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.  

You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”  

He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh. 

‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.

“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”

“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”  

He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.  

It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).  

He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,”  You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”

Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”

“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”  

You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.  

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.  

You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.  

He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.  

“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.

Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss. 

He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”  

Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”  

By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.

When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”

Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.

Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.

“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.  

You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.  

“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.  

“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”  

“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.  

You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”  

He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.  

“Always.”  

You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.

[4 months later]

“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”

You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.

The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.

Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.  

The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.  

He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.

You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.  

[5:55pm] jungkook:  

We’re departing in 20 minutes  

I’m missing you already so much:(

You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.  

[6:01pm] me:  

Miss u too!!

And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.  

The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.

You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.  

However long it takes.  

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Emotional Flashback Management

When people think of PTSD and “flashbacks”, they often think of someone re-experiencing a traumatic experience like combat: seeing and hearing the traumatic experience almost like a hallucination. But Complex PTSD often involves a kind of flashback known as an “emotional flashback”. These flashbacks do not have a visual or memory component to them: they are simply a sudden flood of negative emotions like shame, fear, anger, sadness, helplessness, and hopelessness. People with C-PTSD therefore often don’t realize that they’re having a flashback, or even that they have PTSD. One of the key parts of C-PTSD recovery is learning to recognize and manage these flashbacks to traumatic childhood experiences.

The best source I’ve found so far on emotional flashbacks is Pete Walker’s book Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving. In this book and on his website, Walker suggests the following steps for emotional flashback management:

MANAGING EMOTIONAL FLASHBACKS 

1. Say to yourself: "I am having a flashback." Flashbacks take us into a timeless part of the psyche that feels as helpless, hopeless and surrounded by danger as we were in childhood. The feelings and sensations you are experiencing are past memories that cannot hurt you now. 

2. Remind yourself: "I feel afraid but I am not in danger! I am safe now, here in the present." Remember you are now in the safety of the present, far from the danger of the past. 

3. Own your right/need to have boundaries. Remind yourself that you do not have to allow anyone to mistreat you; you are free to leave dangerous situations and protest unfair behavior. 

4. Speak reassuringly to your Inner Child. The child needs to know that you love her unconditionally– that she can come to you for comfort and protection when she feels lost and scared. 

5. Deconstruct eternity thinking. In childhood, fear and abandonment felt endless—a safer future was unimaginable. Remember the flashback will pass as it has many times before. 

6. Remind yourself that you are in an adult body with allies, skills and resources to protect you that you never had as a child. (Feeling small and little is a sure sign of a flashback.) 

7. Ease back into your body. Fear launches us into "heady" worrying, or numbing and spacing out. 

Gently ask your body to relax. Feel each of your major muscle groups and softly encourage them to relax. (Tightened musculature sends unnecessary danger signals to the brain.) 

Breathe deeply and slowly. (Holding the breath also signals danger.) 

Slow down. Rushing presses the psyche's panic button. 

Find a safe place to unwind and soothe yourself: wrap yourself in a blanket, hold a stuffed animal, lie down in a closet or a bath, take a nap. 

Feel the fear in your body without reacting to it. Fear is just an energy in your body that cannot hurt you if you do not run from it or react self-destructively to it. 

8. Resist the Inner Critic's catastrophizing. (a) Use thought-stopping to halt its exaggeration of danger and need to control the uncontrollable. Refuse to shame, hate or abandon yourself. Channel the anger of self-attack into saying no to unfair self-criticism. (b) Use thought-substitution to replace negative thinking with a memorized list of your qualities and accomplishments. 

9. Allow yourself to grieve. Flashbacks are opportunities to release old, unexpressed feelings of fear, hurt, and abandonment, and to validate—and then soothe—the child's past experience of helplessness and hopelessness. Healthy grieving can turn our tears into self-compassion and our anger into self-protection. 

 10. Cultivate safe relationships and seek support. Take time alone when you need it, but don't let shame isolate you. Feeling shame doesn't mean you are shameful. Educate those close to you about flashbacks and ask them to help you talk and feel your way through them. 

11. Learn to identify the types of triggers that lead to flashbacks. Avoid unsafe people, places, activities and triggering mental processes. Practice preventive maintenance with these steps when triggering situations are unavoidable. 

12. Figure out what you are flashing back to. Flashbacks are opportunities to discover, validate and heal our wounds from past abuse and abandonment. They also point to our still-unmet developmental needs and can provide motivation to get them met. 

13. Be patient with a slow recovery process. It takes time in the present to become un-adrenalized, and considerable time in the future to gradually decrease the intensity, duration and frequency of flashbacks. Real recovery is a gradual process—often two steps forward, one step back. Don't beat yourself up for having a flashback. 

[gold3nfics]

Anachronism {Chapter One}

Author's Note: So this is my first written work on here, and I am really excited about this story! This chapter was really just to allow you guys to gain insight into what the story is about and who the boys are. I promise you that Y/N will make an appearance in the next chapter :)

Word Count: 3,814

Our story begins with one man, a man who went by the name Haneul.

Haneul was admired and sought out by many for not only his sharp attributes, but also his magical abilities. He came from a long line of sorcerers before him who had served and protected the realm he resided in.

While he was the one to keep everyone safe, many wondered why he refused to assume leadership, or even live in the nicer part of the land. Instead of living in luxury and riches, he chose to live in the forest away from the bustle of the town solely because he preferred the quiet lifestyle compared to one where many would invade his space and distract him.

One early morning, he woke to frantic knocking at the door of his small cottage.

“Hello?” he opened the door to find that it was one of the royal guards.

“Your presence is requested at the castle immediately.” the young guard says with urgency evident in his voice.

“What happened?” Haneul says now concerned,

“The queen, we believe it is time.”

He grabs his medical supplies and jumps into the carriage heading towards the castle. Once they arrive, Haneul is immediately taken to the royal chambers to begin his work.

Upon entering, his eyes immediately caught sight of the queen writhing in pain surrounded by many servants trying to relieve the pain she was feeling. He approaches the queen with a reassuring smile on his face,

“And how is this young beauty doing?”

“She is not at her best right now.” the queen responds with a weak smile. Haneul releases a sigh of amusement then asks her for permission to check her dilation, after she nods he checks and realizes it is time.

“You, my queen, are about to be a mother in a matter of minutes,” he looks to the servants “bring me warm towels and water.” The servants leave and he focuses on the queen, “I am going to need you to push, but not too hard alright?” She nods and begins to push.

After only seven pushes, the baby is out and the sorcerer carefully wraps the child in a blanket, “Would you like to hold your son my queen?” he says without looking away from the child. When there was no answer, he glances up only to see her going in and out of consciousness.

He immediately hands the baby off to one of the servants and examines her only to find that she has lost too much blood. He does everything he could to revive her, yet she has already passed. He bows his head in shame while holding her cold hand and apologizes, part of him hoping her soul is still lingering around to hear.

Now, there was indeed a ritual he could have done to revive her; however, it is forbidden being that it is far too dangerous to bring a soul back from the underworld.

He stands back with his head hung in sadness, “Alert the king at once.” Just as the servants were gathering to cover the queen's body and filtering out, he approached the servant holding the tiny prince, “May I take him? I need to examine him.” the servant nods and leaves the room.

As he seats himself in a chair behind a divider on the other side of the chambers, he gently looks over the child for any issues. Just as he was almost finished, the child stirs in his slumber raising his small hand to rub his eyes. As the child does this, Haneul catches sight of a white circle on the inside of the child’s hand, at first glance, it appeared as if it was glowing.

Haneul furrows his brows, gently tracing his fingers over the mark. “What is this little guy?”

As he moves to look closer, the servant comes back to collect the young prince to give to the king. He slowly gives away the child and he is soon left to himself to think about what that mark meant. He decides to shake the thought out of his head, and just travel home to rest.

As he rides home on the carriage, he mourns the passing of the young queen. He was quite fond of her, just as everyone else in the realm was. She was not only beautiful, but was also very caring. She would always make jokes and tease others just to have them feel entertained.

Her husband is bound to be heartbroken, he thought in his head. It was no secret the king had worshiped the ground she walked on; not that she didn’t deserve it. The number of times Haneul had overheard the young couple whispering childish jokes to each other, and them arguing over tedious matters were more than he could count. It will be hard to find a woman as kind and unique as she was. I hope her son takes after her. Haneul smiled sadly at this thought.

* * *

As the years passed, Haneul noticed that there have been more and more children who were born with the same white mark that the young prince had. There had been seven boys born throughout the past few years, all of which were born with the same mark and had lost their mothers during childbirth.

“Godammit!” Haneul yells in frustration as he slams his fist onto the table. The table was cluttered with scrolls, books, odd writings, and drawings that even Haneul didn’t even remember taking out. The stressed sorcerer moves over to his bed and faceplants directly onto his pillow.

Not only was he tasked with acting as a teacher to the young prince, keeping the people safe, and being one of the main healers; but he also took it upon himself to figure out what was going on with the seven boys who shared the same mark.

He may have been tired, stressed, and confused; but most importantly, he was worried.

Haneul was a man who believed that there was a reason for everything; death, births, happiness, sadness, there were reasons for all of it. Therefore, he knew that there was a great purpose that followed the seven young boys with the peculiar markings.

* * *

“He follows him as if he was a stray and he threw him a bone. I am surprised Namjoon hasn’t grown irritated.” the young woman says with a tired smile.

“Well Namjoon is quite patient, and I feel that he's the one to keep Jungkook out of trouble,” Haneul responds while packing up his things, “and Yuna, do not forget they both need to meet at my home before dawn.”

“The others will be there, right?” Yuna asks with a glimmer of concern in her eyes,

Haneul grabs her hand as a way to comfort her and stares into her eyes, “They will be there Yuna, they have no choice.” he turns his head to look at the two young men joking around and skipping stones across the foggy pond, “For now, just spend time with the two of them. Okay?”

Yuna’s eyes filled with tears, “Okay, thank you Haneul.”

“Of course” Haneul smiles and bows respectively before departing and starting his journey home.

Haneul has aged considerably throughout the last 20 years, his hair had become greyer and his eyes duller; but his mind and heart were still drawn towards helping people, and to the seven boys with the odd mark, and after many years, he found the answer.

A few months before now, Haneul had stumbled across an old poem.

The world is calm and crops are ripe

Yet underneath its surface lays a darkness waiting to strike

When the circles of seven come to light, so will come a long and frozen fight

A being will propose an idea that the seven circles will see as an answer to end the fight

It is up to the seven circles to decide what path they take, and which is for light and dark

The answer lays at the heart of the one who descends from pure light, for their heart and the seven circles must all reunite

After reading the poem he realized the importance of the young men The poem itself acknowledges a traumatic event that will happen in the time that they are alive, yet it had been months since he found the writing and nothing has happened. However, Haneul knew that something was coming and he came to realize what that was.

You see, two nights prior Haneul had a vision. The vision was not clear, yet it showed a figure whose presence exuded sadness and wisdom. All the figure did was deliver a message that was the following,

“In two days, a frozen death will fall upon your realm. Those seven under the protection of the circle will survive; while all the others will temporarily perish. They will be presented with information that involves seeking another being of pure light to end the frozen death. However, there are two paths they could take with this, but only one being the right one. Do not let them fall into trickery, for that will be their downfall and everything will cease to exist if the wrong path is taken.” and with that, the vision was no more.

Waking from his vision, Haneul knew that he must gather the boys and prepare them for what was to come.

* * *

As Haneul waited for the boys to arrive he put together all of his writings, they were not much but they gave small insight on what was to come. Just as he finished up sorting everything, he caught sight of lanterns and heard the sound of multiple footsteps outside his home.

“Jungkook, if you do not stop stepping on the back of my boots I swear I’m gon-” the voice was cut off by a loud laugh, “What are you going to do Jin? Send your one of the so-called guards after him?” a lazy voice replies.

“Oh that’s rich, coming from a farmer.” a cocky-toned voice chimed in.

“What is that supposed to mean Jimin?” a new deep voice says back, “Guys! Stop it, Haneul is probably hearing everything and I am pretty sure the last thing we want is to embarrass ourselves in front of him.”

Haneul had heard everything; and the last voice was right, they were embarrassing themselves. But the older sorcerer had been rather entertained by their interactions. Putting a sly smile on his face, he opened the front door coming face to face with seven men whose faces varied from shock, embarrassment, to dumbfounded.

“You boys have not changed much, have you?” he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. Namjoon forms a tight-lipped smile, “I am afraid not sir.”

Haneul gestures for them to come in, “Well, let’s not waste any more time.”

Once the boys were led in and settled into Haneul’s study, they began to ask questions. “So why are we here?” Jin asks while the others looked at Haneul.

Haneul looked at them and sighed before speaking,

“Have you ever wondered why you all have those marks on your hands?” Silence.

“Why all of your mothers passed away during your births?” Silence again.

Haneul notices the confused expressions and continues, “Well I did. I knew that there was a reason for those markings and,” he stands and gets a small book, “I found the reason why.”

Haneul gives the book to Namjoon and takes a seat in front of them.

“I spent years gathering, reading, and learning everything about what is just so special about you boys, and all of the knowledge that I have gained can be found in that journal. You boys are a part of what is known as the circle.” The boys look at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain more.

“There was a tale that spoke of seven men being born with the same markings that you boys have. They all possessed special abilities that varied with each one of them. These men used their powers to protect those of their realm and were the ones to keep balance within their realm. However, as time had passed tensions had risen between the seven and because of it, a big fight had happened. Their fight had destroyed not only their bonds, but also ended many people's lives. No one knew the true reason why the fight had happened, but many did not wish to know. Because many innocent people had died as a result of the fight, the people, who were the ones that the seven had sworn to protect, had seen the seven protectors as dangerous and a threat. So they decided to kill them.”

Jimin perks up and scoffs, “I doubt their attempts would have worked, you said they had powers right?”

“Jimin,” Namjoon said, “be quiet and let him continue.”

“Anyways, one of the seven had been informed about the people’s plan to assassinate them and told the other six. That night they had decided to willingly sacrifice themselves, and their lives, to no longer cause suffering and sadness among their people. Now, it seems that the gods have decided to pass on the tale by blessing you seven with the marks.”

“So, we are now the protectors of our realm?” Seokjin asks in a tone that gives the impression he is not thoroughly convinced.

The older man sighs, “Yes, and I know this sounds odd but-”

Yoongi cuts him off laughing, “Haneul, please. We are not people of importance, except for Jin and Jimin. Most of us have grown up struggling and some despising one another. Now you say that just because we have similar marks, and our mothers are dead, it makes us special?”

“Yoongi hear him out, you-”

“Oh Jungkook please, we are nothing and have been nothing for most of our lives.”

“Yoongi,” Haneul starts, “you do not have to believe me right now. None of you do, but something is about to happen and you need to understand what to do.” He gives Namjoon the poem that he had found, which related to the prophecy of the seven who all sat before him.

“After finding that poem, I had a vision where a figure appeared to me and spoke of a ‘frozen death’ that will fall upon our people.” the boys' faces grow concerned, “To end it and bring back the balance of our realm, you boys are to venture outside our realm, find a certain being, and bring them back here.” the boys erupt with multiple questions in response.

“Wait, how do you travel outside our realm?”

“How do we know it's them?”

“What do we do once we find them?”

“What about our families?”

It seems that after that last question, everyone grew silent. Taehyung’s eyes had begun to grow watery, “What about my dad? Will he be okay?”

Haneul grew somber, “Your families, as well as everyone here, will be okay with whatever happens while you are searching for the being. However, their lives depend on what path you take once you are all back here together. In the book that I gave you, it tells you how to get to and from the realm in which the being lives.”

Haneul gets up and notices that the sun is almost up. “I do not have much time, but there is one last thing.” he turns towards the boys, “My vision also said that you would be approached with an idea and to be awar-” Haneul’s breathing had grown rapid as he fell to the ground while clutching his heart.

“Haneul!” Junkook had yelled before getting up and running towards him along with the rest of the boys. “Can you hear me? Haneul?” Namjoon asks while kneeling beside him, feeling for a pulse.

His breathing starts to slow down and he reaches out to grasp Namjoon’s hand; the boys are shocked to see a layer of frost had begun to form around his hand slowly moving up his arm.

“B-be caref-ful, d-do not allow yourselves t-to be fooled. Trust your h-hearts and e-each other. Rememb-ber,” Haneul moves his gaze towards the book he had given now in the grasp of Jungkook, “everything is i-in that b-book.” and with that, the frost overcomes his body and his breathing stops.

The boys stood in shock as the man, who had been a role model for all of them and helped so many people, become absorbed by ice and had fallen into a death-like sleep.

Namjoon stands up and takes the book that was in Jungkook's hands, and he began to head out of the house. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jin exclaims following after him.

“To do what we’re supposed to do. I am going to find a way out of this realm, find who I need to find, and do whatever I need to do to get everyone back.” Namjoon states without stopping.

Yoongi scoffs, “You? In case you don’t remember, Haneul said ALL of us have to work together to resolve this, not just you.” Namjoon stops and turns and furrows his brows, “Weren’t you just going on about how you don’t believe in any of this and how we couldn’t do anything?”

“Yes, but that was before I saw Haneul become a block of ice. I still don’t believe we have powers, that seems rather far-fetched.” Yoongi crosses his arms, “Are you saying that Haneul is a liar?” Jin challenges.

“Not entirely.” Yoongi replies in a cold tone, “I am more confused than anything, I mean how the hell are we supposed to know who this being is once we enter their realm?” Everyone is silent, and Namjoon sighs in defeat, “Does anyone have any idea?” Yoongi asks with frustration evident in his tone.

“I have an idea.”

The boys all turn towards the front of Haneul’s house and see a young woman leaning against the doorway. Jimin steps in front of all of them with a hand on his sword, “Who the hell are you?” the woman raises her hands in defense and smiles calmly,

“My name is Ara, I am a friend of Haneul. It would be best not to harm someone who is here to help you.” The boys grow suspicious and Hoesok speaks up, “Haneul didn’t mention you.”

Ara lowers her hands “He didn’t need to,” she tilts her head glancing at all of the boys, “did you really think that he was the only magical being?”

She snaps her fingers and Jimin’s sword appears in her hands making the boy move forward to retrieve it, “Look, I am not here to harm you, and you having a weapon against me will not solve anything.” She moves her wrist to make an invisible force push Jimin onto the ground. Some of the boys stifle a laugh upon seeing the young guard get huffy and brush off his clothes.

“Your marks.” Ara states, the boys look at her in confusion.

Namjoon looks at her, “What? What do you mean by our marks?”

“Your marks, they will help you find who you are looking for.” Ara leans back and looks at him lazily, “Your marks are similar to magnets, they will lead to one another due to their bonds. As for what you need to do with the being once you get them back here; you must bring you eight and your marks to me to restore the balance.”

Jungkook grows confused, “Why would we do that?”

Taehyung steps forward “Yeah, and what about the story?” Ara furrows her brows, “What story?”

“The one about the seven men who were marked and the protectors of their realm.” Taehyung pauses, “There were seven men in the story and now you're telling us that there are eight?”

Ara stills and sighs while her expression grows serious, “Do you know why your people have frozen into a deep sleep?” The boys shake their heads, “Because there were only supposed to be seven of you, seven protectors. But it appears that an eighth being has been born with the mark as well; however, they are not of this realm meaning that your bonds are not entirely connected. It was a mistake, so you boys and them must come back here and break the bond from them, and then peace and life will be restored.” Ara finishes.

The boys are silent for a moment as if to fully grasp the information they had just been given. “So we travel, find, and bring back the being, then you will break the bond?” Jin asks, “Yes.” Ara responds with a comforting smile.

“And everyone will come back perfectly fine?” Taehyung asks in a hopeful tone. “Yes, everything will go back to how things were before. Except for you now being the protectors of this realm.”

“Wait, what about our powers?” Ara turns her head towards Jungkook, “Aren’t we supposed to have powers?”

Ara grins mischievously, “You will need to figure that out on your own, your guy’s powers will come to you naturally.” She stands, “For now, you boys must travel and find the being.” Ara gives Jimin his sword back and begins to walk away towards the path that leads to their town.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks and Ara stops and turns. “Someone has to make sure things here remain okay until you get back.”

“Wait a second!” Hoseok yells out, “Why aren’t you frozen? I thought everyone in this realm would fall into a frozen sleep?” Upon hearing this the boys got curious and all stared at her. Ara’s face grew serious, “Because I am not of this realm.” and with that, she vanished into thin air.

The boys all stand there in silence. Namjoon turns his gaze to the book and opens it trying to find out how to transfer them out of their realm.

“I found it,” the boys look towards him, “the book says that we must join hands and visualize the portal into existence.”

“Yeah right, I’m not holding any of your hands.”

“Oh shut up and take my hand Jimin.” Jin says annoyed while grabbing both Jimin and Taehyung’s hands.

“Alright, everyone close your eyes,” Namjoon states and closes his own, “okay now focus on visualizing the portal.”

“How do you even visualize?”

“It’s like imagining, but more detailed.”

“That's confusing, and it also sounds hard”

“Shut up Jimin!” Everyone says while Jimin sighs dramatically.

After a few moments, the seven men felt their marks stinging slightly and a large gust of wind had blown in front of them. Once they all opened their eyes, they saw a large circle of light in the middle of all of them.

Namjoon steps forwards and looks to the rest of the boys, “Here goes nothing.” and with that, they all walk through the portal.