#sly fox man makes me do insane things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jjk♡#jeon jungkook #mine

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sly like a... ? part 10

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

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You woke, confused you weren’t in the house you were in some sort of forest curled up on the ground. You stretch sounds piercing your ears as the bright sun beams danced through the trees.

Standing you immediately stumbled falling onto the ground, looking down at your limbs your body locked up in fear. You weren’t human, bottle brush tail and fur rusty in colour.

You got up onto your feet clumsy like a baby learning how to walk and stepped into the sun looking more carefully you spun around trying to see yourself more carefully. You saw you had two tails which raised even more questions.

“You look like a puppy chasing their tail, Kit,” a voice called from the shadows, from behind the leaves emerged another fox this one was silver and black. The eyes were familiar, you couldn’t figure out where you had seen them before.

“Do I know you?” you asked curiously, catching a familiar scent, you were taken back to your days in the government home.

“I should hope so Kit, I practically raised you,” The smile was almost the same as your old friend Felix’s. “I have been waiting for the day you would show up here,”

“Where is here,” looking around there wasn’t really any indication as to where you were, “Why am I like this?”

“The stories I told you about kitsune, gumiho and Huli Jing?” He asked, sitting tall, his tail wrapping around him elegantly, “they are all real.”

“So I am one of the fox people?” you asked, feeling a spike of excitement, a place in your heart filling the way it should when you knew who you were and where you belong.

“Not quite,” Felix smiled leaning down to lick your forehead affectionately, “you are a hybrid of sorts, you have never been a failed hybrid. It’s just the fox genes took over and gave you it’s power. I was the one to pull you out of the artificial womb. So you took one look at me in my human form and turned into a human, I was protecting our secret.”

“So I am a hybrid, but I can appear human,” you spoke slowly trying to process all the information.

“You can also astral project in your dreams and meet other foxes within this world,” he said, “I was waiting to see if one day you would appear and I am pleased to see you, all grown up.”

You felt yourself waking and you brushed your head under his chin and against his neck, “I have so many questions and I want to see you.”

“I will stop by soon in person, and we can chat, you may go through some changes,” he gave you a few more affectionate licks on the forehead.

You woke up beside Jungkook who was cuddled into your side.

Jungkook was softly snoring his leg draped over your waist as he laid face planted into his pillows. What a strange dream. You think the stories you had been telling Jungkook were getting to you, you were so desperate to find where you belonged you began making up elaborate stories. What a strange dream. All it did was make you want to see Felix again.

Stumbling into the living room you were greeted by the boys sitting around watching tv, “Good morning,” You smiled and Seokjin smiled back following you to the kitchen and showing you a recipe for french toast. While reading over the ingredients he leant in and sniffed your hair and neck.

“Did you go out last night?” he whispered sniffing some more, “You smell like someone,”

“Probably Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone was clipped and he didn’t turn from the television, his hands firmly crossed over his chest.

“No this isn’t Jungkook, this is someone else,” He mumbled and pulled Yoongi who had been minding his own business, wanting to make a coffee towards you. A warning growl vibrated loudly in Yoongi’s throat before he was pressed against you and the sound disappeared. “That’s not Jungkook’s scent is it?”

Yoongi sniffed the hair around his ears and tail lifted and he let out a growl once more backing up, “Smells like a man,” he continued past making his morning coffee and you bit your lip confused. “Leave her alone, she is an adult and can see men whenever she wants.”

“But I didn’t, I told Jungkook the story, he asked me to lay with him until he fell asleep and I accidentally fell asleep,” I sighed and looked over at the balls all watching, Jimin and Taehyung turned away immediately. “I was home all night. I just woke up.”

You made breakfast and Jungkook stepped out sniffing the air happily. He bid everyone good morning and was ignored by Jimin and Taehyung which made his ears fall back in confusion. With a sigh you watched the boys head down the hallway and heard a door shut.

“Jungkook, you want some french toast?” he nodded, walking around the counter to give you a hug. Jungkook was extra affectionate in the morning and evening, often getting distracted in whatever mischief his hyungs were up too. Sometimes Jin would profess his skill in a certain video game or he would play games outside with Hoseok, the two liked listening to music and running around. “What is this smell, did we have a visitor this morning?”

“No,” you sighed, getting a little annoyed, were they trying to play a prank on you, “I woke up and there was just this scent on me, I haven’t gone out at all and no one has come over.”

He nodded making a face at the smell, “I don’t like it, it smells funny.”

“Well, I will go for a shower today, I just have to get the laundry started and clean up after breakfast” You looked at the schedule and all the boys nodded, they shared some jobs with you which made the work go faster. “Eat up, I have to talk to Taehyung to see if he wants to help with dishes.”

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Tags: @simplymemyself @lolsiiike @min2jeon @notruercolors @luvaffaire @grazysf @ella-mella @lustremyg @sonnymii @moments-of-melancholy @calling-dips-on-j-hope @jiminiessipabo @staerryminimini @afangirl91 @halfway-insane @ireallylikeyourwriting @lindsayjoy444 @lindsay1013 @bangtansleftnut (please make sure you have tagging setting on so you get notified when the story updates)

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Note

'Hello life ruiner' 'oh calm down that was years ago and your life doesn't look that ruined to me' for Lucien and Eris?

ok so sorry this took me so long but here it is. I kind of went for a Damon/Stefan Esque vibe so hope you enjoy

A knock on the door had eris up from bed too early.

“Are you kidding me?” his lover asked. Their time together was rare as they were typically both occupied during this time of day, setting aside a few hours a week to make time for each other.

“I’m sorry love, I’ll be back to bed soon, and” eris smirked. “We’ll finish what we started.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I’m counting on it” Eris quickly put a shirt on and walked to the door and peered through the hole. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Eris took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hello, life ruiner.”

Lucien gave the appearance of looking around. “Oh calm down, that was years ago and your life doesn’t look that ruined to me”

“Yes well, when you left my reputation shattered with my father's blood on my hands it took half a century to get back to a fraction of where I was.”

“So dramatic and we both know that that was only partly my fault.” When Eris didn’t respond, Lucien filled the silence. “Half a century? Huh, has it really been that long?” god his brother was infuriating, it took all of eris’s self-control not to smack him across his face.

“I actually believe it’s been about 75 years.” Eris turned around to face the voice. “Hello, Lucien.”

Lucien looked amused. “Hello Azriel.”

“That mate of yours making you lose track of time?” Azriel chuckled as Lucien tensed.

“Elain is doing well thank you for asking, I see you and my brother have remained close throughout the years.”

“Extremely and thoroughly” eris provided, enjoying the way Lucien shifted uncomfortably. “And as fun, as this little visit was, I have more important” Lucien's eyes flicked to Azriel. “Things to do.”

“Can’t get rid of me that fast brother, I was instructed to reconcile with you or sleep outside.”

“That bad? Seems to be a regular occurrence for you.”

“There’s that sense of humor I missed so much,” Lucien drawled. “So will you have a drink with me?”

“No.” Eris began to shut the door before Azriel stopped him.

“Sorry, can we just have a minute please?”

Lucien appeared grateful. “Of course.”

Eris turned to Azriel, “he destroyed my life, I am not going to have a drink with him.”

“Sweetie, it’s been almost a century and it was mostly beron’s fault.”

“Keyword being almost. Check back in 25”

“Minutes?” Azriel asked hopefully.

“Years.” Eris was about to walk away when Azriel stopped him gently grabbing his arm.

“Eris.” He turned to face him, Eris's gaze softening.

“Please, if not for him then for me, have a drink with your brother and maybe there will be some rewards after.” Eris hated when he got like that, everything about his resolve crumbled and all he wanted was to melt into his hard chest.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But those rewards better be nothing short of spectacular.”

It was Azriel's turn to smirk. “Oh, they will be.” He turned, dropping Eris’s arm, and walked back to his bedroom on silent feet, fading into the shadows. He looked like a god and Eris had to force himself to turn away. He opened the door once more to find his half-brother standing against the side of his house in a nonchalant manner, pretending he hadn’t been listening.

He shot Lucien a look. “Not a word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“There are rules.”

“The control freak strikes again.” Eris shot him another look. “Ok ok, what are they?”

“You get 1 hour, and the words Mom, dad, hellion, Gwyn and our dead brothers do not come up.”

“No family, got it.” he held his hand out, eris knew he expected him to ask where they were going so he didn’t. Instead, he took his hand as Lucien winnowed them away.

A second later Eris opened his eyes immediately recognizing the stuffy summer court. It reeked of joy and pleasantries Eris did not want to participate in. They walked in silence into the town square to whatever trashy bar or club Lucien was taking him to. Suddenly he stopped in front of what appeared to be a lingerie store.

“Need some new panties brother?” He ignored him instead walking inside and whispering something to the cashier, something even his fae ears couldn’t pick up. The cashier flashed them a sly smile and walked to a rack of clothes. She snapped her fingers and a door appeared, Lucien turned to Eris and although this was unexpected, he kept his features completely neutral. Alright, at least he’s trying to make this interesting. He followed him through the door and down the stairs to a dark room lit with neon lights. The room was large and filled with high fae and faeries alike.

“It’s a chain, across all 7 courts, called the underground beluga.” Lucien provided even though Eris had pointedly not asked.

“Inconspicuous.” He chuckled at that. They went up to the bar and sat down.

“Bourbon please” and at the same Lucien said “a round of shots.”

The waiter looked confused, “So which is it, bourbon or shots?”

“We’ll have both.” Answered Eris to both the waiter and Lucien’s delight.

“I like your style.” responded the waiter.

Lucien clapped him on the back and pushed him to sit down. “As do I.”

Drink after drink came and just 1 had turned into 5, 7, maybe 10? It was hard to keep track. It started off tense but by drink 3 Eris and Lucien had dissolved into jokes and memories. Reminiscing the good, eluding the bad. They spoke of their childhood and when they had been close. He did well with avoiding the topic of family.

Eris was drunk as fuck. His mind was hazy and his vision blurred but he was sure that it was his name being called up to the stage. “Eris vanserra you’re up for karaoke, it was requested by a member in this club, that would like to remain anonymous, for you to sing don’t stop believin by journey to the middle.” He blinked twice and turned around to face his brother. The sly fox was smirking.

“Oh, you little shit.”

He took a sip from his bourbon, “I have no idea what you mean”

The host's voice came again “Eris, come on lad you’re not above karaoke get your ass up here.”

“You heard the man.”

And then the cheering began. “ER-IS ER-IS ER-IS”

“Come on brother, give the crowd what they want.” but eris had a better idea.

“Alright,” He paused, smirking, “brother.” Eris pressed his hand on Lucien's shoulder and winnowed them both to the stage. “This performance will now be a duet,” he announced to the crowd, causing an epidemic of cheering. Lucien’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, one not too different from the color of his hair. The music began and the lyrics to the song appeared in the air. Well this was happening, eris thought, might as well lean into it.

He gripped the microphone in one hand, letting the alcohol take over, and belted. “JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL.” he winked at a seraphim, walking to the center of the stage. “LIVIN IN A LO-NELY WORLDD. SHE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN AN-Y-WHERE.”

Eris looked to Lucien, enjoying the shock on his face, he gave him a look as if to say, your move brother.

Lucien cracked his neck, ran a hand through his hair and took the microphone in both hands. “JUST A CITY BOY. BORN AND RAISED IN SOUTH DESTROITTT.” with each word, his voice became more and more confident. “HE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN AN-Y-WHERE”

Eris took the next two lines. “A SINGER IN A SMO-KEY ROOM. THE SMELL OF WINE AND CHEAP PERF-UMEE.”

Lucien cut him off. “FOR A SMILE THEY’D SHARE THE NIGHT. IT GOES ON AND ON, AND ON, AND ON.”

He joined Eris in the middle of the stage and they sang together. “STRANGERS, WAITIN. UP AND DOWN THE BOULEVARD. THEIR SHADOWS.” With the snap of Eris's fingers, their shadows reflected on the curtain began to dance on their own and he lit everything up in a heatless flame. “SEARCHIN IN THE NIGHTTT. STREETLIGHTS, PEOPLE. LIVIN JUST TO FIND EMOTION.” Eris and Lucien looked to each other and then at the crowd that was going crazy. “HIDIN, SOMEWHERE IN THE NIGHTTTT.”

In reality, they were sweaty, off-tune, drunk idiots doing karaoke. But to Eris in his drunken stupor, thought they were gods on that stage. Leaving every emotion he had felt in his almost 600 years with don’t stop believin. He was on a high and could not be brought down no matter what. Up on that stage with his brother, he was invincible.

They sang at least 4 more songs, each one more insane than the last. They drank and joked until the sun came up. And though Eris had nowhere near forgiven his brother, maybe just maybe he had taken a step in the right direction.

#one shot #drabble #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #azris #elucien #some good old fashion brotherly love #brother banter

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desthesleepdeprivedwriter · 3 years

Text

Romance

(Day 3 of Fundy Week, hosted by @fundyfiles!!)

It all started in a day like any other.

Fundy was tired after all the paperwork in the cabinet, Schlatt already had plans for future events and he didn’t even know WHAT they were, just that Schlatt was excited for it, which meant he, Tubbo and Quackity had a big trouble to go though.

He was sitting on a bench, next to the river that crossed Manberg. He kept on watching the salmon swimming around, weirdly relaxed with it.

“Oh… Hm…”

Fundy’s ears perked up, and he immediately turned to face the owner of the voice. Dream was standing there, almost awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if thinking what to say.

“... Yes?”

Fundy decided to help him, noticing the little surprise from the supposed leader of the Dream SMP, a leader that was only two years older than him. The fox raised an eyebrow, not feeling threatened by the other’s presence.

“What?” Dream asked, letting out his confusion. “Are you talking to me?”

Fundy giggled, amused by that strange interaction. “Well, you talked to me first.”

“You are supposed to hate me.”

“And?”

“You… aren’t being harsh to me.”

“Dude, I’m not a dick.”

The deadpanned affirmation made Dream laugh, a low wheeze, causing Fundy to giggle again. Dream sat next to Fundy, who kept on watching the masked men with the corner of his eyes.

“So…”

Dream blinked, remembering what he came there to do. “Oh, yeah, right… I wanna talk with Schlatt”

Fundy rolled his eyes, remembering the pain in the ass that was his job. “Bad time, I guess?” Dream tried to light the mood, getting just a more annoyed glance. “Sheesh..”

“It’s just that Schlatt is being a fucking DICK these days! He won’t stop giving all the cabinet a fuckton of work and then he expects ME! Of all people! To make a 5 pages plan about a festival I don’t even know WHEN will be held or about WHAT! That man will drive me insane!”

Fundy stopped his rant, panting, and he noticed Dream weird shifting, as if he was trying to control himself. “Dude, what-”

What came after was a loud wheeze. Fundy stayed there, wide-eyed, something like anger boiling as he started to think Dream was making fun of him.

“It’s just- it’s just that when you get angry, all you tail gets spiked up and so does you hair!” Dream kept on laughing. “Also, you get this blush all around your cheeks and…” He breathed a little, light headed. “It’s just so cute-”

He stopped himself.

Fundy kept staring at him, face now red with embarrassment.

Dream quickly got up, almost falling down.

“Oh, fuck, err.. sorry. I’ll… go.”

And he ran away.

They met up again one week later, now by the shore, at night.

Fundy was looking up, admiring the stars. He heard Dream's approach, but he did nothing about it. The other sat by his side, quiet.

"Stars are pretty today, huh?" Fundy started the talk, now looking down at his company. Unlikely the last time, the mask was slightly up, revealing a bit more of Dream's face.

"They are, yeah…"

More silence.

"How did things with Schlatt go?"

"Surprisingly smooth. He balanced all the cabinet's work and he also gave us more information about the festival. For the first time, we don't feel like dying!"

Dream giggled, looking at Fundy now. The mask was a little bit higher, revealing a smirk. "You're welcome."

Fundy blinked, and his face lit up with gratitude. "You powerful bastard!" Fundy laughed, gently pushing him. "How did you do that?"

Dream laughed with him, shrugging and keeping that sly and charming smirk.

"A magician never reveals his tricks"

"Well, I have to repay you."

Was Dream's time to be surprised, not managing to solve the fox's expression.

"What?"

"Let me take you to dinner."

Dream was very happy to be using a mask at that moment, his face heating up.

"But-"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

The masked man could only nod, his words gone.

Fundy smiled and got up. Dream followed him, once again caught off guard when Fundy held his hand, placing a kiss on it.

"You also look adorable when blushing." Fundy mumbled and, before Dream could argue, the sly fox was gone.

They went to the restaurant the next day.

And to other.

And other.

And a different one.

At some point, these meetups turned into dates. Fundy knew when. It was when they came back from an french restaurant, both of them with a little too much wine in their system. Fundy dragged Dream to the top of his Not a Secret Base and, under the single oak tree and a full moon, he lifted Dream's mask and kissed him.

No matter how much Schlatt yelled at him.

How many annoyed stares gave him.

How deep it hurt to leave Tubbo alone in that box.

Fundy had Dream.

And Dream had Fundy.

And they wouldn't let each other go.

It was a cloudless night, the stars shining bright. With the mighty Moon as their witness, Fundy got on one knee and proposed.

It was the first time he saw Dream cry.

His boyfriend launched into his arms, and Fundy spun him in the air. Dream kept repeating yes, tightening Fundy in his arms.

The ring was placed on Dream's finger, a golden bang with an orange gem.

They kissed, holding each other's hand. It felt like heaven, and for a moment the entire world stopped. It was just Fundy, Dream and their happiness. It was for forever.

They knew the marriage would have to wait until everything was good again. To reinforce the promise, Dream gave Fundy an engagement ring as well. Silver bang with a green gem.

Rings… they represented their infinity. As long as the rings were with them, nothing could separate them.

When TNT rained over New L'Manberg and Dream loomed above the country, Fundy ended their eternity.

He watched as the bombs fell over his house and took his ring out. He raised his eyes and stared into Dream's, letting the small object slip in between his fingers and fall in the crater. He let out a broken laugh and cleaned the tears falling from his face, turning away from the fiance he once loved so much it hurted.

"Until death do us part."

His Dream was dead.

And maybe Fundy was dead with him.

#Im not late shut up #Also yeah fwt was engaged but the marriage never happened #What a bummer #fundy #Dreamwastaken #Fundywastaken #Not a commission #Fundyweek2021 #Day 3

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atruththatyoudeny · 4 years

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Monthly Reads | October 2020

Happy 28th! I probably sound like a broken record already but I have to say it again: this fandom has an insane amount of talented writers! I am in awe! Every single one of you is my hero! ♥♥♥ Here are all the 23 fics I read and loved this month:

✧ Welcome to The Rivalry | 2tiedships2 | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - enemies to lovers - rivalry - college - 19k “Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?” Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond. “I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?” Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?” “Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?” As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again. Or a reverse You’ve Got Mail au inspired by the Ohio State/Michigan rivalry. Featuring duplex neighbors, (kind of) enemies to lovers, and an anonymous Twitter feud between omega Louis and alpha Harry.

✧ Back to Seventeen | crimsontheory | teacher - soccer coach - 26k As a first grade teacher in a small town in Illinois, Harry’s life is pretty simple. He loves his job, is close with his family, and has a best friend he would go to the ends of the earth for. When a new soccer coach starts at the local high school, things start to get a bit more exciting for Harry. Because that coach just happens to be Louis Tomlinson; the guy Harry was unrequitedly in love with in high school. Or the one where Louis moves back to his hometown and Harry realizes he’s still not over his high school crush.

✧ Sigh for Sigh | logogram | historical - a/b/o - regency - miscommunication - pining - marriage of convenience - 11k When his father's sudden illness forces Harry to get married in a hurry, he's delighted that Lord Louis Tomlinson is the one who makes him an offer. Being married to Louis is just as wonderful as he imagined, except for one thing-- they haven't mated yet. Or the one where they're both idiots, Harry's afraid to say what he's thinking, and Louis's just trying to be honorable.

✧ We Can Find a Place to Feel Good | yeah_alright | 1960s - High School - school dances - 8k 14-year-old Harry is ecstatic to finally be old enough to experience the time-honored tradition of school dances. But with each year that passes and each dance he attends, he’s realizing they’re not all he used to hope they’d be. Especially when he can't actually dance with the person he most wants to. Maybe he and Louis can figure out their own ways to keep dancing, anyway.

✧ At Risk, I Fold | clare328 | canon compliant - established relationship - angst - emotional hurt/comfort - miscommunication - anxiety - implied/referenced alcohol abuse - 15k 2015 is a stream of hotel rooms and whisky on the rocks, tired glances and touching hands under tables. It’s the bears and the bees under a rainbow sky, and Harry and Louis have to figure out how to grow up together, instead of apart.

✧ Carry These Feelings | LadyLondonderry | fae Á faires - established relationship - magic - 3k Harry is one of the fae, and has to return to Court once a year to please the Queen. He makes a detour on his way home to Louis. Two weeks and I'll be home.

✧ Hung Up High in the Gallery | lovelarry10 | friends to lovers - slow burn - pining - 14k "Louis, lay still!” Louis sighed loudly, and Harry watched his chest puff out as he inhaled deeply, the breath he let out loudly making Harry’s curls shift. “I am, stop being so fussy. Can I see yet?” “Nope,” Harry remarked, smiling to himself. “I’m doing your chest next. Shit, this is going to look so good, Lou. Your tan and these colours… why haven’t we done this before?” “Because we haven’t been this drunk in a while, and it never occurred to me until tonight?” ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

✧ Love you in the dark | Perzikje | historical - wedding night - arranged marriage - dubious consent - 10k The story of a historical wedding night: in which Louis is quite unaware as to just how clueless his brand new husband is about sex. They try their best to figure it out together.

✧ Victorian Boy | audreyhheart | historical - victorian - royalty - enemies to friends to lovers - slow burn - angst - murder mystery - 101k Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

✧ the anticipation of knowing you | sweetrevenge | strangers to lovers - neighbors - light angst - 13k Hello Neighbor! Just wanted to let you know that you were having sex so loud and scarily I called our building manager and security officer because I thought you were hurt. P.S. I sent them away when I heard you yell ‘cock’. I’m sorry that I heard that, but I wanted you to know in case they stopped by to check on you or something. Sorry! Your neighbor Louis Tomlinson in apartment #306 After Louis overhears his next door neighbor having sex, he doesn’t really expect anything but awkward hallway encounters to come from it. Instead, he’s surprised to find himself in a whirlwind pen pal relationship with the sweet, albeit loud, baker next door.

✧ We'll Be All Right | dandelionfairies | married couple - accridents - 13k Harry is performing his one night only show in LA but there are four very important people missing.

✧ The Last Song of Your Life | reminiscingintherain | famous/not famous - Rays of Sunhsine - homophobia - 21k As Harry glanced around at all of the faces, he froze as a very familiar pair of blue eyes leapt out at him. A pair of eyes that he hadn’t seen since before the One Direction bomb exploded. A pair of eyes that he never expected to see again. ~~~~ or the famous/not famous AU, with first love, miscommunication, interfering bandmates, and adorable little sisters.

✧ Her | jaerie | a/b/o - trans character - transitioning - dysphoria - anxiety - quarantine - 7k The buttery swipe of a high quality lipstick was almost a sexual experience in and of itself. This time a deep colour with purple undertones which drew out the emphasis of long, dark lashes and perfectly contoured cheekbones. It was a look for loose and styled curls, feeling the classy formal nightclub vibes reflected back from the mirror. The silky plum coloured slip dress would be perfect to debut. The tags still needed to be cut free from the new garment that hung in the closet, but tonight was the night to set it free. When Harry gets home, she can finally be who she wants to be. Letting someone else in always feels like a distant daydream to her... until it suddently isn't.

✧ Loving You's the Antidote | lululawrence | Stylinshaw - a/b/o - touch deprivation - hospitalization - soulmates - polyamory - anxiety - friends to lovers - no smut - 11k Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly. It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick. Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

✧ Like A Neon Sign | reminiscingintherain | canon compliant - mentions of death - fluff - 8k Harry had always been perfect to Louis, through every age, through every stage, and in all the important ways, he was proud to have been able to witness the growth that Harry had experienced first-hand.

✧ We Had Everything | lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes) | exes to lovers - getting back together - famous/not famous - 3k “You know Harry’s coming, yeah?” Louis’ fingers twitched, faltering where he was straightening the knot in his tie as he tried to ignore the false nonchalance in Zayn’s voice. He had no idea how he missed the name on the invite list, how he skipped over the initials on the small gifts, didn’t notice the elegant swirl of Harry’s name inked onto an emerald green place card. Or, Louis and Harry fell apart, and Louis' never forgiven himself. He gets a second chance at Zayn and Liam's wedding.

✧ True To Your Heart | reminiscingintherain | Mulan AU - a/b/o - 13k The world was at war with itself. In the small country of Enilenif, in a tiny, often overlooked corner of the world, young Alphas were quickly signing up to fight, desperate to protect their Omegas and their country as Aidem began to attack their borders. A few defiant Omegas tried to enlist as well, but were firmly turned away with disapproving looks by the staff in the office. Harry Styles was one such Omega, sighing heavily as he kicked at a small stone on his walk home.

✧ What the Water Gave Me | larryatendoftheday | fantasy - mermaids - long distance relationship - 29k When a mermaid crawls out of the sea to listen to Harry sing, it changes everything.

✧ it’s hard for me to go home | localopa | angst - breakup - getting back together - 5k don’t call me baby again

✧ The Prince and the Thief | jaerie | Fairy Tale - a/b/o - strangers to lovers - violence - kidnapping - threats of rape/non-con - 19k Harry is an omega prince locked in a tower and Louis is the thief sent to kidnap him. Nothing turns out as planned.

✧ Up On The Shore | wordsnnotes | Eroda AU - magic - epistolary - friends to lovers - childhood friends - emotional/psychological abuse - angst - long-distance relationship - domestic violence - 34k Magic has been outlawed on Eroda ever since President Cowell came into power, and all the magic people had to go live on the island of Stonell. Things are not looking good for Harry when he finds out he's a magician and his abilities seem more and more out of control. Thankfully, his best friend Niall's mother has the idea to put him in touch with Louis, a magician boy living on Stonell. They begin a secret correspondence and drama ensues. Or: Louis hides his feelings under sarcasm, Harry is too sweet for his own sake, everyone is a rebel, the mums are amazing, Harry's dad is a jerk, and I'm struggling to make it understandable without using normal narration.

✧ this town's just an ocean now | louistomlinsons | exes to lovers - friends to lovers - summer romance - miscommunication - childhood friends - light angst - fluff - 31k “I have really great friends. Do you remember Louis? You guys were always hanging out when you were growing up.” Harry remembers Louis. Harry remembers Louis. Suddenly, his throat feels way too dry, despite the ice cream he keeps licking at. He chokes a little on a chocolate chip before saying, “I, uh. I remember Louis.” Her face brightens. “We have dinner every Sunday. He owns the house now. His parents moved further north, and he wanted to stay here, so they just gave it over. Now if you want to worry about someone being lonely, that’s who I worry about.” inspired by watermelon sugar, featuring picnics on the beach and boys being dumb

✧ I Am the Blinking Light | dearmrsawyer | ghosts - shipwreck - 19k There is a legend of a lighthouse far out to sea. It can’t be found on any map, and those who do find it never return. They say a ghost haunts the lighthouse, and you can hear it calling out in loneliness on the ocean waves.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #monthly reads #completed fics #larry fics

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inksmudgesandcandlelight · 4 years

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A friend of mine sent me a prompt and this is for her, but I don't know where the original prompts from so anyway....

He had noticed her fairly on in the evening, she was the only one not dressed to impress. No fancy ballgown that took up far too much room, and no stylistic suit that cost more than three months of wages. Instead, she was wearing a simple white dress and a black corset, her hair a dark unruly mess and her face free of makeup. She smiled as she danced in-between people, stopping for moments before being passed off to the next man or woman, occasionally she would raise one side of her dress, raising her hand, dancing in a circle and move on carefree, smiling and laughing.

He also noticed her as she was one of the cities most wanted, also his number one enemy. She had been placed on his case four weeks ago, and throughout those four weeks she had slipped through his grasp far too many times.

She pauses, dancing with another man raising his arm up and spinning herself, he chuckles, and they bow, and she raises one side of her dress again.

You sly fox.

Stealing. She was stealing from everyone, the man she had just danced with was now missing his watch, the woman before her her necklace, the woman before that her glasses. He follows after her silently, watching as she dances from person to person, he gets caught up by a girl, who he politely declines and hurries forward. He reaches her just as she’s about to unclasp a necklace and carefully grabs her hand.

“Hello there,” He smiles coolly, and she looks startled for all but a second before she looks coyly up at him.

“Hi,” this close you can see her freckles that dust her face gently. “Luke, this is my current dance partner, you don’t mind—?” She turns to her partner who politely shakes their head and suddenly they’re dancing together.

“What are you doing?” He sputters pulling her closer as she leans back.

“Dancing Luke, what are you doing?”

“Stopping you from robbing these people blind.” He whispers closely to her ear.

“You’re no fun,” she purrs and spins out of reach, he follows easily, and they fall back into step.

“And you’re wanted for arrest.” She rolls her eyes, raising her arm up pulling the side of her dress slightly up.

“And you’re missing your id.” She winks at him before taking off. He hastily pats down his pockets, smiling to himself before taking off after her, she leads them up a flight a stairs, and then up another.

“Where are you going Maria?” She turns her head back only for a moment laughing before hurrying up another flight of stairs. Her laugh was pleasant and it travels through the halls like a melody. He doesn’t falter, doesn’t pause for even a moment and soon they’ve both reached the top floor, and she’s pushed onto the balcony. But before he can grab onto her, she’s climbed the banister and pushed up onto the roof, dropping her flats down onto the balcony.

“You cannot be serious?” Luke barely manages to mutter. She runs her hands through her hair, pushing it off her face. She turns to look down at him, a coy smile on her face.

“Not your cup of tea?” She was mocking his accent, and she was doing it poorly. She reaches out her arms, climbing higher up onto the roof with easy balance and starts running.

“Oh for Christs—” He jumps up on the railing.

“You’re insane!” She laughs back at him, he still had his shoes on, she was doing this barefoot and for a moment he wanders if it was easier that way and if he could slide his shoes off without missing her.

“Just that Irish luck,” he says in a mockingly high Irish accent, her eyes narrow.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. She had stumbled to the edge of the roof. It was bloody freezing up here the sound of the ocean and wind the only things that can be heard around them. She takes one look down and then looks back at him.

“Don’t you dare.” He echoes, she raises an eyebrow, swings her arms wide, and falls backwards.

For fucks sake.

“You stubborn, stubborn fox.” He smiles to himself before he shrugs off his dress coat in a matter of seconds, crouching down to kick off his shoes before dropping off the roof.

The water is even more freezing than the air. It’s rigid, and makes his entire body feel like it’s on fire, and when he breaks to the surface that feeling transports to his lungs.

“Hello there,” her accent was terrible.

“Hello.” He turns around spotting her, her chin was turned up, arms waving violently. He raises an eyebrow. “You can’t swim can you?” He asks. She splashes him.

“Not in a corset.” She spits out a bit of water, ducking under for a second. The shoreline was close by, her ship parked neatly on it.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Not my brightest hour,” she bites out a laugh her teeth chattering.

“Come’ere.” He reaches out for her; she was struggling and pushes against him.

“I can manage.” But she’s ducked under again and he reaches for her when she resurfaces.

“Come’ere.” He repeats and she reaches for him. They stay there, in the middle of the ocean, bopping up and down, her arms around his neck, his around her waist. “You need to be on my back if we want to make it back to shore.” He says after a while, she laughs into his shoulder.

“So you can arrest me?” He pauses for a moment.

“I’m not going to arrest you.” She looks at him then.

“Why?” She asks. He doesn’t have an answer for her and so instead he looks up at the moon, she follows his eye line. Slowly she loosens her grip swinging around onto his back, they laugh a little, her having almost fallen back into the ocean, and slowly, he swims them both back to the shore.

Sand was everywhere. He was exhausted and they were both on their backs the ocean gently climbing up to them every once in a while. The moon was only half full, beaming down at them softly. She turns on her side, her head leaned on both of her hands.

“Are you serious?” She asks, he turns to her then raising an eyebrow. “About not turning me in?” She was staring at him intently, with wide eyes. He reaches out to move her hair out of her face.

“I think I’d have to catch you first.” He says, and a smile breaks out across her face.

“And you’d need your ID.” Before he can say anything else she’s back on her feet, dancing out of his reach, and running up the plank leading to her ship. He doesn’t pause for even a moment.

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my-soul-sings · 4 years

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Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Yooha x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (last part coming soon)

Based on this prompt, but modified for an AU where MC and Yooha meet under different circumstances.

The original prompt:

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?” the human shouted.

“When we first met, I said I was a dog person.”

“Oh my God.”

***

It had been a full year since you started dating him, that sly, silver-haired man with a cheeky, lopsided grin. It was a little hard to believe, considering your first impression of him.

You had seen many guys like him before: extremely handsome, the kind of man who could have girls swooning just by casting a mere glance their way. He looked like the textbook playboy, someone who would be nothing but trouble.

But as desensitised as you were to the charms of male models like him, even you weren’t immune to his allure. You had met him for the first time in the studio for a couple-themed photoshoot, and the smirk he threw your way when you first entered the dressing room had promptly snatched the breath from your lungs.

“Hey,” he had called, “my name’s Yooha. What’s yours?” He had extended his hand to shake yours, momentarily forgetting that he was stuck in a chair, in the middle of having his hair styled for the shoot. His hand was left dangling awkwardly a couple inches shy of you, before he withdrew it and rested it in his lap.

You had introduced yourself with a polite smile, fighting the urge to stare a little too long at a complete stranger, albeit a gorgeous one. And then he had called your name in that smooth, baritone voice, as if he were practising the feel of the syllables of your name on his tongue. The warm greeting made your cheeks flush a little.

And you mentally kicked yourself for it.

Admittedly, it had been hard to control your heart rate and to focus on the shoot that day, especially with the photographer requesting for many intimate poses that mostly involved hugging him, him hugging you, or having your faces mere inches apart. And it most certainly didn’t help that he had beautiful steel grey eyes, handsome features, a perfectly chiseled body that you could make out from his tight-fitting clothes...

...or a devilish smirk that grew a tiny bit wider when you involuntarily gasped at him suddenly bringing his face close to you in a near kiss. (The photographer had been overjoyed to catch that candid reaction on camera too.)

Aside from that little hiccup of yours, the shoot ended quite uneventfully, and the photographer had been satisfied with the photos taken. You had been eager to hightail it out of there to avoid embarrassing yourself any further, but your hasty exit was interrupted by a certain model calling your name from behind.

“Good work today,” he had grinned, the puppy-like expression melting your insides in an instant. You were grateful for the makeup that was still on your face, or your red cheeks would have caused you grief for the second time that day. “Wanna grab some coffee? I know a good place near here. My treat.”

Alarm bells went off in your head. He was probably the type to just mess around, casually flirt with girls and then ghost them after having had his fun. Not the kind of guy you would want to get involved with.

“So? What do you think?” he prodded when you didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you were struggling to string words into a coherent sentence. It was hard to do that when he was staring so intensely at you.

“I-I don’t know,” you’d finally stammered, “I’m not a coffee person...” Yeah. Getting involved with guys like him was never a good idea. Besides, he had an odd, almost mysterious vibe about him, and you couldn’t quite place your finger on why exactly.

“Hmm. Then what about tea? Oh wait, actually...” he glanced at his watch, “it’s almost time for dinner. How about we grab an early bite?”

You had hesitated in your response again, but then you made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Those beautiful, enchanting eyes...

That was how it all began. One dinner multiplied into ten more meals with him, and before long you had found yourself falling for the man who was nothing like your first impression of him.

He was sweet, thoughtful, gentlemanly, and you had hit it off instantly. You watched the same shows, you were both dog people, you both hated pineapple on pizza, and as it turned out, he seemed to have a much more serious, long-term view on relationships than you initially expected.

And so one thing lead to another. Before long you started dating officially, and today marked your anniversary.

He had planned the perfect date. From the outdoor picnic by the river to the dinner at a restaurant you both liked, to the beautiful necklace he prepared as a gift, you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly make this day go wrong. He had appreciated the gift you’d given him too — a silver earring that you had thought would go well with the colour of his hair and eyes.

Everything was perfect. Absolutely, one hundred percent perfect.

Until it happened.

He had sent you home, and you invited him up to stay a little longer, share a glass of wine and maybe cuddle on the couch while watching a movie. You had both gotten a little tipsy, one thing led to another and quite quickly the movie was forgotten. His lips were on yours, and little by little you felt the weight of his body pinning you down to the soft couch.

"I love you,” he had whispered to you, his warm breath fanning across your burning cheeks, before dipping into capture your lips in his. He kissed you deeply, lovingly, and you could taste the wine on his tongue.

You had gotten lost in his touch, allowing him to tip your chin up to deepen the kiss, run his fingers through your hair while his other hand began to roam underneath your shirt.

And liquid courage—curse it—had you pressing your palms against the broad planes of his back, feeling his muscles tense at the cold touch of your fingertips. You mirrored his actions, gently curling your fingers in his soft hair, while your other hand also began dipping downwards...

And then you felt it.

Something hairy... bushy... soft... Like fur.

Your hand jumped back and you gasped, breaking the kiss and Yooha’s eyes widened in shock as he straightened up almost immediately.

“S-Sorry, did I do something bad?”

He was so sweet, and you were about to reassure him that everything was fine— you had probably imagined something and that he could continue...

Until you saw it:

Eight, white bushy tails sprouting from his backside.

You had sworn you’d only drank three glasses of wine. There was no way you were this drunk. But even after blinking your eyes and rubbing them, the tails didn’t go away.

Strangely enough, the first thought that occurred to you was: those tails were so pretty. And fluffy. Like clouds. And you wanted to touch them.

“Hey. What’s wrong? What are you looking at?”

His voice interrupted your train of thought, and when you met his gaze, you felt your mind begin to go blank. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. This was the man you had come to love, and today was your anniversary. Did you really want to screw it up by telling him that you thought you had just seen a bunch of tails come out from his butt?

“Yooha, I-”

But the tails were quick to remind you again of their existence, when you felt something furry brush against your thigh.

Instinctively, you let out a shriek. In his face, to boot.

He leaped back with speed you hadn’t witnessed before, while you backed up to the other end of the couch. From a greater distance now you were able to clearly see everything. The eight white tails were there in full view, and when Yooha backed up against the couch and his hand landed on one of his tails, you noticed the way he stiffened, his face contorting in horror.

“Y-Yooha, what’s that?” you asked in a shaky voice, hoping that this was some kind of way overdue Halloween prank that he had come up with all of a sudden.

He didn’t answer, which only unnerved you even more. Usually he would come up with a playful response, and you were really expecting him to burst into laughter for falling for his prank.

Anytime now...

“Yooha?” you called again, and in response he closed his eyes in resignation, releasing a deep, heavy sigh.

“Well... I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he muttered, standing up and stepping closer to you. He froze in his tracks when he noticed you shrink back, as if afraid of him. But you shouldn’t be afraid. This was Yooha, your boyfriend... who apparently wasn’t... human?

"So... I’m a seonho,” he said bluntly, scratching the back of his head with a perplexed expression on his face. As if that explained anything at all.

You paused, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t. Irritated, you snapped, “What the hell is a seonho?”

“A special fox. I was born with an ability to use magic and after 500 years of training I was able to take on the form of a human.”

Your mind whirled with this insane piece of information. If this was a prank, it wasn’t in the least bit funny. You searched his face for any traces of mirth in his eyes, as there usually was even when he did his best to put up a convincing act in front of you.

Unfortunately, there was none. And he seemed dead serious, either about the nonsense he was spouting was real, or taking this prank all the way to the very end.

“You... expect me to believe this?” you asked, gesturing to his figure.

He merely raised a brow, and his tails started waving about like happy dog tails. “Want to touch to see if they’re real?”

You were about to decline, but seeing them again now, you felt yourself grow increasingly mesmerised... and giddy... Your mind began to cloud over with the thought of touching and petting those soft, pretty pretty tails... and before long your hands were outstretched, your body inching closer to him to tangle your fingers in the fluffy white fur.

Soft. That was all you could think as you ran your fingers along the smooth hairs. It was the softest thing you had ever touched. And for some reason you felt happy... sort of like you were drunk and floating. Your head felt light, and you felt any and all your worries start to fizzle away like bubbles.

“Like them?” You heard Yooha’s voice drift into your ears, the lilting tone making you want to giggle.

“Yeah...”

“Okay, but you shouldn’t touch too much. They have a bit of a hypnotic effect on humans, and I want to explain this properly to you.” Dismay filled you when you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you away from him.

The giddy feeling began to fade with the distance he put between the both of you. And then soon you regained your rationality and stared at him, dumbfounded and speechless.

A fox... He was a fox... with eight tails... and he said... five hundred years? How old-

“Woah woah, don’t freak out, relax, I’ll explain everything.”

Don’t freak out? Relax?

How were you supposed to “relax” when you had just found out your boyfriend wasn’t freaking human?

Something in you snapped. You couldn’t believe the absolute nerve of him to look and sound so casual about something like this.

“You’re a fox?” Anger found its way into your voice. “You’re not human? And you didn’t think this was something you should have told me about earlier?” Your words grew into a shout, and you watched as he visibly winced at the volume.

“Well... to be fair... I kind of did tell you. When we first met.”

“What?” There was no way. You would have known if he had told you something as outrageous as this.

He nodded vigorously, indignant. “Remember when we first met? I said I was a dog person.”

You took a while to process this. A dog person... He had shared that when you first had dinner with him, and then you two began to fawn over dog pictures.

When he said he was a dog person, it certainly didn’t cross your mind in the slightest that he was himself a-

“...Oh my god.”

“Hey, just calm down and-”

“No! I will not calm down! You do not get to tell me to calm down! How the hell did you think that counted? Telling me you’re a ‘dog person’ has a completely different meaning from telling me that you’re a fox!” You were going into full meltdown mode.

“Okay! Sorry, I get it!” He had two hands raised in surrender, while his eight tails drooped like withered petals. “I was just scared that you would-”

“Reject you? Get scared and run away?”

“Well- yeah!” He was starting to get pissed too, which only egged you on even more. He was angry? You were the only one with the right to get angry in this situation! How dare he!

“Argh! Then why now? Why tell me now?”

“I didn’t mean to! They just- they just came out! We were doing this and that and then they just kind of slipped out without me realising-”

“You don’t just casually forget that you have tails! Eight of them!”

“What do you want to do then? Break up?”

His words rang in the tense air, and the counter that you had ready on the tip of your tongue promptly died.

Both of you stared at each other in shock. Yooha’s lips were parted, a mix of regret and horror twisting his features.

He dropped his gaze first, biting down on his lip. His bangs covered his eyes from your view, and your pupils darted to his fists that were clenched tightly by his sides.

How laughable. It was your anniversary, and it had been the perfect day too.

You plopped down onto the sofa, suddenly feeling drained. You needed time to process all this. There was just... too much. It was all too overwhelming, and you were starting to feel suffocated by the tension in the air.

Before you could suggest it, he spoke first. “I should go.”

You should have made him stay. Talked this out. There were so many questions you had to ask him: who he was, why he lied to you, where he had come from...

Why he loved you.

But in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. There was only a hollow silence as you heard his heavy footsteps across the floor, before your front door opened and shut behind him, leaving you alone in the emptiness of your apartment.

***

A/N: weeellllllll this was not as funny as i envisioned it to be.

will be back with a part 2 hoho :)

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge fanfic #yooha #yooha fanfiction #yooha fanfic #my writing #well i finally wrote a yooha fic (yay my bias)#but also what the shit this was supposed to be a fun fic #not a full on DRAMA #the words just took off and well #oops

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

Text

Marinette did Not sign up for this part 5

so, this happened. i would feel bad, but the characters hijacked this story after chapter 1 and i’m just along for the ride and checking that words makes sense.

First part here Previous Here ao3 Here

“Hey Alya, you haven’t been getting more hits on your blog from Gotham lately, have you?” Marinette asked.

Alya rolled her eyes as honestly, could her bestie be any less obvious? She could see the “new” necklace. The one that only shows up when Multimouse is on call. Honestly—why is it everyone keeps thinking she doesn’t know who’s who? She’s the Fox—Illusions and Truth are her bread and butter.

“Now that you mention it,” Alya pulled up her latest stats. “Yes. The whole site—jeez these guys must have just found out and want the scoop from the best source in Paris,” Alya preened.

Marinette acted… different after she got that answer. Moved in on herself. Alya could feel the attempt at a cover-up before she even asked.

“Hey, is something up?”

“Nothing! Nothing is up, why would something be up! Ha, that’s a good one Alya!”

Ah, the miraculous-related tic was in full swing then. Marinette isn’t exactly the most in-the-know miraculous user, and the Mouse is always taken back after its been used. She could be forgiven for assuming Alya, the expert in all things Miraculous second only to the Original duo and their boss, would not know that something was going on in a certain spotted heroine’s life, and it was all hands on deck.

“Okay,” Alya switched to her theory notes, “Any new names to add to the ‘would not be surprised if they were Hawkmoth’ list?” Marinette is a goldmine on this topic, and while miraculous adjacent, definitely able to ease the whole ‘not in control’ and helpless feelings this situation was probably stirring in her girl. She knew it was for herself atleast.

Marinette perked up with a familiar ‘I know what you will say, but lets do this anyway’ type of sly smile. “Okay, so we do agree that it has to be someone that knows Gabriel’s schedule and doesn’t want to interfere with it for the most part, right?”

“Well,” Alya wasn’t letting this hunch go anytime soon, no matter what LB and Chat said about evidence against. She knew she was onto something with it, and for all she knew, some miraculous magic could be interfering. “I still say it could be him and Natalie taking turns, but that doesn’t rule them both out.”

Marinette shot Alya a look, of the ‘I strongly disagree, but feel it is futile to remind you why’ variety.

“I’m kidding, your boss isn’t Hawkmoth, I know… He’d totally have better designs for akumas if he was.”

Marinette leaned forward conspiratorially. “You should have seen him tear into the Bubbler one when I brought it up as an example of horrible design. His face was perfect!”

Alya would love to imagine the many, many ways to torment Gabriel after what she and Nino have come to understand about the man from their friends. Ranging from negligent and uninvolved control freak at best to manipulative, victim-blaming, and abusive POS. If Adrien and Marinette were a little less attached (re: not pedestalling the man so much), then she could get them to see the truth and they could go over the pair’s options to get them both away from his BS and make the man pay for the all the crap he put Adrien through, and was starting to put Marinette through. Why else would the girl be running herself ragged—especially the past week—if the man wasn’t a demanding asshole boss?

“That’s great, next time, get a pic or vid and share the love.”

“I will, so I met another one of his suppliers and…” Alya began to take vicious notes, glad for Marinette’s attention to detail on these things. It made looking for possible Hawkmoths much easier on her and Max—yes she knows who Pegasus and Cowboy are, Markov in a hat is still Markov in a hat. It was a wonder that no one else noticed.

Alya grinned when she saw Trixx peek out of her hiding place, a wide smile that reminded her exactly why Alya could catch everyone’s identity while her friends still hadn’t put together she’s Rena; a Fox casts illusions. To do that well, you have to learn to seek and see the truth, and get your evidence. And Alya? Is a damn good fox.

----------

Tim hates his stupid insane list of designers. He managed to knock of half by using his own damn filters, thank you very much for dominant genes from the Wayne side that could be seen visually. It knocked out a good chunk (about two thousand out of five thousand) on hair alone. He decided he would let it keep running for those that linked their socials to their psueds and aliases.

The problem was the handful (about ten) that didn’t. He’d have to meet them in person, used his glasses to get pictures, and run those against social media posts in Paris to find out who these more private designers were—all to find out if they really are in the right age range, and if their natural features do put them in the ‘likely a Wayne’ category for Wayne dominant traits (and those possible given Bruce’s own DNA makeup, which he doesn’t know Tim has. Hey, he’s the Robin that Gets Shit Done, never said he was the polite one. That’s Dick’s job, not his.)

---------

Adrien hates not having Plagg with him. Not that Tikki isn’t great and all! Really! Just… he misses him and his stinky cheese, okay?

“Adrien,” Natalie knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Natalie entered the doorway, but no further. “When is Marinette free for consultations next? we have a high end client who would like to commission her as soon as possible.”

“Give me a minute…” Adrien checked his ‘overseeing Marinette’ schedule on his phone. “Uh, she has walk-ins around four until five tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Will she be at her home or the studio Gabriel has provided for consultations?” By her tone, he could tell which Natalie and Father would prefer.

“Let me check with her.”

“See that you do.”

Adrien sent a lipstick, X arm lady, and house emoji to Marinette.

In a minute she sent back a thumbs up and apartment building emoji.

“Studio it is.”

Natalie nodded. “Excellent choice. I will let them know to be there at four ten, given Marinette’s… difficulty arriving on time.”

Adrien grimaced a bit on that as yeah… no longer having a Danger sense meant her punctuality was… not very good. “Are they speaking to Marinette or MDC?”

He’d need to know if he should just pick her up or not. MDC didn’t have to get picked up—designers to celebrities are allowed to be late and can blame it on getting caught up in a few details on a commission design for a walk-in consultation. Marinette was tied to the Gabriel Brand and needed to reflect that, therefore, be there on time and ready.

“Marinette for now, though they expressed an interest in MDC as a budding designer, and they are well within the MDC price range,” Natalie hinted.

Adrien kept the hiss growing in the back of throat quiet. Marinette chooses who MDC works with, not his Father.

--------

Stephanie is both delighted and upset when she sees Cass. As its Cass—she probably figured it out already damn it!—but its Cass and she missed her since she left a few months back for a mission and got caught up in the Chinese crime scene again.

“Hey Cass!”

Cass grinned when she saw Steph and made her way over.

“Found her!”

Stephanie was gutted. She really wanted to win, just this once, at a detective thing. You know, be the normal one that managed to out-do the prodigies and geniuses. Not to be again. “Oh, that’s great. Where is the baby bat?”

Cass shook her head. “Not her, Soup Girl.”

Stephanie opened and shut her mouth. Then lit up as she still has a chance! “Oh, right—right! You said you wanted to meet her a while back.”

Cass nodded. “Her family is nice.”

“Did you talk to her or…”

Cass shook her head. “Busy.”

“Ah.” That made sense. “Well, uh, still competing?”

Cass raised an eyebrow. That was a yes.

“Maybe we should work on helping her on the hero side of things together, you know, so we don’t freak her out when we all swarm her place. Make the whole thing a bit less…”

“Dramatic.”

Stephanie nodded. It would help ease the girl into the family, and keep Cass on that case instead of finding Baby Bat for a bit. Win-Win for Stephanie and Baby Bat.

-------------

Chatte Noire really, really hates dealing with akumas. She's built for strategy, to see tricky parts and work out how to make them safer for the team and minimize risk. She is not made to be Chatte Noire. Yet here she is, in an akuma attack, trying to play the role of a Black Cat—identify and destroy threats to the team. Problem is, she lacks Chat Noir's heightened ability to sense danger. In fact, she lacks it completely--and she knows the team isn't happy.

The attack is taking longer than it would if she was Ladybug. This would be over if she had just managed to keep her big mouth shut and not talked to Aquaman. Then the Justice League wouldn’t be involved. Then the whole promise to Murder Robin would not be broken and Paris would already be saved for the day instead of dealing with another Sandboy attack going on well into the night, with a cure that won’t be able to handle fatigue, energy renewal or relax the body for sleep post ‘I’m scared out of my mind’ fear.

She made sure to avoid this Sandboy’s attacks and she would save whoever got caught. Her Cataclysms may not be as strong as Chat’s (his do make the whole thing go away) but she is just as quick on her feet and just as good at getting civilians out of danger.

“Chatte!”

“On it Buggaboy! And not yet!”

It was too off for the Lucky Charm. They’d need Viperion, and he was stuck underwater with Aquaman trying to get him out at the moment. Until then, she just had to minimize damage, keep civilians away from their nightmares hunting them down, and keep moving and planning and work everything out while playing bodyguard for the team at Cha—At Mr. Bug’s call.

She hopes things turn out okay.

Then she sees a bat symbol and the world vanishes.

----------

Red Hood blinked when he saw some girl running around on rooftops in… Isn’t Chat Noir supposed to be the cat one? Where the hell is Ladybug—and why is some guy in her place? Shit, did the baby bat lose her miraculous or was it stolen? Damnit, now he has to steal it back for her!

“Okay, how did LB get hit when she isn’t even here?” The fox girl groaned as she dodged another attack. “Aren’t these guys supposed to go after who’s scared of them?”

The bee girl rolled her eyes. “More than just Ladybug can be terrified of the bats. They’re the Ghosts, remember?”

“Hey, can we argue about fears and who has rights to them some other time?” fake ladybug asked, flinching and moving closer to the Turtle guy. “Uh, Chatte, that way!”

Cat girl—Chatte— said something he didn’t catch and grabbed a kid stuck in a mob and bounce out.

“I—” the boy threw his hands up. “We’re screwed. She really, really isn’t getting the whole Cat thing.”

Red Hood pulled out his guns, checking that the darts were loaded and aiming for Spots.

“Chatte---guy with a gun!”

This time cat girl managed to look over and froze. She started… hyperventilating? Shit—kid’s having an attack.

Red Hood lowered his gun and made sure to get closer to her---seeing as the other heroes—Dragon girl, Monkey boy and Snake Guy were busy with the bee and fox girls trying to circle some kid on a pillow. No clue where the other kid in black was, but the cat girl losing it? that was his current focus.

“Kid, come on, breathe.”

“Oh my—” the kid looked at him like he was the threat. “Fuck, no—I shouldn’t have talked back to---shit. Shit, now I’m gonna—”

“VOYAGE!”

Just like that, Red Hood was dropped into Gotham harbor. Jason didn’t even get to look around to see what happened. He did manage to tread water and work out which was to go to get to shore.

“Oracle!”

“Jesus Hood—sending Robin to your location. What happened?”

“Some kids stole baby bats’ jewels, some akuma attack, the actual cat thief was hyperventilating and then I end up here.”

“Oh, B is not going to like this.”

“I already don’t like it.” Batman growled out over comms. “Did someone say voyage?”

Red Hood wracked his somewhat waterlogged brain. “In French, yes.”

“One of the local heroes.” Jason could feel Bruce’s annoyance. “Why were you in Paris.”

“Well,” Red Hood kept swimming to shore. “When you find out a long lost bat is in life threatening danger, one must locate and meet this possible winner of the ‘avoided having crappy parents raise me’ lottery to give a well-earned ‘congrats, you’re a well-adjusted person in a family of crimefighter! Mazel tav.”

“Hood.” Robin began on a private channel. “We need to talk.”

“Gotta go B, life to live, baby bat to find.”

“Red Hood!”

“Bye!” Red Hood climbed out of the harbor, finding his baby brother on his motorcycle that was definitely not Bruce-Approved.

“What’s up buttercup, didja miss me?”

Robin scowled at him. “Of course not, the world is more peaceful without the drivel that falls out of your mouth.”

Red Hood snorted. “Yeah, and that’s why you hide in my room all the time.”

Robin refused to make eye contact, shoving Red Hood onto his bike. “Is it true, did my sister lose her miraculous?”

“Unless she’s B and Catwoman’s lovechild and she decided to embrace it.”

Robin was quiet on the way to the cave. “…how long would it take to get the pilot to return and take me to Paris?”

“…you’d make it there around their in time for dessert.”

Robin frowned. “that’s not soon enough.”

“Closest you’ll get. And don’t’ think you’re going alone.”

Robin frowned. “I am not exposing my sister to you.”

“She’s our sister first of all,” Red Hood corrected. “and second of all, I have a bet to win, and I’m behind thanks to this portal guy. So I’m coming.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Only if you get past Father and Alfred.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Robin smirked as they pulled into the Batcave.

“Father, I believe Red Hood needs your full attention given he was in the harbor for so long, and we all know how cold they are this time of year.”

Jason decided Damian was by and far his least favorite sibling in that moment. “Wait, B, no, look—no signs of hypothermia, no shaking, just need to change and—”

“I will check and ensure you don’t develop it with Alfred on standby.”

Jason glared at Damian, already stripping from his Robin gear with that self-satisfied smirk. “Traitor!”

“I simply want what is best for my siblings, how is that wrong?”

----------

I hope this gave you all a good idea of what’s going to happen next… I do love the Batfam and all, but some of their approaches here… no good and need to have that hit over their head.

And if I’m screwing up ladybats characterization, feel free to let me know so I can fix it---going off what I could find from DC fans and lore but I also do not know these characters inside and out, and want to do them justice.

OH and for anytime i refrence princess Justice, got a refrence for you now! picture the one made by @tinymelonbug right here with the only (maybe?) change being that below the cut it is cut off as a romper: Here

TAGS:

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #marinette did not sign up for this #part 5 #long post #ml au #my writing #how do i tag?

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zeciex · 5 years

Text

Cruel Is His Love

pairing; Seokjin/OC

genre; fantasy, love/hate, fae!Seokjin, smut, mild angst words; 6,870 rating; explicit

— synopsis; Seokjin is the crown prince of the winter court, a court known for its cruelty and stone cold grip on emotions. Every 50 years the winter court and summer court gathers to a celebration of the treaty and the night of the Starfall. And this time things go a little differently, when the crown princess of summer, Athea, decides to play a new sort of game with the crown prince.

contents; creampie, rough sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms,

The throne room of the winter court was unusually cold. It was carved into the mountain, towering above the world with an icy glare ordained with a crown of ice and snow. Icicles grew from the ceiling in deadly spikes, some clear, some crystal white and others various shades of blue. Columns shot from the stone floor and disappeared into the icy sky, only a faint hint of arches visible if you looked close enough.

The room was decorated with sculptures of ice, with pale flowy fabrics that moved in the wind, with flowers of cold and snow. And between all the colours that belonged to The Winter Court were the brightness of The Summer Court, with all their colourful fabrics.

The two courts would not usually intertwine, the feigned friendliness a byproduct of the truce between the two that was agreed upon thousands of years ago. The truce, however, never meant the two courts had to like one another or give up the disdain towards the other. What it did mean was the gathering at one of the courts once every 50 years upon the night of Starfall.

Seokjin sat on his throne beside his father's, his smaller but no less beautiful and no less frightening. It was made of iron and ice, it was cold and sharp and vicious just like the ones who sit upon them. All in all, Seokjin was his father's son, but where his father was sharp Seokjin was soft.

With boredom the crown prince glanced around the room, eyes ghosting over the arrival of nobles who were presented before the throne with bows and appraisals. Even though he had never experienced the war, the fragile and faux peace made him long for it. At least then something exciting would happen.

The room hushed, nobles of The Winter Court parting for the bright colours of The Summer Court, eyes following the king, his queen and the one Seokjin wanted to see the least - the one he wanted to see the most- the crown princess in all her glory. She was breathtakingly beautiful with hair of obsidian, skin of/like? ebony with the faintest warm glow beneath, eyes of deep emerald and a soft smile that was lethal. Princess Athea took the room as Seokjin took the room? She drew eyes towards her and kept them.

Seokjin remained cold as ice, just as The Winter Court was famous for. A restraint on emotions so tight other fae were unsure if they even felt. A mask of ice and stone.

The king of Summer bowed for the king of Winter as customary, followed by his queen who bowed even lower, and then the princess who’s golden crown caught the light of the candles and shone like the sun of summer. She smiled at the king.

“You grow evermore beautiful Princess Athea,” his father spoke with cold precision.

“Thank you Your Majesty,” Athea voiced warmly, a smile that could very well be a smirk upon her red lips. “And your lands grow evermore cold, I fear I shall need to wear fur the next time I will come.”

A soft tinge of laughter ran through the room, the nobels eating up her words as if they were sugared fruits. It was a lie or as close to a lie as fae could come. The Winter Court grew neither warmer or colder.

And then her eyes slit to him, and that strained clutching of his heart overcame him once more. Vines of thrones wrapped around it grew from his heart and out into his body. She knew, of course, she knew. Oh, how he hated her.

Athea followed her father to the side of the summer court, a clear divide spit down through it, with one side of winter in their cold colours of grey, blue, white and black, ordained with silver and iron, and the summer side with reds, greens, purples and yellow, ordained by gold and flowers.

The king of ice stood from his throne, demanding the attention of all fae and creatures in the room. “It has been two millennia since the war, since the signing of the treaty. Two millennia of peace.” He spoke with adamant. The king of ice was never one for speeches, never one for celebrations. He was a man like his title, a man of ice so cold it never melted. “Let the celebrations begin!”

Music poured into the room, filling every gap, travelling up the columns and settled between the spikes of ice. The two divided sides slowly began to mingle, colours and lack there off swirling together into a beautiful painting.

And there, in the middle of the dance floor, was the princess summer in a dress so crimson it stood out from all other colours. Athea danced with all that bid her to it, with her father the king, with the sons of generals, with lords and counts. But even though she danced with promising men, her eyes always flickered to him and his subconsciously always sought out hers, whether he meant to or not. Always content with sharing a contempt filled glare with her. It was madness.

Seokjin clenched his jaw. He could almost feel her warmth, her touch and it drove him mad. Every Starfall since the first time the both of them were allowed to attend, he felt his heart drum faster when he saw her, stronger, -no, not stronger, more fragile. And every time they’d play this game of chased glances, of clashes between eyes, of words that were never what they were said to be.

Namjoon arrived by Seokjin’s side with a glass of dark liquid that the prince took without question, letting the bitter liquid linger on his tongue in an attempt to rid it of the poisonous words that lingered there.

“You’d think they’d wear more clothe when coming to the lands of winter,” Namjoon remarked quietly enough for only Seokjin to hear. Fae was easy to piss off, on both sides.

“You say that every Starfall when they come here,” Seokjin noted to his friend and advisor. “We wear just as light clothing as they do.”

“ We are accustomed to the temperature, they are not.”

“Is that why you decided to swim in the lake of sapphire last Starfall?” Seokjin commented with cold amusement, which was the most emotion he’d allow himself to show. Namjoon took a swing of wine, scratching his neck in mild embarrassment. “You were sweating like a pig getting roasted.”

“It was warm and the mermaids were very persuasive,” Namjoon countered.

“And you were drunk.”

“And I was drunk,” Namjoon shamefully agreed. It had been a mess that took 12 years to overcome. For 12 years Namjoon had not been allowed to speak in court, which was by far the most damning punishment when he was Seokjin's advisor. Seokjin had not been pleased and the king even less.

His eyes fell to the twirl of red and glint of gold, where his Crown Princes’ eyes had never left. “She has a long line of suitors,” Namjoon noted. “The Jeon boy seemed the biggest competition, being the son of the general and advisor.”

“The princess would eat him alive,” Seokjin remarked bitterly, taking another mouthful of wine.

“Hmm… They seem like equals, perfect for each other,” Namjoon mused unknowing how much it made Seokjin want to throw the glass at him and let it shatter into bloody tears of his golden skin. Instead, Seokjin buried the feeling in ice, hiding it deep within the frozen solid lake hidden inside of him.

If they were perfect for each other, then Seokjin wouldn't feel as if his heart were held within a firm, burning clutch. If they were perfect for each other, Seokjin wouldn’t feel as if his veins were burning. He wished they were perfect for each other, then it wouldn’t mean him feeling as if the sun itself were lit within his being. He hated it. He longed for the days of emptiness. No, Seokjin thought, she’d eat him up alive.

“The king should propose she’d wed a child of the winter court,” Namjoon continued to muse. Seokjin's eyes shot to him with dangerous precision, sharp as a blade and ready to cut. He took a step back and bowed his head in submission. “Ah, I said that loudly. I apologize, my prince.”

“You know very well such a proposition could bring war, the peace is already fragile as it is if they think we’d try and meddle in their affairs…” Seokjin let the words hang in the air, twisting into shapes of death and destruction. The courts should be kept separate, never to interfere with the politics of the other courts, never to be entwined more than necessary. If they were to marry a child of winter into the summer court, to the future queen no less, it would be seen as interference, as an attempt to overtake the other court.

As much as he longed for war, peace was much better for his people.

“A moment of insanity, my prince,” Namjoon reassured.

“Make sure you keep that ‘insanity’ of yours in check,” Seokjin cut with his voice.

Then red and gold caught his attention, followed by a bright smile that was almost a smirk, almost cutting. Princess Athea strolled towards the prince, her dress dancing in the wind, golden shimmer around her eyes catching the light. She stood before him, inclining her head in greeting, before looking up with mischievous eyes. Always so mischievous. She was a fox and everyone else were hens.

“I believe you promised me a dance since our first Starfall,” She said, her voice a melody more beautiful than any other melody he had ever heard. He hated that voice. He hated those lips of delicious poison. Hated those eyes of sly cunning. “I fear if you reject me once more, I’ll have to take it as an insult.”

“We can’t have that,” Seokjin said sternly, face showing no emotion, nothing of the turmoil hiding beneath his skin. He stood and took her hand, leading her towards the middle of the dance floor, nobels parting for them.

Athea twirled around the dance floor, her dress blooming around her like a rose in spring, then ended the twirl in Seokjin’s arms, so unbelievably close. Now, for the first time, she smirked up at his mask of stone, lips sharp as any blade, poised and poisonous. She smelled of summer, of green grass and summer rains, of blossoming flowers and the very sun. It filled his nostrils until he wanted to wretch.

The music flowed through them in a pulsating rhythm, beckoning them to move with it’s luring sound, they were puppets to it. Athea’s eyes remained on Seokjin whose eyes were fixed out into the room with adamance, which in turn only sharpened Athea’s smirk.

Still, he saw her before him, her face edge into memory.

She knew exactly how to wield her blade, how to draw blood and where to hit to make it the most painful. Palm against palm, heat met cold, the touch travelling up his arms and into his chest. He could feel his heart thaw, the ice around it melting at her presence and he hated it. He hated her.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asked in a low hush, voice like velvet, more alluring and sensual than the music that commanded their movements.

Of course, he did.

The king of winter and his queen of ice had bowed in greeting to the king of summer and he had followed behind, a composure of ice and stone, perfectly sculpted with a beauty that commanded appraise as well as fear. He had bowed before the king and when he had looked up she stood beside the wooden throne of thorns and flowers.

It had hit him them, like lightning splitting the sky in two and cleaving into him. For the first time in centuries, his composure slipped, the ice cracking open to reveal a glimpse of what was beneath. He has stared at her, the world around him coming to a complete standstill.

And she had smiled at him in the softest of ways, fingers playing with a torned blossom of the throne. She had been beauty as he had never seen it.

“This is my daughter, the crown princess of summer, the future queen of this court, Athea of sun and sky,” The king introduced. The princess went forward, her aquamarine dress flowing with each step. She bowed, dipping her head, while her eyes of emerald never left his.

“Crown princess,” Seokjin greeted, catching his composure and modelling it into ice once more. His chest tightened as he swallowed his emotions, emotions that threatened to spill out into the court, demanding blood and war.

“Prince Seokjin,” She murmured back, his name on her lips sounding with a terrible absolution. “We are to be friends, are we not?”

“We are,” Seokjin drawled, unsure of what to make of it all. The court silently watched as the two future rulers met for the first time, expectant and uneasy.

“Then we should not get stuck on such things as titles.”

“Of course, Crown princess,” he said, nodding to her one last time before following his parents to the sidelines. He could feel her eyes on him, feel them burn into his skin and claw at his insides. It felt exhilarating and nauseating. He wanted to disappear into the night, seek isolation until he could get the fire under control.

He decided then that he hated her for making him feel this way and hated her even more for wishing she’d speak his name just once more.

“Yes,” Seokjin spoke crudely.

“Good, because I remember it clearly,” she began, voice a purr. “I remember the prince of ice and stone standing in front of the throne of thorns and blossoms, standing there with cold radiating off of his skin, his face so sharp and beautiful, eyes darker than the night skies. And I remember him disappearing into the night when no one was looking.”

Seokjin swallowed at her words, his heart straining in his chest, heat trickling up the skin of his neck uncomfortably. Even without words he knew what she meant, knew that she had seen him hidden in the shadows of the inner court garden, between huge trunks of trees, bushes and flowers.

She knew everything.

“You know what it means but you will not admit it,” she continued. “Not even to yourself.”

Seokjin remain silent, knowing that the words she wanted him to admit would mean the death of entier bloodlines. What she wanted was to dance with words until one of them would fall upon a sword, and Seokjin was the most likely to fall. But her voice grated at his resolution, tugged at his seams until his being was at risk of falling apart. He couldn’t have that, especially not in front of faerie court.

“Stop,” he warned, only to receive a sly innocent look from the princess, smile widening. He knew he had made a mistake. “Why, after all this time, did you decide to dance with me now?”

“Oh, my darling,” she spoke again with a purr. “Maybe because I simply couldn’t wait any longer.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

The knife twisted in his heart. The prince twirled her around, the onlookers gasping at the sudden change in dance. The music fell to a low sensual hum, beckoning the movements to become slow and almost tangible. Her body moved closer to his, chest meeting chest, as the danced. And as suddenly it had begun, time had coiled in the sensual music, and it was over.

The princess bowed to him, turned and swayed away to the next fae in line for a dance. Jungkook took her in his arms and began swaying her, while Seokjin remained frozen to the spot, hands shaking at his side, as a painful fire clawed at his chest and throat, tying to will its way out of him.

It wasn’t until the world started to properly move around him again before he removed himself from the dance floor, stalking back towards the throne, while he wished for his room. With a bitter and sour taste in his mouth, he dumped down, leaning back into the throne while the air coiled around him in cold palpable anger. His eyes remained fixed on the red dress, on those emerald eyes that haunted his dreams, eyes he wished to banish out of his thoughts.

Seokjin sat there and watch her, watched her spin, watched her twirl and lift and dip. He watched her until the doors to the balconies were pushed open for fae to go out and see the stars shoot across the sky. Until there was nothing left in the world than him and her.

Then he got up and left.

Nobody stopped him, not that they’d be able to anyway. Like the times before he slipped into the shadows, each step from the throne room tightening the thorny vines that were clutching his heart. They tore at him. He was burning up inside, every muscle tight and strained, every breath laboured. Sweat trickled down his back. Sweat. Breathlessly he entered his room, leaning against the cool wooden door for a moment with his eyes closed, trying to control the heat that ravaged him.

For each Starfall that passed, the vines around his heart grew tighter, they tugged at him, whispering him to follow them. In the times between Starfall, he could almost forget the feeling, almost ignore it . The pain would lessen only for it to come on back with great enough force it could split the everlasting glacier in two.

Seokjin dragged himself to the foot of the bed, where he dumped down on the silk sheets with a heavy sigh, lying back and running his hands through his hair.

“Have you ever thought about me when you’re all alone?” Her voice was a whisper that travelled through the wind, slithering over his body with a cold touch. Seokjin froze in place, then sat up to watch Athea saunter in with that sway in her hips, moving swiftly like water. The red dress had been replaced with an ivory robe that dipped dangerously low, revealing the fine glow of her dark skin. His hands fisted in the sheets. “Like you did that night in the shadows?”

Athea crooked a brow at his silence, the bemusement never lessening in her eyes. “I’ve thought about you on nights like these.” Her fingers travelled the expanse of her collarbones sliding her robe over the edge and letting it fall to her feet. The cold light of the moon was cast in through wide-open windows. It gave her skin a haunting beauty. Seokjin tensed, eyes fixed on her face which only sharpened her smirk. Slowly she stalked towards him. “I’ve thought about your hands and wondered if your fingers were as agile as when you do swordplay. I’ve thought about that mouth of yours, those pretty pretty lips. And I’ve thought about the sounds you’d make breaking through those lips and past your mask of ice.”

Humans think the winter court to be the cruelest of them all, but it is the summer court that holds that feat, for they glace their weapons in poison, they whisper sweet nothings that’ll cut you far deeper than you’d ever imagine. Their cruelty were not one that showed outright, it was hidden behind sweet smiles and venomous words.

The fae was rotten folk, it was true, but she was the most rotten of all.

And he’d gladly take a bite of that rotten fruit.

Athea straddled his hips, fingers running over his broad shoulders, feeling the fabric and what it held beneath. Her hair curled around her shoulders, so dark it seemed impossible, while her eyes shined that green of emerald; of trees after a summer shower, of meadows and pine. And she smelled exactly the same. It was intoxicating. A scent he knew would forever be branded in his mind.

“Did you ever think about me?” She murmured a nail tickling over the delicate skin of his neck, threatening to bite into it with breaking and tearing force.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“You know why.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“Yes.”

Her smile broadened, teeth white pearls that could tear into flesh if she so desired. The snowflower was famed for its beauty and rarity, but it was deadly enough to kill with one single prick of its’ needle-like thrones, that was what she reminded him off. And he’d freely prick himself on her thorns.

For a daring moment, he couldn’t decide which taste he was more curious of—her lips or what lies between her thighs. He cursed himself silently for the indecent thought, chalking it up to the mental exhaustion of playing these mind games with her.

“Say it,” she beckoned, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to feel his cold, smooth skin. The thorns tore into his heart, he could feel it, and it left him entirely at her mercy. She was so close her heat wrapped around him, burned at his skin -no, not burned, kissed it.

Seokjin had always been armed with beauty and ice, and she was armed with the very thing that left him entirely defenceless.

“Mate,” he breathed, eyes fluttering at her touch. “You’re my mate.”

And just like that, he would have thrown it all away, the throne, the crown, the whole world, to be only that. If anyone found out war would break out. That was the very reason he adopted the mask of stone, the reason his heart had become frozen solid, the reason he had done so much to keep away.

It was all rendered useless.

They breathed each other in before letting their lips meet, her arms wrapped around his neck, her nails scraping over the fine, muscled skin of his back. Her lips were everything he imagined, and yet, nothing like it. It was a slow kiss, one that slowly consumed you until there was nothing left on your mind, nothing but the feeling. With great urgency her tongue moved into his mouth, her teeth nibbling at his plumb lower lips. She tasted of the forbidden fruit, the one that grew golden on the Milkwood trees, fruit that brought humans such euphoria they’d sell their souls for one single bite more.

With that kiss his soul was hers.

Filth filled Seokjin’s mind and swelled between his honourable legs as if he weren’t hard enough even before she entered his rooms. The way she kissed him was taunting, with a biting smirk forever plastered on her lips, while his sought hers in need. His heart thundered within the cage of his chest.

“So did you?” She mused, releasing her lips from his.

“Did I what?” Seokjin breathed, eyes burning into hers.

“Did you think of me?” She asked sweetly, cruelly. One hand wandered down his breeches to grip him firmly. Seokjin let out a sound, something caught in between a groan and a moan.

“By the crown, yes!”

Now his cool hands dug into the soft flesh of her thighs, nails turning into angry talons, puncturing into her skin with ferocity. She keened, biting back a laugh as she pumped up and down his shaft with a bewitching touch that brought as much pain as it did pleasure. She was lust and cruelty and all things rotten, -and he couldn’t get enough.

They were two beings wishing to tear each other apart for pleasure.

“ Tell me ,” She drawled. Seokjin went for her neck, lips and teeth lapping over the skin equally given. He bucked up into her hand, holding a moan hostage in the back of his throat.

“I thought about your hands and what they’re doing to me now,” the prince began, continuing his attack on her neck, while his nails scraped over dark skin to leave even darker marks. Athea twisted her hand as it rose to the tip sending a jolt of pleasure up through his body. “I thought about how, -uh, nimble and firm they’d work me, and how much better your mouth would be.”

Athea’s hand twisted into Seokjin’s silvery locks to force his head back with a stinging force that brought a hiss from his throat. His lips had become glossy with saliva and red with blood rushing to the surface, and his eyes, those onyx eyes with pupils so blown there were nothing left of the brush of silver in them. The veins on his neck protruded, adrenalin and fire and ice, coursing through them. He soaked in the sight of her cruel, green eyes and vicious, bloodcurdling smile.

She licked the expanse of his neck, a rumble travelling from deep within his chest and up his throat, ending in a growl, as she bit into it with brutal delight.

Ice shot out through his veins and bit into him. He flipped them over so that she was on her back, a wicked laugh settling into the room and making a home of the shadows. There, beneath him, bathed in moonlight and naked as the day she was brought into the world, she looked entirely otherworldly. “I wondered if you’d taste sweet as nectar or bitter as your wicked, merciless heart.”

For a moment a childish wonder passed over her features, eyes rolling in thought rather than pleasure, wondering what she herself tasted like. And at that moment, his heart fluttered, forgetting the ruthlessness Athea was made of. She lifted her hips to his, slithering beneath him like a snake, the childish wonder gone and replaced with mischief.

Without a word he dived down between her legs, deciding that he could be as ruthless as she. She smelled sweet and tasted sweeter. Golden apples, Moon berries, sugar grass and all other faerie foods couldn’t compare to the taste. His tongue passed over her warm folds, separating her them as he did so. He lapped at her cunt like a man starved.

Athea purred like a cat, lifting herself up on her elbows to enjoy the sight of the prince of winter caught between her thighs, tongue darting out to press itself against her clit in the most sinful manner, pouring fire and starlight into her veins. The sound of her breathy moans made him want more. He moved with feverish intent, forcing his tongue inside of her, before returning to her clit, twirling and sucking until her thighs were shaking until his name was stuck in her mouth to be said over and over, -sounding like a curse.

Seokjin squeezed her hips, circling her sensitive mount, sucking on it ruthlessly, revelling in her taste, her warmth, her sounds, everything her. By the crown he hated her and he was going to make her pay the most delicious of ways.

Two fingers slid into her with ease, sinking all the way in to the knuckle where he felt her tense around him, body begging for more. He bit her thigh until he was sure to leave a mark, curled his finger to find the spot that made her moans catch in her throat and eyes roll back in her head.

She was close he could feel it in how wet she had become, fingers tugging at his hair in demand for friction, her hips nearly lifted off of the mattress as he suddenly removed himself from her.

Athea exhaled in annoyance at his play, eyes burning with desire, wildfire spreading through them. Her sharp nails dug into his shirt and pulled his slick lips filled with her juices to her own with such force it tore at the fabric of it.

Seokjin was forced to his back, the princess taking the reins with violence, tearing the rest of his shirt off in one rough motion. Sunkissed skin was made pale in the moonlight, shadows cast over his collarbones, sculpting his body even further. The fine skin stood to ruin, the promise was clear in the way her nails raked down his body as she trapped his cock between her wet folds and his stomach.

“I see I’m not the only one who’s cruel,” she purred taunting. As she moved her hand came to clasp his jaw, sharpened nails digging into his skin. “Beneath that icy exterior, there’s that mercilessness. I see it.”

Seokjin could barely think straight when she sank onto him ever so slowly. She took him in as if she had been made solely for him. She had. She was his mate. A bond so deep it could tear the world apart. If she had been anyone else than the crown princess, -if he had been anyone else than the crown prince-, then nothing would have kept them from tearing each other apart in the venture of love.

Athea panted, biting her plumb lip while her head rolled back revelling in the feeling of him filling her up so good. The stretch was mouthwatering.

“I-I’ve thought about this,” Seokjin continued meeting her rhythm with his own, the lewd sound of flesh hitting flesh filling his ears, the sound of him sinking into her warm centre. “Thought of how tight you’d be, how -ugh, fucking incredible you’d feel. Fuck. ”

His hands took their fill of her breasts, playing with her nipples and loving the way her face fell into a sense of pleasure.

Abruptly, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist and biting down on her shoulder, lips chasting the wounded area, following the column of her neck until they met her parted lips. The speed picked up, his arm that was wrapped around her, helping to steady her as he thrust up into her. The kiss was feverish, filled with lust and nothing else. Nails raked over his shoulders, drawing along long red marks that’d last a day at the very least, even with fae healing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, head filled with the image of her riding him, those green eyes half-lidded shining in the dark.

“More,” she simply demanded, letting Seokjin roll her onto her back, bringing her legs around him so that her heels dug into his rear. This way he could dive deeper in, this way he could snap his hips to hers with brutal, bruising intent. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the headboard with one arm.

“You’re hateful, you know that?” His voice was raspy and strained. She smirked up at him. Curse that smirk, curse her influence, curse her. Those lips were a sirens call. Taunting and begging, all at the same time.

“More.” The growl that came from her reverberated down his spine and made him snap his hips to hers in a violent thrust that promised the beginning of a faster and rougher pace. Seokjin grabbed one of the pillows and forced it under her hips, propping her up on it to give him better access. Then he threw her one leg over his shoulder.

“You’re a hateful, cunning, cruel creature,” he grunted, thrusting with every title he gave her to drive the point across and each thrust drew a moan from her lips, made her eyes roll, her cunt grip him so hard he was unsure she’d ever let him go again. “You make poisoned words be a salvation. You taunt me -ugh, you haunt me, you mock and torment me with such wicked delight. I hate you.”

“You hate me?” She chuckled with ridicule. “We may not be able to lie but you’re still able to do so to yourself.”

“I hate you,” Seokjin hissed with indignation.

“Hmm,” Athea croon. “And you do it so well.”

Her cunt clenched around him, the feeling pulsating throughout her and into him. Air got caught in his lungs, hips snapping riggedly to hers as he brought the both of them over the edge, the world shifting around them, shrinking and somehow expanding at the same time. Bliss poured into them, hot and cold mixed together with sweat and seed.

The vines around his heart ripped it to pieces and then grew anew, this time beating warmly, pumping poison out into his body. Seokjin fell to the mattress beside her out of breath. Fingers drew circles over the skin of his stomach and up to the red claw marks that stood as proof of their transgressions, where they traced over the lines with soft caresses that almost let him delve into the sense of affection.

“You were pristine,” she murmured. “All that rage and hatred for me… So pent up and ready to explode.”

Seokjin remained silent in the face of her taunts. It had been a mistake, a glorious mistake that he’d make over and over again. They fucked on every surface of the room, up the walls, on his desk, on the floor and the small bench opposite his bed. The room had become a mess of scattered papers, books thrown to the floor in the heat of the moment, ink seeping into the rug of the finest silks.

Then they settled themselves into a warm pool of water. Each step into it was a caress of ease until their bodies were wrapped in its warm embrace. There they could scrub themselves clean of the nights' infractions. Seokjin observed the princess as she cleaned herself. Water beaded on her skin, shining like ice crystals in the soft glow of the frozen dawn. Behind her the sky turned bright pink, brushes of violet and gold painted across it. Only a few streaks of sunlight made it over the crowned top of the mountains.

“Would you love me if we were not bound by our responsibilities?” He asked, breaking the silence for the first time with a question rather than filthy words.

��You’re my mate, aren’t you?”

“That doesn't answer the question.” Being mates doesn’t change who you are as a being. Mating is a bond between souls and if one were to tear the other apart with that love, then there’d be nothing to do to stop them. Love was a myth, a fairytale. Love, like all things, could be ever so terrible.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Athea answered him, her eyes thoughtful as if she were truly wondering about it. “I can’t say if my love would change if we were not the faerie we are. Would taking away the powers of the crown change us or would we remain the same?”

The princess dropped the sponge in the water, letting the bubbles glide down her dark skin, gleaming like pearls caught in the golden light of dawn. Seokjin captured her in his mind, every sway of her body, every swell and curve, letting silence fall between them once again. He wasn’t sure what to say because she was not wrong, even without the crown he’d still be who he is, a fae of ice and stone, he’d still long for her.

“Love, hate, pain and pleasure, together they make the most delicious of drug, don’t you think?”

“Why now?” He couldn’t stop the question coming out.

Athea’s lips curled, looking up through her eyelashes with those eyes that bore into his being. “Because I wanted to play a new sort of game.” At his quiet expression, she warmed, gliding through the water with grace until she stood before him, warm hand cubing his cheek in a gentle caress that was all too affectionate. That was maybe the cruellest thing of all.

“You’d play with me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I’d play your game as long as you want me to,” Seokjin admitted and knew how heavy the truth weighed on those words. If she wanted he’d give her everything. She smiled at him, genuine and terrible all the same, and kissed him so sweetly it made him forget who she was.

“I love you, Seokjin, but I cannot love you,” she voiced, eyes seeking understanding.

Seokjin smiled at her softly, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing her body to his, letting her warmth envelop him. Now she smelled of lavender, of sunlight and saltwater. “I know.”

They kissed slow and tantalizing, lingered on each other's lips, breathing the other in. Then Athea pushed away, one hand on his firm chest. Their eyes never left the other while she stepped out of the water, swaying over the floor and wrapping herself in her robe. And like that, with the first frozen rays of the sun peaking over the crowned mountaintops, she winnowed away.

Seokjin disappeared under the surface of the water and only when he breached it once more, was he ready to exist and ready himself for the day to come, and only would he leave the room when he was dressed in a shirt as white as winter’s kiss, loose and airy. He had covered the marks on his neck and collarbones with fine powers, hiding the nights' venture in an attempt to avoid questions from one particular fae -Namjoon.

“You disappeared from the revel,” Namjoon commented, taking great strides to walk beside his prince. His remained in tossels but that was the only sign of his night of endeavours, the rest of him remained pristine and proper, he was a courtier of importance after all.

“Yes, I did,” Seokjin replied unfazed. “Like I usually do.”

“Too bad,” Namjoon responded. “You had a long line of girls waiting for a dance with their prince, hoping to capture his attention.”

“And I’m sure you were there to pick up the pieces.”

They entered the throne room to the bows of their people, most looking appropriate for court, while a few remained shrivelled from the night's festivities. Appearance was far too important to let daylight reveal anything but perfection, especially when it was just one night. They stepped up on the dais, Namjoon falling behind Seokjin as he approached the throne. It was only when the king entered everyone once more rose and bowed, and with the dismissive wave of his hand, the court fell into normalcy again.

And then they came in, with their bright colours and airy clothe, with their skin so many beautiful shades and hair ordained with flowers and gold. And there she was, with a dress of pure, winter white, embroidered with forbidden fruit and red mistletoe, between the embroidering red drops of rubies. He felt the vines of his heart twist, fluttering of wings basking against his chest.

“We thank you, King Jeong Hui, for the amazing festivities you’ve held for this years Starfall,” The king of summer court boomed with greatness. “I will take this moment as a chance to invite You and your court to a wedding of great promise.”

Seokjin felt his heart strain and fall, all warmth she had given him seeping out as if he had fallen through ice. His eyes went to her, seeking some sort of comfort where there were none to be given. Instead, he realised this was the new game she wanted and still, still he wouldn’t believe his fears.

“The crown princess of summer, my daughter, Athea,” The king of summer motioned towards Athea, her stepping forward to the world to see, a smile spreading on her lips to the uproar of applause, almost sharp, almost… “And the noble general, Jeon Jungkook.” The boy with a sweet smile and shining eyes stepped up beside the she-wolf, a white rabbit beside the predator who’d undoubtedly eat him right up. Or maybe, he was as vicious behind that smile as she was, almost as vicious. “He will take the title Prince Consort beside the future queen of summer.”

Ice poured into his veins, freezing them over instantly, the cold spreading from his limbs and rising painfully to his heart, where the throned vines froze with it so completely it was far more solid than stone. His heart had gone from ice to thawed to made of throned vines and now it had returned back to ice, just far colder. The spiked silver crown weighed down on his head, he was concerned he’d break his neck wearing it. He closed his eyes momentarily, when the Jungkook boy entwined his fingers with hers, kissing the back of her hand before rising them above his head in celebratory victory. He let the pain swallow him, let him drown in its waters.

And then he resurfaced, with a heart unable to love or care for anyone…. -anyone but her. Because he still loved her and he absolutely hated her for it. He hated that it was her. Hated those enticing emerald eyes, hated that sharp smirk that cut right through him, hated her burning touch he longed after and most of all hated that he would let her break his heart over and over again until there was nothing left.

He was armed with beauty and ice, and she was armed with the very thing that left him defenceless. When she smiled at him in all the glory she held over him, he knew he’d forgive her all over again.

#seokjin #kim seokjin #seokjin smut #fae!seokjin #bts #bts smut #bts fic recs #bts fanfction

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lavenderhyrdrangea · 5 years

Text

Leap: Part 2

As we ate on the porch and surveyed torrid surroundings that were once vibrant the future was brought up.

“This is just the beginning. There’s so many places I’ve gone with out you,” Asra said.

Such odd wording.

“Places you’ve gone without me?”

“Places we haven’t gone together, yet,” he rectified.

After we finished our pudding, we went to the parched basin to clean our bowls. Asra saw it as an opportunity to hone my magic. I was encouraged to turn sand into water. No easy task but with Asra’s gentle guidance I was certain I would get it. First I tried on my own using a tip he’d given me: seeds in desperate need of water. The visual was enough to get a spurt of dirt and then to fill the basin with a pretty convincing thing that looked liked water yet was still sand. Magic was so tricky. He figured I needed another element to learn the lesson. Hands over mine, he gingerly snaked his magic along my skin and allowed it to thrum deep within my veins.

“Somebody is coming this way,” The beast said suddenly.

The aura withdrew. Asra scanned the horizon. “Coming this way? Weird...”

I spotted a figure approaching from a dirt path. The closer it came the more apparent it was that It was a man. He cast about every which way, eyes darting and brows furrowed.

“Excuse me? Are you lost?” I asked.

He noticed Asra immediately. “Oh, great wizard Asra! You’re back! Do you remember me?”

“Maybe I do. Who’s asking?”

“You don’t remember? Saguaro! We met at the painted daisy festival?”

His dialogue had an untold story woven around it. One if Asra’s, reaction had been any indication, would be an interesting one if he had any intents on sharing it in the future.

“Ooooooh Saguaro? Wow, it’s uh...it’s been a while. How have you been?”

“I’m getting by. Shriveled up. Been coming by every now and again, hoping you’d be around.”

Huh. An old friend. Possibly more? The conversation required me to take the empty spaces and fill them in with my assumptions. I’d been doing that for some time anyhow.

“Great wizard, you are our last hope. The spring has gone dry. We won’t last much longer… Times are tough, so we don’t have a lot to spare. All I can offer is a hot meal and a night of music.”

“Well, that all sounds good but we did have plans. It’s up to my companion here.”

I felt their gazes fall upon me.

“What do you think? What do you want to do?” Asra asked, expectant.

I was surprised this was even a question.

“Come on. Let’s go up out the village.”

Saguaro's face lit up, while Asra shed the anticipation once rife within his frame .

His eyes were tender. “Oh, Izzy. Always with your head on straight.”

“One of us has to be the voice of reason,” I said with mock superiority.

Asra looked at Saguaro. “Sounds like you’re in luck, friend.”

“Woah, really? Such kind Wizards. I totally thought it was gonna be harder than that! You guys are something else. Both of you. I get some really powerful vibes off you.”

“No need to flatter us. We’re already helping.” I reminded him.

“It’s not so much flattering as it is calling it how I see it, Dear wizard.”

“You're perspective. I’ll be right back,” Asra said.

After Asra retrieved his satchel, Saguaro quickly led us to town. Like the surrounding areas of our cabin, much of the ground had been long dried out and any soil that once offered vegetation was dead. How could a town survive this long without water? I peeked at some of the townsfolk, as we passed through. A man stuck his head far out his window in hopes of catching a cold draft. Children tried to play a game of marbles in the diminishing shade. A woman mindlessly and sluggishly ran her hand over her cow’s coat, the aforementioned animal laid on it’s side and stared off into the distance.

We stopped in the town square, in front of where the spring once was.

Asra asked, “This is where it was? The spring?”

Saguaro nodded. “Yup. You wouldn’t know it, but it used to bubble up from the middle there.”

“Wow and now it’s just...” I said.

Asra carefully stepped into the empty pool, and beckoned me over. We crouched at the center of the pool.

“Is it the same deal as the basin? Search for the water? Draw it up?”

“This spring is dry as bone.” Asra tilted his head and tried to figure out how to tackle the problem.” Not sure if we can draw anything up this time around.”

“I’ll try.” I declared.

The ground felt cracked beneath my fingers. No water. Was my magic searching deep enough? Visualization was the key. I thought of waterfalls, and rivers and ponds. I closed my eyes and all I saw was red. The more I tried to put a hold on it the more red everything got. Soon the red bled over the entirety of my vision. Dread’s icy touch sent a shiver down my spine. Forcing my magic deeper, I pushed through it. However, the frantic squirming told me it couldn’t be water.

Asra’s voice pulled me out.

“...drawing a crowd. I have a bad feeling about this. I’d rather you left this one to me.”

“You can join in if you want but I’m not letting this one go. I’m already so close. Let me help.”

He hesitantly laid his hands next to mine. I feel his aura ease into the earth.

“There!” I said “That movement. it’s definitely not water. Right?”

“Keep going.”

I nodded. Perhaps the water was further down.

The ground suddenly tremored. Asra and I looked into each others eyes to steel ourselves as red spewed from the ground and poured up into the sky. Had I drawn fire instead of water somehow? I fell back. I hoped I hadn’t summoned something far beyond our expertise. Cacophonous clicks grated upon my chilled nerves.

Beetles!

They smothered the sky in droves. Once the ground spouted the last of them, they fanned out and scattered.

“Izzy!”

Asra gripped my shoulders in a flash. Our eyes met as the gravity of the situation dawned on us: Lucio was up to something. I read something else in his eyes. Something almost pleading.

“I’m fine if that’s what you’re silently driving yourself mad about.”

Saying nothing, he pulled me into the strongest embrace I’d ever been in. I gave him a squeeze back just as strong. It would tell him everything would be alright. I just knew it.

“I don’t believe it! Magicians the spring!”

“The spring...” Asra said, bewildered.

Fresh water bubbled at our feet. We’d done it!

“Thank you, great wizard! We won’t forget this! Please, let us cook you up a feast like you wouldn’t believe.”

A vivacious burst of joy fluttered around the town. It was as if they were cocooned in trepidation and now they were free. They cooked up a feast while we looked over an artist’s display. We had an assortment of clay figurines to chose from. I couldn’t really find anything that drew me in entirely. Asra on the other hand, surprisingly chose a sly purple fox rather a snake. He told me he identified with it better. It surely did seem to have his bearing somehow. The celebration intensified once food and dance were introduced. Asra opted to feast under an aloe tree overlooking the festivities. I mangled amongst the townsfolk.

Saguaro leaned in to speak to me. “Say,Izzy, Do you dance like your companion? I’ve feasted with Asra before. He can dance all night. “

Oh, that I had to see. Asra was zoned out when I got to him. The dilapidated sunlight cast a gentle glow about him.

“I’ve been told you’re quite the party goer. ”When he remained deep in his own head space, I tried again. “You can dance all night?” Still nothing. “I’m not sure I should take his word for it. How about you show me, me? Want to dance? I know I do. I need to dance some of the cactus off. Who knew it could be so heavy?”

His unseeing eyes came to. “Sorry what? Nadia’s wondering about us to Portia at the palace. Who’s Portia?”

“She’s… I don’t really have time to explain. “Asra popped up his brow. I veered back to my original question. “Do you want to dance or are you chicken?”

“That really is what you said. I thought I imagined it. You want to dance? I’d love to.”

“Yes!”

I jumped up and pulled him by wrist towards the dancing crowd. Music blaring, he wrapped his arms around me and swayed for a bit. “Heh. I didn’t know this something you wanted to see so badly.”

“You’re already such a captivating individual. You excel in magic. You’re charismatic and handsome.”

Pulling back and making sure our were fingers interlocking, I looked into his eyes and said,“Since the universe had to be fair. I was hoping Saguaro was lying for your sake and that this was actually your biggest flaw.”

He chuckled. His blush became more apparent. “My biggest flaw?”

“Everybody has one. Or two. Or three. Even more.”

He spun me around. “I hope I’ve been a disappointment in that regard then.

“Oh, shush. I’ll get you one day.”

After the dance ends, our host thanked us for our assistance.

“Well I am most delighted with his food. It wasn’t any trouble, Saguaro.” Asra replied. Although, I won’t speak for Izzy. Beetles were a surprise.”

Saguaro turned a ghastly shade of white as he went on to explain the beetles presence. The town had known that they were there, and had an understandable fear of the Vesuvians that put them there. They were offered protection in exchange for one third of their cactus crop. The offer was declined and suspiciously, a great red beetle showed up that evening. The same Vesuvians stepped up to help and handled it in exchange for two thirds of their cactus crop. An increase from their last offer. Lucio dealt the last blow. Asra laid a comforting hand on my shoulder when this part came up. The larger beetle shattered into many and they burrowed into the ground.

“And the spring’s been dry ever since? For that long?”

“That’s insane.” I said.

“But now it’s come back. The count is gone, and things are finally turning around!”

We made it away from the festivities unnoticed. Our friend the beast was already waiting for us.

I said after Asra helped me onto his back, “He seemed happy about the fact that Lucio was gone.”

The beast sprang into action.

“I mean, most people would be. He wasn’t the nicest guy.”

He purposefully missed my point but I was flexible. I could drive it back.

“They’re going to be so crushed when they find out that’s he’s back.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“Magicians trust that their gut, right? Mine says he is. Plus, I told you what I saw back at the palace and you were there with me in the forest.”

“It was an apparition.”

“He could be just as dangerous as a ghost as he would be with a body...”

“Something’s wrong.” Asra concluded slowly. “I can’t deny that but we can’t jump to conclsuions.”

“You don’t want to believe he’s back. Denying his return won’t stall whatever he has coming.”

“It’s not about what I want. You’re right though. We can’t stay in limbo about this. We need answers. It’s why we have to go back to the source.”

“Back to the palace?”

Asra nodded. By the time we made it back our tension receded and the beast had been/was thirsty when we arrived to the little cabin. He groaned for water.

Asra happily obliged, walking over to the dry basin.

“Mind if I try to draw water again?” I asked, trailing his steps.

“We should do it differently this time.”

“What will be so different about it?”

“I’m always giving you words to think about, but obviously the strongest spells are words of your own. So this time, try to empty your mind. The will words will come.”

I knelt in front of the basin and hovered splayed hands over it. I try to bring my thoughts back to the helpful streams, rivers and waterfalls. Clean, clear waters. I imagined the sounds, the splashing, sloshing, and feel. The water would be cold between my toes and lap at my ankles. Upon opening my eyes I see water...or something like it. A closer look revealed to be red.

“But I tried not to see the blood.” I murmured.

“What were you thinking, Izzy?”

“I thought of water surrounding me.”

He pointed out the beetles had also surrounded us.

I shuddered. “They were red too. I might be stuck on that for a few weeks.”

“You’re not the only one.”

He waved his hand over the water and like that it was red no longer The beast beast fell to upon the water, slurping it up greedily with his tongue. Silently. Asra walked into the cabin. I followed.

Trying to find the right words, Asra sputtered. “The beetles are sign.”

“Makes sense.”

He gulped, nodded and went on reluctantly, “I haven’t seen one in years, not before...”

“Before?”

“They used to be a real problem in Vesuvia”

He dodged yet another question.

“How bad of a problem?”

“ They’re not of this world, but they can pass through it. And they cause a lot of damage when they do. There’s no saying what we’ll be walking into when we had back to the city.

“If there’s a chance of this becoming bigger than the both of us... You’d know I rather die than hide away until everything’s over.”

“Don’t say that. That will never happen.”

“You’ve also told me that Lucio couldn’t reach us here and look-- now we’ve got beetles.”

“I’m sorry.”

I closed the space between us so that I was next to where he was near the bed. I wanted to hold him.

“Don’t be. The cards or no, you can’t account for the hiccups in our path anymore than I or anyone else can.”

He reached out to me and I fell into his touch. His caress upon my cheek was gentle and fervent.

“None of this would’ve happened if I stayed. I should’ve.”

“What did I just say? You don’t know that. The only thing different would’ve been that you would’ve been at the palace with me.”

“It would’ve been better that way.”

“Not really. We would’ve still had Lucio running amok. Besides you crazy magic man: You. Don’t. Know. that.”

The way he stared at me looked like he did. Like he was hiding something. He dropped his gaze and though he lowered my hands, he held them tight.

“Izzy...wait. Faust hasn’t said anything yet. We could stay a little longer, at least to get a good night’s sleep.”

“That’d be nice but you know we can’t.”

“Right, we need to get there before the beetles. Now’s the best time to leave. But if I bring you back and something happens to you, how can I forgive myself?”

“What happened to that would never happen?” I joked but it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood. I fixed to reassure him, to tell him that I wouldn’t die. I really did. However, morbid as it was to realize, with Luccio was becoming more and more of the bogeyman I’d imagined him to be neither he nor I could make those type of promises . I shoved the thought to the back to my mind. Nonsense. There was no room for two fatalistic nail biters. He brought me comfort whenever I felt lost and overwhelmed, and endeavored to do the same. I kissed him.

“Thank you.” He took a sharp intake of breath. “ I’m crying over things that haven’t happened yet”

“It’s nothing.”

“Guess we should wake the beast.”

He’d been really apologetic about waking the beast again but, great sport he was, the beast was roaring and ready to go. Asra gently ushered me onto the boar.

Though it looked like our leap ended up with us falling flat on our faces. I was ready to start anew. This time we wouldn’t run. We would do it in Vesuvia.

#My writing #asra #the arcana #Izzy

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