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jeonghantis · 2 years ago

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✧ — NO INHIBITIONS, STRANGE CONDITIONS.

PAIRING ⇝ kim mingyu x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

road safety could not hold you back from wanting your boyfriend despite how stupid of a idea it is. kim mingyu was just as stupid.

TAGS ⇝ established relationship, smut, pwp.

WARNINGS ⇝ language, gn!reader but with female parts & wears skirts, distracted driving (DRIVE SAFELY PLEASE), explicit sexual content (MINORS, DNI!).

WORD COUNT ⇝ 3.7k words.

note: welp. LOL! mingyu driving drove me mad. this is 2 of 2 fics in celebration of mingyu month. a complete 180 from the first one i fink! oops! and yes i'm aware it's may now and i apologize deeply. but celebrating mingyu should be an all-time thing. the title is taken from the song leaving me feeling confident by the driver era. don't think the song would go specifically with the fic, i just liked the wording. this is completely self-indulgent so as always, not proofread hehe. not as good as i hoped it would be but i hope you enjoy regardless.

reblog for kim mingyu. thats it. (and to support me).

smut tags under the cut.

SMUT TAGS ⇝ ROAD HEAD! (dick sucking while driving), dom/sub dynamics, switch!mingyu, switch!reader, mingyu is kinda sub until he's not, reader is dom until they're not, size kink (reader is smaller than mingyu), use of the petname "darling" "baby" & "angel", dirty talk, praise (reader gets called "pretty"), degradation (whore, slut), hairpulling, mild begging, groping, oral (m), fingering (f), gagging, throatfucking, cunt slapping (once), cum eating, mingyu is ROUGH (man does not know his own strength but is caring afterwards), reader being used as a toy, cockdumb and cock hungry reader, reader probably got major oral fixation, big dick!mingyu like Big Big (could imagine mingyu being ridiculously big or reader just has small hands).

Wandering hands had become quite a shared habit, how natural it was for their fingers to gravitate towards each other. It was always welcomed, of course, when it acted as a need of comfort from the other. When there was not one moment where they were not craving for each other.

But this was a problem. Several problems. Two very conflicting problems.

First, not only is your hand caressing him at the moment, it’s artfully roving over to his crotch. And Mingyu truly loved your bold actions and might have appreciated it if it had been within the confines of their apartment. But it was in the confines of his car, in the middle of a highway.

Second, the problem to the first problem, was that this was his wet dream come true.

It’s a no-brainer what should be deemed more urgent. Mingyu didn’t want to careen their vehicle over the edge and risk their very lives for the sake of getting his dick wet.

But.

But the danger, although he knows it should, doesn’t entirely frighten him. It was a wet dream for a reason.

But Mingyu should be smart about this. He has to be smart about this.

Meanwhile, you’re thinking you may be utterly stupid about this.

Most times, you would consider yourself a cautious person—someone who would always second-guess every decision, and hell, maybe third or even fourth-guessed. Truly, you were an overthinker. Sometimes, you wished you could just stop thinking altogether.

And that time has come now. There was absolutely no question of your decision, not even a single thought process done, when you reached to palm your boyfriend’s clothed dick. You only knew that you were being ridiculous, but it was because Mingyu looked ridiculously hot right now driving the way he does, glancing at you and smiling the way he does. What the hell were you supposed to do?

What you’re saying next is entirely pulled out of the shallowest part of your brain riddled with unbridled lust. And it challenges Mingyu’s logic and worsens his agony.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” you ask innocently, peering at him with big, curious eyes.

“I might kill us both, babe,” Mingyu said, pearly canines bared when he wore a strenuous smile. He spares an urgent glance at how your hand sits perfectly atop his growing erection, nails dragging on denim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I trust that you won’t. You’re a good driver,” you claim, smiling sharply as you give him a tilt of your head. “Is that a no?”

There was no immediate response from him, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the road that lay ahead. Yet, you still caught the clench of his jaw under the flash of a streetlamp, the whitening of his knuckles. It was insanely unfair how Mingyu could still look so gorgeous when frustration twisted his features—or was it you who simply loved seeing his frustrations?

Mingyu weighed his options. Their apartment was still many ways away, he doesn’t know if he could tough it out for that long. He’s thankful the highway is nearly void of other cars, but is utterly bitter over how it stretches on seemingly forever, leaving him no room to pull over at all. He had to maintain focus on the winding paths. He tried not to think of the deft work of your hand on him. He tried not to think of how your mouth would soon replace it. But his pleasure-ridden body betrays him miserably—his hips lifting itself into a slow rut right against your hand.

“Endangering our lives just so you could fill your slut of a mouth,” Mingyu spelled out slowly, each word sharp. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yeah,” you chirp, entirely unaffected by his tone and he could practically hear the smirk in yours. “You could say no.”

He looks at you. “I could.”

“So, say it.”

A sliver of a smile as he turns away again. “I don’t think I will.”

“Oh?” The flutter deep in your stomach intensified, the anticipation having you on the edge seat almost quite literally as you’re leaning closer, adding a little more weight on his crotch. “Why not?”

“Because I dreamt of this,” he divulges, an airy sigh slipping from his lips. “Dreamt of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock in the middle of traffic, of your frustration when I’m unable to help you force my entire length down your throat.”

“How filthy,” you jest, a shit-eating grin pulling your lips wider.

A pointed gaze. “You literally just offered to suck my dick in the first place.”

A shrug. “Fair.”

Mingyu’s right hand reached for yours. The largeness of his palm fully encompasses your own as he presses down on it, applying enough delightful friction on himself for a strangled moan to get caught in his throat.

“Just do it,” he exhales, his breathing ragged. “My dick is about to explode.”

“What a poet,” You snicker and give his dick a playful squeeze which only earns more of his choked noises. But thankfully, you’re merciful as you are excited and reckless. He hears the rustle against leather as you’re maneuvering yourself, folding your legs under you. His heart beats a little loudly against his chest, thrumming up to his ears and down to his dick, as lithe, dainty fingers make quick work on his belt and the button of his jeans.

“Keep your eyes on the road for me, baby,” you say as your hand dives in to finally, finally, bring his awaiting cock out. “We both don’t want to be dead so soon before I give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“Then hurry up,” Mingyu seethes through gritted teeth.

He’s nearly at full length, and though you’ve held him countless times, you’re still marveling at the sheer size of him, how he sits heavily on your palm, throbbing thickly. Your fingers just barely come into a circle when you start to stroke him with an unhurried and leisurely pace, feeling the full extent of him.

“This hard just from me groping you?” you coo, tone a honeyed venom, as you run a thumb over his slit. “Trying to act all cool with me when you’re just as desperate to fill my slut of a mouth.”

“Baby,” Mingyu said with heavy breaths that taper off into croaked groans. “Please don’t tease.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” you tut. “I promise I’ll make you feel good, but you have to be good and keep driving. Can you do that for me?”

Mingyu swallows hard, the lump on his throat bobbing, and gives an obedient nod of his head before adjusting himself with a straightened back which might’ve been the umpteenth time he’s done so since you’ve offered your sinful proposal.

“Good,” you hum, preening at his easy compliance, and dip your head down.

Mingyu bites down on his bottom lip hard when you take one small, tentative lick at his weeping slit. A ditzy giggle bubbles up your throat when he throbs almost immediately in response and your hand squeezes at the base of his cock in return. You continue with a few more teasing flicks, lapping up the bitter taste of him on your tongue, and only when you feel Mingyu’s thighs flex and strain to jerk up into your mouth do you ultimately indulge him.

“Oh fuck,” the poor man cusses out when you down him as much as you could, your mouth a luscious wet warmth as it envelopes around him. “Holy fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

You hum appreciatively around his unbelievable girth, sending vibrations coursing down the just as unbelievable length that only has Mingyu whimpering praises more. A hand makes up for the rest of him that your mouth couldn’t quite reach just yet; it works in perfect tandem with your slackened jaw as your head begins to bob up and down on him.

Mingyu does not dare steal a glance in total fear of losing all sense of himself at what is most definitely the most lecherous view of his fantasies coming to life. His head stays firmly pinned against the leather-clad headrest, twitching eyes hell-bent on the road. But he could still hear the obscenity of it, all the wet glugs and sucks as your cheeks hollow out for him, and it does all but aid his concentration, gradually winding a burning hot coil deeply set in the pit of his stomach. The wandering habit presented itself as his right hand began to move (thanking the high heavens for making him left-handed), and glided over your back and all the way down under the impossibly short skirt you wore.

“That’s it, angel,” Mingyu drawls out in encouragement, his hand grabbing at the supple flesh of your ass. “You’re taking me so well.”

Hearing his praise and feeling his straying hand only spurs you to dip your head lower, attempting to swallow down more of him. There’s a sense of satisfaction when he bumps the back of your throat and you find that you have been able to take more than half of him in your mouth. But it’s fleeting when the latter half of Mingyu’s dream comes to light sooner than anticipated—that frustration, a consuming greed, of wanting to take him whole. And like he alluded to, you knew it wasn’t possible if he wasn’t fucking your mouth open, which is entirely out of the question. You’re still trying for some form of compensation—a hand wringing at the base, tongue lapping hungrily at the sides of his cock with lewd slurps—and it all comes out good when jerking out moans from Mingyu, but it’s short in appeasing you. It’s desperation now that’s having you creep further along his length, and it’s so so messy with the obscene amount of saliva cascading down his shaft, coating him with a wet sheen. You resist the urge to gag every time he hits the back of your throat and try to veer your focus on breathing through flared nostrils, eyes fluttering shut in concentration.

It’s laughable how easily that focus is broken when prying fingers begin to pull your flimsy underwear.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Mingyu averred, flashing a sly smile your way, before he’s gliding a calloused digit over your folds, gathering at the wetness trickling out.

Your mewls are broken and garbled, a new surge of spit gushing down, dripping on his lap. Instinctively, your hips swivel back hungrily in search of more blissful friction, as you peer up at him through wet lashes, a stray tear flowing down your cheek.

Mingyu catches it when he casts a quick glance again. He notes the utter desperation contorting your expression, the glistening cheeks a sign of your eminent passion, and something deep inside him both inflames and melts at the same time. His eyes are assessing the road when it flickers back up, and there—the greatest silver lining known to man (just Mingyu) kissing the dusky sky—is the end of the highway. He doesn’t speed for it, no, instead he forgoes it, just the slightest bit as his foot eases off the pedal. He forgoes it for the sake of securing the vehicle, for the sake of slipping his a finger inside your wet channel as a reward for the glorious way you worship his cock.

The surprised, choked-out groan you exude goes straight to his dick, quite literally. And he’s echoing it, staggered but loud enough to drown out the music flowing from the speakers.

“I’ll pull over soon,” Mingyu imparts, gently hooking the digit and stroking your walls. “Just a little longer, baby, then I’ll fuck your throat. You’d like that too, won’t you?”

You pull off him with a satisfying pop, a string of spit threading between his cock and your glistening lips that’s quickly broken when both hands replace where your mouth’s been, stroking hard and fast. You glance up at him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, holding back your moans as your hips sway back into his finger.

“Be quick,” you whisper, eyelids flickering, and you lean back down to trace the veins along his cock with your tongue. “I want all of you in my mouth. I want you to bury your fingers in me. I want you to abuse me until I'm a mess of spit and tears.”

Fuck.

Mingyu slams on the acceleration. He’s still commandeering the vehicle securely with one hand, but the finger inside you goes still, letting you use it as you please with shallow rocks of your hips and clenches of your walls. He takes a right when the road opens up and pulls up in a relatively empty parking lot very swiftly with the practiced ease of the seasoned driver he was.

Up until then, you were suckling on his tip, coaxing thick, pearly rivulets out of him onto your tastebuds. If it had been possible to be drunk off of precum, you certainly appeared to be buzzed out of your mind with how much you were giggling and lapping at him for more. You were impossibly gone in the pleasure of giving your boyfriend pleasure that you weren't given enough time to prepare yourself for the absolute reckless and barbaric nature that would be forced upon you.

Safely parked, Mingyu ignored the garbled whines when he pulled his finger away from your clenching walls as he goes to quickly undo his seatbelt. Mingyu reached for two firm fistfuls of your hair, used it as a rein to properly align your mouth for him to shove his way inside promptly without so much of a warning. Gone was his usual gentle nature, he’s completely ruthless. The power of his thrusts is terrifyingly inhumane, his sac slapping up against your chin with ease now that he waives your own comfort. He’s focused on gaining his pleasure and his alone.

“Better?” Mingyu laughs darkly. “Were you struggling all this time? Is your mouth filled up enough now? C’mon, pretty baby. Let me hear those gags.”

You do let him hear it, all the gurgles and violent retches made around him. You fucking know this’ll leave you voiceless the next day—hell, maybe for the next few days if you continue moaning against the repeated force—and yet you’re still indulging him, conceding your entire being to him almost too easily, almost too enthusiastically.

Like the sick person you were, the brutality has you practically soaking wet through the fabric of your underwear. If you weren’t in such a rough position, you might’ve reached back to relieve yourself of the incessant throbbing of your core. And Mingyu held the mantle now, your authority beaten right out of you, so you weren’t so sure if he would appreciate you doing anything else other than being his cocksleeve.

So instead, with tears a steady stream down your face and lips red and swollen, you let him abuse you, narrowing your focus on the sliding weight of his dick on your tongue, your head laxed for him to fully control with no restraints or complaints. A perfect little toy.

Your pleasurable suffering wouldn’t last for long. Mingyu was close to breaking himself. You feel his thighs tense from where you gripped him for balance, his panted moans rising in volume against your ears.

“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, you got that?” Mingyu drawled. “Every single bit. You wanted your mouth filled, yeah? You take it all, darling.”

Your responding, muddled moans are a warm wet ring around him. If you could see him, you’d find how pleasure cruelly contorts his features. It takes a couple more messy, stuttered strokes then the burning coil inside him that wound so tightly snapped so violently. A surge of warmth overwhelms Mingyu, his muscles tensing and seizing, and a long, broken noise is ripped right out of his chest, as he comes in thick ropes of white right into your mouth.

The salty, warm cum of him glides down your throat like melted cream. You do try to guzzle it all down as told, but he always comes in such heavy loads. Coughs threaten to tear your throat but you’re suppressing them with the greatest effort until hot tears streak down your cheeks, your chest heaving wildly.

“So good,” Mingyu exhales, his grip on you loosened as he takes to petting your hair with such affection as he rides out the remainders of his high. “You’re so good for me, angel.”

Satisfied after gulping down the last spurt of him, you finally let up with a small whimper, your frame quivering as you sat yourself back on your folded legs, your eyes eager when it found him. Mingyu still looked unbelievably good sweaty and flushed. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might have looked like with your hair strewn about and swollen lips.

Mingyu didn’t seem to care. He was smiling at you with great fondness as if he had not just abused your mouth like a mere plaything. He reached to wipe some excess cum on your chin with a thumb before immediately shoving past your swollen lips. Still quite pliant, you lick it up earnestly, giving another wanton moan around him.

“Fuck,” Mingyu starts, huffing out a breathy laugh. “You’re my wet dream come true.”

“You’re welcome,” you try to lilt, but it comes out raspy and painful.

Mingyu notices the wince in your expression and frowns, a hand immediately moving to cradle the side of your throat tenderly. “Does it hurt?”

“Well, you were not exactly gentle, Gyu,” you pointed out humorously, but caught sight of the slight concern lining his face and you quickly followed up with, “But I loved it a lot. It was hot. You were hot.”

Mingyu still looked concerned but at least the corners of his lips twitched at your addition. “I could tell you loved it. You took me really well, angel.”

“And I’d do it again and again,” you said, grinning. “Even though I’m pretty sure my windpipe is bruised.”

His hand lifts to hold the side of your face, a thumb smoothing over your cheek, as he looks over you for a moment. There’s a strange little glint in his eyes, and in your recovering state, you couldn’t quite place what it was, but it has your stomach churning again.

“I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?” Mingyu murmurs, head cocked to the side as he smiles.

“Could you?” you ask in turn, voice soft. “Please?”

“I’ll take care of you,” he croons, raising his hand up to brush your hair back, his fingers threading through your hair. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Mingyu reaches over you, promptly maneuvering your seat backwards. He eases you until you’re laying flat on your back, and his hands move to grip at your thighs, lifting them and spreading them wide. The breeze that hits your cunt has you trembling and you feel absolutely exposed when Mingyu only watches your tiny frame unfold before him, eyes drinking in the sight with an insatiable hunger. He brushes a knuckle over your soaked folds, tentative, before pressing it roughly against your throbbing clit. You’re whining, arching your back off the seat as a rush of searing pleasure courses up your veins.

You’re whining even louder when Mingyu draws back. You try to reach for his arm but it’s useless when it’s thickly corded with so much power.

“Looks like I didn’t ruin your throat enough if you’re this fucking whiny,” Mingyu remarked sharply with a laugh. He does reach a hand back but your excitement quickly fizzles out just as it spikes when a slap lands quick and sharp on your cunt and you’re jerking in your seat. “Sit still and wait quietly.”

You press your quivering lips into a thin line and nod your head obediently.

With a pleased smile, he pulls back once again. He fixes himself, shoving his dick back into his underwear, followed by sweeping his long hair back and away from his face. He takes his sweet time and doesn’t spare you a single glance as if you weren’t there at all, all the while you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, the anticipation simmering sickly in your stomach. Then, he’s suddenly reaching for the gear shift, setting the car in reverse, and pulling out of the parking lot.

“W-Where are we going?” you asked urgently.

“Home,” Mingyu replied casually, turning the wheel adeptly with one hand. “Where else?”

You looked down at yourself, at the compromising position he forced you in and forced you to hold. “But - ?”

As if to answer your question, his right hand roves over to you and between your legs. He starts with a press on your clit, then caresses the roughened pad of his finger down to where you leak, before bringing it right back up to start again, and again, and again.

“I promise I’ll make you feel good, baby” Mingyu echoes your words, a vicious smile pulling his lips. “But you have to be good and hold yourself up like that. Can you do that for me?”

“Are you getting back at me?” You meant for your words to come out as an aggravated hiss, but it came out pathetically as a soft whimper.

“Yes,” he responded, not wasting a beat, and peers at you, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “And because this is another wet dream of mine.”

“How lucky,” you start, taking in a shaky breath when Mingyu rubs short, tight circles on your sensitive nub. “How lucky you get to fulfill two of your dreams today.”

“It’s all because of you,” Mingyu grins and, without warning, slides two thick fingers inside you. “Now, answer the question.”

“Yes,” you gasp out immediately, the sudden breach stinging so sharply, but your walls gave a sickly delighted spasm around him anyway. Your arms come up and hook themselves around your knees, bringing it up to your heaving chest. “Yes, I can.”

“Good,” he hums, curling the digits and pressing it roughly against the sweet nerves inside you. “Tough it out because this time, I will not be pulling over.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #svt fanfic #kim mingyu smut #seventeen fanfic

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lauren-ce · 3 months ago

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"A Nightmare at Green Lake" is a Queer Coming-Out Story

[This essay has a PDF version; the images are crisper there]

I'm probably nine months late to this particular party, but I just finished the excellent Reverse: 1999 event "A Nightmare at Green Lake" and wanted to make a case for reading it as a story about coming out, focusing on Blonney and her repressed sexuality. It's a love letter to horror films, and a love letter to girls that love girls. Crucially, it is more the latter than the former; Green Lake is a coming-out story that uses the horror film trappings as a storytelling device, not a hard and fast rule. Spoilers for the entire event.

(All my screenshots are taken from this video, which does a wonderful job capturing the entire event.)

The inciting incident in Green Lake began years before. Jennifer visits the camp regularly as a child, writing horror stories in her diary and reading them to Jessica, who loves them. Then, Jennifer suddenly has to move away, and thus, the Incident takes place.

Blonney/Jennifer threw her diary into the lake when she was forced to leave, drowning three things:

1). Her horror stories and love of horror

2). Her acceptance of her identity as an Arcanist

3). Her gay-ass self

She joins human society despite being Different and tries to blend in. She changes her name to Blonney, feigns an interest in fashion, and conforms to social norms. "Monstrous and forbidden" becomes a theme in this event which describes horror, but it also describes queer identity (this will be important later). Blonney discards her identity, drowning it in the lake.

Now allow me the rest of this rambling essay to make a point for that third thing (and to make the case that "loving horror" and "being an Arcanist" is the same thing as "being gay"). Throughout the first half of the event, we see Blonney consistently reject her love of horror movies. She calls them cliche and stupid, easy to make and low-class. Despite secretly loving them, she's built up a persona that isn't allowed to like horror.

Yet she takes an awful lot of offense to criticism of her script. . .

Anne, a recent hire to replace a sick member of Blonney's film crew (who is secretly Jessica in disguise), is mistreated by Blonney for being a naive, small-town country bumpkin that doesn't know anything. Within the movie that Blonney is shooting, Anne is typecast as the "Virgin": Christian, unassuming, sheltered, in contrast to Blonney's "Blondie": indulgent, vain, etc.

Oops, are the characters in the fake movie they're shooting maybe perhaps based on their real-world counterparts???

A contrast is drawn between the two by Blonney and the narrative at first. Throughout the rest of the event, the distance between them and their character archetypes will crumble. The important thing to remember is that Anne/Jessica is a representation of everything Blonney has rejected about herself.

As actual horror-movie type events begin to happen to the group, the characters are genre-savvy enough to realize they're in a horror story. The culprit, though this isn't revealed until later, is Anne/Jessica. She's an Arcanist and has been using her shapeshifting abilities to make a horror movie happen to the group. Ironically, the group looks to Anne as the "Last Girl", the pure and unsullied one that will survive the night.

In actuality, this is a false flag. Since Anne is Jessica is the Monster, she can't be the Last Girl.

The Last Girl is actually Blonney:

I spoiled it already, but the viewer doesn't learn until the halfway point that Blonney is actually from the area, having grown up and making frequent visits. This is why she sees herself in Anne, a gay girl from a small town. Game recognize game, gay recognize gay. Blonney uses a fake name for a fake identity. Jessica sees her actual self, and calls her Jennifer. This isn't a deadnaming, Anne/Jessica sees Blonney as she truly is deep down. Though Blonney doesn't realize it, Anne cuts her to her core, which directly leads to her mistreatment.

Anne's peculiar interactions with Blonney are some of the first hints we get of the true narrative: Why is Anne so nice to her, despite the way she's treated? And more importantly, how would Anne, a newcomer to Blonney's film crew, know Blonney's real name/true identity? Blonney certainly never would've told her, she rejects her own identity, after all. This is a big nod to the true workings of the plot. Anne knows more than what she lets on. Why does Blonney not realize that Anne knows more than she should? Because Blonney is actively trying to reject that part of her—she's blind to it. If she were to acknowledge that Anne knows her true self, then the story would already be over.

On top of rejecting her love of horror, Blonney also rejects her identity as an Arcanist. This identity alienates her from her friends—they consider her a peer up until the horror story begins happening to them. The very second it is no longer convenient, they reject her as one of them and other her. The only member of her original film crew that doesn't reject her for being an Arcanist is, you guessed it, Anne.

However much you despise us, many brilliant playwrights are Queer. I mean—"Arcanists".

Horror events continue happening: a butcher chases around members of the group and monsters attack others. Vertin (R1999's main character), along with Horrorpedia, Sonetto, and Tooth Fairy, provide support, killing monsters and moving the plot along. In many of the monsters the groups find notes, pieces of paper that begin to tell a story—stories within the story. Using their knowledge of horror tropes, the main characters stay alive while Blonney's human film crew seemingly perishes at the hands of the various monster assailants.

After one such attack, Tooth Fairy (an Arcanist), gives first aid to Blonney. During the scene the two have a small argument. Tooth Fairy refuses to use Arcanist medicine to treat Blonney, because Blonney sees herself as a human. This gives Blonney a chance at some introspection, her first time opening up during this event.

Even Blonney's blood knows the truth she's suppressed.

All this happens while Tooth Fairy treats her wounds. Interesting that they're on her inner thigh, hmmm? A MILFy doctor rendering first aid to a girl's inner thighs while explaining that she's rejecting her own identity? I'm sure there's nothing to read into here.

As the plot progresses, Anne repeatedly risks her life to save Blonney. She leaps from a car to save her from a monster, and she later kills the butcher that's been chasing them. This earns her Blonney's trust, which leads to the big, plot-turning confession. At the halfway mark, Blonney is able to sit down with Anne/Jessica and confides in her.

A gay awakening ensues: Blonney feels down about her loss of identity, wanting to reclaim her love of horror. Her facade, she explains, is just that. Blonney threw away her identity as a horror-loving Arcanist in an effort to integrate with society. This conversation takes place after a danger has just been defeated, yet is one of the emotional climaxes. Blonney begins to want to accept her true identity. Throughout, Jessica repeatedly praises Blonney, telling her how amazing and wonderful she is, all the while the two cuddle on a couch.

*Does a gay little hair flip after holding hands. "You can be rougher with me, you know."

To her horror, the rest of the group hears. They had this discussion in the same room, after all, but in contrast to Blonney's old friend group, her new friends support her wholeheartedly. Then, Tooth Fairy hands Blonney the symbol of her self-actualization: her diary, which she'd found in the attic (yes, the same diary that had been thrown into the lake!!! Blonney has now retrieved her diary, her love of horror, and her identity as an Arcanist, all the things she threw away as a child.

Blonney retrieves her diary, which represents suppressed homosexuality through multiple metaphors, and achieves self-actualization thanks to her supportive friend group and a girl with a massive crush on her. The Monstrous and Forbidden are now part of her. Now the gay things really step up.

What happens next is a direct result of Blonney coming to terms with her queerness: a woman in a wedding dress shows up and attempts to marry her.

Monstrous and Forbidden, all in one package.

The woman is a zombie (because we're working with horror tropes, yeah?) but the message couldn't be more clear. Blonney has opened up to Anne/Jessica about loving horror (being queer). Now Blonney must face what that means. Consider: the corpse bride searches for her beloved (literally another bride, this could not be more fucking clear). Who is to play bride to the corpse bride? It's Blonney! The corpse bride forces Blonney down and puts a wedding ring onto her finger. The narrative has allowed Blonney to come out—now it will test her resolve.

The corpse bride is a mixed bag of metaphors. Textually, the corpse bride is a character from the horror story written in Blonney's diary. She was killed by her husband and searches for him so she can place the wedding ring back on his finger. Metatextually, the bride represents Jessica: Blonney abandoned her, effectively "killing" her. Now the scorned bride searches for her lost love.

To sum up: Jessica=Corpse Bride:

1). She searches for her lost love every night (Jessica misses Blonney)

2). She wears a hempen collar (brides don't wear collars, but Jessica does)

Blonney rises to the challenge, she defeats the corpse bride with her newfound arcanist powers, and the group pieces together the clues that the bodies carry. Her new friends are proud of her!

Horrorpedia (annoying fuckwad that he is) nicely sums up the message: by embracing their identities, they can fight back.

All the horror story clues lead to the dead body in the water. "But wait," you say, "Green Lake doesn't feature a dead body in the water." Wrong! Blonney was dead all along, remember? The corpse is Blonney's diary! Her dead body is the horror-loving gay self she killed when she threw her diary into the lake to reject her identity!

More plot happens; the story reaches a climax with Blonney using her magic to aid the group's escape from a lighthouse. On the same shore that Blonney first told Jessica all her horror stories, the same shore she killed her identity on, they confront Jessica, now revealed as the Monster. This whole plotline is the result of Blonney rejecting her identity; now is the time to make everything right.

Jessica is proud of Blonney becoming her true self. However, she's also tired of waiting for her. She's tired of being alone. Jessica offers Blonney a life of bliss: a soft bed of moss for them to share, the sweetest forest fruits, and monsters to keep her company.

When Blonney refuses to live at Green Lake forever with her, it's taken as a rejection. A fight ensues—Blonney and her group win, but the emotional arc of the story has yet to resolve.

Blonney has a chance to reject her queer identity once more. She both does and doesn't. Blonney accepts the monstrous and forbidden by accepting Jessica, a literal monster, and her queerness, the Forbidden. She rejects the monstrous and forbidden by asking Jessica to come with her, to rejoin society, to hide their identities as Arcanists (queer) and live together. Jessica rejects this. She will not be closeted. (The fear she feels at being outed as an arcanist is very similar to the fear of being outed as queer in a hostile society, eh?) This of course puts Blonney under duress—how can the story end happily?

Vertin comes in with a grenade of an offer: Jessica can come stay in the St. Pavlov Institute with her and learn to coexist with people like her. She can live with people that don't see her as weird, despite being monstrous (queer), an Arcanist (queer), and a lover of horror (queer). Vertin hasn't done much up to this point outside of moving the plot along and fighting monsters; this is her time to shine, and she shines like the lesbian lodestar we know her to be. Her conversation with Jessica is tinged with language that could easily be read as romantic, but Vertin isn't here to steal anyone's girl, she's here to offer a happy ending for everyone that guarantees the goal of each party is fulfilled. Vertin's presence is what allows this story to ultimately break free from its horror trappings. Her third option is not a compromise; it is the ending we wanted.

And what an ending it is! It's happy and good in every possible way it could be. The happiness of the ending is a large part of why I call this a coming-out story primarily rather than a horror tale. A slasher film like the ones this event draws inspiration from would see Blonney (the true Final Girl) as the only survivor of her group, still running from the monster and her own self. Instead, all her friends survive, having been held captive in Jessica's den. Blonney comes into her own; she and Jessica reconcile—we get the gay end!

Blonney leaves to finish college as a self-actualized queer woman; Jessica acheives her wish of never being alone and joins the institute to gain an education herself. I have no doubt that they will reunite, and soon: the entire plot of R1999 is Vertin recruiting every arcanist she can to ensure their safety from the Storm. Blonney's future leads directly to St. Pavlov. (For further supporting evidence, see her voice line about taking Jessica for a walk! Even before Blonney graduates, they get to be togetherrrrrrrrrrr!)

Even if you don't play R1999, please please check out this event. It has a lot to say, and it's one of my favorite things I've read all year. The soundtrack fucking whips, and it goes far in helping balm the weeping wound of the tragic yuri that is Vertin/Schneider.

Again, give some love to the video that made this document possible.

I've rambled long enough, so I'll let Tooth Fairy wrap this up with a bow: Love Wins

#reverse 1999 #jessica reverse 1999 #blonney #blossica #r1999 #reverse: 1999 #a nightmare at green lake #tooth fairy

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angelwonie · 1 year ago

Text

LET ME IN || elijah hewson

PAIRING: elijah x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

GENRE(S): fluff, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, hurt comfort

SUMMARY: when your best friend turns up at your front door unannounced, you decide to find out why he's acting so strangely. what you don't expect is for some repressed feelings to bubble up to the surface.

WARNINGS: smoking, mentions of drinking + being drunk, kissing, eli has daddy issues oops

this is it y'all i've gone insane... he looked at me once and this is what happens. @boobyskeetz made me post this btw

It’s far along in the evening when you come home to find Elijah Hewson sitting on your staircase with his head in his hands.

He’s slumped over, leather jacket around his shoulders and a slowly burning, unattended cigarette in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. The sky is pitch black, the only source of light being an ancient lantern whose shine just barely reaches Elijah’s hair.

You’re shocked at the sight, to say the least, the heaviness of your grocery bags suddenly a faint background noise.

“Eli?” you move closer, albeit hesitantly, and your voice makes his head snap up.

When he looks at you, you fight back the urge to gasp. His eyes, half lidded, just barely glimmer in the faint light provided by the moon overhead, leaving room for his undereye bags to stand out. And they do stand out — so much that you almost don’t catch him stumbling over his feet ever so slightly as he walks over to where you’re standing.

Almost.

“Are you alright?”

It’s not a question, not really, but he winces either way. You stand close enough to see it, but immediately, his lips pull into a lopsided grin to hide his initial reaction.

“‘Course I am,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, and uses his other hand to take one of your grocery bags. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

You nod, watching him drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and step on it. You wonder how many he’s smoked today and consider asking, but decide against it upon realizing you probably don’t want to know. Instead, you let him take your grocery bags wordlessly, following him up the stairs.

It’s a short staircase, but you’re walking slowly – too slowly for your liking – and there’s a million questions burning on your tongue. You hold them back, mostly because you’re tired, but also because something in Elijah’s eyes tells you not to push.

He’s the one to speak first when you reach the right apartment. “Hey, your flowers are still alive.”

He’s referring to the roses he helped you pick out last month. It was a treat for yourself, for finishing all your assignments, and you had taken the whole ‘plant mom’ job pretty seriously, even putting the roses in a prettier vase and putting it on display outside of your apartment.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “They’re holding up really well.”

Elijah waits for you to unlock the door, then walks inside with you in tow. He wobbles a little as he drops down his shoes where he always puts them — where he’s put them ever since you told him three years ago it could be his spot.

You watch him shoulder off his jacket and start organizing the groceries in the fridge from afar, slowly taking off your outerwear. It’s warm inside, and your skin feels like it’s about to be set on fire after being out in the cold for so long. You think of Elijah sitting on your doorstep. How long was he waiting for you?

“Mind if I take a beer?” he cuts off your thoughts and you look up to find him with his hand on your fridge, an inquiring look on his face.

Now the lighting’s better, and you can clearly see his face. The creases between his brows, the focus in his gaze, the stubble that he’s let grow just a little longer than usually. Whether that’s a deliberate choice or simple forgetfulness, you’re not sure, but it worries you. His state worries you.

“Suit yourself.”

Maybe you should have said no, you think as he takes a sip of the drink and you’re reminded of the wobble in his walk. He’s probably had enough to drink already. To be fair, though, Elijah can be stubborn when he wants to, and something’s telling you today is one of those days.

When everything is either in the fridge or in a cupboard, you and Eli wander into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, without much to say. It’s messy, and he scolds you playfully for it — like he’s not the guy whose dorm you have to clean each time you come over.

You join his laughter though, and plop down on your couch a little more relaxed than before.

“How long did you wait for me?”

This time you manage to ask him the question, and he shrugs.

“A couple hours.”

He lifts the beer up to his lips and empties it, the can blocking out his view of you and your widened eyes.

What the hell is going on? His gaze tells you nothing. It’s so indifferent it makes you want to rip your hair out, because no matter how much he wants to pretend spontaneously coming over at three am is normal, it’s not. Especially when it comes to him.

Sure, if it were Robert, you would’ve figured it was just him acting on impulse, but it was never like that with Elijah.

“You could have just called,” you say finally, a slight quiver to your voice. “You should have just called. You know that, right?”

He meets your gaze, but not for long; after a second it drops down to his lap, like he’s embarrassed. You hold your breath, awaiting an answer. His fingers drum against the side of the couch, but then he changes his mind about that, too, and brings his hand to scratch the side of his face. God, what is he even doing? Trying to see how long it’ll take for you to snap and throw him out of the apartment?

Suddenly, he sighs deeply, dropping his hands in his lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You can’t help yourself from scoffing. That’s it? He ‘didn’t wanna bother you’? Maybe you would’ve believed it hadn’t he shown up unannounced at your front door in the middle of the night.

You almost open your mouth to say just that, but stop yourself when Elijah looks up again, and his bloodshot eyes meet yours. Something’s definitely not right. You can physically feel it, the tightening of your chest, the anger somehow pushed to the back of your head.

“Why are you here?” you ask him sternly, keeping your eyes on him. This time, he doesn’t look away.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It comes out meek, frail, as he almost chokes on his own words. You’re taken aback by the shiver in his voice, the drop of his shoulders. He places the beer can on your table and you swear his hands shake — just barely, but enough for you to see and for your heart to clench in response.

You shake your head. “No, I want to know why you’re here.”

He laughs humorlessly, leaning forward in his chair. His hands are definitely shaking, but you’re not sure whether it’s from the alcohol or something entirely different.

You know this face on him — he’s bothered by something, but doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always been like this, ever since you met him at school and watched his eyes glow with the same sadness after his teachers told him he should work on his grades. It was the same look on his face, the same millions of feelings threatening to bubble over the surface.

The only difference seems to be that now, he’s got no cap in his hands to close the bottle.

“I’m just tired, that’s all. Wanted to talk to you ‘cause the lads are too much noise.”

You frown and send him a look of disdain. Perhaps this isn’t something you should push on him, but seeing as he just magically appeared at your apartment while drunk, you do have a right to at least inquire what the fuck is going on.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well leave.”

Silence follows your statement; silence so loud you almost regret saying anything at all. He grits his teeth, and you swear you can hear it from across the table — though that might just be your brain playing tricks on you this late in the evening.

“It’s my dad,” he mutters finally, scratching his stubble. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing new, really,” he exhales, closing his eyes briefly. “Just, you know, the usual ‘you’re wasting your life by not going to college’ talk. Total bullshit, as always. The only thing wasted is those twenty minutes of my life I spent listening to him talk about it.”

You breathe out slowly, fighting against the urge to look away from his gaze. He keeps it on you, unwavering, but you don’t know what to say. It’s dangerous territory, one you haven’t ever entered fully, and the worry of hurting him pangs at your chest; the legitimacy of his vulnerability scares you and moves you all the same.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“He’s just worried, you know. I would be, too.”

“Why?” his lip quivers and your heart sinks in your chest; so quickly it forces a sudden nausea upon you. “Because I’m not cut out for this?”

“No, Eli, that’s not what I–”

He cuts you off — not with his words, but with his hands gripping the arms of his chair to help him stand. It’s so abrupt your words die down in your throat, leaving a dryness behind. Hovering above you, he still looks small, like he’s fading into the light above; barely even present as Elijah but rather as some mass of feelings clumped together, ready to explode.

“Do really none of you think I can make this work?”

It’s the alcohol, you think, god, you shouldn’t have let him drink any more — how could you be so careless? But no, it’s not your carelessness or his, and you know that, even in this state of panic, it somehow reaches your mind — the revelation that this isn’t a random outburst.

It’s the fruit of a tree that’s been growing for a long time; the ripeness isn’t fake, even if you’re unprepared to pick it.

“Do you really think that?” he asks this quietly, his voice barely audible, but it feels like he’s tearing your skull apart with a scream.

Do you really think that? The very assumption, the very thought, disgusts you. The thought that you could ever believe he won’t make it — it’s so unnerving you let out a shaky breath.

A movement of your legs from underneath you and you’re standing. Your feet tap against the floor as you walk up to him slowly, like approaching a scared deer. He is scared, you realize. Your fingertips tingle with the longing to run your hands over his face, but you hold them back, instead answering his question.

“No.”

He blinks, and you say it again: “No,” and again and again, “No, no, no, no,” until it almost doesn’t feel like a word anymore and more like some sort of bandage wrapped around a bruised bone.

“Your dad doesn’t think that, either. He’s just worried because he cares. Because he loves you.”

He falls silent. “I’m not so sure.”

“About what?”

He doesn’t reply instantly. You look down on his hands, only to find that they’re still shaking, and take a couple steps forward. Elijah doesn’t notice, you think, or if he does, he doesn’t show any disdain for your closeness.

“About love,” he says finally. “Isn’t love supporting someone unconditionally? Rooting for them, no matter what? That description doesn’t really fit my dad.”

“I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

You suppress the smile that threatens to form on your face when he sends you a confused look, his nose scrunched.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you can support whoever you want without much difficulty,” you look at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “That doesn’t mean you love them. If you love someone, it means you’re willing to suffer through discomfort and pain to make them happy. You’re willing to spend your nights worrying if they’ve chosen the right path. You let them into your apartment at three am. That type of thing.”

Thirty seconds pass before you finally look back up, internally shivering at the way his stare bores into your soul.

“You…” he trails off, wincing like it’s painful. Uncharted territory, yet again — that much is obvious from how your heart bangs against your ribs. The silence in the room makes you worry if he might just be able to hear it.

You hear him inhale sharply, taking a step back so he can sit at the edge of your sofa. Following suit, you observe his eyes shining in the light, less red than before though still uncertain. His shoulder brushes against yours and you breathe in — he smells of alcohol, but it’s oddly comforting in the storm of your thoughts.

Elijah’s head turns to you.

“Have you… ever thought this is all for nothing? That I keep leaving the tour bus with more and more bruises for no reason at all?”

Your fingertips tingle again, and this time you do nothing to stop them from brushing over the back of his hand. It’s stupid, probably, but it feels right, his skin against yours. He’s warm, really warm, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, even when he leisurely drags his forefinger down the side of your hand. It tingles, but you don’t move away.

Elijah’s hand doesn’t shake anymore when you interlace your fingers together. Finally, you get the courage to speak.

“I’ve held your hair back while you were throwing up, Eli. Tied your shoelaces after a tiring show. Corrected your lyrics until four at night so you could send them to your manager before dawn. I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe you were on your way to the top from the first time I saw you,” you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you look directly at him. “I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe in you.”

It’s silent after that. For a long time. But his hand sits clammily in yours like a pearl in a clamshell, and you hold onto it for dear life, praying he won’t slip out from your grip.

“Promise me you won’t stop.”

Your head turns, startled by the sudden statement. His gaze scans you from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your lips, then your nose and finally your eyes, where it stops and plants its roots. You feel it spreading almost like wildfire, the warmth that comes with it. You almost tremble underneath it, squeezing his hand a little harder.

“Won’t stop what?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Letting me into your apartment at three am.”

His gaze drops in a manner someone might’ve mistaken for lazy, but you know him well enough to recognize the vacillation in his eyes. You feel his fingers shiver in your embrace, every breath strained.

“Why not?”

You move closer, only by a centimeter or so, but he senses it — all the cells in his body seem to tingle with the paradox of wanting to touch and wanting to run all the same. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe rather it’s the arbitrary comfort that comes with it, that scares him to death, but whatever reason, he feels like he’s entering a deadly storm.

And perhaps it’s the alcohol and he’s not thinking straight, but this storm appears more inviting than any sunny day he’s ever witnessed.

He squeezes your hand tighter and leans down until his lips are impossibly close to brushing against your nose. You feel his hot breath on your face, sparks dancing across your skin to the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and beer, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

“Because I still haven’t gotten the chance to let you into mine.”

You smile — a real smile that you no longer manage to hold back. He mirrors the expression, albeit softly, lines appearing in the corners of his mouth. Let me in. Hues of colors appear in his eyes just as his shaky pointer finger grazes your jaw. Let me in. He cups your cheek gently, his lips parting in a breathless exhale.

Let me in, let me in, let me in.

He does. Just when the clock shows 3:47am and your shirt feels like it’s sticking to your skin, he finally closes the distance between you.

His lips brush over yours — it’s featherlight and careful, but you accept it all and kiss him back nonetheless. You can taste cigarettes on his tongue when he opens his mouth. Suddenly, the clock’s sound doesn’t reach your ears anymore, and all you can hear is the beating of your heart inside your throat. His finger strokes your cheek and his nose bumps into yours, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine.

You breathe in the scent of him, bringing your hands to tangle themselves in his hair in a moment of recklessness. Yeah, you’ve definitely gone absolutely crazy — but that’s a problem to solve later. For now, you’re kissing Elijah Hewson.

You’re kissing Elijah Hewson. It’s almost a revelation that dawns upon you like the waves of a tsunami, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It squeezes at your heart, a drawstring closing around it, and you have to pull away to breathe, to examine his face, puffy lips and tired eyes, to understand the gravity of your situation.

“We just kissed,” you say, and your voice shakes even though you strain to keep it calm.

“Yes,” he affirms, like it’s nothing. But it is something, and his eyes can't hide that. “We did.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“You think that’s why I did it?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles and you swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

He looks at you for a moment – your messy hair, reddened lips, the hesitation in your gaze – and makes his decision.

In less than a second, he drops down to his knees and you’re about to protest (because what does he think he’s doing?) until he grabs your hand and holds it between both of his. You furrow your eyebrows to hide the fact that you’re taken aback, though from the glint in Elijah’s eyes you figure you’re not doing a very good job at it.

He looks at you, like really looks at you, and you look at him the same. The fruit lies in the palm of your hand and squeezes to the beat of your heart when he speaks.

“I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he kisses your knuckles softly, and keeps them against his lips. “That’s why I kissed you, why I turned up to your apartment at three am, why I don’t regret it. Any of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Something pulls at the very back of your throat. You keep your mouth closed, but even that doesn’t stop a choked whimper from leaving you — a sound that makes Elijah’s lips quirk upwards. He smiles, and you attempt to do the same, yet all you manage is a half-laugh, half-sob that shakes though your body.

Embarrassed, you look down, and you can hear Eli chuckle before the warmth of his arms envelops you whole. He hugs you tightly against his chest, fingers coming up to stroke your hair as you partly laugh, partly cry into his shirt. And even though it should be humiliating, the act feels so powerfully comforting that you let him hold you.

“I love you too.”

You whisper this into his chest, breathing heavily. He pulls away and you look up, confused, but he smiles that gorgeous smile of his, with teeth on display and smile lines appearing, and cups your jaw. His eyes shimmer with undoubtable joy.

He doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

“That’s a fucking relief, huh?” he whisper-laughs and you join in on it.

“Yeah.”

And you smile.

He’s let you in, and you don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon.

#inhaler #elijah hewson #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #ryan mcmahon #robert keating #josh jenkinson

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savventeen · 1 year ago

Text

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

#svtsource #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #savv writes #savv fics #in my queue world

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findmeinthefallair · 2 years ago

Text

Hunter's Experiences After Belos's Death

Oops, this got long. Aw well, it was really fun to write.

Special thanks to @ashanimus!

This is speculative at the end of the day, but since:

1. This is my fave animated show of all time

2. I grew up with Complex PTSD (CPTSD) like Hunter

3. I work as a therapist,

I thought to list down some things I can visualize happening in the duration of the finale's timeskip, before that beautiful epilogue we saw. And I want to dive in using whatever clues, leads and parallels I can find in canon: to analyze and see how he went from the Bad But Sad Boy to that peaceful-looking palisman carver in the epilogue.

A small reference I had for this meta is Cinema Therapy's episode on the Hunger Games movies (link), since the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen, from the book and also movie trilogy would have the same diagnosis as Hunter. Those books and movies explored how Katniss coped with the frightening and dramatically different landscape that was the calmness of her world post-victory.

Part 1: His Possible Experiences Leading Up to Seeking a Therapist

His disposition could possibly become like Luz's from early Season 3: a state of emotionally shutting down and numbing out. He appeared to nearly head in this direction right after he was revived by Flapjack, as he began to cry. There was that small window where he could have expressed more tears than he did, and have his body shut down under the weight of bereavement.

But the immediate physical threat, Belos, was still on the run. He got up, sprang into action and didn't catch a break from the time he followed Belos through the portal until he stood in The Collector's palace after Belos died (had he even received the news of his 'Uncle' dying yet??!).

Now that Belos isn't around anymore, the Isles will have a completely different feel and rebuilding the land would've taken grueling work after the dismantling of a damaging Coven System.

I was looking at Luz's behavior and gestures in Thanks to Them, which were indicative of her sinking into depression after 1. the horrible revelation in Hollow Mind that she unintentionally helped Philip. 2. witnessing Flapjack's death. I'm putting screenshots of her below in parallel with Hunter's own emotions in For the Future:

They have different mental health conditions if you talk symptoms, e.g. Luz doesn't show signs of CPTSD hypervigilance, while Hunter doesn't have that slowing down in his physical and mental activity which points to depression. But both have suffered from moral injury thanks to Belos's violence and manipulation.

However, a major comparison is that Hunter has had much more repressed emotion over a long period compared to Luz. The column with Hunter screencaps above, is what he may feel with a much higher intensity in the weeks and months after he first hears that his abuser has passed on.

Shown below, the few seconds of Hunter's big smile drooping when it was all over, was a big hint for me:

A hint that there is a deep undercurrent of emotions he'd much rather not feel, that he'd probably rather hide from himself. Even while smiling, we know how his heart-wrenching story has played out and the light in his eyes here doesn't match the brightness we see in his expressions in the epilogue, post-timeskip.

That is the face of a kid who has not cried out massive amounts of tears yet. He doesn't look like he's carrying a light load yet, compared to what we see in his future self. And it's certainly a heavier smile than the jollier one he makes here right after King's Tide when Flapjack was still around:

I can't imagine the amount of grief that his body has yet to dredge up and release, once he finally doesn't have to worry about his 'uncle' threatening his life anymore. Too many times to count, I've been in the situation where I cry intensely after being retraumatized and think "Huh? More tears? Where did it come from?? I thought I had cried it all out from my whole being the last time!". It kind of convinced me that anyone with CPTSD has so much grief stored up in their body that the number of times needed to have a good cry feels like a really endless expanse.

However: because I had 7 years of being in and out of therapy, what matters is that the durations between these episodes of mine, the durations of the episodes themselves, plus their intensity have reduced a lot. It was around a 4-year timeskip in the finale, so for Hunter to get as far as he did to heal, his own therapy sessions would've probably been rigorous and very consistent.

Anyway, he might now cycle through his own version of what Luz cycled through when she gradually shuts down from failing to build a new portal door in Thanks to Them, continually believes she's as bad as Belos, and when she alludes to her suicidal ideation in the classroom:

whereby there is a likely parallel between Luz wrestling with guilt from her own moral injury, and Hunter's own guilt from what he wished he could've done to prevent being possessed, to prevent Flapjack from dying. Both their situations are that of moral injuries.

The adrenaline rush would be over for everyone on the Isles.

I'm quite sure the therapists on the Isles will operate pretty soon after the news about Belos's death was out. They would conduct whatever version of mental health triage they have, that involves risk assessments and crisis counselling. Both of these based on what I've learnt are shorter in duration (30 minutes) and are one-off sessions, compared to regular talk therapy which is an hour minimum.

The therapists would be redirecting people to necessary resources e.g. where to find food or loved ones, and managing distress only related to people's immediate needs instead of forming a longer term plan for several weekly sessions.

I believe things are simpler when you are running away from an external threat, like the two Hunter scenarios below. In Hollow Mind there is no emotion on his face because in peak C-PTSD mode he has shut down his emotions to pour that energy into escaping Belos. In Thanks to Them, he appears quite obviously scared with widened eyes because he got comfortable with safety for months and Belos's return was a surprise attack (thanks ashanimus for pointing out to me how his expressions are animated!):

But what is there to run from now? Not an external threat for sure. The war zone is now the one in his mind, heart and soul and it would become front and center. I believe both these screenshots are two notches on a dial, and the missing third image - which would show him finding it difficult to stuff down the grief any longer, might look like a more exasperated version of when he told Willow "Please don't call yourself [a Half-a-Witch] ever again" in For the Future, and eventually a more depressed version of his vanishing smile in The Collector's Palace.

When can he really run from himself? Only while asleep, if he's spared nightmares on any given night, or while distracting himself with the main mission of rebuilding the Isles or continuing to bond with his friends and other people.

His anger in For the Future was a telling sign for me that he made sure his focus was still on an external threat: he still had the opportunity to do so back then, because Belos was still alive. But when we see him in The Collector's palace sending Willow off to her dads, there has realistically been a shift in what will threaten the more fragile shreds of inner peace he's still clinging on to. There are those scary trauma-related emotions to worry about, which wouldn't have just evaporated into thin air. They would be looking for a new outlet, and they'll find their way into flashbacks, nightmares, tension still stored in the body, an exaggerated startle response, etc.

We have seen a range of reactions he has to danger, triggers and emotional pain: some involve moving his body more, and fewer involve a short of shutting down:

Flinching during Belos's tantrums, being able to fight Kikimora calmly, freezing up in the throne room (Hunting Palismen)

Suicidal ideation and even a sort of suicide plan (Eclipse Lake)

Freezing up and expecting punishment from Darius (Any Sport in a Storm)

Being able to stay almost entirely calm as he learnt more and more of the truth about Belos, though his hand was shaking briefly, then a panic attack later on (Hollow Mind)

Lots of avoidance symptoms like numbing, combined with hypervigilance e.g. shivering and another panic attack (Labyrinth Runners)

Feeling fear with underlying shame and subconsciously expecting punishment, when he failed to save Luz (Clouds on the Horizon)

Freezing and recoiling, though he fought against this by asserting a boundary with Belos (King's Tide)

Panic attack when looking into the mirror and having an emotional flashback, hypervigilance e.g. stamping his foot and shivering (Thanks to Them)

Anger and rage to cope with bereavement, later being tearful (For the Future)

Most likely a sense of bereavement, deep exhaustion and possibly loneliness, during that briefly shown moment in The Collector's Palace (Watching and Dreaming)

The serious work he has to put in to heal from his trauma would begin once his whole body gives in to the exhaustion, catching up with the bereavement-related emotions that have also begun to settle in. It could be a massive emotional and physical collapse that he can't fight off, where his physical energy levels become tanked seemingly out of nowhere. And I think it would look like a worse version of him lying in his makeshift grave, where he is barely able to move around the house or anywhere for some time.

This happened to Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, and while the portrayal was done differently in the books and movies, both were good explorations of what it's like to shift from the default high alert (and long-term) mode of CPTSD to coping with the scary unknown world of newfound safety. Katniss spent her childhood in poverty and being constantly on edge that she might be chosen for the Hunger Games, being parentified, to provide for her family.

While participating in the games, she had to utilize battle skills and kill others to survive and sustained many injuries, still constantly on high alert whereby any respite would last for incredibly short durations. Towards the end of the story, after she loses the one she loved most (her sister Prim, who I think can be a parallel of Flapjack in this meta), Katniss shifts from peak physical activity into mostly sleeping and being actively suicidal for months, hardly moving and not leaving the house, until the shock of traumatic grief began to wear off. She absolutely crashed and went from one extreme to the other. In the movie Mockingjay Part 2, they added a non-book scene where her grief comes out in an outburst when she sees their pet cat hanging around on the kitchen counter. She flings an object in the cat's direction, then screams "[Prim] is gone!!" repeatedly before collapsing into heavy sobs, picking up the cat and holding it to her chest to soothe herself.

This kind of major collapse might happen very soon to Hunter after he leaves The Collector's Palace or only after some weeks. The timing of this, I can't predict. The reason why he didn't appear to have this issue in the early months being in the human realm is because there was still something external to concentrate on: help his friends get back to the Human Realm, help Luz reunite with Eda and King, while him and Flapjack hoped to go home too.

You could argue that even now, he still has something external to focus on i.e. helping the others rebuild the Isles. However I keep imagining that the people who love him are going to be quite adamant in getting him, Luz and the other kids to please rest. Since we saw Steve recommend his therapist to Lilith in O Titan Where Art Thou, I can picture the adults in particular monitoring how Hunter is doing without Flapjack.

But if this collapse I'm speculating about doesn't happen so soon, he would be pouring himself into helping others, referencing his character-centric line all the way back in Hunting Palismen about wanting to offer help, which he utters twice in that episode. There is an overlap between this expectation he has of himself and the old habit he's at risk of falling back into periodically: overworking.

Once his desire to help others is clearly comes across as an avoidance tactic on the outside - a maladaptive coping mechanism to run from the very difficult emotions that he should be processing - people around him are definitely going to set boundaries and say "No" to any attempts he makes to assist them. Someone is probably going to tell him that whatever desperation he is showing in wanting to help other people, needs to be redirected at himself. Making time and space for himself, taking time off to rest.

Him suffering from a major emotional and physical collapse is pretty likely because things are more complicated (though, physically much much safer) for him now than at the beginning of Thanks to Them when he had just fled from Belos to the human realm, and had Flapjack as his closest company. Fast forward to the victory won in Watching and Dreaming: both Flapjack and Belos are gone now.

It's telling that different thoughts are occupying Hunter's mind now, from how his expressions are drawn during his first days in the human realm vs. when peace is restored in the Isles.

1. See the sense of calmer urgency in his expression, putting the mission of building the portal door first, while experiencing a strong sense of togetherness with his friends, and learning to trust Camila who is treating him well:

compared to

2. the sheer exhaustion and feeling of "What now...?" (see his upper eyelids below?) that set in, once he helped Willow find her parents and there was no more task at hand that didn't involve himself. His bright smile from a split-second ago has drooped and disappeared:

I know that right after the above frame, Darius and Eberwolf reunited with him, but his emotions are going to cycle up and down in the hours, weeks and months ahead. The elation from seeing Darius and Eber - people who were there to greet him when he expected nobody to turn up - is not going to last, though it will certainly come and go, because high-running positive emotions like that don't last as long, especially in the context of the life he's had as a child soldier. It's totally possible that on the same night, hours after this reunion with their loved ones, their emotions will shift drastically.

The tired look in his eyes above and the sad face he then makes, is in between two moments of him having something external to focus on (Willow and then Darius). I'm inclined to think that the above depressed look reflects a lot of the complexity that is going on underneath the surface. What is his state of mind when alone with his thoughts, when he has zero tasks to perform? How is he handling those thoughts?

There will be a deep, sometimes mind-numbing sense of bereavement over two significant figures in his life. First Flapjack, now this:

He used to love Belos. But I'm really not sure he can just uproot that love from deep within and discard it. Hunter carries memories like the following ones around which will be confusing to navigate on tougher days, despite being able to tell Luz "That's what Belos does, he tricks people". Because these were his formative years:

and something tells me that Philip was cunning enough to strike a delicate balance between being 'nice' to Hunter like above, versus unleashing his violent temper to terrify and harm him. Making sure that balance was so close to 50/50 that it would leave a child very confused. So confused he would rather believe he's never good enough rather than the more frightening prospect that his so-called family does not actually love him at all.

Hunter will have a moment now and then of still missing the 'niceness' that his 'uncle' showed towards him (felt in his heart and subconscious), while still knowing (in his head, rationally) that Philip was not genuine when treating him that way.

To note though, he did not witness Belos's death which reduces the severity of intrusive images that the poor kid would see in his mind.

What I'm worried about is how he'll handle the news about the grimwalker graveyard, since I'm sure that location is going to be scoured and Darius would want to give his mentor a proper sending off. They'd want to give all the Golden Guards and Caleb a sending off and pay their respects. This might add to what I suspect will be the messed up depression he'll fall into.

It will be very confusing and emotionally disorienting, literally not needing to worry about anyone killing him anymore. He has had no point of reference for this in his life at all. It might possibly the furthest he ever goes from that primal survival instinct he had while living in the Castle for so long, which took up the majority of his life so far:

There will also be the added layer of how he feels about those first emotions. This is literally a concept called Feelings About Feelings and it's a key part of my work since I use the Satir Model in my style of counselling. We don't just feel emotions, we also tack on our own judgments and evaluations about them. E.g. shame about feeling anger, guilt about feeling sad because of burdening others, or even a combination like fear about feeling joy which can show up in healing from bereavement.

Depending on how we feel about whichever emotions got there first, it makes a difference because we could be adding or subtracting unnecessary suffering from the first emotion, especially if the first emotion is an already unpleasant one.

I have a feeling that we'd see Hunter look very very tired, till he makes breakthroughs in therapy. A tiredness that sleep, a healthy diet and exercise alone simply cannot fix. Because there's an entire upbringing in the Emperor's Coven to sort through in his head, this time not combined with the avoidance of having fled to the human realm and living under one roof with his friends.

The Hexsquad are not living under the same roof anymore, they are reunited with their own families with much to emotionally talk out, and the group no longer has a very urgent single collective mission. Sure, Hunter has an active role to play in rebuilding the Isles, but what about rebuilding his very self? He has the steepest climb, because we have seen the symptoms he exhibits.

Most of all, referencing a section of my Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1) meta (link), a memory as horrible as this:

will likely be the most intrusive image is going to be replaying again and again over the months to come, and it may flood his thoughts during moments of being triggered or even out of nowhere during quiet moments for no apparent reason. It will be just like a broken record, where the same small excerpt of a song loops endlessly until the needle of the gramophone is repositioned.

It was remarkably poignant that his final words to Belos were "And most of all, I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again", and I'm happy with the story keeping it this way and understand why the writers likely made this decision - not just because the season was shortened. Hunter did not need to directly see or hear more from Belos in close quarters, not after his abuser minimized his needs for years, gaslit him, possessed him and got him to murder his best friend with his own hands.

It's more straightforward to make sure someone else isn't hurting anyone. It's easier to think of what plans to implement, when it comes to him protecting others: which he has had plenty of practice with. Because those are practical methods that we can see in action on the outside.

But here's the kicker: what about applying that last grand statement from his TTT speech to himself, emotionally: making sure he isn't psychologically hurting himself with harmful unhelpful thoughts and beliefs, after Belos's death? "I'll make sure I don't hurt myself (and by extension, my loved ones) again".

This will be very new to him, and it is a theme that I handle in pretty much every client case in my therapy work. The client's self-dialogue, the self-compassion or lack thereof. Which, in real life, is often not a concept that our own families and schools introduce to us to be familiar with.

For Hunter, this may translate into him making the decision to get help and truly accepting the gift of life that Flapjack gave him.

Basically this on a much bigger scale:

whereby in Flapjack's absence, he can truly believe in this new and positive fundamental belief about himself. The evidence that he managed to make it to that heartbreaking but incredibly beautiful place is pretty strong:

But before his happy ending, the pressure on himself to be useful to others via helping and working is likely going to come back and be used as his way of coping, and there's a chance it will cross the line into becoming a form of self-harm that he's relying on to avoid the frightening, deeper emotional pain. People around him know him well enough that they'll be able to spot his behavioral changes and then sense he is not going in a helpful direction. They'll see that it's hurting him even though it's the most familiar territory for his mind to be in, and someone is going to tell him to change that.

He's going to be seeing his friends with their palismen. How will it be like being among them, even if they are pretty good at supporting him? How would he attempt to make sense of the void that is the absence of the incredible love he experienced from that first friend, the absence of that mental link between witch and palisman?

What emotions could be lurking beneath the surface? Believe it or not, there are some signs from Luz's nightmare even though yes, Hunter was being controlled by The Collector. I wouldn't quickly dismiss this dark Flapjack-related scene as 100% being about The Collector's goal to scare Luz in the nightmare.

I think there was a smaller subplot going on as well.

The Collector needed material to work with in the first place, to perform the puppet acts: the material was whatever fears and whatever pain was already there in their targets.

The Collector didn't create Hunter's emotions from scratch for the puppet act; instead he manipulated and redirected what existed at the base level. All this wouldn't work as analogies of mental illness vs. mental health if The Collector could just engineer emotions on their own and simply replace whatever his puppet targets were already feeling. Emotions never vanish and always take up space somewhere, they are redirected, transformed or channeled into outlets even if it means they become repressed or locked away. But they never stop existing.

I have a feeling that despite the nightmare being Luz's, despite Hunter being used as an instrument for The Collector to achieve their goals...the pre-existing emotions that Hunter himself felt in his body, not puppet!Hunter's verbal responses towards Luz, were true. He is a haunted boi.

This face he makes above might be a hint at the worst of his pain. It might be the furthest he has felt from when he said "I like who I am right now" to Flapjack. In the place of that confidence from before, there might now be his own version of Luz's "I'm as bad as Belos". I cannot be entirely certain, but the negative belief that may have taken root in him could be "I am not deserving of the life Flapjack gave me".

Interestingly, if this is the case, it could easily parallel his line from all the way back in Any Sport in A Storm: "I'm unfit to wear the sigil of the Golden Guard." It's definitely a possibility, since Hunter is now faced with having a lot of time and space now, and less urgency than he's ever had in his life, to think back on all those times he helped to further Belos's cause. Especially when it came to sending many palismen to their deaths.

With his own palisman now dead, the engraving we would eventually see on Flapjack's grave: "Thank you for finding me", would be the destination. But the journey needed to reach that destination of amazing gratitude in the first place...must have been a harrowing one. In the early months of the acute grief, it would've been more like "Why did you have to find me?! You shouldn't have. Then none of this would've happened". Not forgetting the number of times Hunter has replayed in his head what he could've done differently, trying so desperately to rewind the clock and make that better alternate timeline a reality.

If you remove The Collector and even Luz from the equation in the Luz nightmare scene, Hunter may well be having such responses - the ones that puppet!Hunter directed at Luz to blame Luz - as a dialogue with himself. He might direct those negative emotions towards himself since he's so careful about hurting others and has taken on unfair punishment for so much of his life.

Even when he was temporarily himself, smiling, expressing a positive emotion to encourage Luz with "What's the first thing you do when you wake up from a bad dream?", that was him conversing with another person, someone external. Not his own self. I am willing to bet he wasn't at a point in his arc where he would smile at himself like that and easily encourage himself in the same way.

While we can be certain he had already reached his breakthroughs by the time we saw him post-timeskip, he has not experienced them yet in the frame above. He has not felt (yet) what Luz felt onscreen when she had breakthroughs in relation to her moral injury:

Taking a leap of faith to accept the Titan's gift, to trust that he chose her because she has a good heart and will never be Belos.

Then later, being able to stand firm, believing she truly is good ("I am the Good Witch Luz!"), and not uttering a word to Belos as he died - which was post-traumatic growth beyond how she broke down under his threats and manipulation towards the end of Hollow Mind and later in King's Tide.

Recap time. In the (quite likely) long period that passes by before we meet his new palismen, he's likely going to want to jump into action and attend meetings with Darius, Eberwolf and co, help to physically rebuild things and organize people with his own Coven Head experience. Leaning back on the ingrained and familiar lifestyle of pouring himself into work and gearing towards burnout is certainly a risk to watch out for.

The Hexsquad, CATTs and the Clawthorne sisters are going to notice his behavior and likely urge him to get appropriate rest and seek help.

However, there is the other extreme: Belos isn't around anymore to torment him, and Hunter would know this in the rational sense (head knowledge). Which leads to the possibility that he may swing towards shutting down as opposed to overworking tendencies. He would feel allowed to do whatever he wants, in this new Boiling Isles, and he had months of opportunities to do that in the early part of Thanks to Them before Belos's return.

What I'm getting at is, if he didn't sleep enough before, he might swing towards sleeping too much after finally collapsing from the familiarity of survival mode into unknown but genuinely safe territory. If he cared too much about helping others before, he might swing towards a depressive state of apathy (the closest canon reference point would be him digging his grave: he was very disarmed in that scene to even think much about helping anyone including Belos). This is why the screenshot I used of his smile drooping in The Collector's Palace, feels like a big clue to me. This would be where Darius, Camila and other adults have to seriously keep watch over him.

In the Cinema Therapy episode I had as a small reference for this post, the licensed therapist who hosts the series mentions that "It takes a lot longer to put oneself back together than it took to fall apart." In Hunter's case, the "falling apart" period here refers to that collapsing I mentioned. It would be the time between:

1. the grief hitting him in full force: when he subconsciously understands and acknowledges that Flapjack isn't coming back (which...will involve hell of a lot of wailing and sobbing. Him having a full version cry of those first few tears he shed at the end of TTT),

and

2. the time when the painful shock from feeling the full force of the grief has decreased enough that it plateaus.

This falling apart stage may need to pass before he seeks therapy. If he tries going for sessions while still going through that shock and pain, it might be too much for him.

As terrible and sad as it sounds, a deep dark spiral like this might be necessary. It would be his body and mind wanting to compensate for several years' worth of unnatural hypervigilance which wasn't serving him in a advantageous way (i.e. surviving) any longer. His body and mind begging for rest at last, to try and make sense of everything that happened. This big collapse into depression would empty out the old and free up much room in him for new stories, beliefs and perspectives to take root. Depression is, after all, the body's attempt to (maladaptively) try and protect us by numbing us, or else we would be overwhelmed.

As someone whom we know keeps himself very busy, this could be the period where he is the furthest he has ever been from that old simpler life. Because his CPTSD-ridden body would be demanding more than ever that he compensates for a childhood and teen years' lack of general rest, he may not even have the strength to cope the way he did before. The only way he might possibly cope in this period is to go with the flow of that raging current and do exactly what his body is asking of him: getting real rest.

Like what happened with Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, this early grieving stage would emotionally be difficult and terrifying, like walking along a tightrope, finding balance between left and right to angle yourself as straightly as possible and walk forward. (the tightrope metaphor is what I use with some of my clients to explain swinging between extremes of coping mechanisms).

The missing pieces of the puzzle in his arc, in the 4-year duration before the timeskip, might be his own version of these points in Luz's arc:

where she sank lower before she realized her deepest wish and emotionally experienced her worst fear in her Watching and Dreaming nightmare.

For Hunter, these could look like the following:

Like Luz saying it'd be better for everyone that she permanently stays in the human realm, Hunter might say he wants to remove himself from his loved ones in some way, for good. Whether a literal suicide attempt (like Katniss from The Hunger Games) or not, I can't say for sure.

A parental figure trying to reach out to him, saying he is deserving of Flapjack's gift. But he still struggles to believe that. What matters though is this parental figure is present and he's not pushing them away.

Him hearing some confirmation of his deepest negative belief about himself, in his own nightmares. Like Luz hearing the most terrifying things she could ever hear - Amity's "You've been the real villain this whole time" and "But for the sake of everyone you hurt, I challenge you to a witch's [duel]".

Him being able to reach an emotional space where he can begin to question that unhelpful belief: "Am I really deserving of Flapjack's gift?", or something similar.

The big moment when he finally tells someone how he really feels about the possession, Belos's death, Flapjack's absence in this new supposed peace and quiet....this would be the important invitation for the other person to connect and meet his emotional needs, and is a lot like how support groups for addiction work: a client needs to acknowledge that they are struggling with a problem, not avoiding it with distractions any longer, and then seek help and express their need for said help.

I suppose the question is how soon Hunter might decide to accept professional help and give it a go: or whether he'd have the genuine need for space first and say "I need some time". Because one's rational mind can be ready to go for therapy, but their subconscious and body would find it too unpleasant if it's too soon. Every part of him would have to be ready to begin putting himself back together after the falling apart stage occurs.

The messed up experience of CPTSD is that you stay shockingly calm during real danger, but on the flip side have big, disproportionate freakouts during actually safe times. Compare how calm Hunter was when he smiled at Luz in her nightmare while he was tied up with puppet strings vs. his fear and shame when he couldn't save Luz in Clouds on the Horizon.

In a CPTSD memoir I read, the author describes that it was horribly frightening to hear her partner be in a bad mood and wash the dishes more loudly than usual, while during the pandemic, she felt completely calm seeing empty shelves in a supermarket when she struggled to get supplies.

From my own experience, I have experienced being pretty damn calm when bleeding out and needing hospitalization. But in a different year before that, I recall one afternoon alone in my house right before a vacation where a strong gust of wind very loudly slammed an open door shut next to where I happened to be standing, and I broke down sobbing from a retraumatization via an emotional flashback. Because it felt extremely real as if my abusive parent was lashing out to physically hurt me.

After a 5-year period of mostly being in talk therapy, and then a 2-year period of regularly scheduled EMDR therapy, my response if I have a door loudly slam shut near me now would maybe be a smaller-scale flinch and a flash of anger that would last about maybe a minute. Which is miles better than sobbing for half an hour and being dissociated and frozen in a memory for hours before I thaw out of that flashback.

Since the show's writing is just that good, I could look at Luz's depressive symptoms manifesting in Thanks to Them and see a likely parallel in Hunter's story moving forward, since we know how much this show also digs neat and tidy parallels. These are characters written for TV after all, so they'd have to fit a formula to an extent, to have compelling arcs and reach high and low points along said arcs.

Part 2: Therapy Itself

Part 1 was the setup to give a good amount of context: now for the technicalities of the therapy sessions themselves:

Like Adrian Graye said in Labyrinth Runners, Illusion Magic can sort through memories. We have seen from Gus's own powerful Illusion abilities that he could do so with Belos. It makes sense that a therapist does this in sessions to have a magnified version of how in our world, therapists exercise empathy by imagining what it is like to be their clients:

I would monitor whether his mood (what he is feeling within) and affect (how the emotions appear on the outside e.g. tone of voice, face expressions) are congruent. Congruence usually means a client is in less distress. Incongruence might mean they are in so much pain that they can't connect directly with the main emotion: the perfect example of this being Hunter laughing when digging his grave.

We therapists take note of aspects such as affect, mood, the client's motor activity, any indicators of psychosis, even down to things like how untidy their hair looks in case we get clues about the severity of their issues (this is called a Mental Status Exam, and we write what we see in our case notes per session).

Because CPTSD is so relationship-centric, I'd discuss how he's getting along with new parental figures (the Belos replacements who will heal him so much and change his life forever!) and friends.

If the Boiling Isles therapists use their own equivalent of EMDR therapy, which is theorized to be like a waking version of how REM sleep and REM-related dreams help our brains to sort through memories, it sounds like a great fit for his case. This intervention involves subconscious work and could help him reshape how he experiences memories of Flapjack and Belos. EMDR clients are expected to see vivid images popping up without control in their mind during the sessions, and they are quite symbolic e.g. seeing a grey sky often indicates grief, seeing lighter colors indicates more calm. This technique helps a client's subconscious rewrite their story the way they'd like it to be, and install new positive beliefs and emotions over time.

My own example of EMDR experiences from the second half of 2019 as a client, is it majorly changed how I related to my own abuser, got me to finally feel allowed to emotionally break away from her, even though she is still alive and even lives in the same building.

In the early sessions, I saw an image of my 5-year-old self being forced to wear an ugly grey apron that my abuser used for baking. The apron is a real object, not fictional, and the emotions I felt showing up were matching with the image: feeling very uncomfortable seeing a visual representation of my abuser's hold over me.

But in a later session after a few months, guided by my therapist, I saw a vivid image of my abuser receiving a sea burial. She was lying peacefully on the water surface and sank down until she was gone. That was me subconsciously burying any expectation that she could ever provide what I needed. This was so powerful that I could go home after that session and permanently (so far) be significantly calmer around my abuser.

Therefore if Hunter goes through something like this, he'd potentially be able to put Belos to rest and have it feel very real and true: and have significantly reduced distress about Belos-related memories. There is the potential for powerful breakthroughs for him here, especially also related to Flapjack's death and how challenging it might be to carve palismen in the beginning. Especially since in the worst case scenario, even touching palistrom wood might be enough to badly trigger him. I cover this particular point a bit more in my other meta, Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1).

We would also be discussing what he's implementing into his routine and what may benefit him. I would be seeing if he is able to laugh about things, be motivated enough to be outdoors and among people, experience pleasure when creating new things, and form closer bonds with parental figures (what I just listed is to do with neurotransmitters in the brain that increase mental health: serotonin, endorphins, dopamine and oxytocin).

If I were his therapist I might suggest that whatever volunteering tasks he does, he carries those out with his friends, and time should be allocated to managing and taking care of a specific demographic: children. Because I think it'd be a safe, low stakes form of unfamiliarity for him to have enough emotional distance from his traumatic memories. Early months of acute grief usually require such emotional distance.

Having a good dose of an environment like that alongside the other tasks where he's working alongside Darius etc, could help him because kids' emotions are less complex, and their infectious laughter and fun-loving nature may play a role in helping him be more open with his own inner child. His therapist would be seeking to draw out that inner child in their sessions, and that little child would need to feel safe enough to emerge.

Importantly, his future palisman: it would've been interesting if he did what Luz did with Stringbean and allowed the palisman to be whoever they wanted to be...that would've been a nicely organic process. But even if he had a good idea to incorporate a Flapjack-like design but change details like the color, I'm sure he thought it through very well. I'm certain that this was a major topic of discussion at some stage of his therapy. Discussing the guilt he'd feel about replacing Flapjack vs. still taking Flapjack with him in a new way.

Coming from a strengths-based angle: paying attention to which of his individual strengths he is shows and recounts in the session. If he needs reminding, I could give him a simple worksheet listing various positive qualities and ask him to circle/colour in which ones he feels he has, which then prompts further discussion and questions. Lastly, a powerful tool called reframing e.g. if he says he's worried about being a nuisance to his friends, I'll point out how much he cares about their comfort and affirm that place of kindness.

Work on inviting self-compassion into how he sees himself. Is he able to view himself the way he views his friends? If he remembers the encouragement he gave to Luz about "turning on the light", I would ask him what that would look like in his own life, symbolically.

Hunter's own life has been a really really bad dream for a very long time. He himself has to reach for that light switch and choose to heal by embracing Flapjack's ultimate gift to him.

And we can rest assured that Hunter did that.

Because this post-traumatic growth right here?

This looks like multiple breakthroughs have taken place while he's been receiving consistent care from an excellent community. And there's no way it was an easily won victory. It has been very much hard-won, after how dark the story became in Hollow Mind and Thanks to Them, and it looks like whatever breakthroughs he had left him pleasantly surprised.

It doesn't seem like his heart and soul can contain this much joy and hope, without a very painful dismantling to have taken place first, to make room for the most unexpected treasures to fill his life back up.

The joy becomes even greater if you never would've expected it in your wildest dreams.

#toh hunter #toh analysis #toh spoilers #the owl house #loz writes a meta

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clarisse0o · 4 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 24

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Thursday, December 17th; 7:00 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room.

I collapse face down on my bed as soon as I step into my room. All I can think about is being on vacation. It’s about to become reality. To be honest, I’m struggling to grasp that starting tomorrow, I’ll be home for two whole weeks. It feels strange, but it’s definitely going to do me good. These last few weeks have been intense, and I really need a break. I have a splitting headache from all the constant studying. It feels like a hammer pounding in my head without rest. I just got back from Bronze after studying for my last exam, which is tomorrow. I’m relieved to see the end in sight because it was turning into a real disaster. The pressure and anxiety of not succeeding took over, and I started working more than I should have. I felt like the study sessions at Bronze weren’t enough anymore. I became obsessed, to the point of breaking curfew multiple times to study late into the night. The lack of sleep started affecting my behavior. I became unintentionally aggressive, which caught the attention of my supervisor. She noticed the bags under my eyes and figured out what was going on. Let’s just say she gave me a good scolding. Her decision was final, no matter what I said. She took all my study materials out of my room to control my workload. She almost punished me, but she held back when she saw my state. Our relationship has taken another step forward. I think she’s changed since she asked me to call her by her first name outside of school. She’s more open than before. Sometimes, I even call her Lucy when our study sessions run late, and she doesn’t mind. It’s become much more pleasant to spend time with her. She’s reached the point where she can tell what I’m thinking or feeling just by observing me. It’s very unsettling to be read like that. When she realized my problem with studying, she immediately found the right words to reassure me. Ever since she took my things on Friday night, she’s been coming by my room every evening to make sure I get back into a good sleep routine. Still, I’m mentally exhausted. All these exams were too much, and I’m starting to miss my family. I haven’t seen them in a month, hence my eagerness for the holidays.

“Are you done with your revisions at Bronze?”

Alexia snaps me out of my drowsiness. I must have dozed off without realizing it because I didn’t even hear her come in. I groan when she flops down on my back without any consideration. She kisses my cheek before resting her head on mine. Without knowing it, Alexia has started to break down my boundaries around physical contact.

“I came to get you for dinner. You’re coming, right? The others are already there.”

“Yeah,” I mumble into my pillow. “I’m starving. But I’m coming back here afterward.”

“Don’t worry, I was planning on coming back here too.”

“Come on, get off me!” I say, wriggling. “I’m starving!”

I laugh as she teases me by pressing down on me even harder. She finally gets up, but not before giving my butt a playful slap.

“Hey!” I exclaim, feigning indignation.

“Oops,” she says with an innocent look.

I smile and roll my eyes. Without her, I would have probably sunk into a deep depression. I was so angry with Lucy that first night she took my stuff that I was mad at the whole world. Alexia was there that night, and since then, she hasn’t let a single evening pass without making me laugh. She helped me think about other things, and that’s how I came to understand Lucy’s actions. To succeed, I also needed to learn to let go and have some fun. And that’s what I’ve been doing with Alexia. We’ve relaxed a lot, and she even took the opportunity to share new stories from her childhood. I took the chance to tell her about my relationship with Mapi as well. I had promised her a while ago that I would talk about it, so I did. Alexia is someone I really appreciate. She’s strong, and she has such a contagious joy. With those thoughts in mind, we head to the cafeteria in good spirits.

“Have you heard from Mapi these last few days?”

“Not really. She’s also busy studying. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

I don’t press further as we enter the cafeteria. We grab our trays and join our friends who are already seated. I greet the people I haven’t seen yet today. Since our day in the snow, our group sometimes expands at meals with the addition of girls who joined the snowball fight the other day. That’s the case tonight with Ella and Alessia joining us. They’ve taken the usual spots where Ale and I sit, but we don’t mind and take the seats opposite them. Over time, I’ve learned that Alessia is actually Leah’s sister. I figured it wasn’t a coincidence that I get along so well with her. Looking back, I realize they have quite similar personalities. They’re both very calm and thoughtful. Alessia once confided that she thought I had a crush on her sister. I quickly reassured her that we’re just good friends and that it would never go beyond that. I focus on the conversation going around the table. It’s about our upcoming vacation. Everyone is really excited. I get it; I feel the same way. I’m starting to get impatient for tomorrow. I can finally breathe and see my loved ones again.

“Do you already have plans for New Year’s, Ona?” Alba asks me.

“Not really. I guess I’ll spend it with Mapi, but we haven’t talked about it yet.”

“See, I told you she’d already have something planned,” his sister comments.

“Well, technically, nothing’s set yet. Why?”

They exchange a knowing look before Leah decides to speak up.

“To be honest, we usually spend it together here in Manchester. We were hoping you’d join us if you didn’t have any plans.”

“Really? Where do you do it?”

“It’s at our place,” Alessia explains. “We live here, and our parents usually go celebrate New Year’s with their friends.”

“I see. Is this the first time you’ve done this?” I ask curiously.

“No, this will be the third year we’ve done it together,” Ale responds. “It’s the only holiday we can all spend together, so we make the most of it.”

I nod, understanding perfectly. This idea excites me a lot. It would be so cool to finally be able to spend an evening with them outside of school. It’s definitely better than spending a drunken night at Mapi’s friend’s place. Still, I don’t want to leave Mapi behind. We’ve barely spent any time together since I’ve been here. Besides, we’ve always celebrated New Year’s together ever since we met. I know she’s expecting us to spend this one together too. We don’t even need to talk about it to know that.

“I would love to come, but I can’t leave Mapi alone,” I share.

“Why don’t you bring her along?” Alba suggests.

“That’s true, it’s a good idea,” Ale adds. “I really want to meet her after everything you’ve told me about her. Do you think she’d agree?”

“I see why you suddenly asked if I’d heard from her,” I say with an amused smile.

“Yes, well,” she rolls her eyes with a knowing smile. “I wanted to know if you’d already talked about it. Seriously, would it be possible? It’s a bit of a crazy plan, but doable, right?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to be complicated. She has a girlfriend, and I doubt she’d want to celebrate without her,” I grimace. “I’ll ask her and see what she says. Anyway, I want to come, but not without her.”

“She seems important to you,” Lotte comments.

“Well… yeah. She’s my best friend, you know. She’ll always come first.”

“See, I told you she’d say yes,” Patri laughs. “It’ll be awesome if you come. You’re part of the group now.”

I smile sincerely at her. It’s true that I’ve really integrated into their group by now. They’ve been very welcoming from the start, unlike me, who only did things my way. Now, it’s very different. A real friendship has formed between them and me. I was about to respond when someone taps me on the head with an object that echoes above me. I instinctively duck my head to avoid the attack, even though it doesn’t really help. When I try to turn around to see who it is, two large hands on my shoulders stop me.

“What has Mapi done now?”

I relax and lean back against Lucy, recognizing her voice. I expected to see her tonight before curfew.

“Nothing,” I giggle. “We were talking about New Year’s.”

“Oh. I thought you’d heard from her.”

“Briefly this morning, to talk about tomorrow. By the way, she sends her regards,” I say, lifting my head to finally see her.

“That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah. Did you want something specific?”

“I wanted to return the pen you left on my desk. It would be a shame to take your last exams without it, right?”

I smile as I take it back when she dangles it in front of my nose. What would I do without her? Probably not much. I can’t say it’s my lucky pen because I don’t believe in that sort of thing. However, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to change their habits once I’ve found something that works for me. That’s exactly how it is with this pen. I would have been frustrated to have to use another one for my last exam.

“Oh, thanks! You didn’t have to. Are you also returning my notes?”

“You need to stop taking advantage of my kindness. I’ll give them back tomorrow.”

“What kindness?” I laugh. “I’m old enough to manage my own sleep schedule.”

“No, you’re not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken your notes.”

I sigh, crossing my arms. Well, I can’t complain too much. It’s true that she’s become nicer than before, even though she still treats me like a kid in some ways. It’s really frustrating, but I guess I’m partly to blame. She knows why she’s keeping my stuff. I would have been tempted to study tonight otherwise.

“Fine, I’ve recovered,” I protest.

“Ona,” she scolds. “I should make you run laps to tire you out tonight.”

“Actually, I think I’ll be fine,” I grimace.

“That’s what I thought. Everything will be fine, anyway. You’re ready.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” she confirms. “Alright, I’ll come by your room before curfew.”

“Wait,” I quickly try to stop her.

“What? Hurry up, Engen is waiting for me.”

I turn to see that, indeed, she’s waiting at their table. I’m not used to sitting with my back to them. I like being able to see Lucy when we’re eating at the same time.

“Ona?” she calls out.

“Sorry… Um… Actually, I have a headache. I was wondering if you could bring me an aspirin or something?”

“Is it just a headache?” she frowns.

I smile when she instinctively places her hand on my forehead. Since my withdrawal and the flu, she worries about every little thing I might have. Well, it’s true that I’m still a bit fragile, but not to that extent.

“I just have a migraine. It’s probably from the studying.”

“And you dare ask me to give back your notes?”

“Oh, come on,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush slightly. “Can you bring me something then?”

“I’m not a walking pharmacy, but I’ll bring you something later.”

“Cool, thanks! And enjoy your meal.”

"Thanks, same to you."

She ruffles my hair before heading back to her table. I place my pen on the tray and watch it for a moment. My smile widens at the thought that she really knows me well.

"Well, you've got quite the bond," Patri chuckles.

"Hmm, if you say so," I shrug.

"It's true," Ella insists. "You're the only student she treats like that."

"We also spend a lot of time together," I shrug again.

"That's for sure," Ale laughs. "You're with her more often than with me!"

"Yeah, anyway, can we get back to the New Year's topic? If you want, we can call Mapi together later," I suggest.

"Oh yeah! That's a great idea, that way we can ask her directly!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

Even from a distance, my best friend manages to be loved. I'll keep to myself the fact that Mapi was jealous of Ale at first. She joked about it, but I know she was genuinely jealous. Still, I have no doubt they would get along. They're both so wild when they want to be, and it could cause some real chaos.

"By the way, how does Bronze know her?" Ale arches an eyebrow.

I freeze at her question. Damn, I hadn’t thought about that. You can’t really say they know each other. They’ve only talked once when I had a rough night. Otherwise, it often happens that Bronze comes to my room when I’m on the phone with her on the weekends. So, they greet each other, and sometimes they even tease each other (usually about me).

"Oh, well, you know, we often talk on the weekends, so Bronze hears me talking to her," I shrug.

"Hmm, hmm," she replies skeptically. "I must be missing out on some interesting stuff on the weekends."

"Not really," I laugh nervously.

Great, Ona. Very convincing. If she knew I often sneak out of school thanks to Bronze, I have no doubt she’d have something to say about it.

"Well, I’m done. I’m going back to the dorm. I can’t stand my headache anymore."

"Yep, I’ll join you soon."

I nod and wish everyone else a good evening before leaving the table. I clear my tray and then head out to face the cold. I hesitate for a moment to take the emergency exit to get there faster, but Bronze would kill me if she found out. So, I force myself to take the main entrance. I regret this choice when I hear the noise coming from the common room. Someone forgot to close the door. It makes me realize how disrespectful students can be. They struggle to understand they’re not alone. I escape the noise by going upstairs to avoid worsening my migraine. When I get to the room, I decide to shower immediately so Ale will have space when she returns. In the meantime, she comes back to tell me that she changed her mind under the influence of the others and is heading back down to the common room for a bit. At least I’ll have some time alone. Or so I thought until I come face to face with Bronze as I’m leaving the bathroom.

"You scared me!"

"Sorry, I was looking for you," she smiles softly.

"No problem..."

"Here, for your migraine."

"Oh, thanks... Wait, let me find a sweater first, I’m cold."

"You’re not getting sick again, are you? You’re trembling like a leaf."

"I don’t think so. I’m just cold," I say as I grab a sweater from the closet.

The shower had warmed me up, but the room is cold compared to the sauna I created in the bathroom. Let’s just say that shorts and a T-shirt aren’t enough in these circumstances.

"Your lack of sleep probably isn’t helping."

"Stop blaming everything on that. Don’t forget I’ve only lived in hot countries."

"Hmm..." she says skeptically.

"Anyway, I’m on vacation starting tomorrow at eleven. I’ll have two long weeks to sleep."

"That’s true."

I first put down my phone and computer before going over to her to take the pillbox and a small bottle of water she thoughtfully brought me. I quickly swallow a pill with a few sips of water.

"Can I keep them?"

"Only the bottle. You know the rules."

She smiles at me sympathetically. It’s clear that it’s not safe to leave a pillbox with a former addict.

"It’s not like I’m going to get high."

"You could be capable of it. Now, give me the box."

I don’t argue and hand it back to her before slipping under my blanket. Without asking her opinion, I turn on my computer. I squint, noticing that Lucy doesn’t seem to want to leave.

"Are you planning to stay here for a while?"

"No."

She grabs my desk chair and places it between the two beds before sitting down. I look at her skeptically.

"I’d like to talk about tomorrow."

I frown, not understanding where she’s going with this. She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms.

"For two things. First, how do you feel about the exam?"

I sigh and shake my head. She’s not going to let this go. I had a moment of panic, and now she’s back on my case.

"I’m not trying to bother you. I can tell you’re stressed, which is why I’m asking."

"Who wouldn’t be stressed in my position? I’m a little bit, I admit. But it’s not because of the exam. Well, the dice are cast since it’s the last one... I’m scared because I don’t know if I’ve passed or not."

She nods understandingly. I bite my lip and look down. I feel ridiculous for being so worried over something so minor.

"Hey. No matter the result, you can’t say you didn’t give it your best shot. Okay?" she asks, placing her hand on my leg to get my attention.

"A little bit, maybe. I should have worked harder from the start."

"You were lost back then, and now you have regrets. That’s completely normal, but don’t forget that since then, you’ve pulled yourself together. You’ve made the necessary effort to catch up, so let me tell you... You have nothing to blame yourself for, understand?"

I sigh, nodding slowly. She always has the right words, it’s incredible.

"I get it... I’ll try not to torture myself over it anymore. What’s the second thing?"

"Your return home."

"Lucy," I groan. "I’ll behave, I promise."

"I’m just asking you to be reasonable, OK? Don’t feel obligated to go to parties if you don’t want to, and if there’s any issue—"

"I’ll come talk to you, I promise," I finish for her.

"Good," she sighs. "It’s time for you to sleep."

"No, please. I’d like to call Mapi first. I have something to sort out."

"Alright," she concedes. "You have half an hour. Then you turn everything off."

"OK."

"And in case you’re wondering, I plan to stay here to make sure of it."

"You can’t be serious," I groan. "I don’t need a babysitter."

"You’ll have to deal with it. I want to make sure you sleep on time tonight."

"Who says I won’t have a private conversation with Mapi?"

"Is that the case?"

"Not particularly... The others suggested spending New Year’s here with Mapi. I wanted to ask her about it. It’s a good idea, right?"

"Hmm," she says unconvincingly.

"At least you won’t be far if there’s a problem," I tease.

"I’ll probably have something better to do than look after you during that evening, you know."

"True... I thought you’d be happy about it," I say, opening the FaceTime app. "I’m at least reassured that you won’t be far."

"If you’re reassured, it means you still don’t trust yourself. Anyway, it’s definitely better than a party full of strangers."

"It’s not the best, that’s for sure. I’ve never really liked those kinds of places anyway," I shrug.

"Then why do you go? To put on a show?" she laughs.

"I don’t know. To have fun, I guess. Isn’t that what everyone does when they go to those kinds of places?"

"I guess. I don’t know. I’ve always found those parties stupid."

"Is it just me, or does this topic seem to annoy you?"

"It doesn’t."

I lift my head from my screen to smile at her. It does annoy her for some reason. I know she won’t elaborate, but she could at least be honest.

"You don’t want me going to those kinds of parties, do you?"

"I’d prefer you didn’t, indeed," she admits.

"Alright, you win," I roll my eyes. "If I stay in Barcelona for New Year’s, it’ll be my last party. Is that okay?"

"Wasn’t that already the plan? You promised me you wouldn’t go to any more parties after what happened last time."

Thinking about it, I realize she’s right. I’m not supposed to go to any more parties. I bite my lip, wondering how she managed to get her way. She has such an influence on me that it’s becoming scary. However, with her recent reaction, I can’t tell if it’s because she wants what’s best for me or because she has particular issues with parties. Maybe it’s both.

"I still get New Year’s, though... right?"

She rolls her eyes with a small smile.

"I told you to just be reasonable. Isn’t that clear enough?"

"Thanks..." I exhale. "You scared me for a moment."

"Use these holidays to clear your head and stop thinking about school."

"That’ll be hard. I’ll miss your orders."

"Be glad to be away from my demands. I must be annoying to you," she says, making me laugh. "What’s so funny?" she frowns.

- "I don’t find you annoying. You're just straightforward, and I was serious when I said I'm going to miss you. No one cares about me like you do. By the way, I hope I can write to you during the holidays..."

- "We'll see if I reply," she teases me.

A ringtone interrupts our conversation. I frown as I see an incoming call from my best friend. I was about to call her, but it's surprising that she's calling since we weren’t supposed to talk tonight.

- "Excuse me. I have to take this."

- "Go ahead, you’ve got fifteen minutes left," she reminds me.

I nod, pressing the green button and bringing the phone to my ear. With my other hand, I close my laptop, which is now useless.

- "Hey Maps, I was just about to call you."

- "Hey bonita," she replies in a small voice.

- "Oh! What’s wrong?"

- "Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you."

- "Don’t lie to me. I know you."

- "There’s nothing wrong."

- "Okay... if you say so..."

I squint as I see Lucy smiling. I nod to silently ask her what’s going on. In response, she just smiles wider.

- "What?" I say at the same time Mapi sighs.

- "Huh?"

- "Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you," I say, which makes Lucy laugh.

- "Are you with someone?"

- "Yeah... with Bronze. She’s playing babysitter."

- "Oh, I’ll let you go then."

- "No!" I quickly respond. "It’s not like she can hear you. Tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s up. I can feel it."

There’s a moment of hesitation where she stays silent. She takes a long breath. This is starting to worry me. Lucy seems to understand the situation from the way she looks at me. I suddenly sit up straight when Mapi bursts into uncontrollable sobs. If she’s crying, then something is really wrong. The only other time I’ve seen her cry was when I told her it was over between us.

- "Hey, Maps... What’s going on?" I say softly, not wanting to upset her.

- "Ana," she says. "She dumped me, Ona... Ana dumped me," she repeats desperately.

I part my lips in surprise. I didn’t see that coming... I regret not being by her side right now. Her sobs get louder, and there’s nothing I can do to calm her down. I can’t believe they’re no longer together. I really thought their relationship would last based on how she talked about her. I never really knew how she felt after I left, but hearing her now, I don’t even want to know. I run my hand over my face, trying to keep my composure.

- "Maps, I- It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m coming home tomorrow. I’ll be in Barcelona around eleven PM. You can come with Hector, or you can wait for me at home, okay?"

- "I really thought she was the one, Ona. I finally managed to have a serious relationship again, and she dumped me like trash. Damn it!"

I close my eyes, hearing the loud noise she’s making on the other end. I don’t know what she’s doing, but it doesn’t sound good.

- "Mapi..."

- "What’s going on?" Lucy asks me.

I sigh, covering the phone’s microphone to explain the situation to her. Lucy asks for my phone. I hesitate for a moment before giving it to her.

- "Hey Mapi, it’s Bronze."

I hate myself for doing this, but Lucy is definitely better at handling these situations than I am. I tend to be clumsy with my words and never know what to say. Unlike me, Lucy knows how to handle things. She does it with me, and now she’s doing it with Mapi. She’s calming her anger and reassuring her. It feels like I’m listening to her talk to me when I need her support. Lucy’s words seem to have the desired effect because I can’t hear Mapi yelling from where I’m sitting anymore. She continues talking to her before handing the phone back to me.

- "She wants to talk to you."

I quickly take the phone where I can already hear my best friend calling me.

- "Yeah, it’s me," I reply.

It seems like her crisis has passed. She’s still sniffling a bit, but she’s not crying anymore.

- "I understand why you think she’s so great."

- "I never used those words," I chuckle lightly to ease the situation. "But you’re right."

- "You don’t have to say it. It’s obvious when you talk about her."

- "Let’s not talk about that now. Are you going to be okay?"

- "Hmm," she sighs. "I have to be. I have one of my most important exams tomorrow. I just needed to hear your voice... I’ll come to the airport tomorrow. I want to see you as soon as possible."

- "Alright. I’ll tell Hector to pick you up then."

I see Lucy tapping her watch. She gave me thirty minutes, and I guess they’ve passed.

- "Are you going to stay over?"

- "Of course, if you don’t mind. I think I’ll need your arms, if it’s not too much to ask."

- "Of course not. Go rest now. Bronze wants me to hang up."

- "Bossy, huh?" she giggles slightly, which reassures me about her state. "I thought curfew was at ten PM? It’s only quarter past nine where you are, right?"

- "It’s complicated. I’ll explain when I get back."

- "Don’t tell me you’re having insomnia again?" she questions. "I thought it was over since you hadn’t mentioned it."

- "I was, but not for the reasons you think."

- "Hmm..." she replies skeptically.

Now’s not the time to talk about my problems, especially not in front of Lucy. For now, she’s the one who needs reassurance. I don’t want her to start feeling sorry for herself like I did.

- "I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Maps."

- "Goodnight, Onita. Thank you, and thank your supervisor too."

- "I was planning to. Kiss."

I hang up and place my phone on the nightstand. As for my laptop, I put it on the floor, too lazy to get up and put it in the cupboard.

- "Thanks... I didn’t know how to handle that."

- "It’s no big deal."

I don’t have time to reply as the door opens, revealing Alexia. She’s no longer surprised by Lucy’s regular presence.

- "I’m back," she says before grabbing pajamas from her closet. "Are we calling Mapi again?"

- "I just talked to her on the phone. I didn’t have time to ask her about New Year’s."

- "You can chat tomorrow morning. It’s time to sleep now, Ona," Lucy announces to me.

- "I’ll go take my shower then," Ale says. "Goodnight."

- "Goodnight," I reply.

I lie down in bed, looking at Lucy. I think I’m hallucinating when she takes my laptop and phone.

- "Don’t tell me you’re taking those with you?"

- "Yes. I should have thought of this earlier. Have you used them this week?"

- "Of course not," I groan. "You’ve checked on me every day!"

- "Hmm. Come on, I was serious. It’s time to sleep."

- "Are you planning to stay?" I’m surprised.

- "Yes. I want to make sure you sleep."

- "That’s ridiculous," I mutter. "You’re getting too serious about this."

- "Go to sleep."

I roll my eyes and eventually turn my back to her, wrapping myself in the blanket. The good thing is that my headache has finally gone. The bad thing is that Lucy’s presence is unsettling, even when I close my eyes. Sleeping is impossible. Especially with all the noise I hear when Alexia comes back into the room. She seems to be trying not to make any noise, but it’s not enough. I want to complain, but Lucy beats me to it by asking Ale to go to bed. A few minutes later, the light goes out, plunging us all into darkness. I roll over to the other side now that it’s dark and I can’t see Lucy watching me. I know she’s still there; otherwise, I would have heard the sound of the chair. Time passes, and I can make out Alexia’s steady breathing. My mind is too agitated, and it’s starting to annoy me. I sigh heavily, admitting defeat.

- "I can’t sleep," I mutter, rubbing my eye.

- "And then you wonder why I’m still here," she jokes.

- "It’s not funny," I sigh, sitting up.

- "Stay in bed. Curfew has passed."

- "Am I allowed to go to the bathroom?"

She sighs but lets me go. I make sure not to take too long so she doesn’t get impatient. I wash my hands before returning to bed under her watchful eyes.

- "What are you going to do during your vacation?" I murmur.

- "Talking won’t help you fall asleep," she says, annoyed.

- "It might help."

- "No, it just distracts you. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when I take you home tomorrow."

- "You’re taking me to the airport?"

- "Yes, Ona."

- "Cool. I prefer it when it’s you."

- "Don’t get any ideas. It’s just because I’m leaving at the same time as you."

- "Hmm."

I smile even though she can’t see it. Even if it’s the truth, I don’t care about the reasons. I just focus on the fact that she’s the one taking me home, even though she doesn’t have to. I understand now why she wanted to handle my departure reservations. I thought it was to take the burden off me.

- "Thanks," I say.

- "Okay, that’s enough. You’re starting to annoy me by being so awake. If you talk again, I’m really going to make you run laps. Am I clear!?"

- "Oh, come on, calm down," I grumble. "I’ll sleep."

- "I hope so. Goodnight."

- "Goodnight..."

I smile as I finally turn my back to her. I try now to clear my head and pretend she’s not there. This last solution seems to work this time because I finally feel myself drifting off.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #mapi leon

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auspicioustidings · 11 months ago

Text

Firewatch Part 12

Summary: You've been with these men for a month now, and you are starting to get a little too comfortable.

Words: 1.8k

Notes: This is sort of turning down the path of being very fluffy, oops! Probably 1 or 2 more chapters to go, we are getting into the endgame :)

The tension in the cabin got thicker by the day. It had been a month you had been here now, and since cuddling up with Gaz that night you had steadfastly refused any physical affections from your captors. You slept in whichever bed was empty given that once everything had settled you discovered they took turns doing an overnight watch in the tower after dinner.

Johnny was probably the most openly antsy about everything. He had been yelled at several times for cornering you while you were alone, telling you to ask him to kiss you. Everytime you grit your teeth and said nothing even though the more you got to know him, the more you wanted to just give in.

Given time to level out was terrible for your libido in that everything was setting it off. You couldn't take care of yourself properly either because the only times you were alone were in the bathroom (and you knew that if you took a long shower they would know exactly what you had been doing) and in one of their beds (if you touched yourself surrounded by their smell is was going to be over for you). At this point you were scared to do it really, scared to be vulnerable in this place.

Not that anybody said anything out loud about it, but they had installed motion sensors and cameras around the perimeter of the cabin. You knew they worked because whenever you were taken out a walk (always by two of them, never one alone) there was a beep when you crossed the sensor that sounded in the cabin. You'd fucked your only shot at an easy escape, maybe your only shot at any escape. The worst of it was you were getting comfortable.

It was like living with room mates really, they were respectful as they could be. You took turns cooking. On nights Johnny was supposed to cook one of them would go into town in their truck to pick up take away. You asked for ingredients a week in to make something and had been added to the rotation since then. Simon only bought Dosia the most expensive food money could buy and she had turned into the most pampered cat on the planet, a role she was thoroughly enjoying. You had been turned into much the same it felt, but the difference was she was allowed to leave. You hated when she was gone for longer stretches of time because if she was out enjoying the great outdoors, you were left without your one source of affection. You could not let yourself be physically affectionate with these men, not if you wanted to keep up any will to escape.

“Look Johnny has to be a witch at this point.”

“I’m naw a witch!”

“I agree with you sweetheart, definitely a witch” Simon nodded in agreement with you.

“Traitor!”

“Look it’s nothing personal, I just cannot abide a filthy witch in my town,” Gaz said as he lay down as many accusation cards as he had.

Which of course was what you had been waiting for. You had been convincing everyone Johnny was a witch this whole game and your turn was next. So once Kyle was done you popped down a lovers card on Johnny, thus linking his fate to Simon, and finished him off with a few accusation cards to kill them both in one go.

Of course neither were witches and with John already out of the game and making dinner, Kyle was left the only poor villager left with the witch, meaning you had won.

“You lied to me!” he whined at you.

“Sure did bud, that is what witches are known to do.”

“We need tae get the firewood! Only proper way tae deal with a witch is tae burn her at the stake!”

“Ah how quickly Johnny starts talking about killing me again.”

“This was not what I signed up for when I said I wouldn't let anyone kill you sweetheart, I was under the impression you were a decent human being and not a murderous traitor witch.”

“Yikes, still made the deal though didn't you? Anyone burning me at the stake gets served to Dosia. You know, my black cat.”

“We've been blind! Had a familiar right under our noses this whole time. How could you luv?”

“Ye all ken that tae really see if she's a witch we would need tae search her for a witch mark” Johnny said, a slight gleam in his eyes as they ran up and down your body.

“As if you'd even know what to do with one” you snipped back before blowing a raspberry at him.

“Save me Si, bonnie is casting a wicked spell on me! I'm naw long for this world!”

“Alright children if you're all done with the dramatics it's time to eat” Price called from the kitchen, a fond laugh just hidden behind the words.

“Go ahead sweetheart, I'll tidy up.”

“Thanks honey” Gaz shot back, cheekily grabbing your wrist to tug you along to the kitchen island to sit and eat.

You chuckled along with him when Simon had lobbed the little gavel game piece at his head in retribution and elbowed Johnny when he snuck up while this was happening to squeeze your waist which made you jump and yelp. It wasn't until you were sat stuffing your face with Shepherd's Pie that you realised you hadn't even flinched at the casual touch.

“Nearly forgot, I have a present for my best girl” Simon grinned as he finished his food, going to root about in the bag sitting on the kitchen counter.

It wasn’t like you were excited or anything. Definitely not happy to be on the receiving end of that (if you thought it enough maybe it’d be true). You could only sit in slack jawed disbelief as he lured Dosia over with coos and a held out hand so he could adorn her with a pretty tartan collar complete with a bow. It wasn't like you had expected that you were getting a present or anything. And it absolutely didn't make you feel in a huff over it. It didn’t hurt or anything.

“Good thing I made dessert since I think you've unsweetened our little bird” John said, letting Kyle start to clear away the plates so he could start dishing up Eton mess.

You gaped and tried to come up with something clever to say, failing miserably which only wound up with Johnny slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Dae ye want one? Hers is pretty but my tartan would be best on ye I think. Bonnie collar for a bonnie lassie.”

He was playful and joking but oh wow you could feel the tips of your ears burning and when he noticed his eyes went wide as he considered the implications of what he had said and considered the implications of your reaction to it. It all happened in the course of a second and then you were excusing yourself quickly to the bathroom before anyone else could clock on. Luckily Simon was distracted with Dosia while the other two were still working on clearing and serving.

You just needed to get yourself together, stop treating them like a group of friends. Stop fucking flirting with them. Even if it felt nice and you liked playing games with them or eating dinner or bantering. Even if you were a little stupidly upset that Simon got Dosia something and not you. God you hated yourself.

There was a light knock at the door. You hadn’t locked it, in fact the thing wasn’t even closed all the way since you had just come into the bathroom to cling to the sink and glower at your reflection. But still… whoever it was had knocked. They hadn’t just barged in like you weren’t afforded privacy. But then when was the last time one of them had?

“It’s open.”

Johnny slipped through the door and closed it behind him. You would be worried he was about to ask you to kiss him again only he looked more concerned than anything.

“Hey.”

“I didnae… I… I ken I was being a bit much.”

“A bit much is sort of your thing.”

“Aye, that’s true. I just thought ye seemed upset.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love Si tae bits, but he can be a pure dickhead sometimes without meaning tae be.”

You hugged your arms lightly to yourself, looking at Johnny across the small space. He let the silence sit until you were ready to talk.

“I’m so stupid for getting upset about it.”

“Naw, dinnae say that about yourself. A stupid lassie wouldnae have taught herself how to tile a roof.”

You smiled despite yourself, you had taught yourself how to tile a roof. It had been an absolute mess at first, but you just kept throwing yourself at it and doing your research and eventually you had done it. It was the first big project on your cottage, the first one you were really proud of finishing… but now it was gone.

“A clever one wouldn’t have burned her own cottage to the ground because she thought she could do everything herself.”

“Ye dinnae ken for sure that was what caused it, could’ve been those bastard witch hunters.”

You laughed lightly and then it turned into a full on belly laugh, him laughing at you laughing and both of you just feeding off of one another. Honestly the fact that you sounded happy was about the only thing keeping the others from stomping in and dragging Johnny out. Eventually you both tailed off, tears in your eyes.

“I… thanks. For checking on me.”

“Any time bonnie. Better go get dessert before Gaz inhales it all.”

As he turned to leave you stepped towards him to make him pause. It was just that he had come to check on you because he had noticed you were upset when nobody else had. He hadn’t barged in or forced you to talk to him, he had just been here solely to try and make you feel better. Oh God, you really liked him. You thought that maybe you had really liked him for weeks now.

“Kiss me.”

You watched his chest heave and his eyes search yours as he brought a warm hand to brush your hair out of your face before cupping the side of your head.

“Ye dinnae have tae for this. Ye dinnae have tae earn me looking after ye.”

“I’m not asking because I feel like I have to.”

When his lips pressed to yours you curled your hands into his shirt and squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself just have this. He was warm and solid and Johnny. It was a soft thing, flirting with the edge of something heated but staying firmly on the side of sweet. When you broke away you both just smiled in each others space for a moment, eyes opening and a little unsure but happy. If both of you were a little quiet and a little pink eating dessert, nobody else mentioned it.

#mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #fanfic #cod au #why is dialogue so hard? Going to give everyone a group chat to make my life easier I stg

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kyaroscuro · 1 year ago

Text

Intimacy

It's not hard to be close to Hyunjae, on the contrary, it's as easy as being in love and god knows how much you love each other. Then why are you so shy?

pairing : boyfriend!hyunjae x gn!reader genre : established relationship, fluff, first love, discovering each other warnings : a bit suggestive? notes : hi hello, my name is what you want it to (yes i'm obsessed), this is the very first work i'm posting here and i hope my feelings will be conveyed. everything came from this post and i oops! writing this was a breath of fresh air and i'm even more in love now (sigh). anyway, let me know what you think about it <3 there might be a smut part 2 one day... words count : 1246

You've been dating Hyunjae for 3 months now and you've never been intimate with him. Intimate in the sense that you've never seen each other's skin, you don't change in the same room nor take showers together and god you've never done anything sexual (although you do tease each other a lot).

And it's not that you don't want to be intimate with him, oh you want it more than anything, probably since you met him, his pretty eyes and goofy smile. But you're both kind of shy around each other, it's your first relationship and you want to get it right.

To be honest, it's more than that. You are so in love with him that sometimes when he kisses you a little longer or when his hands find your waist you feel overwhelmed and the overflowing feelings make you nervous, not knowing what to do next.

You'd think that Hyunjae would be confident and take things in stride but the truth is that he's just as shy and scared as you are. You see him blush every time you reach out to hold his hand, every time you initiate a kiss and crawl closer into his embrace. He's never been in love with anyone like this before and yet he's been in relationships before. For him, it feels like you're his first and his last. It may be cliché but he sees himself growing old with you, getting married and having children in a nice, cosy home. He wants to call you his, to wake up with you in his arms and also...

"Angel, it's early come back to bed," his rough morning voice will always make you shiver, another thing you love about him.

When you turn around, you find him staring at you with half closed eyes, a smile and an outstretched hand. If he were the devil, you would have walked right into his trap. He hums, feeling content to have you in his arms again, kissing the top of your hair.

"Hyunjae," you whined

"I know, just a few more minutes"

As if on cue, he holds you tighter and your head is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It's calm, but with a sudden race, as if it were about to explode. Unconsciously, your free hand comes to feel it as you give him your gaze. He's already looking at you with sparkling eyes, his beautiful eyes full of stars that sometimes you wonder if you could drown in them. Your very own starry sky.

You lean in, bathing in the warm sensation of your lips on his. The kiss is soft and tender, like a good morning greeting, but becomes intense and passionate with his hand cupping your face and gentle caresses on your waist. An open-hearted kiss into which you both pour your vulnerability and feelings. When you pull away, you feel as if your breath has been taken away, your heart flutters in ecstasy and you want to dive in again. Time has stopped for a moment. You lock eyes and suddenly feel much hotter, it's addictive but you peck his lips in a low giggle.

"We're going to be late"

"Let's call in sick then"

The change in mood startles you, he pins you to the mattress and starts kissing you all over. It's playful and you give in too easily until he starts tickling you. Oh war has begun and being late is the least of your worries.

Love is not supposed to be easy but loving Hyunjae is the easiest thing ever.

Love is as easy as a date, because no matter where you are, he will always make you feel at home. Love is as easy as giving you the key to his apartment, because he wants to come home to you. So why isn't it easy to be intimate with your loved one? When you trust each other beyond words, when love isn't enough to describe how you feel, when you want to cherish each other through all the steps of life?

Present <3 (1)

How about a movie night? Blanket fort, fried chicken, you and me I would say that you have me with you Because I am the only thing you need? Cause I want you in every way You got me baby, I am all yours

There you are, blushing like a mess at work, butterflies in your stomach. One way or another the shyness will go away, every day you feel the need to be closer to him than you already are and he shows the same needs in his own way. Hell, the first step was going to his place every day and still not moving in together.

The first time he kissed you ? You came back from your third date, it was pouring and you ran back to his place holding hands and laughing because it surprised you. He gave you his jacket since you were clad in a dress and yet you were soaking wet. He offered you to take a shower and when you came back with his clothes on, something shifted in his mind. You were so pretty and you were his. His to court and kiss. So he kissed you. Longer than intended. And you kissed back as long as he did, making him smile through the kiss.

That day and memory are still etched in your mind and you wouldn't change a thing about it or maybe make out a little longer...

So when he texted you to say he was coming back home with the chicken, you were on a mission. Doing the fort was your pleasure, the chicken his and the movie your typical friday night.

"Baby I'm home!"

Unlike usual you run up to him for a hug and a kiss, only to have him giggle at your eagerness.

"Missed me?"

"A lot. How was your day?"

"Fine, i just really need to shower"

"Kiss me? Before you go"

Another chuckle.

"You know I'm just a door away? But I'm happy to oblige"

To be honest, you want to shower with him and you have wanted to for a moment without knowing how to ask. For now you will settle for some cuddling and maybe some skinship.

"Do you need anything angel?"

"You"

"You're so clingy today, what happened?"

"I- I just want to be close to you"

"How close?"

He snuggled up against you with his question, looking at you with doe eyes. You took the opportunity to put your hands on his chest, his hair was still slightly damp from showering and he was just glowing. For you, he's the most beautiful man alive and he's yours.

Suddenly you shiver at the feel of his hands on your bare skin. The room feels too hot, it's almost like it's spinning. His giggling sends shivers down your spine and he tries to move his hands away but you block him.

You see a gleam of surprise in his eyes, wondering what your next move will be. It's his time to be confused by your hands under his shirt. He blushes hard feeling a twist in his gut, you have never been this enterprising before. He cups your head and kisses you like his life depends on it, panting and sighing.

"Jae," you let out a small moan at his roughness.

"i want to be close to you too"

"In every way?"

"In every way."

#the boyz #tbz #hyunjae #hyunjae x reader #hyunjae fluff #hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae fanfic #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz headcanons #the boyz drabbles #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #tbz headcanons

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shanastoryteller · 2 years ago

Note

Happy Birthday 🎉🎂 Something for Hades?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Zagreus drags himself from the Styx, pulling his power back so he doesn’t move anything accidentally.

The Styx is a river of blood. Blood of the dead isn’t technically within his domain, but these days his domain seems to be creeping past normal boundaries. It doesn’t help that his followers have started to die natural deaths and so when their blood mixes with the Styx it knows and yearns to follow him even still.

The last thing he needs is for his father to see him manipulating the currents of the Styx.

“Zag, Zagreus, my man,” Hypnos babbles as he shakes the blood off of him. “How are you? Died of natural causes again? Wow, that’s crazy-”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, glancing towards his father’s desk, but he seems engrossed in a conversation with his mother and isn’t paying attention to him at all. “More visitors in my room?”

Hypnos has seemed to determined not to ask him any questions. Instead he sneaks every soul into his room that his scroll lists as belonging to the Prince’s Court – he’s still blaming Eurydice for that catching on – and Zagreus directs him through to the actual piece of the underworld under his control.

“I tried to stop him,” Hypnos whispers frantically, looking around nervously as if anyone is bothering to pay attention to them. “But he wouldn’t listen to me! He never listens to me!”

The list of people who never listen to Hypnos is rather long, so that doesn’t help him at all. “Is something wrong?”

“You have a visitor,” he says with an unnecessary emphasis, and continues, “Thanatos is waiting for you in your room.”

Ah.

“Thanks,” he says, clapping Hypnos on the shoulder even as he feels his heartrate go up several notches.

Hypnos gives him a thumbs up but it’s trembling, so it’s less reassuring than he was probably intending.

He waves to his parents, skipping the conversation he’d planned to have with Achilles to go straight to his room. He erects a sound barrier as he passes through. Noise coming out of his rooms is muffled naturally, but he doesn’t think he’s going to want a single word of this getting out.

First is Thanatos. He’s stiff and straight backed and angrier than Zagreus has seen him since the first time he tried to escape without talking to him.

Next is his visitor and he can’t help his face from falling when he recognizes them.

“You weren’t sick,” he says, “she would have told me.”

Eliana’s father smiles at him before going into a deep bow. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Prince. I am an old man. It was not sickness, but time.”

“Eliana isn’t old yet and you had her young,” he protests, thinking back to when he saw her last just a few months ago. She hadn’t looked that much different than when he first met her, he doesn’t think, although he’s not an expert on human ages.

Eliana’s father laughs softly. “Her association with you grants her many gifts.”

Oh, shit. He hadn’t thought of that.

She’s the first priestess of the god of life and blood. If she wants to die at some point, she might need to some help to do it. Oops.

He’ll deal with that later. Instead he offers her father his arm and says, “I’ll visit her soon and let her know that you’re well.”

“Thank you,” he says, gingerly taking his arm.

“Zagreus,” Thanatos whispers.

He looks over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He guides him over to the mirror and with a press of his hand the surface shimmers and the two of them step through. Sisyphus is going over new plans for another building that Zagreus doesn’t think they need. He looks up at them and grins. “Another one?”

“Be extra nice to this one,” he says, “he’s my priestess’s father.”

He puffs up in pride at his words. Zagreus makes a note to tell Eliana about that specifically. She’ll be pleased to know that her father is proud of her even in death.

“Of course, Prince,” Sisyphus says, abandoning his plans to grin and clap Eliana’s father on the back. “Come with me, we’ll get you settled right in.”

That taken care of, he slips back through the mirror into his room.

Somehow, Thanatos seems even angrier now than when he left. He’s even outright glaring at him. “You’ve taken a human wife? How did you – why did you – think of your children!”

Zagreus blinks, runs through their interaction in his head, and concedes that he sort of understands how Thanatos might draw that conclusion.

He’s almost tempted to let his misunderstanding stand. It’s more believable than the truth, after all.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #hades game

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oddinary4bts · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 5 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: a cancer joke about eating a burned marshmallow, mentions about Jungkook's injury/scars, alcohol, curses, a hot tub, a game of Truth or Dare; explicit content: hickeys, grinding, fingering, jerking off, big dick!Jungkook, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid), choking; angst

☆word count: 15.7k (oop)

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: SMUT IS HERE EVERYONE. I hope you enjoy reading this one!! Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

It’s a strange thing, how when you’ve been working on something for months, the concretisation of it passes so quickly it’s like it never happened. The auditions were like that: you barely remember yesterday. All you remember is the moment you stepped out of the scene, breath ragged, and Jungkook high-fived the whole crew.

You don’t remember listening to the results. You remember the bubbling excitement as the name of the crew wasn’t said until the very last. But you don’t remember hearing the mention you got. The highest of every crew that auditioned from your state.

Because auditions for nationals are also a competition in and of itself. An innerstate competition, and you still can’t believe you got the highest mention of your level. It’s like a dream, and everything has been moving too slow, or too fast, for you to interpret.

Yesterday was a fever dream indeed. And the whole crew knows that it’s thanks to Jungkook. He refuses every congratulation you’ve all offered him, but it’s him. You wouldn’t have gotten the diamond mention without him.

Diamond… a perfect score. You landed a perfect score on your auditions to nationals.

You will get ripped up to pieces at nationals, won’t you? It makes you anxious, but then again, you’re not sure if it’s because you will have to perform at the top of your art in a few months, or because you’re sitting between Jungkook and Heather on the backseat of Hobi’s car.

Probably the latter.

You’re lucky. You were able to rent a cottage an hour and a half outside of the city, next to a small artificial lake. It was previously rented by another group, but they cancelled a few days ago, which let you have the cottage for the whole weekend.

But you don’t think you’re lucky to be sitting between Jungkook and Heather. Though both of them have been dozing off for a while.

You’ve just been clutching your phone for dear life, because Jungkook’s head lolled to the side until he found your shoulder to be a pillow. It’s not that you mind it. You mostly mind the way Jiho’s been looking at you with the biggest shit-eating grin on her lips. She’s already taken pictures, and you’ve been planning her murder for the last fifteen minutes.

[2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: attached photo [2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re so mad lmao [2:38 pm] You: delete this picture immediately or i’ll end ur miserable life [2:38 pm] Jiho❣️: 😘😘😘😘😘 [2:38 pm] You: 😤😤😤😤😤 [2:38 pm] You: and Scottie deciding not to come???? Even worse [2:38 pm] You: he’s a traitor😩 [2:39 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re just mad bc now u and jk are the only single people attending [2:39 pm] You: last i checked heather and bridget weren’t official official🙄

Jiho snorts on the front passenger seat, and Hobi throws her a curious look. She shakes her head to indicate that it’s nothing, and you watch as she types her reply.

[2:40 pm] Jiho❣️: bitch plz😂 [2:40 pm] You: besides u’re gonna share a room with me🥺

Jiho laughs out loud this time, and you wonder if the glare you bore into her profile has any effect at all. She just glances at you, an eyebrow cocked prettily. You know what that means: no. No she won’t be sleeping with you. You’re going to have to sleep on the couch, because couples get the rooms. Lance made that rule, and even though you were desperate to not let it take effect, everyone but Jungkook was against you.

You’re not usually in agreement with Jungkook. But for that you were, and you hoped the others would take it into account. You’re stupid for thinking that they would.

Jungkook sighs in his sleep, readjusting himself until he’s even closer to you. You gulp, glancing at him with a scared look on your features. You want to push him away, but he looks so peaceful you just let him be.

[2:44 pm] You: why is he sleeping on me tho [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: i’d sleep on u too [2:45 pm] You: u can if we share a room👉🏼👈🏼 [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: nice try but no😇

You whine, and Jiho chuckles.

“What’s up with you two?” Hobi asks, and you meet his gaze in the rear view mirror.

Jiho shrugs. “Y/n is just mad that she’s going to sleep on the couch.

“I can let her sleep with you,” Hobi says, ever so the pacifist and kind man that he is.

“Yes!” you burst out.

It gains you a whine from Jungkook and a glare from Heather, before she rests her head back against the window and dozes off again.

“No,” Jiho refuses. “I want my sexy time.”

Hobi burns bright red as you let out, “Ew”.

Jiho winks at you over her shoulder, and then you all fall silent again. The cottage is still at least fifty minutes away, so you steel yourself as Jungkook shifts again. He mumbles in his sleep and you almost let out a startled yelp when his hand moves on your thigh. He’s not holding you, just resting his closed fist on the top of your thigh. But it’s still way too much touching for your comfort, so you push him away.

He frowns but doesn’t wake up, resting his head against the window with a sigh instead. His mouth falls open a little, and you keep a laugh in. He looks stupidly cute like that. It’s a disgusting thought – Jeon Jungkook is anything but cute – but you let it slide for today. Maybe because you can’t bring yourself to care.

You eventually fall asleep, the low music Jiho’s been playing lulling you to sleep. It’s much deserved sleep after all the anxiety of yesterday, and you only wake when the car comes to a full stop, and car doors slam shut.

You wake up with a start, ready to fight whoever made the noises, and you realize you’re alone in the car. With Jungkook, who has a tight-lipped smile on his lips when your gazes meet.

“You drool when you sleep,” he tells you, and you furrow your brow as you wipe your cheek.

Sure enough, you were drooling. It takes you a few seconds to realize he’s got a wet spot on his shoulder, and you reckon you woke up with your head rested against something. Something that suspiciously felt like Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Mmh,” you sleepily let out. “Sorry.”

He smiles. Sweetly. It starts with his eyes, as you’ve realized it usually happens when he smiles genuinely. “It’s all good. You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You echo his smile, nodding your head once before stretching your arms. It makes you yawn, which in turn makes him laugh. “What?” you ask.

“You slept like thirty minutes and you’re still tired.”

You glare at him. “I’m always tired.”

“Right.”

It’s a weird conversation, and it’s even weirder that you’re still sitting in the car. So you motion towards the door as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and Jungkook has a light tint on his cheeks as he nods and opens the door before stepping out. He stretches when he’s outside, and you scooch out of the car, imitating him as soon as your feet touch the ground.

“Gosh,” you let out, and he laughs.

“Yeah.”

You glance at him, and then your gaze slides to the landscape surrounding you. To the picturesque cottage that looks even better than what you had pictured, all made of logs. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. It’s cozied up in a little forest, and the wind that picked up earlier today still makes the leaves dance. It’s loud, like the sound of waves at sea, but it’s more constant. It doesn’t recede, and it creates a background soundtrack to the summer afternoon. The sun is still high in the sky, shining bright with not even a single cloud in sight. The air smell of the woods, and bugs fly around aimlessly, or following an aim only they know. The car is parked in the shadows, but you still feel the heat, and you’re glad there’s a breeze.

You take it all in with a bright smile on your lips, and it only grows wider when Jiho and Hobi rush out of the cottage.

“This is heaven,” Jiho declares. “I’m never leaving this place.”

“She says that because she saw the hot tub from the balcony,” Hobi says as he motions over his shoulder to the cottage.

It makes you laugh, and it turns into a giggle as Jiho grabs your hand and pulls you behind her. “While you men unpack the car we’re going to take a walk to the lake.”

“How is that fair?” Jungkook complains, but he’s grinning when you meet his gaze over your shoulder. You offer him an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, and he just chuckles before turning towards the car.

Lance’s car is pulling up the dirt road when you turn on the side of the house. You wave at Chaeyeon and him, but they don’t notice you as Jiho only keeps pulling you behind her.

“Look at this!” she says giddily as you walk to the back of the house. “It’s so pretty.”

It really is. The house is nestled right next to a small lake, with a few trees separating the building and the water. There’s a hot tub on the right, and a small rock path that leads to a quay in the water. You notice a fireplace area, though it’s not a circle of rocks like you had imagined, but an actual metal fireplace with a door that’s currently swinging on its hinges in the wind. Logs are piled beside it, just waiting for someone to ignite a fire.

Jiho’s giddiness is contagious, and you find yourself giggling as she pulls you towards the lake. There’s a small shed down by the lake, and a look through the window shows you two kayaks. It makes you even giddier, and you clap your hands before turning towards the quay.

The quay moves as you step on it. Fortunately, the water is not very deep and the lake is relatively calm even with the wind. You’re able to make it to the end of it without it shaking too much, and Jiho closes her eyes as she tilts her head back. “We should come here every weekend.”

You laugh. “As fun as that sounds like, we can’t skip practice every weekend.”

“We can practice here,” she points out, shrugging.

She’s not wrong, so you just smile and nod before imitating her, taking in the sun. But you feel a little bad for those inside that are setting up the house, so it’s not even a minute later when you say, “We should go help the others”.

Jiho whines, and she opens one eye to look at you. You cock an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

You walk back up the little slope until you reach the cottage. When you make it to the front, you see that a third car has arrived: Jin, Valeria, Taehyung, Jo and Bridget are all stretching outside of it. Jo notices you and waves happily.

You think it’s funny that she is here. It’s weird to think that even though she isn’t part of the dance crew, she’s still made her way into the friend group. Like Jin, Valeria and Taehyung, you reckon. Though you barely know Jin and Valeria. But you needed more people to rent this cottage, and considering it was the only one available, you didn’t really have a choice.

You move to their group to greet them, and then you help them unpack the car. You also help Lance, who was the one in charge with food and speakers for music. It takes a moment, but soon enough everything is settled. You’re all already hungry though, so you prepare the first meal of the weekend.

Well, you watch Jungkook, Jin, Valeria and Heather prepare it. You’re on washing dishes duty though, but you’ll only do that after you eat.

It’s fun. Cheerful. A little bubble outside of the seriousness of practice and nationals and auditions that you really can’t remember, can you? The light atmosphere is much needed, and you drink as you eat, and drink some more after washing the dishes. Then you all set out to explore outside, and Lance and Jin have a fire running by the time Jungkook figures out how to get the hot tub working. It’s still hot outside though, so you decide to wait before going into the tub, but Bridget, Heather, Chaeyeon and Jo all move to it. You stay with Jiho and the others by the fire, listening to the cracking of the logs as you talk and talk and talk.

There’s laughter. A lot of it. Laughter that turns more drunk as the evening unfolds, and the sun has set by the time you get up from your spot to go pee inside. The girls have come out of the tub, and they’re taking turns in the shower upstairs, so you head to the downstairs bathroom. You’re on the way out when Jo stops you.

She says your name, offering you a bright smile. “Are you in for some shots before we head outside? I’m taking some with the others.”

Sure enough, Chaeyeon, Bridget and Heather all look at you expectantly, and you don’t hesitate even a second before agreeing. You go outside with Jo and Chaeyeon after, as you all laugh when Bridget and Heather say they’ll take a shower together. You figure it’s better to let them have the house for a time, and you all join the rest of the group by the fire.

They’ve started playing some music and singing over it, and you laugh as Hobi belts a tune as if his life depends on it. Jungkook joins him and your eyes widen a little as you hear his voice.

Jungkook can sing. His voice is melodious, clear and full and round. It’s beautiful, the voice of an angel. You feel struck as you watch him, and he bursts out laughing when Hobi messes up the lyrics next to him.

You’ve stopped walking. And Jungkook meets your gaze, offering you a small smile before returning to the action around him. It strikes you, in a weird kind of way. It makes a weird feeling form in your chest, that same feeling you felt last week when you saved his number in your phone.

It’s not a feeling you like. So you push it aside as you join Jiho in her chair, sitting on her lap and stealing the bottle of soju she’s been drinking from. You need more alcohol in your blood, and soon.

It’s night by the time the group moves again. Some of them decide to go to the lake, but you stay by the fire as Valeria and Jin bring marshmallows out. Heather and Bridget never came out after their shower, and you don’t quite feel like going inside to find them.

Instead, you start roasting marshmallows, and soon enough you’re the elected marshmallow roaster, because you’re the only one who’s managed to not make them catch fire. You make some for everyone, before roasting one for yourself.

Since Jungkook has been the one feeding the fire for the last hour, it also makes it so you’re sitting next to him. The conversation is lively around you, but you’ve noticed he’s silent. He’s just staring at the fire, and it casts a dancing glow on his features.

He notices you looking at him, and his features soften as he turns to look at you. And then he bursts out laughing, and you do too as you notice your marshmallow has caught fire.

“Oops,” you mumble.

“I know I’m pretty but you should focus on the job at hand,” he teases you.

You punch him in the shoulder, before blowing on the fire until it dies. “Still edible if you ask me,” you say as you eye the burned thing on the branch you’ve been using since you started roasting marshmallows.

“Oh, clearly,” he agrees. “If you want to get cancer, that is.”

You glare at him, and he only laughs. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Boring,” he answers wisely, face falling serious, though he only manages to keep the serious look for a few seconds before he’s breaking into yet another fit of laughter. One you echo before taking a bite of the marshmallow. You hum in delight, and Jungkook says, “What the fuck was that?”

You have the decency to blush. “What?”

“You’re not really the kind of person that moans when they eat good food?”

“I wasn’t moaning,” you let out outrageously.

It gains everybody’s attention around the fire, and Jungkook laughs at you. You shove him in the shoulder again, but he annoyingly barely moves in his chair.

“Who’s moaning?” Lance asks.

Both you and Jungkook look startled for a time, and you glare at him. “No one, Jeon’s just being a little shit.”

“What’s new?” Jiho jokes, and everyone laughs.

The trio that went to the lake comes back – Taehyung, Jo and Hobi. Jo scans the people around the fire, brows knitting together.

“Where are Bridget and Heather?”

The whole group laughs. “They never came out,” Chaeyeon admits. “I’d advise to not go looking for them.”

Jo snorts. “Oof yeah, that’s a no for me.”

It’s not even that funny, yet everyone laughs as the trio settles around the fireplace. Hobi and Jiho share a chair, and you realize there’s no chair for Jo and Taehyung. You’re about to offer yours when they just sit directly in the grass, giggling like the two idiots in love that they are. They lie down after a few seconds, and Jo points up at the sky.

It makes you look up, and you suddenly feel very small, under the immensity of the night sky. It sobers you up, just a little, and you sit back in the chair to get a good look. You admire the stars and constellations, searching for those you know. It leads to everyone doing so, and it also creates a calmer atmosphere, until half the group is dozing off in their chair.

Someone changed the music to softer tunes, and you really listen to the night sounds now, as the melody entwines with the cracking of the logs. Soon enough, Jin and Valeria decide to go to bed. Jungkook immediately teases the older guy, saying that only elderly people go to bed so early. Jin just throws a marshmallow at Jungkook, who receives it right on the forehead. He looks stunned, and he raises his middle finger at Jin as he just laughs where he’s leading Valeria inside. Chaeyeon and Lance are the next to go, and your gaze trails them until they stop to kiss. You give them privacy then, focusing on the fire instead.

It leaves only you, Jungkook, Jo, Taehyung, Jiho and Hobi by the fire, and you sigh in content as Jungkook throws another log into the fire.

“Last one, I assume?” he lets out.

The group mumbles in agreement.

“We’ll party harder tomorrow,” Jiho promises before yawning.

It makes everyone yawn, and you laugh tired laughs as you watch the flames licking up the log.

“We should set up a beer pong table,” you suggest.

Taehyung seems to spark to life at the idea. “I’m so in for some beer pong.”

“What about a tournament?” Jungkook proposes. “Losers have to jump in the lake.”

Jiho winces. “I hope Hobi’s good because there’s no way in hell I’m jumping in the lake.”

“I got you, babe.”

You notice them exchanging a long look. It’s filled with love, grossly so, and you roll your eyes before settling your gaze on the stars above once more. You let out a happy yelp when a shooting star crosses the sky.

“Oh my God!”

Jo is just as happy as you are. “Oh shit!” she echoes. “We have to make a wish.”

You laugh, nodding your head repeatedly. The four others just look at you curiously, before Jo explains that there was a shooting star.

Everyone’s eyes are back on the night sky in no time, and you reckon you might fall asleep like this.

Stargazing, and wishing that you’ll find your own person soon enough.

Saturday, July 7th

“I’ll kill you.”

Jungkook smiles, and the breeze of the afternoon catches in his hair, making a strand fall in his eyes. He pushes his hair back. “I’d like to see you try.”

Something changed. He knows something changed between the two of you. It’s exciting, in a childish kind of way. He feels young next to you, and he’s been following you around all day, claiming that he wants to avoid the couples. Which is not entirely a lie, but he mostly wants to be around you.

It’s a new feeling. Or almost entirely new, because he felt like that around you once before. The night after he told you about his accident. He’s pushed that away since then, but it seems being here, at this cottage in the middle of nature, brings it out.

He’s been failing at pushing it away since last night, and he reckons he doesn’t even want to try anymore.

You put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. Your hair sways in the wind, and he wants to brush it behind your shoulder. He resists, because he’s pretty sure you’ll bite his head off if he does.

“You’re the one that suggested kayaking.”

He did. But throwing you in the water seems like twice the fun, so he’s been teasing you about it as you stand next to the shed.

“Maybe it was just a trap?” he says, winking at you. He takes a step towards you, and you immediately take a step back.

Jo and Taehyung are sitting on the quay, watching the water and talking in hushed tones. Jungkook feels Jo’s gaze on him, and he resists glancing at her.

He knows what she thinks. She’s made it pretty clear in the last week. Maybe it’s contributed to the softness in him whenever he watches you.

Maybe.

“You’re annoying.”

“But yet you came with me?”

You squint your eyes, shaking your head. “Not with you. I came to kayak.”

“Right.”

“I swear.”

He bursts out laughing, and it’s his turn to shake his head. “Of course, of course.”

“Why are you…” you start before letting out a strangled sound. “I’m going back to the house.”

“No!” he immediately says, a little louder than necessary. This time, both Taehyung and Jo look at you two. “I’m just teasing, let me bring the kayak out.”

He’s blushing. He feels it coming up slowly from deep within his chest, so he quickly turns towards the shed and goes in. A few spiders are hiding in their webs, and he swats one away from the first kayak. He almost hesitates to leave it in just to spook you, but he doesn’t really want to spook you right now. Not when his heart is beating just a little quicker.

He doesn’t know if he likes it. But he’ll roll with it for the rest of the weekend, because he doesn’t think he’ll have the opportunity to do so after that.

He brings out the two kayaks before going back for the paddles, and a moment later he’s helping you to sit in yours, holding your hand while you step in it before sitting. Jo and Taehyung are watching now, barely even talking, and Jungkook can’t wait until you’ve moved away from the quay.

He hates the way the couple has been watching you both. It feels like he’s under pressure, and he knows he doesn’t do well under pressure. Except when it came to dance, but that’s long gone now.

He gets into his own kayak as you’re already starting to move away.

“Bye losers,” you say towards Taehyung and Jo.

“Try not to drown,” Jo replies as she waves you off.

You laugh, a crystal clear laugh that makes Jungkook very aware of how Taehyung is looking at him. He catches his older friend’s gaze, furrowing his brow.

Taehyung glances down at Jungkook’s attire – a pair of pants. He looks like he wants to say something, and Jungkook knows what.

He’s not going to wear shorts. Not when it’d put his scar on display to the whole crew. He hasn’t gotten the courage to tell everyone yet, and he doesn’t want to be forced to explain anything. He just wants to focus on being in the present, because he hasn’t done that in a while.

So he glares at Taehyung, clenching his jaw. Taehyung sighs before looking away. Just like that the moment passes, and Jungkook settles in his kayak before quickly following you.

“Is it a race or something?” he asks as he moves closer.

You look at him over your shoulder, a bright smile on your lips that turns mischievous as soon as your gaze finds his. “It is and you’re losing.”

Now, bringing out his competitive side is a bad idea, but that’s who you are, isn’t it?

Jungkook pushes the paddle in the water harder, accelerating his rhythm. It makes you screech, and you quickly do the same. Your lean arms are nothing against his though, and he’s caught up to you in no time. Unable to resist, he splashes water on you.

“Jungkook!” you scream. “I’m trying not to wet my hair!”

“Oh are you?” He does it again, this time purposefully aiming for your head. You dodge but to no avail.

“I’ll murder you,” you threaten, and you send water flying his way.

He barely gets any on himself, and he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Is that the best you can do?”

It pisses you off. He sees it in the way resolve fills your face, and he’s not surprised he’s thoroughly drenched by the time you finally stop. He’s just accepted defeat and let you splash him as he laughs. You laugh too, and he reckons it’s his favourite thing about you.

The way you laugh when you’re being a brat. It’s endearing.

He’s endeared by you. That’s what the feeling is. He’s been trying to put words on it since last night. Last night it was struck. He was struck as you spoke to him with that soft edge to you. And then it turned to endearment.

He reckons he missed you, while he was hiding from all of the crew because of his accident. He really did. Something about you was missing from his life.

He pushes the thoughts away as you stop splashing him.

“Oops,” you say when he meets your gaze.

His hair is wet, and he puts the paddle down to push it back. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow his motion, and the furrow of your brows before you frustratingly look away.

“I’m debating making you fall in the water,” he teases, pursing his lips before playing with his piercing.

Your gaze widens. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He moves his paddle in the water to get closer to you, and you quickly move away.

“I would definitely dare,” he tells you. “I’m all wet because of you.”

His brows knit together as he realizes what he just said sounded suspicious. Of course you burst out laughing, before saying, “That’s what she said”.

He rolls his head to the back of his head. “Lame.”

“You’re lame,” you counter-back.

It’s like that for the rest of the time you spend on the water. Even though he threatened to throw you in the water many times today, Jungkook doesn’t really want to do it. He likes the peace between the two of you: he’s not going to do something to fuck it up.

You eventually get bored of kayaking, and you switch places with Chaeyeon and Bridget when the two of you return to the quay. Jo and Taehyung have gone back to the house, but Lance, Heather, Jin and Valeria are there, and you sit with them for a while, just talking.

Mindlessly, Jungkook pulls his shirt up to dry his face from the last of the water you splashed on him before getting out of the water.

He realizes his mistake only when the shirt falls back in place, and Lance is watching him with round eyes.

“What’s that scar?”

Jungkook stills. Unmoving, barely even able to breathe. The air is suddenly less warm, and he can almost see the snow again. His heart constricts in his chest, and he just stares back at Lance as if he’s a doe caught in headlights.

“You don’t just ask people why they have scars, Lance,” you grumble.

It surprises Jungkook that you said something. But then again you’re not the type to back down from a fight.

Lance seems startled by the tone of your voice. He frowns as his gaze slides to you. “It was just a question?”

“It could make people uncomfortable?”

Jin is looking at Jungkook. He’s got a careful expression on his features, and he looks between you and Jungkook a couple of times. As if this moment matters, and truthfully it does matter to Jungkook, because you’re bickering with Lance and it entirely shifted the attention away from him.

Jungkook manages to shrug his shoulders at Jin, who offers him a no-bullshit look. Valeria punches him in the arm, and Jin lets out a startled sound that has everyone looking at him.

The moment passes, and it’s dinner time when Lance moves closer to Jungkook, clearly having waited until you aren’t around to actually approach him. Jungkook steels himself for the questioning, but Lance only says, “Whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, bro”.

It renders Jungkook speechless, and all he can do is nod his head at Lance. Lance claps him on the shoulder, and he immediately walks away, as if his job here is done.

And maybe it is, and all he wanted to do was prove that he’s Jungkook’s friend. It makes Jungkook appreciate him ten times more, and then he takes a moment to really look at everyone. The girls are all laughing about a story Jin is telling, and Taehyung is just shaking his head in disbelief where he’s grilling the meat for dinner. Lance moves towards Taehyung to offer help, and Jungkook just stays alone for a moment, enjoying the scene.

The sun is setting, the air is warm and the light breeze from today has fallen. But the air is not still, and it smells of the rich soil of the forest, and of the meat Taehyung is grilling. The sky is still void of any clouds, and it’s turned to a rich golden glow from the setting sun.

Jungkook is stricken, once again, by the fact that he is alive. He’s alive and breathing and even though his leg hurts, he’s standing. He’s standing and walking and yes he can’t dance anymore, but there’s so much more to life than dance, isn’t there?

His eyes slide to you as he thinks the thought. You’re looking at Jin with a little smirk, the one he knows you use when you’re judging someone. But you feel his eyes on you and your gaze meets his. The smirk falls into a small, secretive smile, and Jungkook breathes in sharply.

His heart is beating a little louder, and this time he does push it away. He does try not to think of it, but it’s hard when you look at him like that. With that soft edge he saw yesterday. It fills him with wonder, the same wonder he got from watching the night sky the day before.

You’re like a star in a bleary night. It’s hard to look away from you, and he only does so when Taehyung says the meat is ready. It’s like someone cut the string between you and him, and he almost stumbles forward as he glances to Taehyung.

He gulps, taking a deep, steadying breath before he moves to help Taehyung bring the food to the table. Lance helps too, and the three of them together make quick work of filling everyone’s plate, and Jungkook soon settles down in a chair next to you, right in front of Jo.

Dinner is fun. Cheery, with lots of laughter. Everyone is already a little tipsy from the day-drinking you’ve all done, and Jungkook feels like there’s more than alcohol in his blood this evening. There are feelings, joy and happiness to be here in this moment.

He should live in the moment more often.

“Hey JK,” Jo says, and he raises his eyes from his plate.

His fork is halfway to his mouth when he lets out, “Uh?”

“How is it going with Laura?”

Everything inside of him stills, like it did earlier today with Lance but for a completely different reason this time. He freezes, and he doesn’t miss the way your head immediately snaps towards him at Jo’s question.

Jo has an insufferable smile on her lips, and Jungkook just can’t move.

Laura. She’s a girl from his class that started texting him a few weeks ago. He’s seen her once, just because she said she had questions about her camera and it would be easier if Jungkook answered in person. Laura is a sweet girl. Pretty too, but Jungkook doesn’t know if their talking will lead anywhere. He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to jump headfirst into a relationship.

Especially not as he feels your expectant gaze on his profile.

“Laura?” he repeats.

“Didn’t you go on a date with her?” Jo asks.

Jungkook frowns, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a date,” he points out. “She needed help with her new camera.”

About that. Jungkook brought a camera with him this weekend. He’s been taking pictures once in a while, mostly of nature. Because he’s always been more of a landscape photographer. Maybe because landscapes tend to change less than people. They feel unbreakable, immovable, and it’s reassuring in some way.

“That sounds like the lamest start of a porno,” Lance jokes.

Everyone laughs. Everyone but you and Jungkook. Jungkook only shrugs, before saying, “I didn’t sleep with her”.

You scoff next to him. It aggravates him, something you haven’t made him feel in a while now. His brows knit together as he turns his head toward you.

“You want us to believe you didn’t sleep with her?” you let out.

It’s bitter. And you seem to realize it quite at the same time as he does, because you flush red, and you look away from him to glance down at your half-empty plate on the table.

Jungkook’s features relax, and a smile even tugs at the corners of his lips. He knows what Jo is doing. Especially as he sees the knowing smirk on her lips.

She dared him to find a way to make you jealous earlier this week, when he invited her and Taehyung to the cottage. As if making you jealous is a good idea.

He now sees what she meant. Because you’re playing with your food, a look of confusion creased into your features. It’s cute, and it makes the same feeling arise in him.

Everyone starts talking again, but Jungkook feels the weight of Taehyung and Jin’s gazes on him. He avoids them like the plague, focusing on trying to keep his smile in. He doesn’t want to infuriate you by making a comment.

Especially not when you’ve been forced to team up for the beer pong tournament. Which, turns out you’re a lot better than he thought you would be. Than you said you were, because you make it to the final round, getting beaten by Bridget and Heather out of all people. The two girls celebrate to the sounds of everyone whooping and cheering, and Jungkook can’t keep his smile in.

Tonight promises to be quite the party. And it is. With lots of drinking, and Chaeyeon and Lance having to jump into the lake because they were last in the tournament. It’s funny, but it leads to them deciding to go to bed early, saying something about being cold from the lake.

Jungkook knows exactly what they have in mind when he sees them staring at each other the way that they are. Like they’re alone in the universe, and maybe to them they really are.

He’s surprised when the rest of the group starts to follow Chaeyeon and Lance. The night is younger than it was yesterday when it came to an end, but there’s something in the air. It brings the couples closer together, makes them exchange secretive glances and stolen touches. Jungkook finds Taehyung and Jo making out outside of the bathroom when he goes in to pee, and they never come out after that. Jin and Valeria move in not even five minutes later, right before Hobi and Jiho, and it leaves Bridget, Heather and you alone with him outside.

He’s not surprised when the two girls decide to go to sleep too, even though Jungkook has just started the hot tub at Bridget’s request. It leaves him alone with you and the red solo cup in his hand. It’s filled to the brim and, quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t feel tired at all. He feels alive, awake and ready to conquer the world if need be.

You look exactly like that too.

“Wow,” you let out once everyone is gone.

Jungkook feels awkward for half a heartbeat. But then his eyes slide to the house, and he notices Jo in the window. She quickly dips out of his line of sight, which makes him understand exactly what happened.

You’ve been left alone outside on purpose, and Jo’s the one that schemed the whole thing.

“They’re boring,” Jungkook says, though he feels like laughing. He hopes you don’t notice.

“They didn’t even go into the hot tub,” you point out. “What a waste of energy.”

He glances at the tub, and an idea forms in the back of his mind. He doubts you’re going to say yes.

*****

You don’t know why you said yes. Going into a hot tub alone with Jungkook sounds like a very bad idea, and the more you think about it the worse it seems to you. Yet you make your way outside after having put on your black two-piece swimsuit, wrapped in a white towel you fished from the bathroom.

The house was eerily quiet when you and Jungkook went in to change. It is still just as quiet as you get out of the bathroom, and aim for the kitchen to make yourself a glass before you go outside. You notice Jungkook is already out there, testing the temperature of the water. He’s wearing trunks, and he got rid of his t-shirt, discarding it on a chair next to the slowly dying fire. He turns towards the window as you’re pouring a glass, probably to see if you’re coming. It’s not your fault when your eyes dip down to his leg.

Even in the darkness you see the angry knot of skin that runs from below his knee and disappears in his swim trunks. It’s ugly, and your heart stops beating for a few seconds as you see it. Jungkook was right when he told you about his accident the first time – the scar on his leg is far scarier than the one on his stomach.

You wave back at him as he waves, a dumb smile on his lips. You focus on that smile, because you don’t want to be thinking of the scar. Don’t want to be thinking about the pain Jungkook must have endured. The pain he is still enduring to this day.

You’re hesitant when you step outside, though you make sure to bring a glass for him too. He’s still smiling when you arrive, and it only widens when you hand him the red solo cup.

“Thought you might want a refill.”

He tilts his head to the side, winking at you as he grabs the glass. “Always.”

You move towards the tub, ignoring the way you feel his gaze on you. It makes you self-conscious, and you don’t want to peel the towel from around yourself. You reckon you can’t get in the water with it though, so you carefully put your glass down on the side of the tub before taking the towel off, leaving it on the same chair where Jungkook’s shirt is.

“It might be a little hot,” Jungkook warns as you move back to the tub. “I adjusted the temperature a little while I was waiting for you.”

You dip your fingers in the water, shrugging your shoulders. “Seems good enough to me.”

He laughs, and his eyes follow you as you climb into the tub. The water is hot, extremely so, but you’re drunk and the jet of the tub looks far too inviting for you to wait.

“Alright then, guess I’ll get in too.”

You watch as he does so, and your eyes once again fall to his scar. It stretches weirdly as he bends his leg, as if it doesn’t really allow him full movements anymore. It explains why his dancing has turned mechanical now, and why he can’t move the way that he did before.

He’s noticed your gaze on the scar while getting in. You know it, because his features have fallen serious by the time he sits in front of you.

“I know, it’s ugly,” he says, and his eyes get lost in the bubbles in the water.

You remain silent for a time, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. When it does, you finally say, “Nothing about you is ugly”.

It’s smooth, the way you say it. It makes his eyes widen and a laugh bursts from his lips. You don’t even know why you flirted with him – you just had an inkling it’d make him fall back into his usual cocky self.

And of course it does.

“You think I’m hot?”

You roll your eyes, before grabbing your red solo cup from where you left it. Jungkook grabs his own, and it takes a few seconds before you’re settled back into your seat. You take a small sip from the glass, letting the rum and coke swirl in your mouth for a second before you swallow.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

He smirks. “Then I’ve got my answer.”

You squint your eyes, fake glaring at him, and it only makes him laugh.

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugs his shoulders, and he takes a sip from his glass. He winces then, before raising his eyebrows. “How strong did you make this?”

“Strong enough to have you shut up?”

“Oh please.” He laughs once more. “You know that won’t make me shut up. As a matter of fact, it’s probably just going to make me talk more.”

You chuckle, shaking your head a little. “My mistake.”

Jungkook really is hot, sitting there. His hair is fluffy around his face – it really is a lot longer than it was before. It curls a little at the ends, making a crown around his head. He’s buff too, and it makes you wonder how he manages to work out at the gym even with his injury. And it’s hard not to let your gaze wander to the tattoos on his shoulders, the ink that goes from his hand up to the top of his arm.

He’s attractive, damn him. You hate it, so you say, “So, Laura uh?”

He holds your gaze, his tongue darting out to play with his piercing for a time. “What about her?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

He’s smirking now, and his eyes dip to where your chest disappears in the water before moving up to your features again. “Why do you want to know?”

You feel hot. Not because of the water, though you reckon it really is hot. No, his gaze is burning you, in a way that makes you feel naked. You don’t know if you like it. But two can play this game Jungkook seems to have chosen.

You shrug your shoulders, wetting your lips before smiling. “Just making conversation, Jeon.”

His gaze has moved to your lips. It stays there as he says, “Seems to me like you got a little jealous earlier”.

You refuse to admit that it was jealousy, when Jo mentioned Laura at dinner time. To you, it was just surprise, and you’ve been repeating it to yourself ever since it happened.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask, brows knitting together as a smile plays on your lips. “You’re nothing to me.”

“Right.” He chuckles, and he drinks from his cup, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m nothing and yet you’re in this hot tub alone with me.”

He’s arrogantly cocky, isn't he? It used to piss you off, but tonight it just makes your blood boil.

“Wasn’t going to waste the opportunity for a hot tub session,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Unfortunate that it had to come with you though.”

He fakes offence. “You offend me.”

You snort, and his features relax into a small smile. There’s a moment of silence, where you find yourself too much of a coward to keep holding his gaze. It’s your turn to let your gaze wander down to the spot where his chest disappears in the water, and you drink from your cup.

“Do you want to play Truth or Dare?” he suggests after almost a minute without any of you speaking.

You chuckle. “Are we twelve?”

He shrugs. “Just thought it could be fun.” He pouts a little, and it really does make him look like he’s twelve. “Unless you’re too much of a coward for it.”

“Me, a coward?” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Truth or Dare, Jeon?”

The cocky smirk reappears. “Truth.”

You don’t know what to ask. At all. Your mind goes empty, until he lets out a laugh that gives you an idea. “What’s the deal with Laura?”

“You really want to know, uh?”

You shrug. “You chose truth, now answer the question.”

He laughs a little, and then plays with his piercing for a few seconds. You watch him do so, eyes falling to his lips.

“We hung out once”, he says.

It’s the same answer as earlier, but you feel like a brat right now. So, you press him by saying, “And that’s it? You’re not going to see her again?”

He ponders for a time, making you wait before he replies, “We’re supposed to go on a date sometime next week”.

You feel like maybe you shouldn’t have asked the question. Because his reply makes you clench your jaw, and you take a sip from your cup to hide it. “Jeon Jungkook on a date? Are you having a fever?”

“She’s nice, just thought I’d give it a try,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He’s still smirking, and this time it’s knowing.

He knows that the thought of him going on a date with Laura is pissing you off. And you don’t even know why it makes you feel like that. You’re not sure you should be feeling like that when it comes to Jeon Jungkook. He’s barely even a friend.

“Hope it goes well for you,” you say, though it sounds tense.

He shrugs, winking at you. “I’ll let you know.” He pauses for a moment, before asking, “Truth or Dare?”

So the conversation about Laura is over then. And he’s a fool if he thinks you’ll say truth.

“Dare.”

He looks far too happy about your choice. “Chug your glass.”

You frown. “But then I won’t have anything to drink if I don’t want to do some of your dares.”

“Oh, we’re playing adult Truth or Dare? Had I known I wouldn’t have answered your question.” You glare at him, and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Just drink, you can always drink from my glass later.”

Your glare intensifies, if that’s possible, but you still give in. You’re not one to back away from a challenge, and you chug your glass in a few long swigs. Your nose scrunches up as you finish, and you put the cup down.

“Happy?” you let out, and he nods with that same insufferable smirk on his lips. You want to wipe it away, but you don’t really know how. Instead, you only ask him, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

You hate dares. You never know what to suggest. You don’t feel like making him chug his glass, so you cock your head to the side as you survey him, mind reeling for an idea.

“Go get me another glass.”

He’s surprised. So are you, but you think it’s a brilliant idea.

“It’s so far,” he complains, with that same childish pout he used a moment ago. “Can I change for Truth?”

“You’re annoying”, you say, though you don’t really mind.

Something in the way he’s been looking at you makes you want him to stay anyway.

“You’re the one that wants me to go all the way inside.”

You chuckle, before shaking your head. “Alright then, let me find you a truth.” It takes you about half a minute before you come up with an idea. “How many girls have you slept with?”

He snorts. “Wow, straight to the body count I see.” He falls silent again, and his hand plays with the bubbles in the water in front of him.

“So?”

You think he’s blushing. It’s hard to tell in the dim light – indeed, the only light illuminating the scene is the one from next to the door, and the tub’s purple light.

“I’d say…” he trails off, scrunching his nose as he thinks. “Like twenty-five?”

It’s a lot, but not as much as you expected. Jungkook has a fuckboy vibe to him, and you were pretty sure he had at least fifty.

“Only?”

He furrows his brows. “Only?”

“I thought you had more,” you admit, chuckling as you shrug your shoulders.

He sips from his cup. “Sorry to disappoint.” His eyes glint with mischief, and he adds, “Truth or Dare?”

You hesitate, maybe because something in the way his eyes sparkle makes you think he’s got something in mind. You feel it – anticipation is building in you, and some parts of you can already see the outcome before it unfolds. Like a web of possibilities, and the longer he looks at you like that, the more it closes in to the anticipated one.

“Truth.”

He’s silent for a time. His face falls more serious, darker, and he’s so hot sitting there you really have to look away. “If everyone was single here, who would you fuck?”

You refuse to admit his question makes a drop of pure magma roll down your spine, before it moves forward and settles in your core.

“Jiho.” It’s a lie. You both know it, but he lets it slide – for now. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

You hit him with the same question he’s just asked you. His reply is far more cryptic.

“You already know the answer.”

You breathe in shakily, and something tightens inside of you. “Do I?”

His mouth is a little parted, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he takes a sip from the cup. He seems to reconsider it, because he chugs the whole thing before putting it down on the side of the tub.

“Do you?”

It confirms the answer. And you don’t know what to make of it. It scares you, somehow, but makes the fire in your burn brighter.

“Truth or dare?” he asks then, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Dare.”

You don’t even hesitate. You’re afraid he’s going to ask you stuff you don’t know the answer to if you choose truth.

“Why don’t you come sit closer, mmh?”

Still no hesitation from you. You’re like the moth and he the flame – you know it’s a bad idea, but you haven’t looked away from his eyes in too long. You’re in a trance, and you think so is he.

You settle next to him. Far enough not to touch, but close enough for every inch between you to fill with electricity. Not that it wasn’t already before – you are just way more conscious of it now.

“Truth or dare?” you ask, and it’s a little breathless, the way you speak.

“Dare,” he says. His eyes are on your lips now, and all you can do for a time is to observe his features. He’s got a mole under his mouth, and a scar on one of his cheeks. It looks old, and it’s so faded you can barely see it.

You have no dare in mind. You feel like you don’t even have any thoughts. You’re stuck looking at his lips, where your gaze settles as you watch his features. “Uh?” you let out.

He chuckles. It’s deep, manly, and it makes you look up to his eyes. “No idea what to ask?”

“You already chugged your glass.”

“There’s nothing else you want me to do?”

There’s a whole lot you want him to do, but a whole lot you don’t want him to do. It’s confusing, and your heart is beating too loud for you to think straight.

“Is there something you want to do?” you ask.

He’s bold. His hand moves up, his fingers lightly touching the side of your neck. “I could kiss your neck.” They trail down until they find a home on your shoulders. “Or I could massage your shoulders, you seem a little tense.”

You are. You are because there is a war of conflicting emotions in you, and you don’t know which side will win. “Massage my shoulders then.”

He laughs, before making you turn. It’s easier to breathe once he’s not in your line of sight anymore, though the moment his hands start working on your shoulders, you tense up again. “Relax,” he murmurs, adding your name at the end.

“You’re making me anxious,” you admit breathlessly.

He stays silent as he works on your shoulders, for so long you think he won’t talk. But then he says, “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

His hands are big, and his fingers are skilled. In a matter of a few minutes he’s undid every knot in your shoulders, and you find yourself able to breathe. You still don’t want to risk looking at him though.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

Maybe you can be bold too. Maybe you can just focus on every spot where his fingers are digging in your skin. Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Dare.”

“Give me a hickey.”

You snort, mostly because it takes you by surprise. “What?”

His hands fall from your shoulders. “You heard me well.”

“Aren’t hickeys bad for you?” you say, though you’ve never really cared about that. You care about it even less when you hear him move in the water.

“I think everything about you is bad for my sanity right now.” He whispers the words directly into your ear, and goosebumps form on your arms.

“Please don’t think this is going to lead anywhere,” you whisper back, right as you tilt your head to the side. You feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, but he straightens before he’s really done anything.

“Then why are you afraid of giving me a hickey?”

It is a challenge, and you don’t back down from challenges. So you turn around, say fuck it, and lean towards his neck until your mouth finds the spot where it connects with his shoulder. You suck, hard, and he hisses as one of his hands moves to your back, as if he wants to pull you closer.

You run your tongue on the spot you’ve sucked, before straightening. He’s got a deep purple mark there now, and you smirk in satisfaction. “Happy now?”

His chest is moving up and down quickly as he breathes. He’s out of breath, and the insufferable smirk is gone now. He seems a little angry, with a crease between his brows. “Yeah.”

You’re about to succumb to insanity. It’s taking a hold of you, choking you up until you say, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answers.

He seems just as conflicted as you. But the web of possibilities from earlier dwindled down until there’s only one left, and both of you know it.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Your heart beats once, and then it stops in your chest. Because you meet him halfway, crashing your mouth on his so hard you think you taste blood. You don’t care: insane people do not care about anything. All you want is to feel his lips against yours, and damn him he’s a good kisser.

It’s intense, languid, and his hands don’t take their time before he’s pulling you on his lap. You straddle him, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, before moving up until you’ve cupped his face. And you hold him in place as you kiss, never once breaking away for air.

You don’t need oxygen when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. All you need are his lips, and he gives you plenty of that. And when his tongue finds yours, you moan in his mouth.

He swallows it like a man starved.

His hands are on your back. Respectfully so, even as he’s devouring your mouth. It frustrates you, because you want more. You want to feel all of him. It makes you grab a handful of his hair, and you pull his head back.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a hot tub.”

It’s the only intelligent thing you could think of.

“We can –“

Your lips are back on his before he finishes his sentence, and you suck on his bottom lip, tongue darting out to play with his piercing. This time, he grunts in your mouth, and his hands lose their fight against his will not to touch you more. They move down until he’s cupped your ass, and he makes you grind on him.

You moan, and he breaks away from the kiss, just so he can bend down and leave a trail of hot, wet kisses on the column of your throat. You just let your hands loose in his hair and on his shoulders, nails digging in his skin when he decides to suck a hickey on you too.

You grind again then, and you feel the bulge of him press against you.

“We can’t fuck in the tub,” you say, and your voice is unrecognizable even to yourself. It’s lustful, sinfully so, and you’d be embarrassed if he didn’t meet your gaze with his half-lidded eyes.

“We can go in the shower.”

You’ve never been a fan of shower sex, so you say, “As much as that would probably be a good idea, I won’t fuck you in a shower either.”

He’s confused. You can tell by the way he tilts his head to the side. “Where do you want me to fuck you then? In the middle of the living room?”

It makes you chuckle, and an unexpected smile appears on his lips.

“I don’t think we should fuck.”

His grip on your ass tightens as his features turn dark, and he makes you grind on him again. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, embarrassingly so, as you let out a breathy moan. “Right,” he says.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He leans forward again, and this time his lips find a spot right over the top of your bikini. He sucks on your skin, and you moan as you grind again.

It’s uncomfortable. Not his lips on you, no, but the water of the tub mixed with the fabric of your swimwear. If you didn’t know how unsanitary it is, you would let him fuck you right then and there. But you don’t want to get an infection.

“Let’s go inside.” This time, one of his hands moves from your ass, trailing up your side until he’s grabbed one of your boobs. “Please.”

“Anything for you,” he mumbles against your breast, before straightening.

You kiss him again, just for good measure, and then you push away from him, reluctantly so. You feel his heavy gaze on you as you get out of the tub, and you’ve wrapped yourself in your towel by the time he’s followed you.

You forgot how tall he is. Because as he steps closer to you, towering above you, your mind goes blank again and you just let him crash his lips against yours. He’s holding your face, and his thumbs brush your skin gently before he pulls away. He stays close enough for you to feel his warm breath on you, but far enough so that you can’t reach his lips anymore.

“I need to take a shower,” you murmur.

He nods, and you feel it more than you see it. “Me too.”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles lightly, and he straightens to look up at the sky. His hands are still delicately holding your cheeks, and you watch his sharp jawline for a few seconds before he speaks.

“The stars are beautiful.”

You’re not looking at the night sky when you reply, “Yeah”.

He lets you go, then, but his hand falls until he’s grabbed one of yours. His large hand wraps around yours, and you let him do it, heart settling to a calmer beat in your chest.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks.

You stiffen. It feels strange to have him ask that. You almost forgot that he is a dancer too, in his soul, even though his physical body doesn’t permit him to let loose anymore.

“You want to dance?”

He has a soft smile on his lips when he meets your gaze. It’s miles away from the intensity it held just a moment ago, and you can’t help but offer him a smile of your own.

“Yes.”

You don’t want to refuse. Not when it feels like this moment matters. As if you’re about to create a core memory, and maybe you are.

Maybe you are.

The night sky is filled with stars. Distant burning constellations, and they wink at the two of you as Jungkook leads you through a slow dance. His steps are sure tonight, albeit a little mechanical, and his hand on the small of your back feels like a weight anchoring you into the present.

Up above, the stars just shine on and on, endlessly, for eternity. And you feel like eternity. You feel small and big, unimportant yet cataclysmic. He is cataclysmic. He is the start and the end, like the story is weaved into the tapestry of the universe itself.

And maybe it is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after you’ve moved in time with him for a little eternity – your little eternity.

His voice is heavy. It holds the weight of the universe, and you reach up to cup his cheek, to anchor him in this moment with you.

“I’m happy to be here with you.”

His eyes are shining. Like the stars above, and the ones you’re starting to see behind his pupils. He hasn’t looked away from you since you started dancing, and you from him. You don’t think you can.

“I forgot how it felt to dance,” he admits.

Though he has danced since the accident. You’ve seen him dance, but maybe his heart wasn’t into it. Maybe his heart is in the moment now, maybe it’s beating in sync with all of your steps.

“How does it feel?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Liberating. Like I’m just one of the stars in the sky up above.”

You don’t know what that feels like. It makes you realize you’ve never truly felt free. Jeon Jungkook looks at peace now, and you can just hope you’ll get to feel like that one day too.

A cool breeze rises around you, and you shiver as it moves on your skin. Jungkook notices, and he dips his head to kiss you again. Softly, gently, and when he pulls away he says, “Let’s go inside, you’re cold”.

You nod your head, even though you never want the moment to end. But nothing lasts in life – not even the stars above. One day they’ll die too, until all that’s left of them is an empty husk of life.

To you, that’s what love has always been like. It hits and leaves nothing of it behind. Maybe that’s why you step away from Jungkook.

“Yes.”

*****

The shower you take is short. Scalding hot, until your skin has turned bright red. Only then are you satisfied, and you step out to dry yourself with a towel. You’re gentle with the towel, and you can still feel Jungkook’s hands on you. Can still feel the weight of his eyes on you.

If you could, you’d leave the cottage now. You’d run while you still can, but you can’t.

You can’t, so you step out of the bathroom and make your way to the living room where you both slept the night before. Where he snored softly until the noises he made were entwined with your dreams.

He’s already sitting on his couch when you arrive. His hair is wet from the shower he took in the downstairs bathroom, right next to the room where Chaeyeon and Lance are sleeping. He’s wearing black joggers and an oversized dark grey t-shirt, and he looks inherently comfortable. As if he’s comfort personified. He pushes his hair back as you come into view, offering you another one of his soft smiles.

You didn’t know Jungkook has softness in him. You feel it now: it’s in the way he looks at you, in the curve of his lips and the openness of his gaze.

“I have an idea,” he says, a little cryptically, and his smile turns mischievous. Childish, playful, and you chuckle.

“What is it?”

“I noticed your couch is tiny,” he says, motioning to said couch. “I thought…” He flushes red, before chuckling.

A blushing Jungkook is not a thing you imagined you would ever see someday.

“You thought?” you press on.

“I thought we could put all the cushions on the ground to make like a bed?”

It feels like you shouldn’t. Like you’re not supposed to be sleeping in the same bed as Jeon Jungkook. Especially not after what just happened outside – both the tub and the dance.

“Sure,” you agree nonetheless. “As long as you don’t steal all the blankets.”

He grins. “I would never.”

It’s cute, and it makes you gaze away.

Jungkook makes quick work of creating a bed for the two of you. You help him to move a coffee table away, and soon enough all the couch cushions form a mattress on the ground. You place the pillows you used last night on one end of it, and you’re sitting down just to test the makeshift bed when Jungkook throws the blankets on top of you.

“Jungkook!” you yelp, though you try to keep it to a minimum level so you won’t wake anyone.

He just laughs, and a few seconds later the room falls into darkness. While you’re disentangling yourself from the blankets, you hear a thump, and Jungkook lets out a series of curses that makes you burst out laughing, probably way too loud.

You don’t care.

“Fuck,” he finishes, and you can barely distinguish his silhouette when you’re free of the blankets.

“What happened?”

“I stubbed my toe,” he hisses through his teeth. “Fuck.”

You just laugh again, before moving until you’re on the side you chose for sleeping. “Just come here.”

“I was trying to,” he grumbles, and it sounds like he is pouting.

You’re starting to know him well enough that you know he is pouting.

Once you’re settled on your side of the bed, lying on your back staring up at the ceiling, Jungkook finally moves towards you. He lies on his side of the cushions, pulling a blanket over him. You both have your own blankets, so sleeping right next to each other doesn’t feel too indecent.

It takes your brain only three seconds before it produces an image of the hot tub, and you’re pretty sure the same thing just happened to Jungkook, because he chuckles lowly.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

You frown in the darkness. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Mmh.”

You turn until you’re facing him. His silhouette is dark against the lighter background behind him, but you can barely make out his form next to you. You see it when he moves though, as he turns to face you too.

“What are you humming about?”

He chuckles. “Do you like cuddling?”

“You’re not going to get me to cuddle you,” you immediately reply, and you sound just as flustered as you feel.

“You grind on me in the hot tub and then you don’t even want to cuddle me? Outrageous.”

You scoff, and if you weren’t in the dark he’d see your cheeks turning scarlet. “We both know where cuddling would lead.”

His voice is husky when he speaks. “You think you can’t resist me?”

It makes the ‘never back down from a challenge’ part of you tickle until you find yourself replying, “I’ll be the big spoon”.

He snorts, but he turns until he’s facing away from you. You hesitate for a time, but you eventually move closer to him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his stomach. You rest your forehead against his back, and you hope he can’t hear the loud beats of your heart.

His body is warm. Comfortably so, and you know you could drift to sleep easily just lying next to him like this.

Why then are you unable to fully close your eyes? Why then do you decide to move closer, until his ass is pressed against you? It makes you gulp, and some wild and foolish part of you wishes you could be under his skin.

You don’t think you could ever be close enough to him to satiate the hunger that’s forming in your core.

Jungkook moves his arm, and a second later he’s wrapping his hand around yours. You let him do it, and you’re surprised when he brings your hand up to press a light kiss on your knuckles.

You wish you were still drunk. Because then you could blame your next words on the alcohol.

“Actually, can you be the big spoon?”

He sounds like he’s smirking when he says, “Yeah, of course”.

A few seconds later the positions are reversed, and Jungkook molds his body to yours, wrapping his tattooed arm around your frame, putting his other one under your head. It fits too well, like it was meant to be, and maybe this moment really was always meant to be.

Maybe you were bound to hate him until you found yourself cuddled up to him in the dead of night at a cottage on the countryside.

“Your hair smells good,” Jungkook says, and he shifts impossibly closer. You feel his lips on your head as he inhales, and the arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush against him.

“Thank you,” you answer, breathlessly. Because you are breathless in his arms, you are breathless feeling all of his firm body against all of yours.

Breathless enough so that you shift, and your ass moves against him.

“Uh,” Jungkook lets out. He laughs a little, and his tattooed hand moves up until he’s brushing his thumb on the side of your jaw. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you want me to do?”

He thinks for a time. “What I want you to do and what you want seem to be two completely different things.”

It’s a little somber, the way he says it, and you bite your lip. Because he’s right, sort of. You’re not sure you want to have sex with him. But what started in the hot tub is bound to finish someday, is it not?

“You’re confusing me,” you admit. “You’ve been confusing me all weekend.”

His hand leaves your jaw, and he moves your hair out of the way as he leans. His lips press a tentative kiss on your neck, and your ass immediately shifts against him again.

“So have you,” he declares. “You’ve been confusing me for weeks.”

His revelation only makes you want him even more. And you’ve rarely wanted someone the way your body has been craving for Jungkook. Because that’s what it is: your body has been craving for him since the hot tub. And you’re about to succumb to your desires, aren’t you?

“Jungkook…”

He sucks on your skin, but not hard enough to leave a hickey. It still makes heat pool at your core, and you push your ass back against his dick once more.

“Fuck,” he curses. “We should go to sleep.”

Though this time he grinds against you, and you can feel the start of his erection on your ass.

“Right,” you agree.

And you move against him, earning a grunt from him. He murmurs your name, before saying, “I don’t have any condoms”.

All your nerves set on fire. “I don’t care.”

“We shouldn’t…” His sentence is cut short as you grind again, and he sinks his teeth in the soft skin of your neck. It hurts a little, and you know he’s going to leave another hickey on you as soon as he starts sucking.

Your hand shoots behind you, and you grab the back of his head, fingers getting lost in the strands of his hair. His own hand moves down until it settles on your hip, and he guides your movement against him.

He moves away from your neck, pressing a kiss on your shoulder this time. “We shouldn’t have sex,” he says, completing his previous sentence.

“I know.”

“We’re going to have sex,” he adds.

“I know.”

You circle your hips, and his erection is turning hard by the second. You’re soaking your panties, and you just want more of him. You want to get rid of all the fabric between you two and feel his skin directly against yours.

“Oh, Y/n…” he breathes, and then he’s back to kissing your neck.

No sucking this time, just his tongue drawing circles on your skin as you continue moving your ass against his dick.

“You’re already hard.”

“The hot tub got me real horny.”

It had the same effect on you, and you shiver as he bites at your ear. Gently, not to hurt, especially not as he presses a kiss under your ear next.

“Fuck,” you say.

His breathing is warm against the side of your face, and you decide to dive in. To say fuck it with what you should do and what you want to do. You only have one life to live anyway.

The moment your lips touch feels like a dam broke inside of you. Your tongue meets him halfway between your mouths, and he swallows the moan you let out as his fingers move under your shirt. You’re not wearing a bra, and the moan turns to a hiss as he pinches one of your nipples, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and index.

He pulls away from the kiss to say, “Can I take off your shorts?”

Because you’re wearing baby blue PJ shorts. Nothing really attractive, but it has no hindering effect on Jungkook’s desire for you, has it?

“Yes,” you answer and he’s back to kissing you in no time.

His fingers do quick work of the knot holding your shorts in place, and he immediately slides his hand in. He slides it under your panties too, and he starts rubbing circles on your clit right away.

You’re going to go insane. He’s worth going insane for.

You grind on his hand, and he moves lower so he can dip his middle finger and ring finger inside of you, up to the first knuckle, before pulling out and rubbing circles on your clit again. Your slick juice renders you oversensitive, and you buck your hips as he starts a hellish rhythm down there, with just the right pressure.

It’s like he knows his way around your body already.

You try to reach between you, but the way his arm is positioned keeps you from being able to palm him. You whine and it makes him stop his ministrations on your clit.

“Is something wrong?”

“Take off your pants,” you tell him.

“Please?” he taunts you, as if he wants to let you know who’s in control here.

“Please,” you hiss through your teeth, because somehow it infuriates you.

“Good girl,” he praises with his low husky voice.

You’ve never been called a good girl before, and something in the way he says it makes you grind hard against him.

“You like that, uh?” he asks.

“Just take off the fucking pants, Jeon.”

He chuckles but obeys nonetheless. You take off your shorts at the same time, and think about it for half a second before you’re taking your panties off too.

Once you’re both naked from the waist down, you return to the previous cuddling position. Only this time his dick is resting against your ass, and from what you can tell, it really is big.

“Should I finger you to make sure you can take me?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical.

Indeed, he doesn’t wait for you to answer before he plunges two fingers inside of you, arching them to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, shy constellations that add light to the darkness of the cottage. You find purchase on his forearm as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, and he reaches deep inside of you. His palm hits your clit every time he pushes all the way in, and you’re starting to see a whole damn galaxy of stars in no time.

But you want to feel him, want to jerk him off while he’s making you feel good too. So you reach behind you, and this time you’re successful. You’re able to wrap your hand around his cock, and you moan at the feeling of the large girth.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You moan, nodding your head. “It’s all for you.”

“Oh, I fucking know it is,” he says.

It’s cocky, but you’re too far gone to give him shit for it.

You start jerking him off, slowly because you can’t really move quicker in this position. He stills bucks his hips, fucking your hand, and he starts moving his fingers even faster, hitting your clit even harder.

“Fuck, please play with my clit,” you beg.

“Can’t say no when you ask so nicely,” he says, and he’s back to rubbing circles on your clit.

You clench around nothing as you jerk him off, before you decide to position his dick between your legs. You grind against him, or maybe he makes you grind. You don’t really know. All you can feel is the way his length moves against you. But he never aligns with your entrance, as if he just wants to tease you, and knowing him you’re pretty sure he does.

It stays like this for a while, with him just coating his dick with your slick juice as he keeps rubbing insistent circles on your clit. Your walls clench around nothing, and you whine as he just moves his hips back and forth.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you say.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

You just whine again.

“I want to hear you say it.”

He’s infinitely infuriating, isn’t he?

“Yes, I fucking want your dick inside of me.”

This time, when he pulls his hips away from you, he makes sure to align with your entrance before pushing forward. And he pushes forward hard, sheathing all of his dick inside of you. Or all of what fits inside of you, because you’re pretty sure he’s way too big to be able to entirely fit.

The moment he hits the back of your pussy you let out a moan. It’s loud, and you immediately put a hand on your mouth to muffle the next noises you’ll make. You think better of it after a few seconds, and you grab the blanket, rolling it in a messy bundle just so you can press it against your face.

“You feel so fucking tight,” he says, and then he grunts when your walls clench around him. “Just relax, baby.”

“I’m just so close,” you admit.

You don’t know when he stopped rubbing circles on your clit. Only know that he starts again now, and you feel the familiar knot of an orgasm starting to form deep in your core.

“Such a fucking good girl”, he praises. “You’re going to come all over my dick.”

You immediately hide your face in the blanket as you moan, unashamedly loud. And then he starts fucking into you, slow and hard, and you lose it. You lose it as the knot uncoils, snaps inside of you, turning every inch of your body into an oversensitive land of pleasure.

Jungkook fucks you through your high, steadily, never once faltering even as your walls pulse hard against him. His fingers keep on rubbing circles on your clit, and he kisses a spot on your neck that makes goosebumps erupt on all of you. It feels so good you could cry, but your high still just keeps on going. Even though you’re in the dark, your vision is white, blindly so.

You don’t know when your hand found its way to the side of his face, only that once you finally come down you have a handful of his hair in your grip.

“That didn’t take long,” Jungkook teases, whispering the words directly into your ear.

He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever come as hard and quick as you just did.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter.

He has stilled inside of you, and his lips are littering small kisses on your neck. So you feel his smirk against you, and it makes you move. Circling your hips, trying to give him something in return for the orgasm he’s gifted you.

“You’re going to let me come inside of you, mmh?” he asks as you keep on going, a little sloppily from the remnants of your orgasm.

“You think you can come for me?” You’re embarrassingly breathless, still panting because of your high. You take a deep breath as you prop yourself up on an elbow, just so it’s easier to fuck yourself on him.

Jungkooks hums. “I need a little more than that, baby.”

You bite your lips as his tattooed hand finds your breast under your shirt again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Ride me?” he suggests, right as he plants a soft peck on your shoulder.

You moan as he fucks into you hard, unexpectedly. “Anyone could see.”

He whines, but then his hand moves to your hip before he starts pounding into you again. You hide your face in the blanket again, trying to muffle your sounds. Jungkook is not faring a lot better than you, and his grunts send shivers all over you. He doesn’t talk again until he’s slowed down.

“They can already see us.”

He’s not wrong, and you hate it. But you doubt someone will get up at this hour of the night, closer to the morning than to yesterday. He pushes in once more, hard and rough.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he entirely stops moving.

He even pulls out, and you turn to look at him. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark a little now, and you can see his features enough to see him wincing in pain.

“Is something wrong?” you immediately ask.

“My leg hurts.”

His three words fall softly in the night, the way a feather falls. It shifts the atmosphere, making your heart ache in your chest.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

“Ride me,” he says, and it sounds begging.

As if he needs it to forget the pain. You don’t think you have it in you to refuse, so you straddle him. Before you sink on his dick, you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, hoping to chase the pain away. Your hands hold you up on his shoulders, and his move to your hips, before sliding down until he’s holding your ass in his large palms. He massages the muscles of your ass as you kiss, tongues meeting in a deep and languid dance.

When you’re out of breath, lungs burning for oxygen, you straighten and sit on his dick. You circle your hips, teasing him a little and also making sure that he’s still hard. He is, his dick a rod of steel, and you bite at your lower lip as you grab him with one hand to align him with your entrance. He’s looking through half-lidded eyes as you do so, and his eyes shut as you sink all the way down on him, until his dick reaches your cervix.

His mouth falls open and he moans softly. It’s a pretty sound, meant for your ears only, and it makes you feel powerful. You feel powerful as you move up and down, slowly, feeling every vein of his dick on your walls. You clench as you sink back down, and his hands on your ass tighten their hold for a few seconds before he moves to your hips to guide you.

He makes you go faster, and as if he can’t resist he’s soon fucking up into you.

You put a hand on his cheek, brushing his cheekbone with a thumb. His eyes flutter open and he stills, seeing the look on your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I can do the work, don’t hurt your leg,” you tell him. You grab his hands from your hips to move them to your breasts under your shirt. And then you start moving, for real this time, quick and hard. You add a little bit of circling of your hips, just to make sure he stretches you wide.

And he does. Jungkook is huge, and you don’t wonder why he’s so cocky anymore. He’s got the kind of dick to be cocky about.

“Alright then,” Jungkook lets out between two soft moans.

You smirk, but it dies when one of his hands moves from your breast to your neck through the collar of your shirt. You grab his forearm, and your eyes flutter shut as he digs his fingers in your arteries, cutting the blood supply to your brain. It feels good, far more than it should, as all you can feel is his dick in you.

You let out a breathy sound, walls clenching on him again.

“That’s it, baby, you’re so good,” he praises, and he sounds different than he did before.

He’s more out of breath, as if he’s exhausted. And maybe he is, as he’s nearing his orgasm. It only encourages you more, and your nails dig in his forearm, hard enough to mark him.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he releases his hold on your neck. His hand doesn’t move, but it’s now just resting on your throat, and he’s not squeezing anymore.

“Fill me up, JK,” you say. “I want to feel you come inside of me.”

“Let me fuck you a little,” he replies. And he pulls you down by the neck, until he’s satisfied with the angle.

You want to say something about his leg but he’s already pounding into you, so hard your face falls in the crook of his neck as your hands get lost in his hair. Your lips meet his skin, and you suck hard, fully intending to leave a mark there. At this point you’re pretty convinced someone’s ought to know you’re fucking anyway, so why not show that he’s yours?

The thought sobers you up. But Jungkook is already coming, so you hold on strong sucking another spot on his neck as he groans and releases ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you. And he comes a lot, painting your insides white. You like it far more than you should.

Another thought to sober you up.

It takes Jungkook a little longer before he finally stops moving, and he lets out a content sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you close.

“We should have done this before,” he murmurs.

You try to sit up, but he keeps you from moving. “We shouldn’t have done this.” Even as you’re saying that you press another kiss to his neck. A soft one, just because he tastes too good, and you know the moment is about to come to an end.

“Uh?” he lets out.

His dick is still deep inside of you when you say, “We shouldn’t have fucked”.

He pushes you away now. Not hard, but it’s like your touch burns him and he needs to be away from you.

“Why?”

You sit next to him, and your cheeks burn as you feel his seed spill out of you, only to stain the blanket you previously used to muffle your moans.

“We’re barely even friends,” you point out.

He’s not watching you. His eyes are fixed on an empty spot on the cushionless couch next to which you’re laying. “Okay?”

“It’s just weird, no?”

You reckon you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know why you decided to say it right now either. It’s as if the words just need to get out.

“It’s just sex,” he says, and it sounds a little angry. “People have sex all the time.”

“But not us. You know, I don’t like you like that.”

A big fat lie if you’ve ever said one. You did like having sex with him. You’re just panicking, your fight or flight instinct having been suddenly triggered.

“Chill, Y/n,” he mutters, and he sighs heavily. “We just fucked. We can pretend nothing happened, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t know what you want. Some part of you wants to take the evening back, but at the same time not. You’re confusing to yourself, and your teeth dig in the tip of your tongue for a moment as you think.

“What would you want to say this is?” you ask after a little too long for the silence to be comfortable.

He finally looks at you. “Nothing, honestly. We just got horny and we’re the only single people here, it was bound to happen.”

Now, his words hurt a little, but you can see the truth behind them. “Right,” you say. “So, just friends?”

He holds your gaze. It’s too dark for you to be able to interpret anything on his features. “Sure.”

You feel bad. Remorseful. And you think about the hot tub, and the fucking too, but also about the dance outside. You reckon your fight or flight was triggered then, you’ve just been ignoring it ever since you came in.

Ever since you got out of the bathroom to see Jungkook and his softness. The softness is gone now, and he looks away from you before sitting up too. He searches around for his pants, and puts them on as you scan the scene for your own clothes.

“Can you…” you start, but he’s already throwing your shorts and panties at you.

He’s pissed. It’s evident now, clear as spring water, and you feel even worse. You didn’t want to upset him. There’s just too much history between you, too much individual history on your part too.

You’ve never been in a relationship. You’ve never been able to even imagine being in a relationship. And it usually leads to scenes like this: the men you sleep with getting upset with you. You don’t blame them, can’t blame them.

But it feels different with Jungkook. Worse, as if you don’t want the outcome to be him being upset with you. You just don’t know anything else, and so you put your clothes on. Even as he gets up to go clean up in the bathroom, muttering that he’ll be right back.

Even as he comes back and settles on the makeshift bed again, his back turned to you. The message is clear then: he doesn’t want to talk to you. You reckon you can always talk to him tomorrow. Can always let the night pass, and with it the fight or flight. It’s not like he’s going to be gone tomorrow, and you won’t be either.

You get up, sighing heavily as you go to the bathroom to clean up too.

Jungkook is dead silent when you come back. If he was asleep, you know he would be snoring softly, as last night showed you. But no, he’s dead silent, as if he’s just ruminating in his corner.

It makes you feel too bad to remain silent.

“Jungkook,” you let out softly, his name barely over a whisper.

“Mmh?” he hums.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He sighs, long and deep, before turning on his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’s stupid if he thinks telling you so will make it so you don’t worry. You’re always worrying anyway.

“Okay,” you still say. “It was great though, don’t take me wrong.”

He chuckles, and it’s bitter. “Listen, if you want us to pretend like it never happened, let’s start right now.”

He’s closed off. He was open earlier, a book for you to read. Maybe you’ve ripped the pages away, or maybe you’ve thrown the book off a cliff.

But it’s safer this way. It’s safer to keep Jungkook at an arm’s length. It’s where you keep everyone besides Jiho anyway.

“Okay, sorry,” you apologize. “Good night?”

He sighs once more. “Yeah, good night.” And then he turns away, and it hits you.

You won’t ever be the one to see Jungkook’s softness again.

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.............................. please don't hate me <3 how was this chapter? How was the smut? I hope it hit good haha! Let me know what you thought!

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