#thanks for the tears ria!!

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: 5/7/2023 2:39 am PARTIES: Nora @honeysmokedham & Thea @notstinky LOCATION: Thea’s Apartment / Gallow’s Grove SUMMARY: Nora drags Thea into her attempt to understand the world. They come face to face with a ghoul.  CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

The outside of stinky girl’s apartment was not as stenchy as Nora had led the poor girl to believe online. In fact, if it wasn’t for the sounds of her faintly crying from her upstairs home, Nora was willing to keep the joke going. This is why you should never meet who you troll online. They turn out to be human. Humans turn out to be fragile. She didn’t even feel like scaring the poor girl. Nora was still seething from her online argument with Emilio. Whatever good points he had made, and Nora was logically aware he had made them, she wanted to ignore them. She wanted to keep them in her little boxes of the world where she was the big bad terror around every street and nothing would ever harm her. This would just be further proof of this tonight. At least she’d won the argument, proven by her getting in the last word. Plus she would take this girl with her and maybe the stench of the undead would convince her she wasn’t actually smelly so she could stop crying. 

“Hurry up.” Nora called up from the street. In the dead of the night, Stinky’s neighbors were probably sleeping. Nora hoped the sound of her yell would wake them up. She hoped her bitter mood would infect every single one of them. Nora shoved her hands in her overall pockets, calling over Babadook. She’d brought her dog with her when she didn’t think she’d actually meet Stinky. Now that she had to convince Stinky the supernatural was real, she was glad she had her giant tentacle dog. “We have a long walk. We need to find where the dead hang out.” Nora was shouting all of this from the street. “I’m told they like graveyards, but I’ve never seen one in my graveyard. We’ll have to check others.” 

Thea didn’t know why being called stinky got to her; she blamed it on the repeated lack of sleep. Night shifts weren’t a good look on a morning person and Thea was a chronic early riser. It was something about the weight of it all, she guessed. After work, exhausted and demoralized, she slumped into the shower and worked at her skin until it was all red. She needed to get the blood off, the scents, the feelings of the day. She set the faucet to as hot as it went and stood there for hours, robbing herself of the precious sleep she so desperately needed. She did it to be clean. She did it to be good. She was always sure that if she could wake up clean, the day would be kind. In the end though, she was just stinky. Thea tended to believe people when they told her things, it was the obedient child in her; the one her father sheltered from the world with his fear of it. Thea wiped her face, patted down her flushed cheeks with cold water and put on as many layers as she could manage before she was out the door and into the street, walking like an extremely thick penguin. 

“Sorry,” Thea sniffled. “I was worried I would be so stinky that I…” Why was she bothering to explain? She shook the jacket she has brought out for the stranger; it was one of her favorites, an old bomber jacket someone who found her in the woods after a transformation gave her. She always thought it smelt permanently like chocolate; the woman who gave it to her was a baker. But mostly, it radiates a kindness that Thea hoped to copy. “I have the jacket,” she said, wiggling it as she couldn’t move her arms. “Oh.” Thea looked finally at the dog. “I like your dog’s cosplay.” And that was what she assumed it was, because what else could it have been? She didn’t know if it was exactly ethical to put all that makeup on a dog though. “I guess if I was undead I would hangout at a graveyard. I mean, it’s kinda cliché but I don’t think I would want to be a subversive zombie. I think there’s one close by.” 

Now that Stinky was standing next to her, covered in layer upon layer of clothing, all Nora could smell was an overwhelming cloud of citrus and honey. It was pleasant, actually. Not at all the stench she imagined coming from someone so worried about being stinky. Nora took a second sniff of the air just to make sure. The scent reminded her of lazy spring nights sitting with her fathers, drinking tea in the sitting room while the raido played soft music, the fire place crackled, and the only noise was the clattering of the china and the turning of pages. Nora blinked. What an unexpected memory. She brought her focus back to the conversation. The jacket being proffered was a nice bomber, a lingering scent of choclate radiated from it. Why did Stinky think she was stinky? So far everything smelled good. Nora accepted the jacket with a nod, swishing it on her shoulders. 

“That’s not cosplay. That’s just what he looks like.” Babadook let out one of his mornful yowls, the kind that sounded like a child crying. This had to be the first time in real conversation Nora heard someone use the word subversive. She actually stood and stared at Thea for a moment, before pulling out her phone to open google maps. “This one?” Nora asked, pointing at the spot located Gallows Grove. It was close. Stinky had been right. It was close. “Perfect. Lets go.” Nora turned the pointed direction and took off, her combat boots slapping the ground, a beat for her warpath. “Why do you think you’re stinky?” Nora asked as they walked. It was killing her. She had to know. 

“But he has tentacles,” Thea said plainly, as though that would explain it. He also sounded horrifying, but if the person had smell-screen technology she was sure there was some voice box she could have for her dog. It was possible. Probably. Hopefully? She waddled behind the stranger and their dog. “Oh,” Thea’s voice cracked. The question was simple and the answer should have been too; she was worried about her scent because she often came home smelling horribly after a shift. Her werewolfism had blessed her with scent astuteness; she didn’t need to do the whole armpit sniff test. But, as Thea thought about it, looking up at the twinkling stars and the inky blackness of the night, she realized the answer was even more simple than that. “I want people to like me,” she confessed in a small voice, her several layers of shirts, sweaters and jackets crinkling as she moved. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone; no one likes an inconvenience. You show up smelling bad once and they think ‘that’s the girl that smells’. And that’s all they think. And I don’t want them to think that.” She waddled some more, staring out at the road. “I think I pride myself on how clean I am, how simple, how–um–unburdensome. If that’s a word. I want people to think of me like that. Like the girl who smelt good because she was.” Thea shook her head. “I bet it’s silly; I’m having a strangely emotional night. Um, thank you for being honest about how much I stink though. It just means I can fix it! A-and then I'll be…” Thea’s voice trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes. “How much further?” She sniffled. 

Aw shit. Nora had picked up a sad stray. Worst of all, it was a stray she could relate to. After that argument with Emilio she wasn’t looking for some kind of bonding friendship that left the readers with warm hearts and warm feelings. Nora wanted cold spite. She wanted fear. Now she was watching this girl waddle next to her, -were those tears in her eyes?- tears in her eyes and leaking of emotions. “You don’t stink.” Nora mumbled, a hand reaching out to rub Babadook’s head. “You smell fine. I was just messing with you. It’s the internet and I’m a giant troll. My bad.” God she hated apologizing, but the guilt of watching Stinky traveling through the world like that was heavier then letting go of her dumb joke. Now she was also going to need to stop thinking of Stinky as Stinky. “What’s your name?” Nora asked, directing them around the corner. “I’m Nora.” The girl felt harmless enough. If she was going to believe she was stinky based on some stranger on the internet, then hopefully she didn’t have enough crayons in her box to put together who Nora was.

Nora stopped as the first sight of Gallow’s Grove came upon them. “We’re here.” Babadook started running, eager to explor the grave. Much like how she wasn’t worried bout herself, Nora wasn’t worried about her dog’s exploration. “Do you think non-subversive zombies will be covered in rotting flesh, or perfectly preserved like vampires?” Nora asked, she made sure to step on all the loudest spots she could. Crunching leaves, snapping twigs. If there was something undead haunting this spot, she wanted it to come to them. “Maybe we can dig up a fresh grave for bait.” 

“You lied to me?” Thea stopped in her tracks, nearly toppling over from the weight of her ridiculous clothing choice. And it did feel ridiculous now and then some. Stupid. Naïve. How could she just believe that someone on the internet had the technology to smell her through a screen and then from all the way down her street? Her shoulders were fixed in place by the pulling of her multiple shirts so she couldn’t slump as much as her heart desired. She was stupid, she’d always been so stupid. There was no textbook she could study for how to navigate the world, nothing that told her that people would lie just because they could. “I’m Thea,” she swallowed. “I really thought I was…God, I’m so stupid.” She’d cried about this! Granted she cried about most things but this felt personal, somehow. She really has respected Nora for having the gumption to tell her she was stinky. Her head hung low as she continued to waddle. “I wanted to be an astronaut,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “It sounds stupid now, I bet it sounds extra stupid when you think about this. What kind of astronaut would believe someone could smell them through the internet? I’m so…” Thea sniffled. Her head throbbed and at once, the lack of sleep coiled around her body. She wanted to go home and be haunted by this exchange for the next five years, at least.  

Thea didn’t want to be as loud as possible; it was the same thought process behind not wanting to be stinky. Unfortunately, she couldn’t really control how she moved in her stupid, stupid outfit. “Well if they’re undead then probably they have rotting flesh, because dead things usually do. I’m not sure how vampires stay preserved, if they exist. Maybe it’s like a sous vide?” Thea looked up, if there were zombies here, they definitely weren’t the welcoming sort. “Um.” Thea kicked the ground. “And it’s nice to meet you, Nora. I forgot to say that earlier. Um, even if you’re 

a liar, I guess.” Thea had meant that last part to come off like a joke but some bitterness lingered around her words. 

There were many things Nora was good at. Art. Pranks. Jokes. Surviving in the wilderness for years on end. Making strangers pee themselves with fright. Emotions weren’t one of those things. Emotions were hard things that she liked to ignore. Having emotions might as well be a sin. But over the course of this night, she’d seen emotional outbreaks from three people. Two of them felt like direct consequences of her actions. Who knew knowing people would be so complicated? “You’re not stupid,” Nora mumbled, her monotone voice as serious as ever. “You fell for my joke. I’m an excellent prankster. People believe me all the time.” This girl wore her heart on her multi-layered sleeve. Confessions of not wanting to be a burden, reveal of a childhood dream. Soon Nora would know Thea’s social security number, and at this point, Nora didn’t want it. Nora felt bad for the over-covered girl who had shown her kindness by giving her a jacket on a cold night after Nora had walked there specifically to bully her. Fuck. Nora was a monster. She wasn’t supposed to feel bad about doing monstrous things. “It's not stupid to be an astronaut. You could probably still be one.” At least Nora hoped so. For Thea’s sake. 

Yet Thea was still there. Not walking off after Nora's treacherous joke. Still talking about the zombies they were going to find while acting like she didn't believe in the supernatural. 'Um, even if you’re a liar, I guess.' The line stung like a slap to the face. Nora's stony expression didn't portray it thankfully. One of those tiny mental boxes Nora used to shove all her emotions aside and pretend she was an infallible monster of immortality sprung open. Memories of her fathers yelling at her. 'You can't keep pushing everyone out of your life Nora! It's okay to be different. It's not okay to take what you're feeling out on those around you.' Thea. Emilio. The countless others she'd been bullying online. Was this just her form of acting out? No. She didn't want to be this self-aware.  Nora shoved the box deep inside her. A sound coming from their left helped. Nora's eyes shot in that direction. A dark figure was there. Something that looked like a gargoyle but less stone. "Hey!" Nora shouted into the space between them. "Are you undead?" 

Thea didn’t know Nora very well, but she could tell that an attempt at comforting her was being made. Her stomach twisted with guilt. Stupid, stupid. Why had she opened her dumb mouth? Now she was making this person perform emotional labor for her. Thea opened her mouth to apologize and then shut it. “I really couldn’t,” Thea said. “Be an astronaut. Not anymore.” If she ever could in the first place. She didn’t know much about being a werewolf, but she assumed that flying up in a rocket and looking at the big moon in all its bright and beautiful glory would mean she’d be permanently wolfed out. Not exactly a great thing to be in space. “Thank you, though. I get what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it.” Thea smiled, though she couldn’t be sure how visible it was under the darkness and the high collar of one of her several jackets. “You were really kind to let me come with you and to tell me the truth.” Even though it came after a devastating bullying attempt. Thea preferred the positives, her life was already full of the opposite. 

Thea’s attention snapped away with Nora’s. “Hi!” Thea tried to wave, she looked more like a vibrating blob. Thea did, thanks to a certain unnameable incident in the heart of Toronto’s downtown, have enhanced senses. She hadn’t gotten the hang of them; the smelling she understood, that was all sniff-sniff. She’d been sniffing since she was a baby. The hearing was hit or miss; she often forgot she could hear more than the average person and mostly chose to drown out the world with music anyway. The night vision, however, was something she didn’t know had improved at all. She assumed Nora saw it too and Nora didn’t seem so alarmed so Thea wasn’t either. “That’s really good makeup!” She grinned. “You look really scary! How are you perched on the gravestone like that? That looks like it hurts.” The actor, as Thea assumed they were, crawled forward in the dark, muscular limbs with spiky hide stretching out from a gray body that melded with the night. 

There was Thea’s heartbeat, rapid in her chest in a constant thump-thump. Then, there was Nora's heartbeat, a more normal rhythm. “Oh.” Thea turned to Nora. “I think this is actually an undead.” Her heart pumped faster. She didn’t have time to process the logic of it. All she knew was that there were two heartbeats and three bodies. Thea might have been stupid, but she could do math. 

It was a little ominous. The mention of not being able to be an astronaut, not anymore. What could that possibly mean? Did she wear contacts? Nora thought she remembered something about fast pilots needing 20/20 vision to fly, was it the same for being a silly man in space? There wasn't any time to delve into that. Nora was selfishly thankful for that. She'd been a participant in more than enough emotional conversations for the night. Nora was thankful for the new figure in the night. It was something tangible to focus on that didn't involve those fluttering sensations that lived in your chest.

Nora listened to Thea's make-up praise. Thea was truly set on believing the undead weren't real, wasn't she? Babadook appeared near them, letting out a mournful howl. Probably a warning to them. Nora waved the dog away. This had been what they were looking for. This wasn't the time to turn back. Fear, the taste of citrus, and disappointment drifted off of Thea as she turned to Nora. “I think this is actually an undead.” Nora's mouth opened, and the words stood on the tip of her tongue ready to come out. 'Yeah, I told you we were looking for the undead.' They never got the chance to come out. Instead, Nora felt a hard body slam against them. 

The undead, probably not a zombie, had ran head-first into them. Nora stumbled, catching herself and pushing away the creature. "Chill dude, we just want to be your friend," Nora mumbled. "You don't gotta be rude about it." Nora looked at Thea to see how she was handling all of them. To her dismay, Nora was met with the sight of the creature's mouth biting into Thea's arm. “Don’t bite her.” Nora raised a combat boot clad foot and shoved it into the creature. “Be fuckin’ normal.” If that old fucking man turned out to be right, again, Nora was going to be pissed. 

The creature (Thea’s ignorance could only go so far) was biting into her arm. Well, her jacket. One of several jackets over several sweaters over several shirts. She was sweating underneath it and shook her arm violently. “I think you’re making it mad!” Thea looked at the creature. “Um. He? She? Sorry, what pronouns do you prefer? I don’t want to be rude.” The creature snarled, muffled by the many layers that adorned Thea. Its sharp, jagged teeth seemed to be stuck between the threads. Thea shook her arm some more. “I think it wants to eat me!” More shaking. It raised its claws and slashed into her layers, ripping them open and sending tufts of fabric into the air. “Help!” She fell over from the force, wiggling on the ground. “Nora! I only have so many shirts!” 

Fuck. This was not how this was supposed to go. Nora shold have considered that of course bringing a human with her would distract the undead with thoughts of food instead of friendship. Thea was tumbling in the ground, a mass of layers and slashing. Nora had to do something. Nora wasn’t much of a fighter, you never needed to fight someone if you scared them. Nora took a deep breath, visualizing her bones as being super tough and super strong. If her illusions worked like that, maybe she’d get super strength like that too. Launching forward, Nora wound back her leg and kicked into the creature like a soccer player trying to score the winning goal. The creature unlatched its mouth. Between Thea’s struggling and the creature’s surprise of being kicked, it reared back ready. It looked like it was ready to attack again. Right as Nora tensed, ready to dodge, it stumbled. The damn thing had tripped on a loose stone. It toppled against a broken headstone, brains splattering everywhere. “Sick.” Nora offered a hand to Thea. “That was fuckin’ cool. We should do that again.” Pause. “Do you think its dead? Again?”

Somewhere between the slashing and her own screaming, Thea had slipped out from under a few layers, giving her just enough mobility to scramble to her feet. She stared at the remains of the creature whose pronouns she never knew, because it hadn’t answered her and it definitely couldn’t with its jaw split in three. To say it still had a head would be generous. It had a pile of goop. “Um.” Thea blinked. “Is this murder?” She turned to Nora. Did Nora care? Would she care? Should she care? Thea went through all the question words: why, how, when, where. “Well,” she said, “it’s not moving so…” Thea kicked it, noting that it seemed more goopy than usual, as if it was turning into sludge. Had it always been this way? “I’m…” Thea sniffed the air. “No…” Thea sniffed it more furiously. “I’m stinky!” She pointed at herself. “Like for real this time! I smell like sweat!” Thea slumped into herself, careful to keep her pits down. “I guess…murder was...kinda…cool?” 

Adrenaline pumped through Nora. That was the coolest shit she’d done in a while. Plus, Thea looked unharmed. It was a shame about all her clothes. Nora made a mental note to steal some. “Can’t be murder, it was already dead. That’s part of being undead, right?” Nora tossed her phone towards Thea. “Quick take a picture of it with me before it disappears.” Nora crouched down, posing with a peace sign with the corpse quickly becoming goop. Unfortunately, Thea was back on her stinky crusade. “If you’re stinky then I’m wretched.” The last time Nora had taken a shower was a week ago, after the blood. The blood it had been so warm. Her brain froze for just a second before restarting. She needed to get over that. She’d just watched an undead die in front of her. “You’re fine. People are allowed to sweat when they do things.” Nora cracked a smile when Thea said murder was cool. It was just a small one. Just the tiniest break in her generally expressionless face. “That’s the spirit, Thea! We’ll become serial murderers.” 

Thea relaxed as Nora said it wasn’t murder: she’d eaten people, killing something that was already dead didn’t seem like it was a lot worse. If the undead were real, which, for this moment, Thea needed it to be for the sake of her sanity. She could not be liable for murders when she wasn’t wolfed out, that was an actual crime. As Nora’s phone flew through the air, Thea caught it with only the smallest of fumbles; she was proud. “Okay! Yeah! Peace sign! You can totally post this on Instagram hashtag goop.” Thea, a generation Z child, was adept at taking photos. She took several, just in case the first one was bad. Some with flash, some without. Nora had asked for a photo, but Thea was treating it like a photoshoot. She liked to think she was getting all the good angles, whatever the good angles were.  

“And thanks, I was worried about…” Thea held the phone out for Nora to take back. Then, she sniffed the air. All this time she had been worried about the scents on her that she wasn’t sniffing at the scents that were right in front of her all along. Nora smelled like fresh dirt, the beginnings of a garden; body odor, the natural scent of a body; and like someone tried to cover it all up with…fabric softener? Thea sniffed again. No, Febreeze. And what was the scent trying to claw out from under the sweat? Deodorant? It wasn’t very strong. Thea broke out into a wide grin. “You stink!” She laughed brightly, bursting with a strange sort of happiness. “You stink! You actually stink! Just like me!” Thea jumped in her spot. “Omg, stink buddies.” She paused again. “Well, no, I don’t want to be a murderer…” Technically she already was, and even though she felt like she could tell Nora that, she didn’t want to. “But I will take being a stink buddy! And it is kinda cool how…” Thea turned back to their goop-friend. “How…sludge-y it is? I wonder what the science behind this is. I know bodies get kinda goop’ed when they decompose but..” It was like several stages of decomposition all at once, if she had to guess. Eventually, it’d just be nothing. “Thanks for this, Nora.” She smiled again. 

Hashtag goop? Nora was internally groaning. She would never get an Instagram. This was going in her ‘Cool Shit and Fond Memories.’ folder. Nora got to her feet after she felt like enough photos were taken, taking her phone back from Thea. Nora watched as Thea came to the realization that Nora was stinky as well. Nora was actually damned sure she smelled worse. Thea had the advantage of a shower an hour before this encounter. The girl seemed positively filled with joy to know there was someone in this world just as stinky as her. It filled part of the hole in her chest that felt guilt about bullying her online. Now they were stinky buddies, and the fear that had permeated around Thea was completely gone and replaced only by her smile. The warmth in her chest at the moment made this whole night worth it. 

“Don’t know anything about the science,” Nora admitted, standing next to Thea as they watched the body go through the rapid stages of decomposition. “I know if you kill a vampire they get dusted.” “Thanks for this, Nora.” Was this friendship? An uncomplicated friendship with someone her age who didn’t want to use her for her wealth and fame? A stinky buddy. “Hey smile.” Nora stepped closer holding up her phone, pointed at the two of them. “Hashtag Stinky Buddies.” 

Thea hadn’t been in a photo together with someone since she ate her best friends. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Did she smile? Did she shoot a peace sign? Did she flip the camera off? No, that one was too mean. Unless Nora was doing it too, then she would also do it. She looked at Nora; Nora was not doing it. Thea turned her gaze back to the phone camera. Once upon a time, she used to be camera shy; she cried before school picture days and demanded her friends crop her out of their photos. The fear still lingered inside of her, as if there was something rancid deep down that the camera would pick up and display for everyone to see. But she knew what to do now. “Hashtag stinky buddies!” She grinned wide and threw her arms around Nora, pulling her into a quick, surprise hug. It would last only as long as it took to snap the photo, which was just seconds, but Thea would remember it for a lot longer than that.

This was the night she’d accepted her stink, debatably killed a creature and made a friend. She wouldn’t forget it; nights like these didn’t happen all the time. And, for once, despite it all, she felt normal again. She could be a girl who took photos, who made friends, and who went out to new places and had wonderful, goopy experiences.    

[lemongrassfarmer]

Vogue cover's the VTuber world!!!?

Mysta rias, Former nijisanji en, takes the spotlight of the vogue cover page! with his Hottest pick topic outfit to the Barbie Movie premiere. Giving inspiration to all those in the Vtubing world.

Second contribution to the Mystakes and to Mr. Rias

"though i am really late to the trend and at the edge of his career ending, really wanted to atleast post this even if it's not finish. I just really wanna thank mysta for being my oshi, for his down-to-earth personality, his humorous silliness, comedic timing, Friendly conversations, rapping and singing skills, The best ASMR streams, a loving son to his mother,his stories, his knowledge of MLP, his experiences he share, advices, just everything. even though he may never see this post as i waste the night away drawing and typing. I really want to share to every any mystake who feel the same to his leaving. Mysta you're a living Inspiration to me and you felt more as friend than an entertainer (I am crazy). So as i listen to his final stream i bid a *adieu* and *merci mille fois ! ⧫ tu es un ange !* to whatever the future maybe for Mr. Rias"

[taegularities]

colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)

Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.

But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.

They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—

“Angel? Breathe.”

Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.

Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.

Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.

Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.

In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”

“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”

She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.

Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”

The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?

“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”

“Oh, I’m…”

Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”

Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.

You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.

The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.

In some sense, it’s worse.

Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.

There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.

You follow.

You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.

He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”

You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”

You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”

His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.

You’re incorrect.

It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.

Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.

Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.

There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.

You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.

Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.

But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”

But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”

She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”

The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.

This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.

You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.

Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.

The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”

“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”

“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”

“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”

“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”

“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”

“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”

“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”

His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”

Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”

Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.

Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.

“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”

It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 

Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.

You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.

The city called and it kept them.

You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.

“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”

His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”

“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”

“I’m trying to, really.”

Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.

You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.

And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”

But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”

You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.

She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.

You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.

And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—

“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.

His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”

Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”

It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.

His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”

To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.

His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”

As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”

“I was.”

“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”

He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”

You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”

“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”

Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”

“Damn, Kook.”

He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.

You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.

Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”

“Helloooo!”

And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”

“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”

She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.

They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.

The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?

Weird.

“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”

Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.

Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”

Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”

Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”

Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.

Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.

Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”

Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”

Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.

She’s not going to…

No.

Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”

Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.

So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.

You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.

You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.

One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”

“That’s crazy.”

She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.

This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.

“What is?” you ask.

“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”

Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.

You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.

“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”

“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”

Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”

“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”

Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.

“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”

She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”

“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”

“You say it so… weirdly.”

Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”

You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”

“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”

You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.

Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”

“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”

“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”

It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.

Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.

You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.

Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.

Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”

His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.

“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?

You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.

So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.

God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?

“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”

It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.

She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.

His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.

Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.

The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.

The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 

You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.

Yearning.

But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.

Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.

The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.

Reminiscent of a youth.

Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.

The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.

“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”

He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…

“Victoria’s Secret?”

“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—

You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”

You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.

You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.

Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.

“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”

You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.

But then again…

When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.

“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”

“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”

You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 

The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.

“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”

“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”

“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”

Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.

“Gureum?” you repeat.

“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”

But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”

“Okay. Okay…”

The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”

Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”

You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.

The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”

He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.

Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”

You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.

But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”

He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”

The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.

A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”

“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”

“You could take him to the city.”

“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”

Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?

“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”

“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”

“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”

The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.

“He’s old?” you wonder.

“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”

One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.

He just is… He just is.

“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.

The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.

Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.

And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”

He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.

“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”

Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”

“Oh— Really? How so?”

You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.

“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”

Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”

“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”

“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”

“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”

“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”

You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.

“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”

His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”

You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”

It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.

And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”

And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”

You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.

But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 

He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”

Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.

The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.

So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.

As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”

You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.

Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”

“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”

Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.

Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.

Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”

“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.

And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.

The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.

Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”

The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”

“Right?”

“They don’t taste like this in the city!”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”

“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”

Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.

He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?

“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”

You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.

What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.

The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.

His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”

A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”

Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.

His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.

Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.

But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”

Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.

On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.

And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.

Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.

You understand.

Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.

Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.

“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”

You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”

“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.

“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”

You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.

You can wait. Things can wait.

You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.

In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.

But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.

The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.

Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.

You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.

Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.

You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.

Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.

Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.

You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.

As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.

You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”

“I really wanted to help, though.”

It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.

“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”

The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.

How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.

Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”

But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”

“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”

As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”

Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”

“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”

Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”

“Nonsense.”

Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.

As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”

But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.

You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.

It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.

No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”

“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.

“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”

“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.

“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”

Fuck.

“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”

“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”

“What are you talking ab—”

“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”

It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.

But it’s hard to listen.

Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.

And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.

Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.

“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”

“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”

“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”

As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.

But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.

“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”

But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.

“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.

It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.

You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.

It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.

You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.

The fire in his eyes is blue.

And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”

This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”

Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”

Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”

So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.

God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.

But…

Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?

Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?

He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 

You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.

Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.

You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.

When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 

His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“Kook…”

“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”

“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”

His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…

“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”

“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.

And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.

He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?

Why can’t he love me?

And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.

It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.

But he keeps believing—

“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”

“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.

“Not for a second,” you say.

Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.

You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.

Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.

You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.

And it does fifteen minutes later.

The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.

You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.

Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”

Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.

“It’s okay.”

She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.

But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”

“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”

You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.

“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”

No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.

Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.

His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 

His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?

Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.

You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.

Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”

And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.

“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.”

And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.

But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.

To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.

When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.

Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.

Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.

His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.

Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 

Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”

“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”

“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”

Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.

You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”

“Sure!”

The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.

Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.

You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.

The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.

You’re thankful.

“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.

You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”

She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”

You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”

Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.

So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…

“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”

“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”

You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”

But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”

“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”

You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.

And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”

Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.

She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.

You remember…

I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.

You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”

“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”

You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.

And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.

You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—

“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”

Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”

“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”

Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”

Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”

Shit…

“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”

“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”

You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.

The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.

One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”

“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”

You walk down the steps to the basement.

The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.

He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.

But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”

“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”

He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”

“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.

It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.

They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.

He does this often. Zone off like this.

Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.

“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.

“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”

A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”

“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”

“Yeah…”

He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.

It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.

But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.

Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.

You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.

And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.

He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.

You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.

You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”

“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”

You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”

To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”

“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”

“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”

“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”

“Shut up.”

You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”

“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”

You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.

Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.

Make up, probably.

Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.

So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.

And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.

Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?

But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.

If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.

And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.

The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?

You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.

And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.

He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”

“What are you even?”

You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”

“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”

Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.

The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.

And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.

Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”

“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”

You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”

“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”

Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”

You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 

So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”

“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”

It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.

You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”

“And I got it for you.”

Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.

Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.

You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…

“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”

“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”

A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?

They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.

You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”

“It’ll suit you.”

“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”

“Ah… I can try.”

“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”

And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.

“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”

“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”

“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”

You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.

“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.

And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”

Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.

You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.

And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.

I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?

A tease here, a flirt there.

You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.

Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.

The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.

Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.

“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.

She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”

Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?

Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”

“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”

Ah.

Ah…

The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.

Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.

Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?

Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.

Ahhh…

So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.

How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…

Come on. Unrealistic.

Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.

To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.

Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.

“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”

Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”

Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.

For the very first time.

Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?

Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.

Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”

She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”

She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 

Well. Okay.

You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.

He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”

“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”

You smile.

Okay…

It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.

Okay.

You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.

You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.

His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.

The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.

They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.

But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.

You take a deep breath.

All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.

Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.

The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.

You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.

Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”

You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 

And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”

“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”

Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”

“Yep. And you came over from the city?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”

Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”

“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.

Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.

It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.

And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.

Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”

Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.

You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.

And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.

Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.

“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.

“Why?”

Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”

So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”

Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”

“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”

“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”

“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.

Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.

People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.

You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

Ah…

“Hm?”

“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”

Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.

“Oh— Kook—”

“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”

“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”

He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.

Well… at least now.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”

You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.

Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”

The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.

And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.

Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?

And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.

In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.

But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.

You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.

Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.

Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.

You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.

It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.

The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.

Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.

He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.

She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.

But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.

He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”

“Would you… want to marry me one day?”

“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.

It’s a song.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”

“You probably do.”

“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”

Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.

“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.

You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.

Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.

You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.

When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.

You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.

The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.

No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.

And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—

“This… this is it.”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 12 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: jungkook is stubborn and it leads to some sort of miscommunication?, reader feels cheated on, alcohol, clubbing, cursing, promises to exes fuck everything up basically

☆word count: 7.3k

☆a/n: new week, new angst-filled chapter :') I hope you guys still love it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 4th  

You’ve barely slept. Whenever you close your eyes all you can picture is Jungkook and Gabrielle. Gabrielle and Jungkook. 

Just a friend from high school…

You don’t know why, but that lie is the one that hurts the most. Maybe because you thought he was opening up to you, telling you about his past, but he’d shrugged it off, lied about it like it was just second nature. It’s sour, bitter, and you think you might hate him for it.

You feel cheated on. You’re fully aware that you weren’t dating, that you were just a maybe, but you hate that it was taken from you just like that, in a stupid video call from your drunk brother…

It really does taste vile, bitter, sour, and everything in between.

Ria left earlier today. She had to work, but she told you to invite Yoongi or Nabi, to not isolate yourself. You don’t feel like seeing anyone - yes, you could be miserable with Yoongi, but you don’t want to hear the told you so that your friends will say in the aftermath of what happened last night.

Taehyung didn’t even text you once. You wonder if he saw you crying, before Ria hung up the call for you. If he did, you think he’s unbelievably cruel for not even texting you anything, but then again maybe that had been his plan all along. To show you Jungkook’s true nature, the one he’d hidden from you in the last few months.

Were there any other girls? If he’d so easily kissed his ex after just a few days in Paris, does that mean he might have easily done the same thing here, with other people?

You feel nauseous. Thinking about everything makes you feel nauseous.

As does the text that sits on your phone, sent early this morning, while you were in and out of your troubled sleep.

[4:23 am] JK: can we facetime tonight

You haven’t replied. You don’t even want to talk to him, or see his face. You don’t want those treacherous doe eyes to ever meet your gaze again and yet…

Yet you want some closure. You want to tell him off, to break him like he broke you, but that would be assuming he felt for you the way that you did. Which, you highly doubt since he kissed his ex like you’d never been in the picture to begin with.

You sigh, rubbing your face, trying to keep the tears in. They keep sneaking up on you, like you’re not done grieving for what could have been, and frankly, you don’t know if you’ll ever be. You reckon the first step in the right direction might be to seek that closure, to talk to him and be done with it, permanently.

You didn’t think there was a time when you’d have to be done with Jungkook. Everything that you were building, everything, now just rubbles that will slowly turn to dust.

And so you finally open your phone, heart squeezing uncomfortably as the conversation with him pops up. You ignore the texts from before yesterday night, those where you believed he was falling in love, too, and you reply,

[2:09 pm] You: sure at what time

You put your phone away after you press send, sighing deeply as if that might shake the weight of the world off your shoulders. You figure you should stop rotting in bed - it’s not like it’s helped make you feel better - and so you get up, heading to the kitchen.

You’re not hungry. You’re not hungry, but when you see the spicy ramyeon he bought to help train your spice tolerance, you can’t help but crave some. Because you don’t want to let him go, don’t want to let go of all of him. So you put some water on the stove, preparing the noodles as if that might change what happened last night.

It doesn’t. The only thing it does is make you realize that you’ve indeed improved your spice tolerance, as you eat and you barely even have to sniffle. It makes you sad, far too sad, because what was the point?

What was the point of developing a spice tolerance if you won’t eat with him anyway?

Tears pool in your eyes, and this time you don’t bother keeping them in. You let them flow freely, memories of him swirling in your mind. You think about every time he cooked for you - that first time on Valentine’s Day. You think about New York, about every night you’ve spent cuddled up in his arms.

There won’t be any new nights, any new memories. Everything that you and Jeon Jungkook once were is in the past now, to forever haunt you.

You push the noodles away. You’ve only eaten half of the bowl, but the thought of eating more makes you feel sick to your stomach. Instead, you drop your head on your arms on the table, body rocking with sobs.

You don’t even know why you’re crying so much. Why your body holds so much pain for what Jungkook did, when part of you had been expecting it all along. Yet you break and break, like you’re glass thrown from the roof of a building, exploding upon impact with the ground.

It takes a while before you stop crying, the post-tears clarity filling your brain. You straighten, wipe your cheeks and the snot on your upper lip, and then you get up. You throw away the rest of the noodles, and then walk back to your room, trying to hold onto the clarity. 

You slow down in front of Jungkook’s door, imagining him to be behind. To never have gone to Paris…

It only makes you want to cry again, but you’re done crying. 

You don’t want to be crying for someone that cheated on you.

You finally make it to your room. Your phone awaits you on the night table, face up to the ceiling so that you can see that Jungkook texted you multiple times. You steel yourself, grabbing your phone, and then read his texts.

[2:28 pm] JK: we’re at the restaurant rn [2:28 pm] JK: so maybe in an hour and a half? [2:29 pm] JK: we finally went to the catacombs today [2:29 pm] JK: you were right it’s hella creepy

It’s like he’s unaware that he broke your heart, that he destroyed the trust you had in him. It makes you think, did you imagine everything that happened yesterday?

Was it all just a nightmare?

You wish it was, but the tear stains on your sheets are proof enough that it truly happened.

[2:35 pm] You: call me whenever

You spend the next hour lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, trying to chase him out of your thoughts. Trying to figure out what you’ll tell him: there’s no way you’ll pursue a relationship with him now that that happened. But maybe he’ll have an explanation, reassurance that not everything was a lie…

You don’t know if that would make you feel better. Maybe relieved in some way, yes, but the throbbing in your chest would likely not be lessened by such reassurance. You fear it’d be worse. It would mean losing something that was real, and you don’t know if you’d survive it.

When your phone finally rings, you consider not picking up. You consider ghosting him, disappearing from his life before he has the power to hurt you more, but you’re weak for him.

Far too weak, and you pick up after a few seconds.

He’s obviously called on Facetime, and the moment he comes into view, a soft smile on his lips, you feel like you’re breaking all over again.

The last time you saw those lips they were pressed against another girl’s mouth.

“Hey,” he greets you.

You can’t find it in you to speak around the lump in your throat, so you just offer him a tight-lipped smile. He frowns, eyebrows almost touching over his eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

Of course he’d notice, but… is he that oblivious? Anger cuts through the sadness, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” you ask.

His frown deepens. “I…” he trails off, and then something changes in his demeanour. The frown disappears, his lips part and his eyes widen, filling with fear. “You… Is this about Gabrielle?”

You laugh, so bitterly you taste it on your tongue. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes?” he lets out.

He looks terrified. It’s a strange sight, and it makes unease settle deep in your stomach.

“Tae called me last night,” you reveal.

“Oh.” He pulls on his piercings, eyes dropping. “Oh.”

“What the fuck was that, Jungkook?”

Your question strikes him deep. You see it in the way his shoulders drop, like he’s burdened with the weight of the world.

“Nothing happened,” he tries.

But he doesn’t meet your gaze.

“I saw you kissing her,” you spit. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“Peach…”

You scoff, yet the nickname brings tears to your eyes. “What the fuck was that?” you ask again, and you hate that your vision is turning blurry, hate the way that you are so completely, irreversibly weak for him.

“It really isn’t what you think it is,” he says.

“You spent the evening locked up in a room with her.”

He closes his eyes, and his phone shifts just enough so that you see his surroundings better. He’s in a park from the looks of it, much like he’d been when you’d facetimed on Wednesday.

“I promise it really isn’t what you think it is,” he insists. He meets your gaze, his big doe eyes so pained you almost want to believe him.

You sigh deeply, and a single tear falls on your cheek. You dry it with the back of your hand. “What was it then?”

A muscle feathers on his jaw as he clenches it, yet he remains silent. His lips stretch in a thin line, horror filling his gaze.

“I really thought…” 

You can’t finish the sentence. I really thought we’d work. You can’t finish it, as your heart breaks and breaks and breaks until you’re back to where you were last night, struggling to breathe as you’d watched him kissing her.

“I made a promise to her years ago,” he admits, his voice wobbly. “I can’t tell anyone, but I swear, peach, it’s not what you think it is. I’d never do that to you.”

“But you did!”

His mouth opens and closes a few times, like he wants to say something but can’t.

“I can’t…” you trail off because you don’t want to say it. 

You don’t want to be the one to kill the relationship when it hasn’t even started yet. Though you reckon he killed it when he kissed her.

“I can’t be with you,” you whisper, as if the words can’t be uttered aloud.

“Peach…”

“Stop calling me that,” you burst. “Stop fucking calling me that when you basically cheated.”

He frowns, his jaw clenching again. “We weren’t even exclusive.”

“Excuse me?”

Undiluted rage consumes every inch of your body, taking away the pain. All there is is the blaze of anger, and it burns and burns until you think you might turn to embers.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he immediately replies, eyes so wide he looks like a deer in headlights. He takes a deep breath and swallows as the movement of his Adam’s apple shows. “Please just trust me on this.”

“No, Jungkook,” you say. “I can’t trust you when it took you all of a few days with your ex to end up kissing her.” You close your eyes, shaking your head. “You told me Gabrielle was just a friend.”

“And she is!” he says. “She really is, peach. She’s nothing like you.”

“Why the fuck did you kiss her then?” you ask, blinking away tears the second you open your eyes again.

“She kissed me,” he answers. “She kissed me when Tae opened the door. I didn’t even know he was on the phone with you.”

“You’re aware that it sounds like lame-ass excuses?” You scoff, shaking your head again. “I can’t fucking believe you. I should have listened to Colton.”

You see the blow that it is to him. His waterline turns silver, and he clenches his jaw hard. His shoulders drop even more, and you think you hear the sound of breaking.

You doubt he deserves to be breaking over his own mistakes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Peach, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I’m home, and then we can…”

“There’s no we,” you interject. “There’s no we anymore.”

“Please.” He’s begging. You never thought you’d see a day when Jeon Jungkook would beg for you, and it hurts fiercely, replacing the anger.

You’re on a roller coaster, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get down. 

“What did you promise her, Kook?” you ask, your voice infinitesimally small.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I promised her I’d never tell anyone. So I can’t tell you.”

You’re crying again, though this time it sweeps in softly, gently. No rocking sobs, no shaking hands. Just tears, heavier than the sun, rolling down your cheeks.

“Then there is no we anymore,” you whisper.

Because you can’t be in the shadow of his ex. There can’t be secrets between the two of you - especially not when his parents want him to marry her.

“Peach, please.”

“Stop, Jungkook.” You shake your head as more tears spill from your eyes. “Stop.”

“But I can’t lose you,” he says, and you think you spy a tear on his cheek too.

It feels out of place, like it’s a waterfall in the desert, or maybe oxygen in space.

“I can’t be with someone who keeps secrets from me, Jungkook.” You pause, taking a deep breath in to give yourself courage.

“But it’s just…” he trails off, and you watch as defeat takes over him.

You wonder if he ever had to fight for anyone before. If he even has it in him to do it. Though you don’t think you’d want to be with him even if he fought for you. 

Not after last night.

“It really is nothing,” he finishes, though he sounds just as unconvinced as you are and that, most of all, tells you that it is truly over.

You and Jeon Jungkook weren’t meant to be together in this universe after all. You should have known - you saw the signs and chose to ignore them. Maybe because your pink-tinted glasses coloured the red in such a way that it became the most beautiful colour you’d ever seen.

But now that the glasses are gone, you think, were you just blindsided all along?

“Have fun on the rest of your trip, Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Peach…”

“Do not ever call me that again,” you say softly, but you mean it.

You can’t afford him calling you that.

He tries your name, but you shake your head no. He curses underneath his breath, clearly unaware that he did it loud enough for you to hear, and then says, “So that’s it?”

You shrug, like you don’t care at all when in reality it’s taking everything in you not to break down right now. “That’s it,” you confirm. “We don’t even have to tell Tae.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Okay.

Everything, crashing down into a single flat word. Everything, ending on a note of heartbreak that rings and rings in your head until you think you might go insane.

You should have known you weren’t the muse behind the song, behind the poem and the art. You’d always been meant to break away, weren’t you?

You don’t remember hanging up. All you remember is staring at your reflection on the screen, and the sound of your breaking heart in the background.

*****

The thing with the end, it’s that it never really is just the end. The end of something is the beginning of something else, and sometimes the new beginning is better, sometimes it’s worse.

You think beginning your life post-Jungkook in a club might be good. The distraction of the flashing lights, loud music and alcohol is an effective one, yet you know it for what it truly is: escapism.

You don’t know how Ria and Nabi convinced you. You do like clubbing, but Nabi hates it. So maybe it was the fact that she suggested it, that she said it’d be fun that made you want to go. You even invited Yoongi, but Yoongi said he wanted to have a night in, so it’s just you girls tonight, and you reckon it has to be enough.

You follow Nabi past the coat check, waiting for Ria as she drops off her own jacket. A few seconds later Ria meets with you, and she hooks arms with you both to head towards the bar.

“Let’s get some shots before we go dancing,” she suggests, almost screaming so that you can hear her over the sound of the music.

“Dancing?” Nabi lets out.

“What do you think clubbing is for?” Ria teases, and you offer a half-hearted smile at that.

In other circumstances you likely would have laughed, but a smile is a good start, no?

“I don’t know,” Nabi grumbles.

You reach the bar, and you stand behind a group of four guys who are also waiting for shots, or so it seems. You glance at them, and your gaze meets that of the one who’s leaning against the bar, looking your way. You politely smile out of reflex, looking away a second later as you try to focus on Ria and Nabi’s now surprisingly heated discussion about the pros and cons of clubbing.

You think clubbing is good. Clubbing is empty mind, busy body, and right now it’s all you need.

It’s all you need not to run back to the Facetime call this afternoon, and the finality of Jungkook’s path in your life.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and slowly let it out. Though your heart is aching - it hasn’t stopped since this afternoon - you’ve been good at ignoring it. At pretending that you’re fine, that you didn’t lose something that mattered to you far more than you should have let it to begin with.

You don’t think Jungkook deserved the devotion you had for him. Not when lying to you, when refusing to tell you the whole truth is more important to him. And you’ve gone down a spiral after the call. Stalking Gabrielle on social media, understanding why he kissed her in the first place.

If you were even a little bit gay, you too would probably want to kiss her. She’s attractive, elegantly so, in the same way that all people who are born into old money are. She’s from the same universe as Jungkook, has a beautiful smile and striking green eyes that you can only envy. Her hair - somewhere between blonde and red - is also amazing, probably because she has the money to maintain a good hair care and skincare routine.

You do have your own skincare routine too, but nothing that having a lot of money can pay for.

“Hey, you girls want shots?” one of the guys says, mostly in your direction.

Maybe because Ria and Nabi are still bickering next to you.

“Huh…” you let out, heart momentarily stumbling in your chest as you look at Ria next to you.

You nudge her, and she finally acknowledges the guy, staring him up and down once before smiling her ‘I’m on a mission’ smile. It works right away: the guy smirks, extending a hand for her to shake.

“I’m Jacob.”

She unhooks her arms from yours and Nabi’s, shaking his hand. “Ria. And this is Y/n and Nabi.”

You nod your head and wave weakly in greetings, and Jacob mirrors the motion before setting his gaze on Ria again. 

“So, do you want them shots or not?” he asks.

She tilts her head to the side prettily. “Sure, we’ll take them.”

And that’s how you find yourself downing shots with guys that look straight out of a frat - Jacob, Chad, Elijah and Lucas. Lucas is the one who smiled at you earlier, and he easily finds his way to your side as you drink the shots.

After that first round, Lucas suggests a second one, and you all end up downing Jaggerbombs, the sweetness of the Red Bull contrasting the taste of the alcohol in just the right way. Ria suggests heading to the dancefloor next, and no amount of pleading gaze from you and Nabi makes her change her mind.

She truly is on a mission, and you think it might be partly because she needs to stop thinking about Seokjin. Not that you would ever tell it to her face though.

You end up dancing with Nabi, both of you slightly uncomfortable with the unknown males. In another world, you’d probably be dancing with Lucas, indulging in his company, but right now the last thing you want is to sidle close to a man.

Pretending isn’t making you forget how, just a little under a week ago, you were breathing Jungkook in like he could be the oxygen in your lungs. 

You tense. You fucking tense, and Nabi immediately notices, leaning in to say in your ear, “Everything okay?”

You shrug. “I’d do without the guys, but I guess it was to be expected with Ria in a club.”

Nabi winces, offering you an apologetic look. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You even snort at the way her features fall in disappointment. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” she admits.

The song ends, blending into another one, and you pull her to the side as a girl walks behind her, parting your group.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” you suggest.

She pouts, looking up to the ceiling as if in deep thought, then nods her head enthusiastically. “Yup, let’s do that.”

You chuckle, and then you pull her towards Ria. Ria glares at you when you pull her away from Jacob, yet leans in when you make to speak to her.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” you tell her.

You don’t give her a choice. You grab her hand, pulling her behind you as Nabi leads the way to the bathroom. 

The music isn’t as loud in the hallway, the red lights giving Nabi’s white top a tint that makes it just a little creepy. There’s already a line, and you stand at the end of it, turning to face Ria.

“Can we do no guys tonight?” you ask her.

Her mouth falls open. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her.

She still looks apologetic, and it lingers for longer than just the bathroom trip - you have to pull her in a dance after you’ve taken more shots for her to stop looking forlorn. She’s reluctant at first, pouting, and you pull her closer.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I’m really sorry,” she repeats. “I’m so dumb sometimes.”

You offer her a scolding look. “You’re not. Besides, it’s mostly for Nabi that I asked that.”

Ria glances towards Nabi, who’s dancing next to you but completely oblivious to the conversation. “Right.”

And that is that. Ria recovers her playful mood, and you dance and laugh and drink with your friends. You think Jungkook slips out of your thoughts on the fourth shot you down, and by the sixth, your mind is swimming in way too much drunk bliss to even feel the ache in your chest. It’s liberating - you feel like a bird who’s flying for the first time, and so you cling to the feeling as best as you can.

Nabi decides to leave before you and Ria, Namjoon picking her up on his way back from Yoongi’s place, where they apparently gamed together. You don’t care - you’re drunk enough to want to ride into the sunrise, to party until it’s light outside and the world has forgotten about your existence.

Luckily for you, Ria is one for such parties as well, and so you dance and dance and dance, taking another shot ten minutes after Nabi left. 

This time, when Ria pulls you back towards the group of guys, you follow her grudgingly. You even let the dancing tide push you closer to Lucas, who leans in and says, “Hey you”, in a way that makes you think maybe true solace lies in another person’s lips.

It’s early. Far too early. But you’re also far too drunk to care, and so when he pulls you closer to dance with him, you let him do so. You let him sway your hips to the music, let him lean his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in the same air, and the rhythm is everlasting.

You sigh in contentment. You’re back in New York, back at that DJ show you’d attended with Jungkook. It’s his hands you imagine on your hips, his breath that you breathe in, his sweaty forehead that rests against yours.

It’s him. Because it’ll always be him.

He kisses you, and you kiss him back, hands grabbing at his shirt. He kisses you all wrong - the lack of piercings a stark contrast to your usual.

It hurts. It hurts, and the hole in your chest gapes open wide.

You pull away from the kiss, eyes snapping open to see Lucas’s startled face. His eyes are brown, but they’re not Jungkook’s shade. And he doesn’t have that small scar on his left cheek, or the eyebrow piercing. He doesn’t have the mole under his mouth, or the doe eyes that you fell in love with.

“Shit,” you let out.

“Did I do something I shouldn’t?” Lucas asks, and he lets go of you immediately, as if you burn him.

“No,” you reassure him, yet panic is swelling in you, like the tide when the moon is high. “I just…” You shake your head, letting out a sound you know to be a broken sob. “Just got out of a relationship.”

“Babe,” Ria says from behind you, stepping in between you and Lucas. “Everything okay?”

“I want to go home,” you tell her.

She doesn’t know that you mean to him. She can’t know - you can’t even allow yourself to think so. Yet you can’t help it, the alcohol inhibiting the control you had on your emotions until you’re crying on the dancefloor, just a heartbroken twenty-something who might have flown too close to the sun.

“Please,” you add when she doesn’t react, just looks at your tears like they are foreign entities.

But then she snaps out of her drunken daze, and she pulls you away from the dancefloor, away from the reminders of Jungkook. She helps you get your coat while you sniffle to the side, your eyes red-rimmed. And then she helps you get into the Uber home, holding your hand all the way.

She walks you up to your apartment, but the second you’re inside Jungkook is everywhere, and you need the loneliness. You need to be alone, you need to be able to indulge one last time. So you reassure her, tell her that you’ll be fine, that you can hang out tomorrow, and then you push her out the door.

It takes you thirty minutes to shower and take your makeup off, and another five minutes trying to convince yourself that you should sleep in your bed.

You lose the fight, and you fall asleep in Jungkook’s bed, crying softly as his scent wraps around you like the embrace of a ghost gone too soon.

Tuesday, May 7th 

You’ve slept in Jungkook’s bed every day since Saturday, chasing him like you used to chase cars around his head. This morning, when you woke up, you made the bed, took one last look into this part of your life and then closed the door behind you like you’ll ever forget the hours you spent tangled up with him, fast asleep or losing yourself in him.

He’s coming back today. Taehyung is coming back today, and though you’d once wished for Tae’s return, now you’re dreading it. You don’t want to see him, don’t want to see Jungkook, or Jimin, or Sera, or even Ariane. 

You want to rewind time to the week before Jungkook left, but life doesn’t work that way, does it?

You finish work late, a while after they’ve returned from their trip. And maybe you sit in the car for a long time also, dreading the moment you’ll have to go in.

[2:39 pm] bröther👽: just landed [3:47 pm] bröther👽: it was a shitshow but we’re home [3:48 pm] bröther👽: ari is going to stay at ours for a few days [3:48 pm] bröther👽: we’re planning dinner? are tacos ok [4:31 pm] bröther👽: yeah so it’ll be tacos

You haven’t replied to any of the texts. You want to tell him that you’re good, that you’ll spend the evening locked up in your room anyway, but you can’t bring yourself to do so. In some twisted way, you want to see Jungkook, want to see if this is affecting him the same way that it’s affecting you.

You reckon that might make you a bad person.

You sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest. A car passes in the street, its headlights illuminating you for a few seconds before it’s gone, the dim neon light of the streetlights returning. 

You’re aware you can’t stay here forever. You have to go home, have to walk up the stairs and see Jungkook again. And so you take a deep breath, close your eyes for a few seconds so that you can steel yourself, and then you throw the car door open.

You can’t stop, can’t slow down. So you practically jog up the stairs after you’ve slammed the car door shut, locking it over your shoulder. And then you burst into the apartment, hands trembling as you still there to notice Taehyung and Ariane in the living room, lounging on the couch.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is closed, and you’re not sure if it’s a relief.

“Y/n!” Taehyung bursts, and he gets up from the couch to jog to you, immediately engulfing you in a bear hug.

You hug him back, fists closing around handfuls of his shirt, and you hide your face in his shoulder so that he can’t see the tears pricking at your eyes.

“Tae,” you whisper back. “How have you been?”

“Good,” he answers. “Happy to be back though.”

He pulls away, grabbing your purse from your hand so that he can drop it on the table by the door. You busy yourself with taking off your shoes, feeling shy under Ariane’s watchful gaze. She smiles at you when you look her way, and you smile back, offering her a small, polite nod. She gets up from the couch, walking your way so that Taehyung can properly introduce you.

She’s nice. She’s a warm person, and you feel the kindness oozing from her after just a few sentences exchanged. You know you’ll like her, and you’re relieved Taehyung finally found someone to make him forget his ex from high school.

As Ariane insists on cooking tacos for you all, you think she’s far better than Taehyung’s ex anyway. You do feel bad that she’s cooking at your apartment, but she says she loves cooking, and that you should just enjoy your brother’s return for now.

As she cooks, you and Taehyung sit at the table, telling each other stories from the last few months. Evidently you avoid mentioning Jungkook, instead focusing on what was going on in your friend group. Taehyung pulls Ariane into the conversation once in a while, and she admits she chose to do a semester in Paris because her grandfather was French, and he’s the one who chose her name.

It’s a comfortable conversation, a moment that almost makes you forget that Jungkook is hiding in his room, doing whatever it is that he’s doing. Thinking about him makes your heart strain in your chest, and you mindlessly massage the spot, as if that might chase the ache away.

What does help is when you decide to get up to actually help Ariane, and you take care of setting the table and preparing the lettuce. It busies your mind a little, and though you’re still speaking with Ariane and Taehyung, you manage not to let your thoughts wander back to a certain doe-eyed man.

You’re sitting down to eat when Taehyung finally mentions the elephant in the room, saying, “Should we ask JK if he wants anything?”

Ariane chuckles. “Feel free if you want to deal with him.”

You hope they don’t hear you gulp, and you innocently say, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s been weird for a few days,” Taehyung answers. “He’s been short with everyone, and he refuses to talk when we ask him what’s wrong.” Taehyung pauses, furrowing his brow. “Why?”

You shrug. “Just wondering.”

Can he hear your heart beating out of your chest? You definitely can, and it’s pumping in your ears, making you feel dizzy.

The knowledge that Jungkook hasn’t been doing well hurts far more than you expected it would. It’s like you just got stabbed right in the heart, and you’re bleeding out where you’re sitting at the table, on Taehyung’s left.

You avert your gaze, looking at the bowls on the table, eyes focusing on the steam rising from the cooked ground beef. You act like you don’t care - you grab a taco shell, and immediately start to prepare your meal, while a strange silence stretches. 

It’s uncomfortable, awkward, and Taehyung flees by getting up and heading to Jungkook’s room. You hear him knocking on the door, and you can’t help but strain your ears as you try to hear what they’re saying.

“You hungry?” Taehyung says after you’ve heard the door opening.

“Not really,” Jungkook replies, and hearing his voice is shattering, wrecking, like the car you were riding just smashed into a wall at full speed.

Your eyes fill with tears, which you furiously blink away hoping that Ariane doesn’t notice. She’s luckily looking towards the hallway though, and you successfully clear your gaze before she turns again.

“I think he’s upset because of Gaby,” she comments as she starts making her own taco. “He started being like this when she stopped hanging out with us.”

Right. Ariane is Gabrielle’s friend. Her best friend even, if what Taehyung said is true. 

You’re not so sure anymore if you’ll be able to get along with Ariane after all.

“Ah,” you flatly let out. “That sucks.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “He’ll get over it. Gaby said he’s the one that broke up with her anyway.”

You gulp around the lump in your throat, and though your hunger has entirely vanished, you bite into the taco so that you don’t have to talk.

It works, and you eat in silence as Taehyung walks back into the room, exchanging a knowing glance with Ariane. He sits back down between the two of you, and then he’s making his taco too, and though the atmosphere is awkward, you don’t have to partake in any more conversation.

You force yourself to eat a second taco, knowing Taehyung would tell you off if you don’t considering you usually eat at least three, if not more. It’s sickening, and you’re on your last bite when Jungkook appears in the door frame.

Your gazes immediately meet, and everything seems to stop around you, to disappear from existence. There’s just you and him, and you take in his dishevelled appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his gaze.

All light has gone out from his eyes, replaced by shadows and darkness you recognize far too well.

They’re haunting your own eyes, too.

“I’m heading home for the summer,” he tells no one in particular, though his gaze doesn’t leave yours.

Like he’s trying to take everything in one last time, trying to commit you to memory like you’re doing with him right now.

Though you don’t want this to be a memory. You want to remember his lips on your skin and the light in his eyes and the way he’d always hold you close. You want to remember what it felt like to be his – or to believe you were. You don’t want any of the heartbreak, but it takes over everything, and your gaze drops to the table.

“What?” Taehyung lets out. “Right now?”

Jungkook nods. “My father needs help with his company.”

“We literally got home like six hours ago,” Taehyung points out. “Shouldn’t you get some sleep first?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says. “It’s not that long of a drive.”

It actually is. It’s nearly four hours, and you highly doubt Jungkook’s father asked for help. Or maybe he did. Maybe Jungkook lied about his strained relationship with his family to get you to…

You stop the train of thoughts. He didn’t lie. You were there, and you saw it with your own two eyes. 

You force yourself to meet his gaze again - his eyes haven’t left you. He offers you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen on his lips, and his gaze fills with words unsaid. You can almost taste them on the sharp inhale of breath you take, and you want to tell him to stay.

You want to tell him that you’re in love with him. But it’s too little too late, and so you swallow the confession, shove it down until you can forget its existence.

He nods, like he knows then that you truly are over, and then he says, “I’ll see you guys soon.”

You watch him go - your heart goes with him, and you feel like you’ll cave in on the emptiness in your chest. 

Taehyung follows him to the door, leaving you alone with Ariane. This time, she doesn’t miss the agony on your features, and she asks, “Are you okay?”

You sit back in your chair, nodding once, yet you answer, “I don’t know, I feel sick.”

She offers you a kind smile. “You don’t need to eat anymore,” she reassures you. “You’ve worked all day, maybe you just need some rest.”

“Maybe,” you repeat flatly. “Let me just clean up the table.”

She stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Tae’s not done, I’ll get him to take care of it. Just go to bed.”

You nod curtly, and you hope she doesn’t see the silver lining your gaze, threatening to spill over. You do put your plate away in the sink, to be washed later, and then you head to your bedroom, seeking the cool reprieve of your own safe haven.

You can’t help yourself, glancing towards the door as you leave the kitchen. Jungkook is already outside, and Taehyung is speaking with him leaning against the door frame. You think it’s a relief you can’t see Jungkook from here - you’d probably have broken down right then and there, and you doubt you would have survived the embarrassment. 

You lean against the door of your bedroom once you’re finally in, and you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. When Jungkook’s pained features appear behind your eyelids, you immediately open your eyes again.

There’s a box on your bed, next to a folded piece of paper. Curiosity replaces the agony in your chest momentarily…

Until you see your name on the folded piece of paper, and realize what this is.

Tears fill your eyes so quickly this time around that you can’t stop them, and they fall freely on your cheeks as you take a wobbly step forward. 

He’s left you a letter. And the box is clearly a jewelry box - there’s something so strange about the sight that it breaks your heart all over again, until the throbbing in your chest is so stark you barely can feel the paper as your hands reach for it, unfolding it carefully.

Your vision is blurry behind your tears, and as you see he’s written lines and lines of words for you, you let out a broken sob as you sit on your bed. 

It takes you five minutes before you’re actually able to read, and you read it so many times you think you know the letter by heart.

Hey peach, I know you asked me not to call you that. I promise this is the last time, and I’ll never bother you with that name again. I just didn’t know how to start this letter… I hope you’ve been doing okay. The last few days have been shit for me, and I feel really fucking guilty for everything. I wish it’d never happened, I wish I’d come home to you so that we could tell Taehyung about us… but as you said, there is no us anymore. Thank you for the few months we spent together. You taught me a lot about myself, and I really enjoyed spending time with you. I’ll look back fondly on the memories I have of us. I really want to apologize. For everything that I did. I wish I’d never gone to Paris. I’m sorry that I left, and that I let old promises to Gabrielle ruin what was between us. I’m sorry I wasn’t more upfront about how I felt for you too. It was all just so new to me, and I thought we had a long while ahead of us to figure everything out… I’m sorry that I was wrong. I don’t expect this letter to change anything. I just wanted to let you know how I feel, and I don’t think I would be able to speak to you face to face. Maybe that makes me a coward, but it is what it is. I got you a gift in Paris, before things went to hell. I couldn’t bring myself to return it or keep it, so I hope you enjoy it. You don’t have to keep it either, I just wanted you to still have it. Finally, I hope you have a nice summer. I hope you have fun, and I hope you find someone that treats you the way that you deserve. Someone Taehyung would approve of hopefully! You deserve it more than you can imagine. Take care, Jungkook

Your gaze is blurry behind the tears again, yet you manage to blink them away. You think, maybe you’ve run out of tears. Maybe you’ll go dry and desiccated like you died in the desert, and you think, maybe you deserve it.

You’ve never received a love letter. And though Jungkook didn’t confess, you feel like perhaps you’re holding his heart in your hands like he’s holding yours in his. Perhaps he did care for you, perhaps Gabrielle really was just a momentary mistake.

You take a deep breath in, and though it’s shaky, it does ease some ache in your heart. Not everything - the hole is still gaping wide open, and you reckon only time can fix it.

You put the letter down, picking up the jewelry box instead. Your hands are still trembling, yet you manage to open it to reveal a thin, shiny gold chain. The pendant that sits on the velvety cushion breaks you all over again, yet you don’t hesitate before putting it on.

Your fingers, suddenly steady, secure the necklace around your neck, and then your hand falls to the pendant. 

The peach sits light in your palm, a reminder of what your relationship with Jungkook should have been.

Prev | Chapter 12.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

:'''''') the letter right? Did I cry writing it? Yes I did. Did I cry the fifteen times I've reread it? Yes, I also did. What did you guys think of this chapter?:')

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[honeybeedewdrops]

"Just Friends..." | L.Norris

Summary: You and Lando have told everyone you are just friends. Until you let it slip you have made out with him a couple of times, as just friends of course.

______________________________________________________________

You and Lando have been best friends for... well since forever. As one of Lando's best friends you of course get to pick and choose what races you want to go to. Luck was just on your side and you were able to get next week off for Miami.

You: Hey Lan do you by chance have any spare tickets for Miami I would love to come.

Lando: I in fact do

You: Great I would love to come out I got that weekend off

Lando: I'll have McLaren send one right over

You smiled happy to be able to support him.

People would always tease you and Lando about dating it started with your parents and both of you would just laugh it off. Then your friends started teasing you too. Some days it just got so annoying until one drunk night when you and Lando had a moment. You started to develop feelings for him after that night but you always pushed them away afraid of rejection and ruining such a great friendship.

You finally made it to Miami and walked into the paddock ready to take on the world. You walked down the paddock towards the McLaren Garage when two hands wrap around your waist and spin you around. "ahhh Lan put me down" You squeal, he sets you down and you turn around hugging him. "It's so good to see you" "you too Y/n" you smile at him one last time before spotting Ria and Aarava a short way behind him. "Ria, Aarava hey I haven't seen you guys in such a long time" you say pulling both into a hug.

"hey I got media but i'll see you guys later" Lando said giving you a side hug and leaving. "I'm also going to go i'm going to scout our our place Ria" Aarav said leaving just the two girls "and then there was just us" You say. You and Ria chat about work and how living in Ibiza was for her and making your way to the hospitality. " Now tell me girl what is going on with you and Lando" "Nothing i've said this thousands of times we are just friends" Ria shook her head "oh come. He spun you around like some romantic comedy. Not to mention you were the only one he hugged when he left" you rolled your eyes. "Your being dramatic" "Y/n it's right in front of your eyes" "what is?" "Girl Lando is in love with you and has been for quite some time now" "What no he hasn't" Ria sighed. "You are very smart Y/n but so dumb when it comes to Lando he looks at you the same way you look at him" "and how is that" "your in love" "pffff... no i'm not" you denied "You are such a bad liar" Ria said. "I am not" "ok fine but I know there is definitely something going on between you too"

When Lando won you had tears streaming down your face. All his hard work, all of McLaren's hard work he had done it he had finally done he won his first race ever. After he celebrated with his team he made his way to you bringing you into a hug. "I did it" He says making you cry harder "You did" he pulls away "don't cry" He says bring his had up to your cheek to wipe the tears away. You pulled him in for another hug before pushing him to go do media.

To Celebrate Lando's first win you all went out and hit the clubs. You were a few drinks in before going to sit on the couch where you saw Oscar and his girlfriend sitting on the couch. "Hey Oscar good job today" Oscar smiled "Thank you Y/n this is my girlfriend Lily" You smiled "Nice to meet you" "yeah you too I love your dress by the way" Lily compliments. "Thank you I love your outfit too" you say taking a sip of your drink. It was silent for a bit before Lily spoke up. "So are you and Lando dating" "No we're just friends" Oscar makes a face "what was that face for Osc" "Nothing" he says "Oscar seriously what" "I just don't believe you when you say your just friends" "we are gosh no one believes us" "I mean come on there's just no way" "We are just friends even if we did make out a few times" Oscar chokes on his drink "what was that" He asks "we are just friends?" "No after that" Oscar says "what did I say after that?" Oscar rolled his eyes knowing your playing with him "You and Lando have made out" "oh yeah that only like once or twice actually no it was three times" "friends don't just randomly make out" Oscar says "what you don't kiss the homies' you joke. Oscar spoke once again but you drowned him out after seeing Lando dancing. As if he felt eyes in him he looked around and found your eyes making you suck in a break. He really did have this post race glow. Fuck it you thought and stood up handing someone your drink before walking over to him.

You tapped him, he turned and you pulled him in for a kiss. Sparks were practically flying you were on top of the world. You pulled away for air and putting your head against his. "Woah" Lando said making you chuckle. "I like you Lando, a lot and I have for a while" He smile got wider "I like you too Y/n" he then pulled you in for another kiss making everyone around you cheer finally you two confessed.

[f1rodrigo]

ᡣ𐭩 valentine's day with f1 boys ᡣ𐭩

summary: valentine's day posts celebrating love with your favorite formula one boy. featuring: lando norris, charles leclerc, and daniel ricciardo ❤︎‬ a/n: well, it's two days after valentine's i had this idea pretty late & it took me longer than expected! but here it is nonetheless! hope you enjoy! for anyone waiting on my series to continue i am so so very sorry there hasn't been an update in so long. break was busy and i feel like i haven’t not been busy since then. not sure when an update will come but i can promise you it will at some point<3.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 892,619 others

yourusername wish i could express how much better life is with you in it. thank you for loving me i promise to keep on loving you right back, this valentine's day and all the rest. happy valentine's day my love<3

view all 3,212 comments

maxfewtrell just threw up actually

⤷ yourusername shut up you know you love us

⤷ maxfewtrell 🦗🦗🦗🦗

⤷ landonorris your jealously is showing mate

pietra.pilao awwww love you both sm

⤷ yourusername 😙😙 love u more sweet p

landonorris the last photo... was that necessary

⤷ yourusername absolutely

landonorris loving you is the easiest thing i've ever done

⤷ user1 just gonna walk into an open flame don't mind me

landonorris happy valentine's day baby i love you sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much

⤷ yourusername i don't think that so was long enough :/

⤷ landonorris sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much

⤷ yourusername i guess that'll do

⤷ user2 literally how could you not love them

riabish the cutest couple ever 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername ria!!! ily

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

yourusername added to their story

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, and 671,910 others

yourusername no doubt that i am the luckiest girl in the world. to love you is the greatest joy of my life. happy valentine's day charles, i love you so much 🫂

view all 2,109 comments

charles_leclerc mon amour, i am the lucky one. i love you even more. happy valentine's 😙

⤷ user1 "i love you even more" hahahahaa when i take a long walk off a short pier than what

⤷ user2 real 🫠

charles_leclerc the last slide........

⤷ yourusername am i not allowed to profess my love for my boyfriend

⤷ charles_leclerc well when you put it like that

⤷ yourusername thinking of getting it printed on a shirt tbh, new race day fit

⤷ charles_leclerc now let's not get ahead of ourselves.....

⤷ yourusername too late, arriving in a week 🥰

⤷ user3 don't be shy share with the rest of us......

⤷ user4 omg new charles merch just dropped

user5 literally name a hotter couple....... you can't

lewishamilton ❤️❤️❤️❤️

⤷ yourusername hope you enjoyed your valentines lewis<3

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

yourusername added to their story

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

liked by danielricciardo and 1,291,819 others

yourusername danny, you make everyday feel like valentine's day. you never, and i mean never fail to make me smile. to know you is to love you. let's just do this forever ok? 💌

view all 2,871 comments

danielricciardo yn, forever isn't nearly enough. i love you so much happy valentine's💖

⤷ user1 "forever isn't nearly enough" i'm choking on my tears

danielricciardo have to say i've never looked better than in that last photo

⤷ yourusername have to say i absolutely agree

maxverstappen1 happy valentine's day @danielricciardo

⤷ yourusername MAX STOP TRYING TO STEAL MY MAN

⤷ maxverstappen1 can't steal what was mine first 😁

⤷ danielricciardo ladies, ladies there's enough of me to go around

⤷ maxverstappen1 who are you calling a lady-

⤷ user2 glad to know maxiel is alive and well

⤷ user3 PLS i know yn is tired of both their dumbasses

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

yourusername added to their story

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .°

find my sweet relief series here!

[mooooonnnzz]

How do I do this? // Miguel O’Hara x daughter!reader

i come out of my hibernation to post a lil dad daughter fanfic of miguel trying to tie up your hair <33

۵ i kept seeing people wanting more miguel w a kid reader so I HAD TO WRITE ITTT

۵ fem reader w long/medium hair length!!

۵ short sweet n simple <33 i wrote it w a teen reader in mind but u can imagine younger too

۵ there is some spanish! although, my spanish is very rough so if i made a mistake please kindly correct me!

���‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Miguel’s teeth clamped down on his lower lip as he thought. The gears slowly turned in his head as he stares at your untamed hair. “Okay, so what do I do again?” He looks at you through the mirror and smirks at your annoyed expression.

“Papi, I can do this myself. You know that right?” You said, eyes glancing at his hand that held the scrunchie. He was stretching it, playing with it as if it was a toy, if he’d stretch it anymore he’d snap it in half. “Don’t mess with the scrunchie like that.” Your hand reached out to snatch it away from him but he jerked his hand away. “Let me learn how to tie your hair.” Miguel frowned, using his other hand to collect your hair.

“I’m letting you, just don’t stretch it like that.” You tell him, feeling a little silly to be the one to reprimand him for his actions. How the tables have turned.

“So many instructions,” Miguel muttered, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. “So dramatic.” You say through a chuckle.

“So I put your hair through the thing?” Miguel squints his eyes in confusion. A slight smile pulls on your lips at how clueless he looked.

“Yes, and if you need any help—“

“—I don’t need any help. I got this.”

Miguel’s eyes darted between the scrunchie that was looped around his fingers and to your hair that he had in an awkward hold. He was trying to imagine how he would put your hair through the hair band, and with each scenario, he’d go through in his head, he would come out more clueless. A small laugh slipped past your lips at his expression.

Miguel looked at you through the mirror, raising a brow. “¿Te estás riendo de mí?”

“No! No. Never.” The large smile that was threatening to shine through was getting harder and harder to conceal. The look of pure confusion on Miguel’s face was impossible to not laugh at.

“No te rias.” Miguel attempted to put on a stern voice, but it was futile. He couldn’t pretend to be mad at you, not when he’s hearing you laugh and seeing you smile. Those two things are one of the many things he loves about you.

“Do you want me to show you how to do it one more time?” Your voice was thick with amusement.

Miguel let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head. He let go of your hair and handed the band over to you. You thanked him and with quick and easy steps, you collected your hair and put it up into a ponytail. Undoing your hair, you looked at Miguel through the mirror. “Do you understand?”

Miguel’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Hacerlo otra vez.” He instructed.

“Papi? En serio?” You put your back up again for Miguel to understand, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around the magic of you tying up your hair. “It’s not that hard, Pa.”

“To me, yes, it is hard.” Miguel grabs the scrunchie from you and tries once more to tie your hair up.

“You’re not going to get it.”

“Shh.”

The band splits into two with the sheer force of him stretching it out the moment he finally loops your hair into it.

There’s a small moment of silence where Miguel is grieving over his failure while you’re trying your hardest not to laugh.

“Me voy. Ya no quiero hacer esto.” He slumped forward in defeat as he walks out of the bathroom. You barrel over in laughter, tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. “Te lo dije!”

if anybody has anymore ideas for dad miguel pls send bc i’m willing to write them we need more platonic miguel fanfics 😭

@strbyallycow

[moony-mari]

1:58 am - lando norris 

Lando norris x fem!reader Summary: 1:58 am the time he walked out of your life or 1:58 am the time he walked back into your life Warnings: hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. max is max fewtrell, italics are flashbacks a/n: put my playlist on shuffle and started writing! Hope you like it send me requests if you want an idea to be written! 

☆☆☆☆

1:58 am the exact time he walked out of your shared apartment leaving you alone, tears cascading down your face as you wondered why he went away. 

Your knees gave out as you sank to the couch, tears blurring your eyes as you opened your phone, your heart clenching as you looked at the photo of lando that lit up the dim room. Immediately you opened your email drafting  a letter of resignation to send to all the quadrant members. 

Placing your phone down, you began to walk around the apartment, memories flooding your mind 

The rain hit the windows harshly causing you and Lando to look at eachother “we're gonna get soaked” he laughed. You'd gone out for dinner and decided it was a good idea to walk to to the restaurant completely forgetting how brutal the UK weather can be 

“I guess we'll have to run home. You wanna race me lan?”

“You don't stand a chance” he smirked at you as he took your hand and led you to the door. 

He was right, you couldn't win,completely drenched hair dripping you finally caught up to him trying to catch your breath ”you could've let me win arsehole” 

“Where's the fun in that baby” he took your hand, and as if on queue music started playing from the car parked on the side “let's dance” 

You're not much for dancing but for him you did. And so you danced in the rain, laughing like a bunch of idiots. Lando pulled you in for a sweet kiss which you gladly reciprocated, until you jumped the honk of a car breaking you apart.

“Do you want to come home or are you just gonna keep standing in the rain all night?” max called 

“Oi you muppet you played the song didn't you? You should’ve shouted us before” 

“Believe it or not i actually like you two together so i gave you a cute moment don't worry i got pictures and videos so i expect a thank you”

“Thank you max” you giggled at his antics and pulled lando to the car 

You placed the frame face down not wanting to remember anymore, the hole in your heart only growing as you continued to roam through the dark halls, leading to your bedroom. Checking your phone one more time pleading for a message a call anything to tell you that he was okay and that he was coming home 

☆☆☆☆

Nov 20th was the date. 2 weeks. 14 days. Complete radio silence. Your resignation had not gone down well. Max showing up to your place pleading with you to come back saying Lando was an idiot for what he did and how you shouldn't throw 3 years of hard work at quadrant because Lando was being a dipshit. Ria and the boys spammed you with messages.you told them you’d finish all the videos scheduled this year but after that you were done. You couldn't work with him anymore. 

How could you go back? 9 years of friendship and a 4 year relationship down the drain like it meant nothing. you’ve been there since the beginning. You held him while he cried and celebrated with him after a good race. But most importantly you loved him. You thought he loved you too. 

Dread consumed you as ria dropped off your abu dhabi paddock passes reminding you that quadrant scheduled a video filming the last race of the year from the mclaren garage. You had no choice but to go. It was work after all. So you packed your bags (full of Lando's hoodies that still smell like him) , got on the plane and checked into your room on wednesday night.Declining offers to go out because you knew he'd be there and you weren't ready to face him yet. 

Saturday rolled around (too quickly) and you were getting ready to go to the paddock to watch quali. The Mclarens had been looking unbelievable this weekend, the progress they've made throughout the year clearly showing with both of the drivers being at the top in both fp1 and fp2. Your mind wandered to the possibility of Lando winning a race. Your heart clenched. A knock on your door brought you back to reality. “Are you almost ready, love quali is starting in 30 minutes? The cars waiting in the lobby ” ria spoke through the door. You grabbed what you needed and headed out. 

As predicted, Oscar finished fp3 in p1 with Lando just behind. Your heart rate was skyrocketing as you walked closer to the McLaren garage.Max knew how hard this was for you so he pulled you aside “i've known you for 9 years. I know when you're not okay. I know this is hard but this is the last time you'll be with us. Forget lando. I mean quadrant. Aarav, steve, ethan ,niran, ria, me the people you've spent the last few years with building this brand so enjoy yourself. I may be Lando's best friend but you know you'll always have me.” 

Tears pooled in your eyes as you hugged him pouring everything into it not being able to answer him verbally. You wiped your tears and continued to walk to the garage with Max next to you. 

Luckily Lando was already in the car when you got there so you settled into the familiar garage missing the feeling of watching live from the garages. Quali  went past in a blur and now all you could focus on was Lando's car going round the track setting purple sectors all around. Screams erupted as he crossed the finish line and secured pole position. Hugging all your friends and fully embracing the moment.

Lando soon made it back into the garage and Max gave you the heads up so you could go back to the hotel. You knew you'd have to face him tomorrow but maybe tomorrow you would be ready. You settled into bed and hoped you would be okay and drifted off to sleep. 

Loud knocking woke you up. Looking around for your phone you checked the time. 1:58 am. Walking up to the door thinking it was just ria you pulled on a hoodie and opened the door.You wrong. Lando stood on the opposite end of the door. Bags under his eyes and his cheeks more hollow than you remembered  he just stood there defeated. Until he finally broke the silence that consumed all the air around you

“Can I come in?” 

[sm0lprism]

Bite-Sized (15) - A BG3 G/t Fanfic

This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 | Previous chapter| Series master list

Summary: Ria returns to camp to find an unusual visitor.

Pairing: Astarion x f!borrower!oc (Tav/oc) (slow-burn)

Warnings: Some suggestive content (Ria's thoughts)?, mild vore mention.

Word count: 3.1k

Taglist: @whatthisfemsheplikes @alexcutecolly @rose7420 @empressxmachina @taters169 @feral-sins @smolgloves @smolkuriboh27 (if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!)

The walk back to camp was a long and somewhat embarrassing one. Unfortunately, this meant that Ria was left alone with nothing but her thoughts on her journey back. If only she could bury herself into a small hole in the ground, she would be content with that if it meant that she wouldn’t have to face Astarion’s smug face again. At least the pale elf seemed mostly amused by the entire scenario by the river more than anything. She hoped that since she had helped him fill one small gap in the origin of his scars, he might not tease her about ogling him back at camp…but knowing him, it seemed unlikely.

After some time had passed, she finally made it back to camp, or rather, what was left of it. Everyone had packed all their tents away, and the only thing that was left was the smoldering embers of the morning campfire. She scanned the camp, searching for any sign of her giant companions – which normally wasn’t difficult, considering how large they were. But, much to her surprise, she couldn’t see anyone.

They didn’t leave without me…surely not…?

Large, rattling tremors shook the soil beneath her feet and every single hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A hot gush of wind wafted over her shaking frame from behind and her heart spasmed in her chest.

There was something behind her.

Very slowly, she turned around to see just what exactly was breathing so heavily behind her back.

Her heart stilled immediately.

It was a bear.

“Oh gods…no.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared in horror at the great bear. There was no doubt in her mind that the beast would be more than happy to make a quick snack of her without a moment’s hesitation, or simply squash her beneath its great fuzzy paws.

Of all the creatures to end me…it had to be a bear.

Her mind attempted to focus on her magic. If only she could tap into it as seamlessly as Gale could, then perhaps she could scare the bear away. But no matter how hard she tried; she could feel no essence of her magic at her fingertips like she had back in the Goblin Camp.

But Ria didn’t want to go down without a fight, even if she couldn’t tap into her magic. When the bear decided it wanted to devour her, she would have her dagger at the ready. She frantically fumbled around for her blade and drew it out of its sheath, holding it in a trembling hand.

“I will be the most unpleasant meal you’ll ever have,” she said through gritted teeth, her grip on the dagger tightening. “And I will not go down without a fight.”

The bear slowly blinked a couple of times. It’s soft, hazel eyes gazed at the tiny borrower with utter tenderness that Ria didn’t know was capable from a beast like a bear. To her complete and utter confusion, the bear took a few steps backwards on gentle paws.

Ria couldn’t almost believe what she was seeing. Was this bear taking her threat seriously?

Before she could react to the bear’s strange movements, a white blinding light suddenly erupted from the bear’s towering figure. The beast gave one last guttural roar, the sound vibrating through the air so loudly that it shook her very core, before it succumbed to whatever magic had enveloped it.

The light slowly ebbed away, and instead of a bear standing in front of her, there was now a very large man. Ria’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she gazed at the man that towered above her. Of all the things she had been expecting to happen, this was certainly not it.  

“You…you were a bear,” she managed to choke out, confusion painted across her facial features.

The man merely smiled gently in response, his face lighting up as brightly as the sun.

“Indeed, I was.” He brought one knee down to the ground to get more on her level. “I apologise if I frightened you.”

Now that the man was kneeling, Ria could take in his appearance. While everyone was enormous compared to her, she could tell that this man was extremely tall. In fact, he was probably taller than Karlach, which was saying something. As she drank in more of his features, she noticed that he had pointy ears, typical of that of an elf. Her eyes widened even further upon this realisation, as she knew enough about elves that they were average in height in terms of larger folk standards. A ragged scar dragged across the side of his face and his luscious brown hair was pulled back into a bun.

“Are you alright?”

Her mouth parted open as she attempted to form a sentence.

“O-oh, yes, I am,” she stammered. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting a bear to turn into an elf like that.”

“That is very understandable,” he replied, chuckling softly. “I suppose this might be the first time you’ve encountered a druid before. And I must admit, I do admire your fearless bravery when you thought that I was going to harm you. But where are my manners – my name is Halsin, I am the archdruid of Emerald Grove.”

Halsin!

The name certainly rang a clear bell in her mind. She remembered her companions mentioning that the archdruid potentially knew a solution to the parasite problem that was plaguing their minds, and he was the one they had rescued from the Goblin Camp.  

“My name is Ria,” she smiled, her nerves somewhat at ease now that she knew he meant her no harm. “It’s nice to meet you, Halsin.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Halsin responded. “But tell me, Ria, what is a little borrower such as yourself doing in a place like this?”

Ria sucked in a deep breath and began to tell Halsin everything – if the others sought out to rescue Halsin, and if he could remove the illithid parasite, she felt that she could tell him about her journey thus far. As she proceeded to tell her story to the archdruid, she watched as his face immediately fell when she described her first encounter with Astarion. The poor man looked completely horrified as she told him everything in detail. Once she had finished her story, there was a moment of silence as Halsin processed the information.

“That is…quite the story.” Halsin cleared his throat. “I am stunned that you forgave Astarion after he almost ate you, even the Oakfather himself wouldn’t be so forgiving as that.”

“He has saved my life on numerous occasions now,” she answered. “We’ve both decided to start fresh.”

“I see,” Halsin answered, still rather perplexed about the whole story.

“You…know that I’m a borrower,” she said slowly, changing the subject. “Not many people do. Or if they do, they’re surprised to see me. Have you met borrowers before?”

His eyes crinkled as his smile across his rugged features deepened.

“I have met numerous borrowers throughout my life,” the druid replied. “Many friendships I’ve shared with people of your kind, and some more than friends. But it has been many years since I have last laid eyes on one. You are the first I’ve seen in a long time.”

Ria’s eyes widened upon hearing Halsin’s words.

“You have?” she stammered.

“Oh, yes. There was a young borrower man that I fell deeply in love with during my youth. He had the sweetest button nose and hair that looked like honey.” A deep sigh escaped past Halsin’s lips, his gaze trailing elsewhere as he reflected on his past. “That was a long time ago now.”

The fact that the druid had friendships and even a relationship with a borrower completely blew her away. The very idea alone of being in such an intimate relationship with a larger being would’ve utterly frightened her not so long ago. And, frankly, a part of it still largely did. But she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to Astarion, and the intimate moments they had shared on their journey thus far. Being kissed by lips larger than your entire body was a terrifying and intoxicating idea all at once. Astarion’s lips had been so incredibly soft to the touch. Imagining those same lips encompassing her body in a tender embrace once more made heat flush to her face.

By the gods! Stop thinking like that!

“Ria?”

Ria blinked, her mind in a daze, as Halsin’s gentle voice rumbled above her head.

She cleared her throat, shoving the thoughts of Astarion out of her brain forcefully.“You really haven’t seen another borrower recently?”

Halsin shook his head. “Aside from you, I have not. I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank upon hearing Halsin’s confirmation and a wave of disappointment washed over her. It wasn’t surprising, but it was still upsetting all the same and only furthered the idea that maybe she was one of the last of her kind after all.

“I figured as much,” she answered stiffly.

The rugged features across the druid’s face softened, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in concern.

As Halsin opened his mouth to speak, an excited squeal burst through her eardrums and travelled across the empty camp.

“Oh my gods – just look at his beaky little face!” Karlach’s voice rang clearly through the air.

Ria immediately felt more tremors rumble through the earth as the rest of her giant companions suddenly entered the clearing. And there were two new companions with them that made her heart spasm in her chest.

A white dog and an owlbear cub trailed behind Karlach and the others.

“They are just simply adorable,” Shadowheart cooed, dropping to one knee to pet the dog. “I’m so very glad they’ll both be joining us.” The dog simply lolled his tongue in response and attempted to lick Shadowheart’s face.

An owlbear cub and a dog were two animals that Ria never wanted to come face to face with in a hundred years. Why had her companions thought it was a good idea to bring two carnivorous animals so close to her?

Instinctively, Ria frantically scrambled to her closest form of protection – Halsin. He seemed to pick up on her fear induced state and immediately he offered her an open palm. She feverishly clambered onto the druid’s calloused hands and hid behind his large fingers – fingers that were larger than her entire body.

Halsin slowly rose to his full height and placed his other hand to shield Ria’s tiny frame. She hastily grasped onto his index finger for support as her heart pounded furiously against her tiny chest.

“Ah! I see you two have been acquainted.” Gale’s voice rang clearly through the air, although Ria could not see the wizard past Halsin’s fingers.

“That I have.” Halsin slowly unfurled his fingers to reveal Ria’s trembling form. She craned her neck upwards and saw Gale towering above her, his warm hazel eyes softening as they fell onto her frame.

“Apologies for the prolonged absence,” Gale said gently. “Karlach had encountered some animal friends a few days ago and she led them back to camp, and now it seems they have become additional members of our merry band.”

“Permanent?” All the colour rapidly drained from Ria’s face.

“Fear not, I will ensure that they both understand not to harm borrowers like you,” Halsin reassured gently.

Her nerves eased slightly as she exhaled shakily. Even though she had only just met Halsin, she had a feeling that he was certainly a man of his word and he would make sure that both the dog and owlbear cub understood that she wasn’t there for eating. If Halsin wasn’t there it would most likely be a different story.

“I do apologise for not consulting you earlier, Ria,” Gale said. “Karlach was very persistent that we take them on. The owlbear cub lost its mother to the goblins, and for the dog…well, he lost his owner. I didn’t have the heart to just turn them away like that.”

“None of us could,” Wyll added.

“It’s quite alright,” she replied. “Besides, this is your travelling party, not mine. My time here is only meant to be temporary anyways.”

To think all of this started was because I needed to find a more permanent place to live…

Gale’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, you are quite right! But we do want to make sure everyone here is comfortable, no matter if they are a permanent member of the party or only temporary.”

“Thank you.” She gave the wizard a small smile.

It was during that moment that Astarion returned into the clearing. His hair was still damp from his dip in the river and his ruby eyes soon found their way to where she was standing on Halsin’s palm. Her heart caught in her throat as she locked eyes with the vampire and he simply smirked at her as he watched her expression.

“What two delectable little pets.” Astarion’s tongue swiped over his upper lip as his gaze flitted away from Ria and over the dog and owlbear cub.

“Chk! You will not be feeding on these istiks, Astarion!” Lae’zel growled, inserting herself in between the pale elf and the two animals. “They are not for eating. Do I make myself clear?”

Astarion merely rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, if I was serious, they would be a bloody mess by now.”

“Yeah, you better not be serious Fangs,” Karlach added, embers flickering across her skin as she glowered at the vampire spawn.

“Trust me, I’m not.”

“Well, now that we have that established,” Halsin interjected. “There is an important matter that I need to discuss with all of you.”

Everyone turned their heads towards the druid. All eyes were on him as a silence fell over the camp.

“As you are aware, unfortunately I do not possess the means to remove the mind flayer parasites from your skulls,” Halsin said. “However, I do know of a place where removal might be possible. Moonrise Towers.”

Ria’s mouth gaped open in shock upon hearing that Halsin, the very same archdruid that her companions had put so much effort into saving, couldn’t remove the parasite. Her giant companions surrounding her didn’t seem surprised in the slightest, albeit somewhat disappointed. They must’ve already had this discussion with Halsin yesterday when he had been rescued from the Goblin Camp and she was unconscious in Astarion’s pocket. But her eyes widened upon hearing Halsin mention Moonrise Towers. She remembered that Minthara had mentioned that place when she had been in the Goblin Camp.

Moonrise Towers…that’s where Araj is. The very same drow who is kidnapping borrowers and taking their blood.

“I did promise you all that I would help you in whatever way I could,” Halsin continued. “I am certain there is a cure for you all in Moonrise Towers. But…it is complicated. The journey specifically. It is extremely perilous. Although you all seem very well accustomed to such journeys.”

“To Moonrise Towers, then,” Wyll said. “May the sun and stars guide us.”

Gale tentatively stepped forward as worry deepened across his face.

“Ah, may I be so bold to ask why the journey is so perilous?” Gale questioned nervously.

Halsin exhaled deeply through his nose, his gaze forlorn. “To get to Moonrise Towers, you’ll need to pass through a terrible place – a cursed place. This curse shrouds everything in its shadow – you will not find life, light, or anything natural there. Any who linger there are twisted by the curse; they become shadow beings – tormented, dangerous souls.”

“Oh, this place sounds like an utter delight,” Astarion mused.

“The Absolute’s forces tolerate such a place?” Wyll commented, quirking an eyebrow.

The Absolute. That’s what those goblins were praising back in the camp…it must be some kind of cult.

“So it seems, though I don’t know how. You will have to choose your approach carefully.” Halsin’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around her frame, and Ria gripped tighter onto his index finger. “You could go overland – along the Risen Road or through the mountains. Easier at first, but you’ll run into the shadow curse eventually. You could also go under. There is a tunnel somewhere in the ruined temple of Selune. It leads to Moonrise Towers through the Underdark. Going through there would allow you to bypass the worst of the shadow curse.”

“Chk. We will be taking the Risen Road. The way to the creche is along the Mountain Pass. Being purified is our only solution.” Lae’zel’s nostrils flared as her seething gaze raked over everyone, as if she was saying that her word was final and anyone who said otherwise would be met with her fury.

“I don’t see any harm in trying Lae’s suggestion,” Karlach commented. “I mean, it can’t hurt. And if that doesn’t work, we could go to Moonrise Towers.”

“Tsk’va! Purification will work,” Lae’zel snapped.

“I suppose going to the creche is closer at this point in time,” Gale added. “Like Karlach said, we could try it first. Either way, I am absolutely thrilled to experience a real githyanki creche. I wonder if it will be like anything that I’ve read in my books.”

“I…I would like to come with you,” Ria said, raising her voice a little so that she could be heard over everyone else. “Moonrise Towers is where I need to go.”

“Are you certain of this, Ria?” Gale’s brows furrowed with concern. “It will be incredibly dangerous. I’m sure we can find somewhere more suitable for you to reside in that will be safer for you.”

Ria shook her head. “No, Moonrise Towers is where I need to go. There is a drow there, Araj, who is capturing borrowers for their blood. I need to find her and put a stop to whatever twisted operation she has going on there.”

“We can definitely take you there,” Gale said. “Besides, you’re practically part of our merry band now, it would be almost wrong to see you go.”

“Speaking of joining a merry band,” Halsin responded. “I would like to join your camp, if you’ll allow me. I can offer my skills, my counsel. I’ve longed to return to Moonrise Towers. It seems our fates have aligned.”

“I couldn’t think of anyone else better to join our esteemed group of peers,” Gale grinned. “Your skills and company will be most appreciated, Halsin.”

Halsin returned the wizard’s smile. “Thank you for having me. I will see to it that you’ll be guided safely to Moonrise Towers with my expertise.”

Lae’zel wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. She didn’t seem entirely all that pleased that the others were still adamant on going to Moonrise Towers when purification was an option at the githyanki creche, but she didn’t say anything further.

It seemed that Ria had a much longer journey ahead of her than what she had thought.

[sillyweirdkid]

Ladies n gentlemen... that was EPIC

holy shit i missed the live so i litsened to the music itself and let me say.. THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL

(WARNING MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD)

THE WAY ANNA EXCLAIMS PENELOPES VOICE IS AMAZING LIKE THE FACT SHE ONLY HAD 3 SONGS (suffering, the challenge and would you fall in love with me) AND SHE ABSOULUTLEY ATE THAT SHIT UP

THE HARMONIES AT THE BEGINNING OF HOLD THEM DOWN THE WAY AYRON MADE ANTINOUS HAVE THAT EVIL AURA IN HIM AAAAAAAAAAAAA

and dude dont even get me started on odysseus

THAT SHIT MADE ME HAVE CHILLS BRO THE WAY THE SUITORS BEG FOR MERCY THE WAY THE SUITORS THREATED TELEMACHUS (which was honestly fucking stupid bc THE KING WAS ALR THERE LIKE HELLO!?) WAY ODYSSEUS MADE HIS ENTRANCE AND THAT ENDING THAT FUCKING ENDING AAAAAAAA

I cant help but wonder lowk made me tear up AND GUYS ATHENA ISNT DEAD ATHENA ISNT DEAD ATHENA ISNT DEAD HAHAHAHHAHAH EHEHEHEHEHHE OHHOHOOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHHOH

WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH ME WAS BEAUTIFUL I LOVED IT SO MUCH THE WAY PENELOPE DIDNT GIVE A SHIT ABT WHAT HE DID AND JS CONTINUED LOVING HIM, THE WAY ODYESSUS JS JS JS SAYS THAT HE WASNT THE GUY THAT HE WASNT IN LOVE WITH BUT SHE DIDNT CARE.. AND THAT LAST LINE "i love you.." AAAAAAAAAAA BRB GUYS GONNA CRY MY ABSOULUTE ASS OFF

"and so.. that was my odyssey.. my journessy.. i sacrificed my bros for the finest shawty i bagged i got my mentor back to be my homie.. i guess you could say.. that was epic.." HELP IM SO SORRY

i wanna thank every person who was apart of epic like acc

Jorge rivera herrans, Luke holt, Anna lea casey, TROY, Mason Olshavsky, Talya sindel, KJ burkhauser, Ayron alexander, MICO, JP (I FOUND OUT IT WAS JP NOT DT) POESY, Teagen Earley, Brandon Mcinnis, J maya, Earle Gresham Jr, Armando julian, Wanda rivera herrans and the whole entire cast

and the artists too

@anniflamma @mircsy @gigizetz @wolfythewitch @elianzis @ns2dstudios Duvetbox, Crashite, Tamattua, scilla_nimation, Ainhoa Velasco, tododokii, drawingangie, Giluia Tonetto, El_Crafts, Luiza Xavier Matzel (please tell me if i missed anyone else)

i also wanna thank epic for introducing me to the most coolest homies: @luvgutzzy @telemmy @stickmachus @kindred-spirit-93 @lemedstudent2021 @stickmachus @asiria-loves-cats @ria-loves-cats

i really hope my school makes a play for epic so i can audition but that might not be possible bc of the seducing scenes, romantic scenes etc but we'll see

Anyway thats from me, good luck to every1 in life! :D

[lxmbr]

Luxiem when you propose first! 💍

cw: suggestive in vox and ike's. not proofread

notes: thank you so much anon!! i'm so nervous to post this so i really hope this is up to your expectations! so sorry it took so long to make but i actually had a lot of fun! 🩷

Vox Akuma -

• Vox is a pretty traditional man so i think he'd be a bit bummed at first

• of course he'd say yes

• would probably still propose to you anyway

• he might even try to "1 up" you lol

• you mightve done it at a resturant but nonono he planned for weeks to get something "better"

• he ended up popping the question to you where he first asked you on a date

• he'd ask the other luxiem members to help set up the area with flower petals and candles/whatever you fancy

• VERY CLICHE.

• he does the cheesy prep talk before he finally pops the question

• "would you, (first and last name) make me, Vox Akuma the luckiest demon on earth and join me in ruling my clan?"

• afterwards he'd totally rizz you up to make you forget he just "beat you" in a fake competetion

• after BOTH proposals you know what happens ;)

• in the end he would happily say yes but be very flustered as he didnt expect you to be the one to do so. 

• the fact that you proposed first was both hot AND sweet

• he'd still want to give his go at a proposal too though :)

Mysta Rias -

• This boy- man would SCREAM

• he'd be hella surprised

• after he asesses the situation i think he'd do that cringy white girl thing 

• "OH EM GEE!! NO YOU DIDN'T! YES IF COURSE I WILL BABE!" while jumping and fanning his face with his hands

• after the jokes he'd say yes genuinely and kiss you happily

• "ah babeeee in so surprised but..im so happy" with his  sheepish giggle

• would give you the BIGGEST HUG ™

• since you asked him he'd treat you to dinner that night

• "its on me loves..gotta treat my future wife don't i?~"

• wouldnt. stop. talking. about. it. all. week.

• he might cry a bit but he would hide it for sure. maybe only a tear or two would come out

• would be soooo clingy the rest of the day/night

• "can we shower together??" 

• in the end he wouldnt mind all that much..hes just sooo excited to get to marry you!!

Luca Kaneshiro -

• you decided that day was THE day...but..so did he..

• oops! you both proposed the same day!

• of course the 3 year anniversary would he perfect!! why wouldnt he think of the possibility that you'd do it?!

• when you get on 1 knee he'd look around with a shocked expression and would give his awkward laugh

• "WHAT?!" 

• after your speech he got down on HIS knee ans then proposed to you..at eye level since you were still kneeling 

• everyone around was shocked. the other luxiem members aw-ing and laughing

• another loud one

• he'd call back home, YOUR mom, the waiters and waitresses, the lucubs...EVERYONE

• would also be clingy af 

• couldnt look you in the face from pure shyness but you caught him staring at you multiple times

• he wouldnt stop praising you for your proposal

• "omg that was so good baby i loved it!!"

• never lets go of you, your arms and hands are ALWAYS intertwined 

• gets jealous and possessive easily

• he'd pull you away from everyone..mainly the other guys

• "excuse you IKE. my FIANCE is BUSY with ME." while dragging you toward him and pouting

• no one is ever letting you guys live this down

Ike Eveland -

• he already was calling you his fiance/wife/husband before any of this

• he panicked

• after your proposal he pulled you into a quieter place frantically without answering 

• everyone thought it went bad and they all were upset

• you finally saw how red he was and he apologized and wanted to yell "YES" in your face..but he didnt

• "y-yes..i'd love to marry you min kärlek." 

• wouldnt let go of your hand

• makes sure YOU put the ring on his hand, not him

• when you guys come back out hes holding your hand timidly, making sure to show off the ring

• "GUYSSSS STAWPPP" when everyone cheers

• takes you to your favorite place afterward for food and then books a 5 star hotel

• "come on darling...pack up your things! <3"

• lets just say...yall had a NIGHT

• tries his best to be romantic all night

• surprisingly can play it cool with you after the initial shock unlike luca

• while he might be internally freaking out he could calm you down and rizz you up so. easily.

• absolute baby boy ™

• so. SO. excited to start planning

• "so we can have half of the venue (your fav color) and the other half blue!! and omg i can have- and you can- and can we please-" 

• basically very surprisee and panicked but once he gets you alone he very quickly gets insanely excited 

Shu Yamino -

• he already knew 

• was very nervous and wary around you often since he didnt know when but he knew you would yk?

• of course he didnt say anything, he didnt wanna ruin it

• actually he didnt even tell you he knew

• was actually caught off gaurd when you did it at first

• the rest of the proposal though he was able to keep it cool

• he actually bought you a ring and flowers in preperation

• "i would..love to marry you" as he grabs your hand and slips on your ring while you slip his on

• "ah..ive been waiting for this..im so happy"

• only tells close people such as family, luxiem, and manager-san

• asks staff-san for a week off that same day for a pre-wedding honeymoon

• gets shy whenever you call him your fiance/husband and vise versa

• he adores you and is clearly SO excited

• you caught him searching for weddingspo one night when he was supposed to be working

• buys new flowers every week until the day of the wedding

• lowkey had a dream about it and it made him giddy all day when he woke up

[moonlightbvcky]

Love,

Kate Bishop x girlfriend!reader

summary: the thought of dating a hero sounds all fun in games, until they’re away fighting crime on your birthday. But knowing Kate, she always has something up her sleeve.

warnings: fluff! Reader is sad because Kate can’t be there for her birthday- or can she? 👀 implied smut at the end.

note: this originally was just going to be a very little something, but while making the moodboard- I got inspired! I’m new at writing, please be nice <3

Happy birthday Ria, you deserve all the good things. I love you so much, you’re the best 🫶 this one’s for you! @belovaskitkat

Your eyes blinked a few times, trying to register your surroundings. You stretched out in your and your girlfriend’s shared bed, a wide smile plastered on your face. Today was your birthday!

You rolled over a little too quickly to where your girlfriend usually would be laying, almost always still asleep. Kate never was and still isn’t a morning person.

The smile quickly faded as you noticed the empty and cold sheets.

“Oh yeah,” you said to yourself in a whisper, remembering her and Clint were on a mission today.

You felt the happiness and excitement in your chest quickly start to fade, until you noticed a little folded note on Kate’s pillow.

Quickly you snatched it up as you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes more to adjust to the sunlight creeping through the curtains.

You unfolded the note, and began to read your girlfriend’s beautifully sloppy handwriting.

“Dear my love,

Happy birthday princess! I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to wake you up with kisses and pancakes. However, there’s a little something in the kitchen waiting for you!

- love, your dork.”

You were out of bed faster than you were done reading the darn note. Excitement filling you up again as you were running through your both shared apartment to the kitchen.

Lucky was quick to join in on the excitement, running along beside you as his tail went crazy.

You giggled at the cute dog, and stopped right as you got to the kitchen.

“Oh Lucky, look!” You were immediately in awe at the sight. Two big stuffed teddy bears sitting next to a beautiful cake on the kitchen table. Another folded note tucked into one of the arms of the bears.

Hand on your heart as you walked up to the table, tears forming quickly. Happy yet sad tears.

“I should call and thank her, shouldn’t I? Or do you think she’s in the middle of kicking ass?” You laughed, talking to Lucky as if he could answer you.

You shook away the idea, knowing Kate probably wouldn’t answer, and she’d be home tomorrow anyway.

Picking the note from the teddy bears arms as you admired them both with love in your eyes. You really do have the best girlfriend.

Your shifted towards the cake, taking your pointer finger while holding the note in the other hand, you lightly took some of the frosting off the side of the cake.

“Well- it is my cake,” you shrugged and popped the frosting into your mouth. The cake was just as delicious as it looked!

Pulling the note to your attention finally, you laughed immediately at the sight of Kate’s failed attempt at a heart on the face of the letter. You opened it and your eyes began to follow her writing yet again-

“Dear my beautiful girl,

Happy birthday, baby. I just wanted to remind you that you’re always loved by me. Even on your not so good days, bad days, and even worse days. The day I met you, that was when my life began. It will always start and end with you, y/n. I don’t exactly know who to thank for putting us on this big ball we call earth, for letting our paths cross at the right time. Maybe the stars? I’m not sure. But I’d never be able to thank them enough. You’re always the light I need, the soft place to land, and the one who always hears me when no one else does. You’re always enough. Always. I love you.

- love, your KitKat.”

You felt the warm tears fall onto your cheeks as you finished the letter, a soft cry of happiness leaving your lips.

Just as you were about to get your phone out to call Kate, even on the chance she won’t answer- you heard the front door open behind you.

Quickly you turned around ready to fight, but the person who came into eyesight made your arms and legs go weak.

“Hey birthday girl,” Kate said with a smirk on her face, a couple bags dangling in her hands. More gifts probably.

Immediately you ran to her, engulfing your girlfriend into probably one of your tightest shared hugs yet.

You attacked her face in kisses, Kate laughing and holding you just as tight in response.

“You’re! Here! You’re! Really! Here!” You said between kisses, giggling as the tears didn’t stop.

“Y/n, baby- I’m not about to be if you keep squeezing me so tight!” Kate laughed as you continued to spam her face in kisses yet loosened your grip eventually.

Finally you both shared a soft and tender kiss, Kate’s hands going to your hips as usual. Yours on her shoulders despite her being taller.

Pulling away Kate looked at you in adoration, “happy tears I hope?”

You nodded slightly as Kate whipped them away with her thumbs.

“Very happy. Thank you for my gifts, and my notes. And just- for being you Kate Bishop.” You said softly, the tears slowing as you took in the smell of her.

“Anything for you baby. Happy birthday,” Kate leaned in once more, but this time for a forehead kiss.

You leaned against her lips, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Kate responded against your head.

“I love you most,” you smiled and closed your eyes. Your heart full. This birthday couldn’t get any better.

“What’re you doing home? Not that I’m complaining..” you pulled away looking up at her.

“Clint called me last night while you were sleeping, said the mission was off. I thought it’d be fun to surprise you,” Kate smirked.

“Ya know, I stopped by a little shop on the way home, got a few new little things I think my birthday girl would look good in.” Her hands suddenly tighter on your hips.

Okay.. maybe this birthday could get better after all.

[lover-also-fighter-also]

lying in bed, phone next to them on the pillow

Ask list here

Hi Cady! Thank you for sending me this prompt and as promised, I got one mini fic cooked as appetizer for you today.

Maria woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, her breaths coming out short and shallow. She checked the clock on her nightstand, it was 3 a.m. It was the third time in a week that she got nightmares about college rejection letters. Maria knew it was the anxiety that was causing the nightmares and tried doing the breathing exercises she had learnt. '1..2..3..' she counted shakily till ten, but the anxiety did not seem to be waning, and she was close to breaking down to tears.

Hastily, she picked up her phone. Her finger hovered over Ria's contact for a while. She knew it was late, and Ria would probably curse her for waking her up at an ungodly hour but need overpowered her hesitation and she pressed the call button.

After a couple rings, a groggy voice sounded on the other side 'Hello?'

'Hey...' said Maria, trying to control the shaking in her voice. Ria shot up awake after hearing her voice. 'Maria? Hey, are you okay? What's wrong? Are you crying?'

Maria broke down, sobbing heavily 'I..I'm sorry...I shouldn't wake you up in the middle of the night like this, it's stupid...'

'Sweetheart what's wrong?' asked Ria, her voice filled with concern. 'Is it the nightmares?'

'Yes...' said Maria, croakily, 'I try so hard Ri, but I just can't seem to stop thinking that everything is gonna go wrong and...'

'Hey, hey it's gonna be okay sweetheart.' said Ria, soothingly 'I know its stressful, but I know that you have put all your efforts, and that hard work will not go to vain. I have full faith in you, Prez, and those colleges are numbskulls if they even consider rejecting you.'

Despite the situation, Maria let out a shaky laugh 'You think?'

Ria spoke in a mock serious tone 'Of course, I'm not gonna spare them if they even think of rejecting my driven, passionate, and overachieving girlfriend.'

Maria wiped off the remaining tears and laughed 'You tell them Ri.'

Ria gave a short laugh. 'So... you feeling better?'

'Better' said Maria, taking a gulp of water. 'Hey...can you...hum that stupid tune you always hum when we study?'

'Hey! That Barney tune is a classic I tell you!' said Ria indignantly. 'But of course, sure, I will Prez, just focus on my voice and go back to sleep.'

Maria lay down with the phone next to the pillow, her eyes slowly dropping and drifting off to sleep while Ria hums. It may not be the cure it all for her anxiety, but she was sure she could get through it with Ria on her side.

[misslavenderlady]

MONSTER MANIA CON POST!!

This weekend was an absolute dream come true! Everything I had hoped and dreamed for my very first convention. And I'm incredibly grateful that I got to be there with @ghoulgeousimmaculate @bloodsuckingfiends & @silvermaplealder (and his friend Jess). Everyone was so kind and fun to be around. I'll give the rundown of who I met in this post and I'll add another post later on with more pictures!

💜💜💜

The first day Ghoulie and I checked in early and got all dolled up to meet Alex Winter first. I got both an autograph and a photo op with him. He seemed a little tired/out of it and I assume that's because he JUST got back from the U.K. and went straight to the convention. His photo op was super quick and I was only able to pose next to him, not with him.

But still, he was super cool and was very happy when I told him how I introduced my fiancé to the Bill & Ted trilogy. I also showed him an art commission I requested of Ricky Coogan! He was a nice dude overall 😄

The second day Maple and I dressed up as David and Michael! I even got the honor of doing his makeup to make the cosplay extra authentic. He gave me some of his amazing, homemade stickers as a "thank you"! He was hands down the best looking David cosplayer in the whole convention.

I got to get an autograph from Heather Langenkamp before doing a selfie with her. I was the last one to see her before she left for photo ops. She was an absolute delight! I talked about listening to her episode on the Dead Meat podcast and we had a bonding moment over that. When I posed with her, I did a peace sign and she copied the pose.

Then she said "that's such a coincidence because I wear THIS every day!" and she pulled out a necklace with a peace sign charm. She was just so delightful 😊

Billy was an absolute dream. He has the most warm, caring look in his eyes and was very interested when I talked about how The Lost Boys got me back into writing. I was getting a little emotional, and I could tell he was on standby if I needed some help.

I had a photo op with him later, but I paid an extra $10 for a selfie with him. My hand was trembling from my nervousness and he was kind enough to hold it steady so I could take the picture. He made sure I was comfortable the whole time I interacted with him. 🥰

Also, I picked out a picture of Paul and Dwayne to be signed as a way to honor Brooke. When Billy saw it he said "awww I love this pic! 🥺" I was fighting tears ngl.

Kiefer was an incredible guy!! I decided just to do a photo op and not an autograph because people were lining up at 3 IN THE DAMN MORNING and I wasn't about to do that lol. He loved the outfits that Ghoulie and Maple wore, and it was such a delight seeing his smile. He was so kind with me. Very welcoming and didn't hesitate to shake my hand or wrap an arm around me for our picture! I think he was still is a great mood after seeing Maples perfect cosplay lol

The last celeb I met was Jason, and I gotta say, I think he was my favorite. Jordyn wasn't exaggerating when she said he was so nice. He was by far the kindest person I met at the whole convention (and that's saying something considering everyone was a delight to meet). I felt like he truly cared about meeting every single fan and was genuinely listening with interest when I told him the story of how @michael-after-hours got his name from Michael Emerson.

When I tell you his face LIT UP when he saw my cosplay. He was so overjoyed and it made me even happier to be dressed as Michael. The joyful energy was just so infectious. 🥰

I'm so incredibly lucky to have met all of these wonderful icons in horror. They truly did care about their fans and made the whole experience extra special. I would do it all again in a heartbeat if I could.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

TAG LIST

@hypocriticaltypwriter @ria-coolgirl @fallingthruspace @silvermaplealder @britany1997 @leiasolo77 @starlahuskyz @vampirefilmlover @charlizekkelly @charlottieellis @ghoulgeousimmaculate @michael-after-hours @legal-lost-boy @unethicallysourced @auntvamp

[bupia]

Love letter: Chapter 9 - Cardinal Copia x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hearing that Copia was now the new Papa Emeritus of the ministry made your heart tighten. And now, only one question remained: how could you both stay together, ensuring that Copia didn't meet the same destiny as Terzo?

Words: 17.122

Warnings: This chapter might be a bit painful for most readers. Please trust in the smoothness of the chapter and enjoy the reading. | Angst, fluff & smut (fingering, oral sex; m-f, breeding) | Swearing | Italian swearing

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4| Chapter 5| Chapter 6|Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

A/N: This is the last chapter of Love Letter, and all I can do is thank all of you who have read up to this point. Thank you for every comment, like, and reblog. I have nothing but gratitude for everyone who has made it this far and embraced my story with an open heart. To my loyal readers, I dedicate this chapter to you and to my friends, @terzosprimemover, @new-age-space-age , @anakindoesntlikesand, @quaildoodle, @idawnghoul, Phoenix and Ria, thank you for supporting me and always reading my stories, and for consistently writing a review for each chapter I posted. I'd like to extend a special thanks to someone I met through Love Letter, who has become a big friend of mine and who gave me a gift I will never forget: thank you for your friendship and the amazing art for Chapter 2, @quaildoodle.

"A Papa?" you repeated. "Copia, that's..."

He nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. "It was unexpected, even for me. But it's a new chapter, a new responsibility." He inhaled deeply before continuing. "Unfortunately, Nihil has passed away. So, Imperator reached out to me urgently, calling me back to the Ministry."

"Wait," you took a step back, your eyes widening in surprise. "Nihil is no longer with us? Papa has passed away?" Your voice held a hint of disbelief.

His expression turned somber as he nodded. "Sì, it was quite sudden. I didn't expect it either, but sì, Nihil has passed away. Imperator summoned me back to the Ministry to take on this new role." He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "It's a lot to take in, but it's a necessary transition."

"I can't imagine how this must be for you," you said, empathy evident in your eyes. "Papa passing away, and then stepping into a position of such responsibility."

Copia sighed, his shoulders visibly sagging. "Nihil was... a complicated figure in my life, but," he inhale deeply, collecting his thoughts. "I can't help but feel a sense of sadness at his passing. Despite everything, he was a part of this ministry, and his absence will be felt, sì?"

"I'm sorry for your loss," you offered sincerely.

"Everything is alright, amore. Ma, grazie," he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

"Copia... I," you started, your voice hesitant. "If you are a Papa now," you paused, a trace of concern flickering in your gaze.

Copia's smiled gentle as he picked up on your concern. "Don't worry, cara," he reassured you. "I know it's a lot to process, but I've been preparing for this role, and I have the support of many within the clergy."

"That's not it," you sighed, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

"What's troubling you, amore? Please, share it with me," he implored.

"Copia, if you are a Papa now..." your voice quavered as you paused, using the back of your hand to brush away your tears. "What does this mean for us? What's going to happen to us?"

Copia's expression softened as he saw the genuine worry in your eyes. He took your hands in his, holding them gently. "Amore, nothing will change between us," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Yes, my responsibilities have shifted, but my feelings for you remain unwavering. You are and will always be an essential part of my life."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of uncertainty. "But what about the ministry, Copia? The clergy? Will they..."

His thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand. "I won't let anyone or anything come between us, cara."

"Copia, we know what happened to Terzo," you continued, your voice wavering slightly.

"I understand your concerns, amore," he said softly. "Terzo's situation was different. Sister Imperator had her own reasons for targeting him."

"Did she really?" you questioned, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you continued, "Copia, I... I..." Your words trailed off briefly as you collected your thoughts. "I know that you will be an exceptional Papa."

You couldn't help yourself and tears welled up once more and trickled down your cheeks. You instinctively shielded your face with your hands, the desire to hide your vulnerability from Copia overpowering. You were supposed to be happy, so why were tears staining your cheeks?

Copia's ascent to the role of Papa wasn't something that filled you with sadness; in fact, you were profoundly proud of his accomplishments, acutely aware of the dedication he had as Cardinal. Yet, a shadow of unease lingered. While you were happy for him, you couldn't dismiss the memories of what occurred when Terzo and Ann. Your pride coexisted with the fear of losing him, one you weren't yet prepared to face.

Saying goodbye was the last thing you wanted, just like losing him wasn't an option you were prepared to accept. The weight of uncertainty and potential consequences weighed heavily on your heart. Copia had reassured you that everything would be fine, but deep down, you understood the risks all too well. The happiness that had radiated from his eyes as he said he was a Papa now, contrasted with the fear that now gnawed at your own heart. Staying by his side felt like an impossible choice. The gravity of the situation, the looming danger, it all seemed insurmountable, and you couldn't ignore the turmoil within you.

"Per favore, amore... don't cry," Gently, he guided your hands away from your face, his touch reassuring as he met your gaze with a compassionate smile. "Everything is alright now," his thumb grazed your cheek, tenderly wiping away a tear, "I know it's a lot to take in," he admitted. "But I want you to understand that everything is going to be okie dokie, sì?"

He pulled you close, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. As your tears dampened the fabric of his shirt, he held you even tighter. Taking a deep breath, you found comfort in the scent of him, feeling a profound sense of completeness in his arms. Copia was your everything, it was impossible to deny.

"I have no doubt that everything will be fine, Copia, I genuinely am happy and proud for you," you confessed. "But, I can't deny how much this frightens me. My love for you is... I love you so much, Copia."

"Amore mio, ti amo così tanto. Non hai idea di quanto ti ami, di quanto mi preoccupi per te e di quanto desideri essere con te. Capisco le tue paure, ma per favore, lascia che ti assicuri che non c'è motivo di avere paura, lasciami prendermi cura di te, lasciami esserci per te. Cara mia, solo se sapessi cosa hai fatto al mio cuore, se sapessi cosa mi fai provare. Sono così completo quando sono con te," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Copia," you whispered his name, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt on his back in a tight hold. "I don't under-"

Copia intervened, his words breaking through as he began to speak. "My love, I love you so much. You have no idea of how much I love you, how much I care for you and how much I want to be with you. I understand your fears, but please, let me assure you that there's no reason to be scared, let me take care of you, let me be here for you. My dear, only if you knew what you did with my heart, if you knew what you make me feel. I'm so complete when I'm with you."

The tears that had welled up in your eyes now flowed freely. "Copia," you whispered again, your voice barely audible as you clung to him.

He held you tighter. "Amore mio, I love you so," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I-"

Before you could utter a word, a knock on the door abruptly silenced you. Copia's attention shifted towards the door. You took a step back, your gaze averted from his.

"Sì?" His gaze returned to you briefly, a tender kiss gracing your forehead before he moved toward the main door of the room. "Hold on, amore."

As he reached the door and swung it open, Swiss stood on the other side.

"Papa, the Sister is waiting for you outside."

"Oh! Sì, sì," Copia clasped his hands together. "Eccellente! I'll be there in a minute, Swiss."

Copia closed the door and turned back to you, you offered him a small smile, your conflicting emotions still evident in your eyes. He approached you once more, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

"I need to get ready for the Black Mass," he whispered and with a gentle lean, he pressed a soft, reassuring peck on your lips.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely could be listen. "But I'm not ready, Copia."

"What do you mean, cara?" he asked, murmuring.

You held onto his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you closed your eyes and released a calming breath. Taking a tentative step forward, your arms encircling his neck as you leaned in. Closing the remaining gap, your lips met his in a wordless, delicate kiss. The sensation of his touch ignited a swirl of emotions within you, a moment of shared intimacy that spoke volumes in its quiet simplicity.

You found yourself unable to contain the tears that welled up. They spilled down your cheeks, and gently dampened his face, causing the edges of his face paint to slowly blur and fade. You pressed your body closer to his, your embrace deepening as the kiss intensified. Copia's hands instinctively sought the warmth of your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. His fingers trailed along your back, a gentle yet firm hold, keeping your body pressed against his.

Your lips parted slightly as you both sought a breath. With a gradual release, you eased away from the kiss, your eyes fluttering open to meet the sight of his closed eyes, his swollen lips and the fading traces of his face paint. His lips brushed against yours, and you couldn't resist but kiss him again.

His hand moved to caress your cheek, brushing away the stray tear before it could fall. Your lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside, probing for yours. You met his tongue with your own, swirling around in your mouth, savoring the taste of him. Copia's hands went back to your back, exploring the curves of your backside, his touch soft yet firm.

Once again your lips parted and you let out a heavy sigh, letting the moment after the kiss become a quiet interlude. A suspended breath between you as you studied his features with a depth of attention. Your gaze traced every line of his face, committing the details to memory. Each nuance, each curve.

As your eyes locked onto his, you grappled with a blend of emotions—love, longing, and a bittersweet. The weight of his newfound role as Papa was a looming presence, and the delicate balance between your hearts and the ministry weighed heavily on your mind.

As you withdrew from his embrace, his gaze unwavering as you stepped back from his embrace, your fingers delicately wiping away stray tears.

The truth is, you weren't prepared for what the uncertainties that the future might hold for both of you. But, sharing those concerns with him at this moment was not an option.

You met his gaze, offering a gentle smile. "I'm not ready to join the chapel for the Black Mass. I need to change my clothes, put on my habit. Swiss, I believe that's his name, mentioned it to me."

His brows furrowed with palpable confusion. "Cara..."

You let out a soft chuckle, attempting to stifle the tears that lingered in your eyes. "Can you believe it, Copia? He mistook me for a newcomer!" A hint of mirth graced your voice.

He reached for your arms, pulling you closer to him. "You don't have to change your clothes, you're here with me, sì? He won't trouble you again." his grip on your arms feeling like a soothing anchor.

"No, really, I insist. I don't want to stand out among the siblings in the chapel, especially during your inaugural Black Mass." You replied, your voice firm yet tinged with sadness.

"Cara, you don't have to do it," he implored, his touch gentle as he held your arms.

"I insist," you met his gaze, your eyes reflecting your inner turmoil. "Please, allow me this. Let me go."

With a gentle squeeze of your arms, he reluctantly let go, creating a bit of distance between you. Your gaze shifted to the door, your mind resolute on your decision.

"I will meet you in the chapel," you stated, your voice steady.

Turning your body, you began to walk towards the door, not meeting Copia's eyes as you did. You didn't dare look back, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

"No, cara, wait, per favore," he pleaded, his hand reaching for your wrist, attempting to stop you.

"I think... You'll need to get your face paint redone. I'm sorry," you managed to say, your voice catching slightly.

You didn't turn to face him and gently pulled your wrist from his grasp, taking a few steps towards the door. With a heavy heart, you opened it and left the room, your footsteps echoing in the main roon as you made your way to the front door of the apartment.

As you stepped through the front door and into the hallway, your eyes fell upon another Ghoul, unmistakably Dewdrop based on his voice and stature. He was engaged in an animated conversation with one of the sisters from the ministry. Their proximity and her flushed cheeks were clearly visible. It wasn't the first time you had witnessed Dewdrop's flirtations with her.

Caught off guard by your sudden appearance, the sister's eyes widened, and she stammered, "Oh! S-Sister! I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

"No need to apologize, sister," you reassured the flustered sister with a warm smile. "Please, carry on with your conversation." Your gaze shifted to Dewdrop, and you raised an eyebrow playfully. "Dewdrop, I see you're keeping yourself busy as always."

Dewdrop grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, you know me, always working hard."

The sister's blush deepened, and she looked between the two of you, clearly uncertain how to proceed. "Um, well, it was nice talking to you both. I should, uh, get going."

"Goodnight, Sister Kelly," you said with a nod, offering a small smile.

"G-Goodnight," she managed to respond, quickly stepping back from Dewdrop.

Your attention shifted to the delicate bundle in Kelly's arms, a piece of fabric carefully folded and cradled. Could it be one of Copia's vestments for the impending Black Mass?

"W- Well, if you'll excuse me," she said, glancing at you. "Are you coming, Dewy?" She returned her gaze to him, with a smirk on her lips, before walk towards the Papal apartment.

"Of course," he replied, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "You have quite the effect on her, Dewdrop."

He shrugged casually, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Just spreading a little Ghoul charm, Sister."

"Is that what you call it?" you teased, your tone light.

Dewdrop chuckled, his gaze meeting yours. "Well, I do try my best."

"I'm sure you do," you replied with a knowing smile. "Just remember, the Papal apartment is that way." You pointed in the direction she had rushed off to.

Dewdrop feigned innocence. "Oh, was she heading there too? What a coincidence."

As Dewdrop playfully saluted you and walked after the sister, you couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself. With a shake of your head and a small smile still lingering on your lips, you continued on your way.

Your footsteps carried you back to your dormitory, the thoughts in your head echoing louder than before. The weight of the situation seemed to press upon your mind, much like the burden Terzo and Ann had faced. The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you to ponder if Copia would suffer a similar fate, losing everything he held dear just for being with you.

The internal struggle between your love for Copia and the fear of putting him at risk weighed heavily on your heart. Closing your eyes, you took a moment to gather your thoughts and find the strength to continue. With a deep breath, you made your way to the stairs. You knew you had to be there for him.

As you continued your walk, the sound of footsteps echoed behind you, steadily drawing nearer. An uneasy feeling settled in, urging you to quicken your pace. You hastened your steps, a sense of urgency pushing you forward as you tried to avoid being seen or followed by anyone.

"Hey! Wait!" The familiar voice of Swiss reached your ears, and you turned to find him approaching.

"You again?" you responded, letting out a sigh.

"Hello again, sister," he greeted you with a friendly smile. "Off somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm heading back to my dormitory. Need to change my clothes, like you suggested, so I can join the others at the chapel," you explained.

"Ah, gotcha. Figured you were just wandering around," he giggled playfully.

"So, why exactly are you here?" you asked.

"Papa asked me to keep you company," he revealed.

"Make me company?" You raised an eyebrow, surprised by Copia's unexpected request.

Swiss nodded. "Yep, said you might need some company. Not entirely sure why, though..." His voice trailed off as he briefly shifted his attention to a passing sister down the hallway.

"Is there something else you're not saying?"

Swiss hesitated for a moment, his gaze returning to you. "Honestly, no. Just here to keep you company as Papa asked," he replied before turning and hurrying after the sister who had captured his attention.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you observed how effortlessly the Ghoul's attention shifted from his assigned task to trailing after you.

"Hello there," he greeted with a friendly smile, coming up from behind. "Need a hand with those books? They look pretty heavy."

Startled by his sudden appearance, the sister turned her attention toward Swiss, her surprise evident as she registered his proximity.

"Um, yes, thank you," she replied, her voice a bit shaky. She handed him a couple of the books, her hands trembling slightly.

Swiss offered her a reassuring smile and took the books from her hands. "Don't worry, I've got you," he said, his tone gentle. "Where are these headed?"

"To the library," she answered, her nerves still apparent.

"Great, I'll make sure they get there safely," Swiss assured her, starting to walk in the direction of the library. "Can I ask your name?"

"I'm Katya," she replied with a soft smile, her eyes lighting up with friendliness. "And what should I call you?"

"I'm Swiss, one of the new Ghouls here," he replied, walking alongside her.

"It's nice to meet you, Swiss," Katya said, her smile growing more genuine. "Are you liking it here at the ministry?"

As they continued walking, you couldn't help but smile at the interaction between them. It seemed like Swiss was quite the charmer, and it was another nice distraction from the thoughts that had been weighing on your mind.

You ascended the stairs and reached the door of your dormitory with a heavy heart. After entering, you shut the door behind you and leaned against it, feeling the weight of your emotions washing over you. Taking a deep breath, tears welled up in your eyes once again.

Feeling isolated in your turmoil, you grappled with the internal struggle. It was a heavy burden to bear, especially when you couldn't confide in anyone around you due to the secrecy of your relationship with Copia. Your friends were absent, leaving you feeling utterly alone in your distress. However, a glimmer of hope flickered as you considered reaching out to someone who might be able to offer guidance and support.

Taking a steadying breath, you lifted your head and wiped away the tears, determined to regain your composure. You knew you had to change your clothes and return to the chapel before Copia's significant moment as the new Papa.

You approached your bed where your luggage was placed beside it. Setting the luggage on the bed, you unzipped it and retrieved your cellphone from one of the pockets. As you dialed a number, you placed the phone to your ear, listening to it ring on the other end.

"Please, please, answer," you whispered anxiously, your heart racing as you waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Ann!" you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion as tears streamed down your face as you heard her voice.

"What's happening, dear? Why are you crying?" Her concerned tone was evident as she questioned you.

"Ann..." your voice trembled as you called out her name, tears still streaming down your face.

"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Her voice carried comfort as she tried to soothe you.

"Copia, he..."

"Is Copia okay?" Ann's concern deepened.

"Did something happen to mio fratello?" You heard Terzo's voice joining the conversation.

"Dear, would it be alright if I put the phone on speaker?"

"Yes, please," you managed to say amidst your tears.

"So what's going on at the ministry?" Ann's voice was filled with concern.

You gathered your emotions and took a deep breath before answering, "Copia... He's a Papa now."

A heavy silence hung in the air, and you waited anxiously for their response. After what felt like an eternity, Terzo's voice broke through, "Sorella, did you say Copia is a Papa now?"

"Yes," you confirmed.

"That's incredible news!" Ann's voice was filled with enthusiasm.

"Yes, it is," you replied, your tone softening.

"Wait, sorella, if Copia is a Papa now, what happened to Nihil?" he inquired. "Because he took the lead of the ministry with Imperator after my departure, so what happened?"

"I'm sorry, Terzo," you sighed. "Unfortunately, Nihil has passed away. According to Copia, that was the reason he had to leave abruptly after the wedding."

"Sorella, where are you now?" Terzo's voice held concern.

"I'm in my dormitory. Everyone is in the Chapel."

"Molto bene," he said. "Ora ascoltami, remember when we were talking in the kitchen earlier, before Primo came in? What I was trying to tell you is that we knew Copia was on the verge of becoming a Papa. Secondo and Primo were aware of it, and they knew, we knew. The problem was that beyond us, Imperator also wanted it. We suspect it's because with Copia in charge of the ministry, she could use him to have more influence inside of the ministry, more than she already does."

"Why his own mother would do it to him?" you inquired.

"Because before she's his madre, she's one of the oldest members of the ministry," Terzo explained seriously. "If it weren't for her, maybe the ministry wouldn't even exist. Because of her, Nihil, ascended as a Papa, and then he started to control the ministry, instead of her. He passed the lead of the ministry to his sons, and she always stayed in the shadows."

"So, are you telling me that Copia is a Papa because it was his destiny to be one, and as far as I remember, you three wanted it too, but the main reason he is a Papa now is that Imperator wanted it so she could try to regain power in the ministry?"

"Sì, sorella," Terzo confirmed with a heavy sigh. "It seems like a twisted web of fate and power struggles. Copia becoming a Papa was influenced by various factors, including our own wishes, but Imperator's desire to regain control over the ministry played a significant role. Now that Nihil passed away, she can finally get out of the shadows."

"Where is Copia now, dear?" Ann asked.

"Ann, he's downstairs preparing for the Black Mass," you replied. "I was with him down there, but I came back to my dormitory."

"Listen to me dear," she said. "Take a moment now. Set aside everything else, push aside thoughts of Imperator and the complexities of the ministry. I understand your fear, the tightening in your chest, and the weight on your heart. But remember, I've been through similar emotions. You're carrying the weight of unnecessary guilt, fearing the possibility of losing Copia. Yet, he's chosen to be with you, just as Terzo and I made our own choices. When he accepted the role of Papa, it was also a statement that he's unafraid of what may come. Like Terzo, he's chosen love over fear."

Tears still glistened in your eyes, but Ann's words had a calming effect on you, it provided a sense of comfort in the midst of your fears.

"I know you're feeling overwhelmed right now, but Copia loves you, and if he's chosen to be with you, it means he's willing to face whatever challenges come their way."

"So what am I supposed to do now?"

"First, take a deep breath, dear," Ann advised gently. "What were you planning to do now?"

"I was just about to change my clothes and head to the Black Mass," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"So, dear, here's what you're going to do now: change into your habit, head to the chapel, and leave those fears behind. Copia loves you deeply, and he wouldn't have taken on the role of Papa if he were afraid of losing everything for being with you. Trust in his love."

"Alright, I think can do it," you affirmed, but you weren't sure if you could really do it.

"And sorella," Terzo's voice was reassuring. "Don't forget what I told you on the day our family reunited for my dinner at the Papal apartment: it's worth it."

"Thank you, Papa."

"Prego, sorella."

"Bye, dear," Ann said with a hint of smile in her voice. "Please take care of yourself and of your Papa."

"Bye, Ann," you responded with gratitude. "Bye, Papa. Thank you again."

You ended the call and rose from your bed, heading straight to the wardrobe. Opening it, you retrieved your habit from inside, swiftly changing out of your clothes and into the habit. Approaching the mirror, you carefully adjusted the attire, making sure it was properly worn. You got your veil, and tied it snugly around your head, ensuring it was secure and comfortable.

With a last look on the mirror, you left your dormitory and made your way back to the chapel. As you walked down the familiar hallway towards the chapel, each step felt heavier than before. The anticipation and apprehension weighed on you, making the path seem longer than it actually was. Your heart raced, and the echo of your footsteps seemed to reverberate in the corridor, matching the rhythm of your thoughts.

As you arrived the chapel, it was brimming with siblings, much like any other Black Mass that Terzo had conducted. As you scanned the crowd, you couldn't spot your friends from the dormitory, but your mind was preoccupied with your own thoughts and feelings.

Seeking refuge in a quiet corner of the chapel, you settled onto an empty bench, allowing the weight of your emotions to settle over you. The wooden pew beneath you seemed to offer a comforting embrace.

Leaning your head against the chapel wall, you absorbed the delicate melody that signaled the entrance of Papa and the clergy. Your heart raced as you fought to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. Closing your eyes seemed tempting, a brief respite from the emotional whirlwind within, but you resisted, determined to remain steadfast during this significant moment. As the music swelled and the atmosphere grew charged with anticipation, you steadied yourself, preparing to witness Copia's grand entrance as the new Papa.

Your anticipation growing with each member of the clergy who entered, walking in a straight line toward the altar. As the last member entered and the doors swung shut, guarded by the vigilant Ghouls, your eyes searched for Copia, your heart pounding with hope and anxiety, eager to catch a glimpse of him, but there was no signal of him.

Your gaze shifted to the altar where the members of the clergy settled into their seats, surrounding the altar. Sister Imperator's deliberate steps drew your attention as she approached the altar, a confident smile adorning her lips. Her observant gaze swept across the congregation, seeming to linger on each sibling in the chapel, as if she were carefully studying their presence and demeanor.

"Good evening, siblings," her voice rang out, infused with a cheerful tone. "As we are all aware, our Papa Emeritus Nihil passed away on Saturday night. With a heavy heart, I share this sorrowful news, but let us gather our strength, for our ministry shall not be without a Papa Emeritus. It is time to turn our gaze toward the future, toward a new era." She said in a composed tone. "I am delighted to be here today to introduce you all to our new Papa Emeritus."

Applause rippled through the congregation, and Sister Imperator's smile remained unwavering. You joined in the applause, while your eyes alternating between her and the entrance.

"Thank you, thank you," she raised her hands with a light chuckle. Her gestures calmed the applause. "In light of recent events that have unfolded within this ministry, the need arose for a fresh perspective, a new Papa who could provide strong leadership. While the previous Papa Emeritus' contributions were significant, the time has come to look forward. Their legacy has laid the foundation, but it is not all that we require. We need a leader who embodies youth, charisma, and stamina. We need a new blood."

The chapel doors swung open, drawing every gaze in that direction. The faint creak of the door sent your heart racing, its sound echoing loudly in your ears. With a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself, knowing that at any moment Copia would step through that very door as the new Papa Emeritus.

"It is with great pleasure that I introduce to you our new Papa!" Her smile widened, exuding confidence. "Papa Emeritus IV, Copia."

As her announcement hung in the air, Copia made his entrance, stepping gracefully through the open doors. Your breath caught in your chest as you beheld him, resplendent in his Papa's vestments. His mitre, adorned with a regal fusion of gold, black, and delicate blue gems, crowned his head. The blue chasuble he wore bore intricate golden symbols woven within elegant black lines, with additional blue gems embellishing the fabric. Over the robe flowed a black cape made of leather and silk satin, with more of those striking golden symbols and gems, while a stole proudly bore the embroidered words "Papa Emeritus IV" along with more symbolic motifs.

Your gaze remained locked on Copia as he made his way to the altar. Sister Imperator gracefully stepped back, yielding the spotlight to him. The chapel was enveloped in a profound silence, a hushed reverence that seemed to hang in the air.

Copia's eyes swept across the siblings, and for a brief moment, your eyes met his. In that instant, the world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a timeless connection. His gaze softened as it met yours, causing the feeling that the chapel itself vanished, and it was just you and Copia there, sharing a recognition that spoke volumes without a single word.

As you watched Copia stand before the altar in his majestic Papal robes, a surge of emotions swept over you. He looked truly resplendent as Papa Emeritus IV, every detail of his vestments accentuating his regal presence. Your heart raced, your love for him overwhelming every other thought. In that moment, you realized the depth of your feelings for him. Your love was so profound that you were willing to put his well-being above all else, even if it meant sacrificing your own desires. You understood the potential consequences of your relationship, and you were prepared to love him silently, from afar, if that was what would keep him safe and protect his newfound position.

You offered him a small, supportive smile but, unable to be contained yourself, tears welled up in your eyes. You could see the concern in his eyes, a silent question of whether you were okay. You nodded slightly, wiping away the tears that had gathered in your eyes, offering him a determined yet tender smile.

The conflicting emotions inside you were taking over you, and despite the reassurances from Terzo and Ann, the weight of the potential consequences still gnawed at you. You wanted to believe that everything would be fine, that the love you two felt for each other would withstand any challenges, but the fear of the unknown remained.

Sister Imperator cleared her throat gently, momentarily interrupting the connection between your lingering gazes. Copia shook his head as his eyes shifted from your gaze to the other siblings gathered in the chapel, a small smile gracing his lips as he addressed them.

"Good evening," Copia's voice resonated through the chapel, his words carrying a sense of authority. "Tonight, I stand before you as your new Papa Emeritus."

As you glanced around the chapel, a sense of euphoria emanated from the siblings, their expressions reflecting the joy and approval of seeing Copia elevated to his rightful position. It was a moment of well-deserved recognition, witnessing him stand before the congregation not as a mere Cardinal, but as the revered Papa Emeritus. Copia's gaze returned to you, a softness in his eyes that only you could decipher.

"As we embark on this new chapter," Copia continued, his voice steady and resonant, "let us remember the values that have always guided us—the devotion to our ministry, the strength of our unity, and the unwavering pursuit of enlightenment."

His words were met with a chorus of enthusiastic affirmations and nods from the siblings gathered before him. As he spoke, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. Copia's presence commanded attention, his words carrying a weight that seemed to resonate with every corner of the sacred space.

The feeling of pride was genuine within you, but it was still difficult to grapple with the idea that you had to choose between staying with him and putting his position as Papa Emeritus IV at risk, or the second and worse option that made your heart ache at the mere thought – breaking up with him and letting him live his new life as Papa while you would watch and love him from the shadows.

The ceremony continued, each passing minute seemed to stretch into an hour, enveloping you in a sense of timelessness. Avoiding Copia's gaze, you couldn't bear the idea of facing him, it was simply too hurtful. How could you look into the eyes of the man you loved, knowing that you could potentially bring turmoil to his life? The weight of that thought was making it difficult to confront him at that moment.

The ritual, the prayers, and the reverence—all of it felt like a culmination of Copia's new path inside of the ministry. But also, Copia and members of the Clergy shared heartfelt words in memory of Nihil.

Your heart remained entangled in a web of emotions, your thoughts a tumultuous argue between worries and desires. The choices before you seemed daunting: to stay, risking potential complications for Copia yet finding happiness together, or to leave, a decision that might bring sadness but would allow Copia to fully embrace his role as Papa.

Finally, as the ceremony drew to a close, Copia stood once again before the altar, his presence commanding yet serene. The members of the clergy began to rise from their seats, signaling the end of the formal proceedings.

"Before we prepare to depart, let us take a moment to honor the legacy of Papa Emeritus Zero. His unwavering commitment to the ministry and his important role as the face of our congregation spanned many years." Copia's voice echoed through the chapel, a somber yet respectful tone.

The congregation's attention shifted to him, the atmosphere becoming reflective as they collectively honored the memory of Papa Emeritus, Nihil.

"As we approach the conclusion of tonight's Black Mass, I invite Sister Imperator to address you all with her words," Copia announced, gracefully stepping back from the altar to yield the spotlight to Sister Imperator.

Despite the protocol that discouraged leaving before the members of the clergy and Papa Emeritus, your overwhelming emotions urged you to escape the chapel as swiftly as you could. The last thing you wanted was to hear Sister Imperator's words at that moment. You craved solitude, a moment to gather your thoughts away from prying eyes, especially Copia's.

Standing up from the bench, and quietly slipped out of the chapel. The weight of your emotions was too much to bear in that moment, and you sought the solace in your dormitory.

You walked down the corridor, your heart heavy with the weight of your potential decision as you leaned against the cool stone wall. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to center yourself. Copia's ascent to the role of Papa Emeritus was a culmination of his dedication and hard work. You wanted nothing more than to support him, to stand by his side, regardless of the way you would do it.

As you took a deep breath, the sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention. You opened your eyes, meeting the sight of Copia hurrying towards you. Concern etched on his face as he reached you and stopped, his gaze fixed on yours.

His hand gently cupped your face, his fingers tenderly brushing against your cheek as you let out a relieved breath. "Why did you leave the chapel in such a hurry, mia amata? Is everything ok?" he asked, his gaze soft as he glanced at you.

"Copia!? What are you doing here?" you responded, looking around. "If they see us here together..." your voice quivering as tears welled up.

"Amore, shh," he gently cradled your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "Tell me what's going on. Talk to me."

"Copia, I... I love you deeply, you mean everything to me, and it's just so overwhelming."

"Overwhelming? What happened, amore? Did something go wrong at Terzo's place?"

"N-no," you stammered, turning away your gaze from his. "Nothing happened there, Copia."

"Then what's going on, amore mio? Per favore, let me be here for you," his voice was gentle and comforting.

"I'm so proud of you, Copia," you whispered, turning your gaze back to him. "But I don't want to be the cause of any trouble."

His expression shifted to one of concern, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean? Non capisco, mia amata. How could you cause me trouble?" his eyes locked onto yours, seeking understanding.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words. "Copia, I can't bear the thought of losing you, but I also can't bear the thought of you losing everything because of me."

His arms tightened around you, his grip firm yet gentle. "You're not going to lose me," he whispered. "Non ci pensare neanche. And I'm not going to lose anything because of you, sì?"

"It's just... I can't shake this fear," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest as you held onto him. "I love you so much that I'm scared of anything that could bring you harm."

He pulled back slightly, his fingers lifting your chin so that you met his gaze. "Listen to me, cara. I chose this, I chose you, and I won't let anything tear us apart."

"But, Copia," you began, your voice heavy with concern. "I... I... You might end up facing the same fate as Terzo. I saw the happiness in your eyes when you told me you were a Papa, and the thought of being the reason you could lose everything terrifies me. I don't know if I could ever forgive myself if that happened."

"The happiness in my eyes wasn't solely because I became a Papa," Copia spoke earnestly, his gaze locked with yours. "It was because you were standing right there, before me. You, cara, you are the reason that moment felt so joyful. You're the only thing that truly matters to me, the one I hold dear above all else. Sì, I'm happy to be a Papa, but if I were to wake up tomorrow and find that everything had been taken from me, I'd only wish and pray to our Dark Lord that you remained by my side. I was scared too, amore, scared to accept this new role, but I've come to believe that this is my destiny, and you, you are my unwavering fate."

"Copia," you whispered. "I don't want to hold you back, to be the reason for any struggles you might face."

He placed a finger against your lips. "You're not holding me back, amore. You're the reason I accepted to be a Papa, the reason I felt confident to accept it. I can face any challenge as long as you're by my side."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of love. "I don't want to lose you, Copia."

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, wiping away a tear. "And you won't, cara. I promise you that."

Gathering your thoughts, you took a deep breath and gently removed his hands from your face. Closing your eyes briefly, you mustered the courage to speak. Another deep breath followed before you opened your eyes, locking gazes with him.

"I love you, Copia," you began, your voice tinged with emotion, "but..." You paused, gathering your courage to continue. "I'm afraid that we can't be together anymore."

Copia's expression shifted from one of tender affection to one of shock and disbelief. His brows furrowed slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that he had misheard you.

"What do you mean, amore?" His voice carried with confusion and concern, his grip on your hands tightening slightly.

You took another steadying breath, feeling the weight of your decision pressing heavily upon you. "I mean that... I'm sorry, I- I... Copia... with your new role as Papa Emeritus, our relationship... I don't want to put you in any potential danger."

A profound sadness flickered in Copia's eyes, his grip on your hands slackening as if he had been physically struck. "But... why?" His voice held a tinge of vulnerability.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart aching with the pain of your words. "Copia, I love you more than words can express, and I believe in you and your calling. But being with you, loving you openly, it puts you in danger. We've seen what happened to Terzo, and I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

He stood there, his gaze locked onto yours, absorbing your words as if trying to process the implications. "Amore," his voice trembled, "I- I can't just... I can't let you go."

The tears spilled over, streaming down your cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands once more. "Copia, please understand. This decision, it's not because I don't love you. It's because I love you too much. I can't bear the thought of being the cause of any harm that comes your way."

Copia's eyes glistened with his own unshed tears, his hands coming up to gently cover yours on his face. "You're not causing harm, amore. Stop saying it, per favore, I can't imagine my life without you in it."

The weight of your decision pressed heavily upon you, the pain of letting go warring with the love you felt for him. "I know this is agonizing, Copia. But I truly believe it's the right thing to do. For you, for me, and for the ministry."

His shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of your words settling in. "I can't deny how much I love you," he admitted, his voice breaking. "But... I won't let you do it, sei l'amore della mia vita." His arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace.

Tears blurred your vision as you held him tighter, his words washing over you like a balm for your aching heart. "Copia..."

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he gazed into your eyes with a fierce determination. "I can't lose you, not like this. No, amore, I won't let it happen."

"Copia, I don't want anything to happen to you. I'm terrified of putting you in danger."

He wiped away a tear from your cheek, his thumb lingering against your skin. "And I'm terrified of the thought of being without you."

You lowered your gaze. "But the ministry... your role..."

Copia's fingers tilted your chin, urging you to meet his eyes again. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and our love, while fulfilling my duties," he declared. "We'll be discreet, we'll be cautious, but we won't let go of what we have."

"But what if you..." you began, your voice soft and uncertain, but Copia gently placed a finger on your lips, stopping your words.

"If my fate is the same as mio fratello," he continued, his voice resolute, "I would consider it an honor to have been a Papa Emeritus."

"Copia, I..." you began, your voice wavering, but he held your gaze.

"There is nothing in this world that holds a greater place in my heart than you," he declared earnestly. "You are my purpose, my cherished one. Just as I was destined to become a Papa, I believe that our paths were meant to intertwine. I want you by my side, not just for today or tonight, but for every moment that lies ahead. From the day we met, you have shown me love and compassion, and it is the most precious lesson I've ever learned."

"I love you, Copia," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "I love you so much, and I'm sorry for even considering the thought of leaving you. It's just that... I love you so much that I wouldn't even twice about your safety and happiness."

"And I love you, more than anything," he whispered, his voice soothing. "I understand your fears, cara. There's no need to apologize, but please know that I am here for you, and I won't let anything come between us."

You heart fluttered at his words, your eyes widening as he leaned down and kissed you tenderly. His lips parted beneath his, your tongue meeting his in a kiss that was filled with passion and need. Your hands moved up to tangle themselves in his hair, causing his mitre to fall on the floor. His hands slid down your sides, coming to rest on your hips as he drew you closer. The kiss continued, growing more intense as the passion between you two grew.

Copia gently broke the kiss, a tender smile gracing his lips as he pulled back. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you noticed the smudge of black paint on his lips. Copia's eyes twinkled with realization as he looked down at you, a playful grin tugging at his lips when he saw your own lips painted with a mixture of black and white.

Leaning in, you pressed a gentle peck to his lips. Your fingertips traced a delicate path from his hair to his face, your touch tender as you stroked his cheeks. Copia's eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping his lips as his arms enveloped you, drawing you into a tight and comforting embrace. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace, finding solace in his comforting hold.

As you leaned against Copia's chest, you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his vestments. Copia's lips brushed against your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was both gentle and passionate and with every caress, every stolen kiss, it was as if you were reaffirming your love.

"I don't want to lose you, Copia. I love you so much," you whispered.

"The only way you could lose me is if you really leave me, but I would still fight for you, for our love, for us. And even if I couldn't change your mind, I would never stop fighting for us," he replied. "So please, never, never say you want to leave me, never again."

You gazed into his eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. In return, he looked at you, mirroring the smile with his own. You leaned in and pressed your lips against his, pouring all your emotions into the kiss. The weight of your decisions, the intensity of your love, and the promise of a shared future all converged in that passionate kiss. Copia responded with equal fervor, his arms tightening around you as he deepened the kiss. Each brush of his lips against yours sent sparks of electricity through your veins, igniting a fire that had burned since the moment you two met. He was the love of your life, you were the love of his life and nothing could change it.

"Excuse me, Papa," a known voice coming from behind Copia interrupted your kiss.

Your lips slowly parted, leaving a bittersweet sense of emptiness as the kiss came to an end. Your heart yearned for more, your face almost instinctively leaning toward his for another touch, but the sound of the voice behind Copia brought you back to reality. He gently withdrew his arms from around you, turning his attention toward the source of the interruption.

"Sì, Aether?" Copia responded.

"My little Cardi," Sister Imperator's voice reached your ears, accompanied by Aether's presence. Her gentle smile contrasted with the annoyance in her tone. "What is happening? You left the chapel in haste, not even staying for what I had to say. The members of the clergy are quite bothered by it."

"I had pressing matters to attend to," he explained, his voice steady.

Sister Imperator's gaze shifted from Copia to you, her smile dimming slightly. "I see," she remarked before focusing her attention back on Copia, her smile returning. "I believe you should come with me now, Cardi. We need to provide the clergy with a suitable explanation for your sudden departure from the chapel that doesn't involve..." Her gesture with her hands indicated towards you. "...your inappropriate rendezvous."

"My what?" Copia's tone turned more serious as he questioned Sister Imperator.

She shook her head with a knowing smile. "Oh, Copia. We are well past the time for playful interactions with Sisters of the ministry."

Copia's hand reached behind him, holding your waist and pulling you closer to his back. His voice was laced with anger as he demanded, "Repeat that."

Sister Imperator shifted her gaze away from the two of you and turned to the Ghoul, Aether. "Aether, could you please excuse us?" she said in a soft tone.

Aether nodded, excusing himself before he turned and walked down the hallway in the direction of the chapel.

"What about you, darling? Why don't you go back to the chapel or to your dormitory to meet with your friends?" she inquired, looking at you.

"She is not going anywhere, Imperator." Copia stood out.

She slightly shrugged, taking a deep breath. "Well, Cardi, is up to you," she said with a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Anyway, what I was trying to say," she began, taking a step closer and gently cupping Copia's face with one hand, "is that now you hold the esteemed position of Papa Emeritus, there's no more time to engage in casual encounters with Sisters from the ministry. It's crucial to shift your focus to what truly matters now. Please, come with me, my son."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Copia's tone was firm, his eyes narrowing with determination as he spoke.

He stepped back slightly, his hand still protectively holding onto your waist. The exchange between Copia and Sister Imperator seemed to intensify, an unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Sister Imperator's smile remained, but there was a glint of something else in her eyes—something that hinted at a deeper power dynamic at play. "My little Cardi, you have a duty now, a responsibility to the ministry. You must set an example for the others, especially now that you are Papa Emeritus."

Copia's grip on you tightened, his resolve unshaken. "My duty and responsibility are not in question. But my personal life is not up for debate or interference."

Sister Imperator's expression hardened slightly, and she lowered her hand from his face. "Very well. But I hope you also understand the gravity of your new role. The eyes of the ministry are upon you, and every action you take will be scrutinized."

"By who?" he inquired.

"By all of us," Imperator responded, her gaze steady and serious.

Copia's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his gaze narrowing as he processed Sister Imperator's words. "Come with me, amore," Copia's hand left your waist reaching for your hand, his fingers gently entwining with yours.

You held his hand firmly, curiosity tugging at you. "Where are we going, Copia?"

He didn't reply but quickened his steps, attempting to move away from Sister Imperator. He got his mitre from the floor as he passed by it. However, she managed to reach his arm and stop him. He turned his face to her, annoyance evident in his expression.

"Cardi, please," she began with a sigh. "Now is not the time to act like a child."

Copia's grip on your hand tightened, and he turned his body toward Sister Imperator. His gaze grew intense, and you could sense the tension in his demeanor. Feeling his gloved hand growing warmer, you responded by holding onto his hand firmly. He glanced at you over his shoulder, a warm smile passing between you, before he returned his attention to Sister Imperator.

"Please, my son," she pleaded, her voice filled with a hint of desperation.

"I'm tired of your demands, mother," Copia replied, his tone firm and resolute. "You got rid of Terzo thinking it would grant you your desires, positioning me in authority. You believed you could manipulate me as you always have, throughout my entire life. You imagined I would become your puppet once I got the Papa role, but guess what? I am no longer your puppet. I am Papa. I am Papa Emeritus IV. And I shall not submit. I shall not yield. I shall not follow commands. You made your move to get rid of my brother and before you could take action against the others, they opted to leave the ministry, because we comprehend, all too well, what you are capable of. I do not bow to your commands, it is you who bends to my will. And mark my words, mother, I will bear the consequences of my choices independently. Yet, I doubt they will remove me from my role as Pope. They only did so with Terzo because you succeeded in persuading them that he wasn't living up to his obligations, isn't that right?"

"I- I don't understand what you're saying, my little Cardi."

"What I'm saying, mother," he released your hand, placing his mitre on his head. "I'm not your 'little Cardi', anymore. I now stand as Papa Emeritus IV."

Copia held your hand once again, and before Sister Imperator could reply him, he led you through the hallways of the ministry, your hand securely nestled in his.

The walk to the Papal apartment was a quiet one, the soft shuffle of your footsteps harmonizing with the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. The corridors seemed to pass in a blur, and before you knew it, you found yourself standing before the front door of the Papal apartment.

A group of Ghouls stood before the entrance to the Papal apartment, their presence almost like a guard of honor. Copia's expression remained serious as he addressed them, his voice firm yet respectful.

"Per favore," Copia began, "leave us alone for now."

The Ghouls complied, stepping aside to create a path for you both. Copia opened the front door, and you followed him into the Papal apartment. The door closed behind you with a soft click as Copia swiftly guided you through the apartment, making his way to the master suite.

"Copia..." your voice was soft.

You continued to follow him until you both were inside the suite. He wasted no time, swiftly closing the door behind you and before you could utter another word, he turned towards you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight and comforting embrace. You could feel the subtle trembling of his body. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully feel his presence. Your hands gently traced his back. His grip tightened slightly, as if he was trying to anchor himself in the comfort of your embrace. You felt his lips press against the crown of your head, a tender gesture that conveyed a world of emotions.

"Cara," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I..." he started, but quickly, tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.

"Is ok, Copia... We don't need to talk right now," you whispered back.

His embrace tightened further as if he wanted to hold onto this moment indefinitely. The silence that enveloped you both was comfortable, a space where words weren't necessary to convey the depth of your emotions.

"I... I can't believe I actually said all that, cara." Copia murmured, his voice filled with disbelief and relief.

You reached up and placed a soothing hand on his cheek, your touch a gentle reassurance. "Shh, Copia, it's okay. You were brave, and I'm proud of you."

He let out a sigh, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close. "But what if it doesn't work out? Amore, what if my words lead to unexpected consequences?" His brows furrowed in worry as he looked down at the floor.

"Hey," you murmured, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. "You took a bold step today, and I believe in you. We'll face whatever comes together, Copia."

Copia's eyes met yours. "I'm just... scared, cara. Scared for what's to come."

"I know, but you're strong. We'll face it one step at a time." Your thumb gently brushed against his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "And no matter what, I'll be here by your side."

Copia's lips curved into a small, appreciative smile. "I couldn't let her talk to you like that, or about you," he held you even closer. "And I'm so tired, amore, so tired of being her puppet."

"You're not alone in this anymore, Copia." Your eyes met his, and you spoke with utmost sincerity. "You're no longer a puppet of Sister Imperator, you made it very clear, you're the Papa Emeritus of our ministry now and she have to respect you as such."

"I don't deserve you, amore," he whispered.

"You deserve all the happiness, Copia," you replied firmly. "And I'll do my best to help you find it," you gently wiped away the remaining tear tracks on his cheeks.

Copia gently pulled back, his hands cupping your face as he looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. His lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of sensations—the sweep of his tongue against yours, the gentle press of his body against yours, the soft sighs exchanged between you.

Slightly, he pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Ti amo," he whispered, his voice a breathless murmur.

"I love you too," you whispered.

Copia's chuckles filled the room, nervousness and relief evident in his laughter. You looked at him with surprise and amusement.

"Copia!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening. "Are you... laughing?"

He nodded, his chuckles continuing. "I am! I mean, I'm nervous, but I can't help I... I can't believe I actually said all of that to Sister Imperator."

"Well, you did great," you said, a proud smile gracing your lips.

Copia's laughter subsided, replaced by a tender gaze. "Grazie, amore." He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

With a tender touch, you carefully lifted the mitre from Copia’s head, his hair fell in gentle waves, framing his face. You set it down on the side table near the door. As you turned back to him, you couldn’t help but admire the sight of him without the regal headdress.

Copia met your gaze with a small smile. "You know, I never thought I'd have some bella sorella who would willingly remove my mitre for me."

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Well, consider it one of the perks of being with me."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I'm grateful every day that I chose you to be my assistant."

"Me too," you whispered. "But, Copia, I'm wondering about my role now. With you being Papa, I assume you won't need an assistant anymore, right?"

Copia nodded, a small smile forming. "You're right, amore. My responsibilities have shifted. However, I think it's time for you to have a new position, maybe even a promotion."

"A promotion?" you asked, your brow furrowing in confusion.

"Sì, exactly," he affirmed with a grin. "A promotion, cara." Taking your hand in his, he pressed a soft kiss on your fourth digit. "All that's left is a ring, sì?"

"A- A what?" you stammered, your cheeks flushing as you registered his words.

Copia's face turned slightly redder as he stumbled over his words. "Eh! I-I apologize, amore. I... I think... Uh... I may have jumped the gun a bit there. Mi dispiace, cara, I..."

"Copia! It's okay," you reassured him with a soft chuckle, holding his hand gently. "You know, when the right time comes, I would definitely say yes, right?"

"Would you?" he looked at you, surprised.

"Absolutely, my dear Papa," you replied with a gentle smile.

"Oh, amore," he growled, looking at you. "Say it again," he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine as his touch sent a delightful tingle through your skin. With a soft smile, you obliged, your voice a gentle whisper, "Papa."

Copia's grin widened, and a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. "Papa, sì?" he repeated, his tone playful and teasing.

You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head. “Yes, Papa.”

He feigned a dramatic sigh, his fingers continuing their tender caress on your cheek. "Well, if I had known that's all it takes to hear such sweet words, I might have become a Papa even sooner."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, please, Copia.”

He laughed, his arms encircling your waist and pulling you closer to him. “Okie dokie. I’ll try to contain my newfound Papa ego. But you love me, right?"

You looked up at him with a mockingly stern expression. "Maybe."

Copia grinned, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Eh!? Maybe? Well, I'll just have to work on winning over that 'maybe' then."

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn't help but give in to the laughter that bubbled up. "You're incorrigible sometimes, Copia."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "And you're mine, cara."

You leaned your forehead against his, your breaths intermingling. "You know," you whispered, "being a Papa suits you."

Copia's thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle. "Does it, cara?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You've always had that air of authority about you, even before this."

He chuckled, his eyes locking with yours. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment, then."

"It was meant as one," you assured him, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back.

Copia's arms tightened around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "I'm just glad you're here with me, through all of this."

"Always," you whispered, nuzzling against his chest.

A peaceful silence settled between you two, the unspoken bond of love and support stronger than ever. The weight of your worries seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of hope. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of Copia's embrace and the comfort of his presence.

"I believe it's time to shed these robes and indulge in a relaxing bath," he mentioned, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Especially since this face paint requires some attention."

You nodded, a playful grin dancing on your lips. "Sounds like a good plan. Wouldn't want your new robes to get stained already."

Copia chuckled, giving you a light squeeze before releasing you from his embrace. "I'll be quick, amore. Don't miss me too much."

You chuckled in response. "I'll try not to. Go on, Papa. Enjoy your bath."

With a wink, he turned and headed towards the bathroom, his confident steps echoing through the room.

"Amore," he cleaned his throat before starting speak. "Would you care to join me?"

A mischievous smile tugged at your lips as you considered his invitation. "Well, I wouldn't want you to feel lonely in there."

Copia turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Eh!? Lonely? Oh no, I wouldn't dare be lonely with such esteemed company."

Chuckling, you approached him and reached out to take his hand. "I'll be honored to keep you company."

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he grinned, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before leading you both towards the bathroom. Once inside, the door left ajar, Copia began the process of undressing himself. You leaned against the sink, your gaze intently following each piece of his robe as it gracefully descended to the floor.

Your eyes remained fixed on him, drinking in the sight of his unclothed form as each piece of fabric fell away. Copia shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes locking onto yours as he walked towards you.

A soft chuckle escaped Copia's lips as he closed the distance between you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Amore, you need to undress yourself too," he playfully reminded you, his fingers brushing against yours as he reached out to help with the task.

Copia's hands were gentle as they reached for the fabric of your habit, carefully pulling it over your head and letting it fall to the floor. His fingers then moved to the knot of your veil, deftly untying it and setting it aside on the floor. Copia's touch was tender as his fingers traced along your back, reaching for the clasp of your bra. He skillfully undid it, his movements slow and deliberate as he carefully removed the garment, setting it aside with a gentle reverence. The last piece of clothes you were wearing, made Copia fell on his knees in front of you. His hands went to the waistbands of your panties while he gently pulled them down, while pressing soft kisses along your thighs.

He lifted his head, staring at you. "Aren't you the most beautiful woman in the whole world?"

A blush tinged your cheeks at his words, and you smiled softly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Copia."

Copia chuckled, his fingers brushing against your thighs. "I mean it, cara. There's just something about you that takes my breath away."

You reached out, your fingertips tracing a pattern on his cheeks. "And you, Copia, have a way with words."

He approached his face from your core, his lips brushing against your inner thighs. "Only when I'm speaking from the heart."

He rose from his kneeling position and walked over to the bathtub, his fingers deftly turning the water on. He carefully adjusted the temperature, his gaze focused on the stream of water as it began to flow.

"Okie dokie, I think I've got the temperature just right for a warm and comfortable bath," Copia announced, turning back to you with a grin. "Shall we?" He extended a hand towards you.

"Yes," you nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Taking his hand, you walked towards the bathtub and stepped inside, lowering yourself down onto the floor of the tub. The warm water embraced you, and you sighed contentedly. Copia shifted, maneuvering himself to sit in front of you in the bathtub. He let out a contented sigh, his body visibly relaxing as he settled into the warm water.

You watched him, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you observed the tension easing from his shoulders. Without hesitation, you moved closer, sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. Your head found its place on his shoulder, fitting perfectly in the curve of his neck. The comforting warmth of the water enveloped you both as you rested against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against your skin.

"Copia, can I ask you something?" you inquired, your fingers playing with a strand of your damp hair.

"Of course, amore mio," he replied, his eyes soft as he looked at you.

"Why... Why doesn't the clergy allow Papas to get married? What's the issue with it?" you asked, your gaze searching his.

"It's not a strict rule, actually," he explained, leaning his head against yours.

"What? But wasn't that the reason Terzo was removed from his position?"

A chuckle escaped Copia's lips as he shook his head. "No, amore," he said, his fingers idly tracing a path on your shoulder. "Papas are allowed to have partners. What happened with Terzo is that Imperator convinced the clergy he was too focused on his marriage and not effectively leading the ministry anymore, which led to his removal."

"So, all this time, we could have been together?"

"Sì, technically," he nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. "But I was hesitant. I know what Imperator is capable of, not just in terms of affecting my role, but also what she could do to you."

"What do you think she could've done to me, Copia?"

He hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice soft. "I prefer not to dwell on such thoughts, cara."

You nodded in agreement, letting out a sigh. "Yes, I think I'd rather not dwell on it either."

The conversation took a lighter turn, and you continued, "So, anyway, Terzo and Ann could continue being a married couple at the ministry, and Terzo could still fulfill his role as a Papa?"

Copia nodded, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the surface of the water. "Sì, just like Secondo."

"What!?" you exclaimed in surprise, turning your face towards him. "Secondo is married?"

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. "Sì, he is. He got married a long time ago to a woman named Margaret. She's not from the ministry, and mio fratello met her a long time ago during a tour, but I'm not quite sure how. You should’ve seen him when he met her. It was practically written all over his face that he was in love. But, you know Secondo – he wouldn’t let anyone bring up the subject, not even himself. It was as if he wanted to keep it all to himself, hidden away.” He grinned, a playful light dancing in his eyes. “All I know is that they fell for each other, and eventually, they got married.”

"Wow, I had no idea," you admitted, amazed.

"Most people don't. Secondo preferred to keep his personal life more private," Copia explained. "But now you know."

"But wait," you furrowed your brows. "She wasn't at the wedding, was she?"

Copia let out a soft chuckle, his arms encircling you in a gentle embrace. "No, she wasn't. Secondo and her have always chosen to lead a quieter life outside the ministry. After their marriage, Secondo moved from the Papal apartment to live with her in a different place, ignoring the fact that he was still a Papa. She's an astronomer, quite busy with her work, which makes attending ministry events a challenge. She often becomes deeply absorbed in her projects, but that doesn't seem to trouble Secondo. In fact, I think my brother greatly admires her intelligence and dedication. It was those qualities that drew him to her in the first place, and ultimately made him fall in love with her. It's quite funny to recall the day we found him studying astronomy at the library of the ministry, as if he understood every word he was reading. It was all in an effort to impress her."

You nodded, a thoughtful expression on your face. "It's nice that they were able to find happiness outside of all this."

"Sì, it is," Copia agreed, his arms holding you a little tighter. "And it gives me hope that we can find our own happiness too."

You gave him a soft smile, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Ok, but what about Primo?"

"Well, Primo's situation is a bit more complicated," Copia explained. "Mio fratello didn't really have the opportunity to pursue romantic love. Unfortunately, from the time he was born, the clergy had already earmarked him as the next Papa Emeritus. He was always focused on his future role and he also took on responsibilities, like looking after us. As Primo advanced through the ranks within the ministry, his attention was solely on the day he would become a Papa. This dedication, I believe, made him distant from the idea of finding romantic love."

"Wow, that's... really sad," you remarked.

"Sì, amore," Copia agreed with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Primo's life has been quite different from the rest of us. He's always been so dedicated to his role, and I think he's missed out on many things because of it."

"I can't imagine what that must be like," you mused, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his thighs.

"It's a heavy burden, cara," Copia sighed. "But I hope, for his sake, that he can still find some happiness, even if it's not in the way he originally envisioned."

"I believe he did, I'm certain of it," you whispered, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you gazed at him.

"Now, may I ask you a question, cara?" Copia inquired, his wet hands gently brushing against your hair, leaving droplets of water in their wake.

"Of course, Copia," you replied, looking at him with curiosity as his wet hands brushed against your hair.

Copia’s fingers paused in your hair, and he looked at you. "You didn't look surprised about Sister Imperator referring to me as her 'son' and me calling her 'mother'. Who told you about that?" he inquired with a curious tone.

"Oh!" You exclaimed in surprise. "Oh... It was Secondo."

"Secondo!?" He sounded taken aback. "Not Terzo?"

You let out a hearty laugh, shaking your head. "No, not Terzo. It was Secondo. But don't worry; he was trying to comfort me."

"Comfort you?" Copia inquired, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

"Yes, because of last night. So he was trying to be kind and explain some things I didn't know, and that's when he mentioned it," you replied, tracing patterns in the water with your fingertips.

"Oh, cara, I'll never forgive myself for leaving after..." he paused, gesturing with his head. "You know, after we have done it."

"Is okay, Copia. I forgive you, and I know that there was a purpose for you to leave," you reassured him with a gentle smile. Concern laced your voice as you continued, "But Copia... what do you think is going to happen with us now? With you?"

"I honestly have no idea, but you know what? I don't want to dwell on it right now," he sighed. "What I do know is that I love you, and no matter what comes our way, I'll always be right by your side." He offered his reassurance. "And don't you worry about the clergy or mia madre. I'll handle them, and things will work out, okie dokie? Let's let the future unfold and see where it takes us."

You nodded in agreement. "You're right, Copia. Let's see where the future takes us."

Copia leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, affectionate peck. His hand cradled your face, his touch bringing a sense of comfort and relief as your mouths met.

"Now, shall we finish our bath and return to the bedroom?" Copia murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours.

"Please," you replied in a soft whisper.

As you both agreed to finish your bath and return to the bedroom, the warm water enveloped your bodies, you took turns assisting each other with washing. Copia tenderly lathered shampoo into your hair, his strong fingers massaging your scalp, creating a soothing sensation that made you close your eyes in contentment letting an yawn escape your mouth. In return, you carefully cleansed his face, wiping away the intricate face paint to reveal his bare, unadorned features.

You could look at his face for hours, admiring his wrinkles etched at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. His eyes held a captivating depth, their mismatched color a captivating blend of tenderness and wisdom. His strong jawline exuded confidence and determination, while a few salt-and-pepper strands in his hair revealed the passage of time. The faint lines on his forehead spoke of moments of contemplation, a sign of the responsibilities he had shouldered as a member of the clergy. Despite the marks of age, his features exuded a magnetic charm that was hard to resist, and his face held a certain allure that drew you in, making it clear why he had captured your heart.

As you two finished the bath, Copia gently helped you stand up in the warm water. He stood up from the bathtub as well, his tall frame towering over you. He reached for a nearby towel, wrapping it around his waist before extending a hand to you. You accepted his hand with a smile, the touch of his fingers sending a jolt of warmth through your body.

"Are you tired, amore?" Copia asked.

"Just a little bit, Copia. I managed to sleep in the car on my way back to the ministry." You replied, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead.

Copia's fingers gently traced the curve of your hips. "I'm glad you got some rest, cara. But if you're feeling tired, maybe we should get some sleep now. You're always welcome to rest by my side."

You nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "That sounds perfect, Papa."

Copia groaned with a mischievous smile on his lips. "I really like the way you call me as Papa."

You chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the bathroom. “Well, get used to it, Papa, because you’ll be hearing it a lot more from now on.”

You chuckled softly as you noticed Copia’s cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. He grabbed another towel, gently drying your body with careful and deliberate motions. His touch was soothing, each stroke of the towel a caress that made your heart flutter. His bashful reaction was utterly endearing, and you couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“Aw, Papa, look at you, all blushing and cute.”

Copia cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure, though his playful smile betrayed his embarrassment. “Well, I can't help myself.”

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. “Maybe I should call you ‘Papa’ more often, if it makes you react like this.”

His laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating against you. “I don’t think my heart can handle it, cara.”

“Is that a challenge, Papa?” you whispered playfully, your fingers tracing circles on his chest.

Copia’s gaze met yours, and he leaned in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “You’re going to be the death of me, diavoletta,” he murmured against your lips.

You giggled. “Well, then let’s make sure we have plenty of time together before that happens, Papa.”

Chuckling, Copia’s eyes danced with a playful glint as he looked at you. “Are you teasing me by calling me ‘Papa’ again, amore?” he quipped, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “Vieni, let’s make our way back to the bedroom.”

Copia discarded his towel and extended his hand towards you, his fingers beckoning you to join him. You couldn’t help but smile in response to his playful demeanor. Taking his hand, you allowed him to guide you back towards the bedroom. You couldn’t help but smile in response to his playful demeanor. Taking his hand, you allowed him to guide you back towards the bedroom, leading you to the bed while the soft glow of the bedroom's lights welcomed you, casting a warm and inviting atmosphere.

"Amore, you're really the most beautiful woman I've seen in my whole life and I can't get enough of you." Copia murmured.

He pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist as you felt the mattress beneath your legs, its softness inviting you to sink into its embrace.

"You have a way of capturing my gaze and holding my heart," he continued, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin. "Every curve, every smile, it's all etched in my memory."

His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch as light as a feather. Copia's lips found yours, a slow and sensual kiss that deepened with every passing second. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your touch. With a gentle push, he guided you to lie back on the bed, his movements fluid and deliberate. His hands moved with purpose with a practiced yet gentle touch. Copia’s hands traced a path along your body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. His fingers danced across your curves, mapping the contours of your form.

Copia’s lips continued their exploration, leaving a path of heated kisses along your neck and shoulders. His lips followed the path his hands had taken, trailing kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, and over the curve of your stomach.

"Mmm," you let a soft purr escape your lips, grinning mischievously. "What is my Papa doing, hm?"

"Oh," Copia stopped with his kisses, rising his head, looking at you. "Mi dispiace, cara, should I stop?"

"Don't you dare," you murmured , biting your lower lip.

"Not too tired now, eh?" he murmured, lowering his face, brushing his lips on the skin of your stomach. "Sei così bella, il tuo corpo è così prezioso, la tua pelle è così morbida, ti amo così tanto." He chuckled softly, you could feel him smile against your skin, the sensation sending shivers through your body.

"Copia..." you whispered low. "I love you, Copia." Your hands found their way to his head, tangling themselves in his hair.

As he continued his exploration, his mouth trailed kisses down your abdomen, across your hips, and then up the inside of one thigh. You could feel his hot breath on your skin as he paused at the juncture of your thighs. The anticipation was almost too much for you to bear, but you managed to hold yourself together. His tongue traced a line from your knee up the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your center. A single flick of his tongue sent a shiver through your body. His lips closed around the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, sucking gently while his tongue danced across it.

"Oh, Copia... D- Don't tease me!" you begged.

He smiled against your skin, his teeth nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh as he drew closer to your core. You felt your muscles tighten and you knew that if he kept this up, you would not be able to remain still.

"I'm not teasing cara, I'm just savoring every inch of your sinful body," he chuckled again, this time teasingly.

His tongue began a slow descent, tracing the length of your folds. You gasped, your fingers clenching in his hair. He looked up at you, his eyes full of lust. Your breathing quickened, your body betraying you as your arousal grew. His tongue brushed over your folds, making you squirm. He pressed his tongue against you, dipping it inside of you. You cried out, your hands gripping his hair tighter.

"Patience, amore mio," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

He smiled lowering his face, his tongue moving faster now, lapping at your juices. His fingers slid up your leg, caressing your thigh, teasing the sensitive skin above your core. You cried out again, your body trembling. He licked and sucked at your entrance, his tongue darting in and out of you. Your mind reeled, thoughts of how good it felt clouding your judgment and you could feel your muscles clenching in response to his ministrations.

He removed one hand from your thighs to close to your heat, he removed his tongue from inside, replacing with two fingers inside you, curling them hitting spot as he thrust them fast. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, holding you in place. His tongue moved between your folds, circling your clit. Your hips thrust upward, grinding against his face and hand. He groaned against you, his fingers tightening around your leg.

"Copi-Ah...! Please, this is too much," you cried out.

"Amore, I know you can handle it," he murmured in a soft tone. "You're so good to me."

His tongue swirled over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Your back arched, your body trembling. You moved your hips, bucking them wildly against his face. He moaned against your skin, his fingers digging into your leg. Your body was wracked with pleasure, his fingers moving faster, hitting your spot constantly.

"P-Please... If you keep going, I'm going to cum, Copia," you moaned loud.

His fingers moved faster as he removed his mouth from your clit, replacing it with his other hand, rubbing your clit faster, thrusting at the same rhythm his fingers inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, sending more waves of ecstasy through your body. Your hips were bucking uncontrollably, your body trembling.

"Cum for me, cara," he grinned at you. "Cum for me, l'amore della mia vita."

His tongue lashing against your folds as his eyes were fixed on yours. You felt yourself tumble over the edge. You closed your eyes, throwing your head back. His fingers still working on your clit, circling it.

"Yes! yes-yes-yes-yes! Co- Copi-Ah!" you bite your lower lip, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm as your body tensed.

"Per favore, cara," he pleaded. "Cum for your Papa, cum for me, amore."

You screamed as your body jerked and spammed, your orgasm ripping through you. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you bucked off your hips from the bed, his hands instinctively held onto your hips tightly bringing your hips back to the mattress.

"Oh, Satan!" you growled, rolling your hips.

"Nessun Satana, amore mio, solo il tuo Papa," he whispered, as his tongue licked between your flesh. "Just your Papa tasting your dolce nettare."

"Mmm... Papa..." you whined, feeling your climax slowly fading.

"Sì, cara, your Papa..." he whispered, crawling on top of you.

Your fingertips gently traced his cheekbone before cradling his face, your thumb tenderly caressing his skin. With a soft smile, you drew his face towards yours, capturing his lips in a lingering, affectionate kiss. He opened for you and your tongue slid into his mouth, dueling with his. His hands were on your waist, holding you close as your tongues danced together. The kiss was slow and sensual, the passion building, with his tongue flicking against yours.

You broke it slowly, looking up at him, breathing heavily. his hands sliding down your body. He looked down at you, eyes filled with wonder and desire.

"I love you so much, Copia," you whispered.

"I love you more than words can express, mia amata."

He kissed you again, gently this time, but with more intensity than before. You moaned softly, grinding yourself against him. You wrapped his waist with your arms, pulling him closer, pressing his body against yours.

"P-please Copia, I need you," you whispered with your lips on his. "I need you so much."

Gazing into your eyes, Copia's smile deepened before he leaned in, placing tender kisses along your neck. His hands traced a path down your sides, eliciting a shiver from you as you arched your back in response.

"Is it me you need, cara?" his breath danced against your ear as he whispered.

You turned your face towards him, a soft nod confirming your desire, your fingertips caressing the expanse of his back. With a gentle touch, your fingers found their way to his scalp, tangling in the soft locks of his hair. Copia's eyes closed as he savored the sensation, a contented hum escaping his lips. Your chuckle danced in the air as you admired the peaceful and relaxed expression on his face.

Copia leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead before leaving a soft, lingering kiss. His eyes opened slowly, meeting yours in a gaze that felt like a reflection of your love and passion, a silent exchange without the need for words.

He shifted back between your legs, and you couldn't help but turn your gaze to his body, tracing every contour, and taking in the intricate details of his skin – every freckle, mark, and subtle nuance. You marveled at how perfectly his form was put together, all belonging to the man you loved.

"What's the matter, cara?" Copia inquired, his hands tenderly caressing your thighs.

You shifted your attention to him, a smile gracing your lips. "You're absolutely stunning," you murmured as you settled on the edge of the bed before him. "Copia, you're undeniably beautiful, the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on."

He blushed at your words, trying to dismiss them. "Oh, cara, I'm just an old—"

Quickly, you placed your fingers over his lips, preventing him from finishing his sentence.

"Don't you dare undermine yourself. You're an incredible man, the most remarkable in the world to me, and I love you deeply. I'm so grateful for our meeting."

His expression softened, and he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you tenderly with a smile playing on his lips. You settled back onto the bed, letting yourself sink into its comfort.

"Now, if you would," you began in a hushed voice, "make me yours tonight and for all the nights to come."

He smiled, reaching out to stroke your cheek. "I will, cara mia. I'll make you mine every night."

A tear fell down your cheek, but it was quickly replaced by another. "I'm sorry, Copia. I didn't mean to cry."

"It's alright, cara," Copia whispered, holding your hand, pressing a kiss on the back of it. "Are you ready to be mine for the rest of our lives?"

"Yes, Copia, please take me as yours."

His hand caressed your body, stroking your skin with care and affection. You moaned softly, arching your hips toward him. Copia chuckled, moving closer to you until his hardness was pressed between your legs and his torso on top of you.

"Ah!" you let a surprised moan escape your lips, as you felt him.

He grinned at you, taking his length on his hand, stroking it lazily. He rubbed his hardness between your folds, teasing you. With one swift motion, he thrust himself into you, slowly filling you, causing you to gasp loud. You wrapped your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back.

"Oh... Copia, yes... That feels so good," you purred.

He began to move slowly, his pace deliberate and measured. You moaned softly, your hands roaming over his chest and shoulders. He leaned forward, bringing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately as he continued to thrust into you. You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, moving your hips in time with his, matching his rhythm.

"P- Please, Copia... faster," you stammered, breathless.

"Faster, eh?" Copia asked quietly, his tone with a hint of lust.

He pulled out of you, his length glistening with your wetness. He pushed himself into you, causing you to gasp, your body arching. He moved deeper into you, his hardness stretching you. You whimpered softly, biting your lip as you felt your arousal.

You felt him move fast, slamming his length deep inside of you. The soft sound of flesh slapping together filled the room. You tightened your legs around him, wanting to keep him inside of you. Copia groaned, increasing his pace.

"You're so tight," he growled, leaning down to press a peck on your lips. "So warm..." he added. "So perfect..." he concluded. "And I love being inside you, amore mio," he said.

His movements becoming faster and more intense after each stroke. You sighed, your eyes closing as you savored the sensation of his member sliding in and out of you. Copia kissed your neck gently, his hands stroking your breasts. You arched your back to meet his thrusts, pressing your hips upward.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breathing becoming heavier. "So beautiful and mine."

"Yes, Copia, yes," you moaned softly. "I'm yours, Copia, I'm all yours."

He grinned, raising his head from your neck, locking his eyes with yours. He increased his speed, his movements becoming faster and more urgent. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back, his breath ragged.

"It feels so good inside of you," he responded. "Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock."

Copia buried himself completely inside of you, holding himself there for a moment before pulling out. You gasped, your eyes flying open.

"Copia! Wh-?" you cried.

"Shh," he hushed, his fingers tracing circles around your clit.

"Copia, please! Don't make me beg."

He ignored you, pushing two fingers inside you, working them in and out while his thumb circled your clit. He removed his fingers inside of you, bringing them to his lips. He opened his mouth, taking his fingers in a hard suck, rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

"You always taste so good when your pussy is dripping for me, amore."

He flipped you over, positioning himself behind you. He entered you, with his length sliding easily in and out of you, causing you to growl and cry out. You bit your lips trying to contain a loud moan. Copia's hands were on your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts. You cried out, your body tensing up.

"Copia, I'm going to cum soon," you warned him. "Ah! Please, make me cum for you. Make me cum for you, Papa."

"I will, amore, I-" he bit his lower lip. "Cazzo, I'm going to cum too, merda, sì, sì, your pussy is so goo-Oh!"

He growled, slamming himself deep inside you, causing you to moan loud. Your walls tightening around his length, coming, feeling yourself spamming. Your juices flowing freely onto the sheets. Copia's body stiffened, and you felt him throbbing inside of you, his hot seed filling you up.

"Cazzo!" he screamed. "Ah! Cara! So good! Oh, Satan!"

Copia collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily. You could feel his hardness softening inside of you. You turned your head, looking at him above your shoulder. He turned you around to face him, with a gentle smile on his lips.

"Copia..." you whispered, smiling at him. "That was incredible."

"Sì, it was," he agreed, kissing your shoulder.

Copia eased himself down beside you, his body rolling gracefully until he was nestled beside you. His arms reached out, drawing you in close until your head rested against his heaving chest. As you closed your eyes, his rapid heartbeat echoed in your ears, a rhythm that you matched as you worked to steady your own. Your fingers danced across his skin, tracing a delicate path from his belly to his chest. Your touch lingered over the intricate 666 tattoo, your fingertips moving in gentle circles against his skin, almost as if you were soothing away any lingering tension.

Copia's eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting slightly as a soft hum of contentment escaped them. He shifted his face towards yours, his breath caressing your skin as his lips brushed against your forehead, planting a tender kiss there. His fingers found solace in your hair, tangling and weaving through the strands, his touch gentle as he massaged your scalp with affectionate strokes.

"I love you so much, I'm never going to get tired of telling you that," Copia murmured.

"That's good because I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that, Copia." You lifted your head in his direction, cupping his face with one of your hands, stroking his cheek delicately with your fingertips.

Copia's lips curved into a tender smile as he leaned into your touch, his eyes locking onto yours. "You truly are my solace, mia amata," he whispered.

You returned his smile, your heart swelling with affection. "And you, Copia, you're my everything," you replied, your thumb tracing a soft pattern on his cheek.

His hand reached up to cover yours, holding it against his cheek as he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. "Tonight has been... more than I could have imagined," he admitted.

"I'm glad," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair as you gazed at him with adoration. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Copia."

His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at you with a warmth that radiated from deep within. "You're my happiness, mia dolce amata."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, the depth of his feelings washing over you like a soothing wave. A soft smile graced your lips as you looked into his eyes, feeling a profound connection between you.

"Copia," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "And you are mine."

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he closed the distance between your lips. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he wanted to savor every second of this connection. His lips brushed against yours tenderly. His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin in a soothing gesture, the taste of his lips was familiar yet new, a taste that you could never tire of. As the kiss lingered, his lips moved against yours with a slow and deliberate rhythm. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if to deepen the connection even further.

After you both broke the kiss, a soft sigh of contentment escaped your lips. Copia's forehead found its place against yours, and in that close proximity, your eyes locked onto each other's.

"Amore," he began, his voice carrying a gentle weight. "I know you must be tired, but there's something I've been holding onto, waiting for the right time to give it to you. It's something I've kept , and I believe this moment is absolutely perfect."

Copia gracefully seated himself on the bed, his hand reaching towards the drawer of the bedside table. The drawer opened, and he retrieved and envelope from within, its appearance reminiscent of the one you stumbled upon in his office months ago. Sitting down beside him, your eyes were fixed on the envelope he presented to you.

"Per favore, read it," he invited softly.

Accepting the envelope from him, you nodded with a reassuring smile. With care, you opened it, retrieving a folded sheet of paper from its confiines. You leaned your back against the headboard as you unfolded the paper and started to read, your eyes scanned the words that Copia had penned down.

Document version here

As you read, you could feel the emotions welling up within you. His vulnerability and honesty touched your heart, and tears began to pool in your eyes. You looked up from the paper, your gaze meeting his. His eyes were locked on yours, his expression filled with hope and a touch of anxiety. The letter had bared his soul, and now it was your turn to respond. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you folded the paper back and placed it on the bedside table.

"Copia, I love you so much, my love," you whispered, your voice laced with emotion.

"I love you too," he let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I didn't just like it," you chuckled softly, wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye. "I loved it."

Copia reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Amore, I meant every word. You mean the world to me, and I wanted you to know just how much. I was so scared when they told me that they wanted me to be the new Papa Emeritus that I had to write this letter. I had to let you know how I felt about you and how I'll always feel about you."

"I felt it," you said, your heart swelling with affection. "And I want you to know that I feel the same way about you."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Thank you for being in my life, for standing by me. I promise to cherish you, today and every day that follows."

Your lips curved into a gentle smile. "And I promise to stand by you, support you, and love you, today and every day that follows."

"I love you," Copia whispered. "Today, tomorrow and forever."

In that moment, as you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that the bond you shared was unbreakable. The words in the letter had sealed a promise, a promise of love, understanding, and unwavering companionship. And as you leaned in, sharing a tender kiss, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your journey together. Your connection with Copia transcends titles and roles, and it’s clear that your love is strong enough to weather any challenges that may arise. Together, you’ve embraced the uncertainty of the future and found solace in each other’s presence. No matter the circumstances or changes that come your way, your love remains unwavering. It’s a powerful reminder that true love transcends any external factors.

And well, you couldn't have been happier to have stumbled upon that letter, that love-filled note, tucked away in his office all those months ago. That incomplete love letter revealed itself to be more than mere words on paper; it was the prelude of authentic love. It reminded you that sometimes, the tiniest gestures can carry the most significant meaning in our lives. The letter without a "from" or "to" inscription showed you that even the simplest of things can hold the key to true happiness in life, and your happiness had a reason now—it was Copia, your one and only, forever yours, Copia.

Grammar

Amore - love Cara - dear Ma, grazie - but, thank you Eccellente - excellent Mio fratello - my brother Molto bene - very good Ora ascoltami - listen to me Madre - mother Prego, sorella - thank you, sister Mia amata - my love Per favore - please Non capisco, mia amata - I don't understand, my love Non ci pensare neanche - don't even think about it Sei l'amore della mia vita - you're the love of my life Ti amo - I love you Bella sorella - beautiful sister Diavoletta - little devil Vieni - come Sei così bella, il tuo corpo è così prezioso, la tua pelle è così morbida, ti amo così tanto - You're so beautiful, your body is so precious, your skin is so soft, I love you so much Nessun Satana, amore mio, solo il tuo Papa - no Satan, my love, only your Papa Dolce nettare - sweet nectar Mia dolce amata - my sweet love

[fakesimp]

mysta x reader after the graduation stream :( featuring cuddles and crying? comforting?

Wherever you are, I'll always be with you, With Mysta Rias

Warning !

Hurt/Comfort ; Mentions of Crying ; Established Relationship

A/n !

🧡.

➶◜◝➴

Ah..

He's walking away, waving his hand.

You, hesitantly waving your hand back at him before you took a deep breath and waved higher, smiling at him. Not realizing the tears flowing down from the corner of your eyes.

"Thank you for everything, Mysta"

. . .

"Babe! Hey-"

You heard a familiar voice calling you out, soon your body is shaken gently. "Babe-" You slowly opened your eyes, "H, Huh?" Your voice, hoarse, cheeks stained with tears.

You didn't realize you were crying, "M, Mysta?" He stared at you, confused, worried. "You, You were crying in your sleep- I, I got worried, I'm sorry to wake you up.." He looked down and apologized.

You without saying anything just wrapped your arms around him, so tight, afraid that he'll disappear if you let him go.

You soon felt a pair of arms wrapped around you, him pulling you onto his lap, as he gently pat your back, silently giving you comfort.

"I was dreaming of you" You said in a whisper, he hummed softly, waiting for you to continue. ".. Graduation." You stopped and bury your face at the crook of his neck, he didn't say anything but the way he hugged you tightly, telling you that he's here.

There's no need to exchange words, he'll let you know that he will never leave you, his graduation is for him to say goodbye to his friends, viewers, and also to end his virtual career.

But he is yours, he is here, with you.

"I'm here" he said, as he leaned back to see your face, wiping your tears away, he kissed the corner of your eyes. ".. I'm here " he repeated, ".. With you"

You sobbed, and closed your eyes, leaned your forehead against his.

"I love you."

".. I love you too"

©fakesimp . 2023

A/n !

Here ! Comfort fic for you and for others who still need comfort after his graduation.

( 5/10 )