#tho not quite round enough

[1hellofacookie]

it's dangerous to go alone, here, take this

omg its Bogariel Frogariel!! my boy!

[liquidstar]

another request from cohost! my friend asked for traditional inuk hairstyle like qilliqti, which is what i ended up going with! looking up the hairstyles sent me on a sidequest of looking at a bunch of fashion designers with modern takes on traditional clothes, so i also used some of those! so credits for that under the cut vv

jacket- https://www.instagram.com/p/C3QiKIdO0Jp/?img_index=5 jacket 2 (full fashion show with more angles, and a lot of super cool designs, also really cool music)- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yp_eAzDu8xU patch- https://www.bradorfabrics.com/products/inukchic-iron-on-patches-celestial-narwhal hair originally from the film atanarjuat the fast runner, but the specific screenshot is here https://www.pinterest.com/pin/53480314313400875/

[arolesbianism]

I have been playing beastieball and first of all very good game second of all smth smth Olivia Broussard

[the-lavender-clown]

OHMIGOSH GUYYYYYSSSS!!! THANK YOU ALL SM 😭😭

THIS ROUND WAS SUPER CLOSE IN THE END BUT WE DID IT!!! WE’RE GOING TO THE FINALS!!!

I have to say that I am utterly amazed to have made it this far and it’s an honor to see how many of you love my au! I really didn’t think it was this popular and I’m still having trouble wrapping my mind around that! Thank you guys so much for your support and interest in my work!

As promised I’m eating my shirt and I’ll be writing all those sentences in the next chapter later today!

Semi-Finals

A Turtle Like Me - @aturtlelikeyou

Shadow of a Turtle - @mochi-myles

Stardust AU - @dreammelt

Shades of Purple - @the-lavender-clown

[lqvesoph]

World Champs || LN4

lando norris x fem!reader

summary: a trip to abu dhabi as mclaren win the wcc

warnings: pregnancy

part two of “two red lines”

1.6k words

masterlist

"Be careful, okay?", you whispered in his ear, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I will, I promise", Lando smiled, sneaking a soft peck on your mouth before letting go of you.

It was the first race you were openly talking to each other in front of the media, which had you standing on the grid, next to Lando’s father right before the lights will go out.

He went on to hug is father who gave him a few reassuring words before clapping his back. "Let’s do this, son!", Adam said, a smile beaming on his face. Lando chuckled and walked over to his car, placing his hand over your stomach while passing you.

You took a few steps back, keeping close to Adam to follow him, as he’s been here quite a lot more often than you had. He led you back through the mass of people, getting you to your designated spot in the Mclaren garage next to Lando’s sister and mother.

Cisca was already nervously nibbling on her fingers. "This is probably the most nervous I’ve ever been before a race", his mum confessed. You chuckled, trying to hide your own anxiety. "I think we have a good rate tho, with Y/n here", Adam replied, putting an arm around his wife.

"Her first race was Miami, and she’s been in the paddock in Zandvoort and Singapore", he laughed at the coincidences.

Your attention was directed to the screens as the first flag waved, indicating the formation lap. Your heartbeat sped up, like every time before a race start.

Lando led the field around the track and came to a stop in the very first position. The anticipation of the lights going red one by one, killing you like so often before.

The lights went off and Lando had a good start, driving a bit on the right to give Oscar enough space while taking the outside of the corner.

The whole garage gasped when Max’s car touched Oscar’s back wheel, causing both cars to spin around. Cisca let out a yelp next to you, instinctively grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly.

Thankfully Oscar was able to keep going, but the task of the Constructors Championship just got a whole lot harder, especially with Leclerc already being up in 8th.

It was solely on Lando now. He needed to win. If he did, Mclaren were assured Champions. Not even a double Ferrari podium could take that away then.

Throughout the whole race you watched the gap between Lando and Carlos behind him, your heartbeat speeding up whenever the number got smaller. Looking back, you probably couldn’t name you a lot of things that happened during the race, apart from Oscar’s penalty that made the whole task even more difficult, as your eyes were glued to the screen that showed Lando’s onboard and the gap to Carlos behind.

After an amazing 2.0 pitstop, that was crucial to Lando coming out in front of the Ferrari, you watched the gap widening more and more.

Excitement started rising up inside you and you squeezed Cisca’s hand tighter as Lando rounded the final few corners.

Cheers erupted in the garage, louder than what you had ever heard. You swore you could hear Zak screaming from the pitwall, as a tear fell down your cheek.

You turned to Lando’s parents, seeing Cisca’s eyes swelling as well before she pulled you into a hug.

"HE DID IT!"

You nodded frantically, stroking over your belly and grinning broadly. "Podium, podium!", Lando’s sister reminded you, pushing her mum by her shoulders out into the pitlane.

You giggled and followed the two of them.

The cheers from all around the track were unstoppable as Lando walked out to step on the highest step of the podium.

His eyes met yours and if it was even possible his smile lit up even more. You waved at him to which he replied with blowing you a kiss.

After the podium, Lando had to do countless of media duties, from post race conferences to the media pen, while you waited in front of the hospitality.

You looked up from your phone, when a flash of papaya orange caught your vision and your smile widened when you saw Lando approaching. His steps quickened and he ran the last few meters until he stood in front of you, grabbing your cheeks softly to pull you into a gentle kiss.

You giggled into his lips, slowly pulling away and pressing his wet body against you.

"I’m drenched in champagne, baby", he laughed in your hair, putting a hand against the back of your head. "That’s okay", you muttered, pressing him tighter to your body. Lando pulled back a little and sunk down on one knee.

"Thank you", he mumbled before pressing a soft kiss to your stomach. You giggled, stroking through his wet and sticky hair. He rose up again and his eyes met yours. "I’m so proud of you!", you smiled. Lando gave you a shy smile. "Thank you for being here", he muttered and pulled you back into a hug.

"You should probably go to the garage, I think your whole team is waiting for you for the team picture", you chuckled after a while. Lando sighed and pulled back. "Come with me?", he asked, holding out his hand for you to take.

You smiled and interwinded your fingers, letting him lead you through the garage and out to the pitlane. In front of his own garage there was a sea of papaya, while the whole Mclaren team was waiting on Lando.

You let go of his hand and slightly pushed him forward, signaling him that this was his moment and that he should take it all in. Lando nodded and ran, followed by Ash, towards the crowd of people who all started cheering for him.

You giggled at their antics, watching how first Zak and then Andrea embraced your boyfriend. Just as Oscar and him were shaking hands, Zak spotted you and walked over to you.

"If all we need is you present at the races, then we can call Lando the champion for next year already", he joked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You let out a laugh and saw how Lando watched the two of you, a smile wide on his face.

"Zak, come on, we’re all waiting for you!", Lando called, causing the whole team to let out a round of laughter. Zak squeezed your shoulder again before hurrying back for the team photo.

Someone shot confetti from canons and a rain of papaya colored snippets fell on the whole team. You felt a pair of hands grab you and pull you back at the last minute before Lando started spraying champagne everywhere, his team joining in.

"Thanks!", you laughed at Adam, putting a hand over your heart. "No worries, gotta protect the little one", he joked, clapping your shoulders.

Once the spraying had died down, Lando waddled over to you. "I think I’ve got champagne in my shoes", he called, wrapping an arm around your neck to press a kiss to the side of your head.

"I’ll send you the details of the club in a second", Zak smiled next to the two of you, slapping a hand down on Lando’s shoulder. His eyes met yours for a second before uncomfortably looking back at his boss. "Zak, I don’t know-" "Uh uh uh, shhh!", you quickly interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth.

"You think I’m gonna let this opportunity pass? Hell nah, I might not he able to drink but I sure as hell can celebrate", you giggled, pressing your nose to his cheek. "Bonus for you is, you don’t need to worry how you’ll get home because I can watch and take care of you the whole night."

Lando let out a laugh and squeezed your side.

"That is in fact very tempting!"

tagged: yn

liked by: yn, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 2.638.726 others

landonorris: Definition of good luck charmthanks for being with me through all four wins this year, baby.

comments:

yn: Aww, baby🧡

landonorris: i love u

mclaren: Thanks for your contribution to the wcc!

yn: My pleasure, any time again

mclaren: Might take you up on that coming March…

user1: HARD LAUNCH??

user2: i mean she has been to multiple races and there’s literally videos of her on the grid before the race earlier

user3: I’m so confused how we never caught on to this???

user4: Idk, they never interacted at the races and weren’t seen outside the track as well

user5: We all assumed she’s some influencer invited by Mclaren, none of us even thought she was there for Lando😭🤚🏻

user6: She’s so pretty omg!!

user7: That picture from Miami tho🫣

landonorris: ikr, i took it😎

user5: LANDO LMAOOOO

user8: Uhm idk if you saw those videos from her at the track today but like… is there a chance she’s pregnant??

user3: Let’s not…

user8: I don’t wanna assume, but his hand on her belly, she rested her hand there quite a lot, too, and people say he kissed her belly after the race🤷‍♀️

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📍Abu Dhabi

tagged: landonorris, mclaren, kellypiquet

liked by: landonorris, oscarpiastri, kellypiquet and 372.628 others

yn: Abu Dhabi highlights ✨🧡

comments:

landonorris: your my highlight

yn: Babyyyy

user4: The spelling mistake tells me he in fact wrote that himself🤏🏻

kellypiquet: Ahh, i love youuu

yn: Let’s meet as soon as we’re back in Monaco

kellypiquet: Yes pleaseee

user5: Lando and her live together???

user1: Her fits slay so hard omg

user2: QUEEN TBH

user3: P and Lando awww

user6: He’ll be the babies favorite uncle for sure

user5: How do they even know each other??

user2: I think through Instagram

user5: I’m so confused on their relationship timeline, because the first time we ever saw them at the same place was the Miami race

yn: We met in Miami, you’re welcome guys🤚🏻

user2: So y’all met and Lando won the race after?

yn: Pretty much, yeah

user2: Geeze for real a good luck charm!!

liked by yn

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liked by: mclaren, kellypiquet, carlossainz55 and 4.628.520 others

yn & landonorris: Baby Norris coming Spring 2025🎀🤍

comments:

mclaren: TEAM BABY!! we’ll provide as much clothes and training as possible

landonorris: gg team

yn: thanks for the clothes, i might have a talk with you about the training part tho…

kellypiquet: Congratulations!!

yn: Twinsss

maxverstappen: Congrats!!

landonorris: Thx maxxx

carlossainz55: Do I get favorite uncle privileges?

yn: Might have to fight Max for that🫣

maxfewtrell: That’s alright, I’ll be the godfather

user1: SURPRISE???

user3: DIDNT SHE SAY THE MET IN MIAMI??

user1: SHE DID

user4: Miami was almost 8 months ago, it’s not that short

user3: For her to be pregnant now?? Still a bit early imo

user2: No way was that planned…

user5: Yeah, let’s not!

user4: It doesn’t matter if its planned or not, let’s be happy for them

user6: Baby Norris omgggg

user7: All I see is Daddy Norris incoming😎

liked by landonorris

user8: Lando liking that comment😭plsss he’s so unserious

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masterlist

[taegularities]

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

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

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

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

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

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

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

“Angel? Breathe.”

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

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

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

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

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

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

“Oh, I’m…”

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

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

In some sense, it’s worse.

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

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

You follow.

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

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

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

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

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

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

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

You’re incorrect.

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The city called and it kept them.

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

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

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

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

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

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

“I’m trying to, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

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

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

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

“I was.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, Kook.”

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

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

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

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

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

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

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

“Helloooo!”

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

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

Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s not going to…

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s crazy.”

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

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

“What is?” you ask.

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

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

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

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

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

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

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

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

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

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

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

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

“You say it so… weirdly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yearning.

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

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

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

Reminiscent of a youth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Victoria’s Secret?”

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

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

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

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

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

“You okay?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then again…

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

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

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

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

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

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

“Gureum?” you repeat.

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

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

“Okay. Okay…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You could take him to the city.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s old?” you wonder.

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

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

He just is… He just is.

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

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

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

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

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

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

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

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

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

“Oh— Really? How so?”

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

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

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

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Right?”

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

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

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh… yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You understand.

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

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can wait. Things can wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really wanted to help, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

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

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nonsense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

“What are you talking ab—”

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

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

But it’s hard to listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

The fire in his eyes is blue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kook…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. It’s okay.”

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

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

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

Why can’t he love me?

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

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

But he keeps believing—

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

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

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

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

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

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

“Not for a second,” you say.

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

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

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

“I know. I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

And it does fifteen minutes later.

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

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

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

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

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

“Sure!”

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

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

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

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

You’re thankful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

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

You remember…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit…

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

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

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

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

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

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

You walk down the steps to the basement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

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

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

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

He does this often. Zone off like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

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

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

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

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

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

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

Make up, probably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

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

“What are you even?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

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

“And I got it for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll suit you.”

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

“Ah… I can try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tease here, a flirt there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah.

Ah…

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

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

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

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

Ahhh…

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

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

Come on. Unrealistic.

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

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

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

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

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

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

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

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

For the very first time.

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

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

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

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

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

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

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

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

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

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

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

Well. Okay.

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

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

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

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

You smile.

Okay…

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

Okay.

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

Breathe in. Breathe out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a deep breath.

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

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

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

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

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

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

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

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

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

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

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

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

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

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

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

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

Ah…

“Hm?”

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

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

“Oh— Kook—”

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

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

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

Well… at least now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

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

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

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

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

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

It’s a song.

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

“You probably do.”

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

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

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

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This… this is it.”

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

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

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Hackberry Emporer butterfly 🦋 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

It gets its name from the Hackberry tree cuz it lays its eggs on it. And we currently have a Hackberry tree attempting to grow out of the mess of honeysuckle

Also my dad had to give the redbud thats been growing up against the house a haircut cuz it was shading my moms tomatoes too much

And it looks goofy as hell now

Fuckin lollipop looking ass

Its fuckin hot out but chewbys need at least 20 minutes of sun a day or they get very sad and mopey and drive everyone crazy

Chewbys also need to roll around in the grass at LEAST twice a day. Very important for chewbys.

If given proper amounts of sun the chewby should melt onto the floor once back inside.

[leona-hawthorne]

mattheo riddle x pregnant reader headcanons !!

suggestive content warning— nothing too much tho, mostly fluff

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

husband!mattheo who looks at you with wide eyes as if you’d hung the stars in the sky when you tell him you’re pregnant. it’s silence for a few moment before he kisses the shit out of you and holds you for what feels like hours

husband!mattheo who almost screams when your bump starts to become more noticeable, somehow finding you to be even more beautiful than ever before

husband!mattheo who gives up smoking and drinking when you’re pregnant. if you have to quit, he’s doing it with you

husband!mattheo who won’t let you do anything yourself. the tv remote is three inches too far from you? stay right there, he’ll get it. you need to walk to the bathroom? he’s guiding you there as if you can’t walk on your own. need water? don’t you DARE get out of your seat, he’s almost got it for you. oh, and do NOT open that door on your own. that’s what he’s there for!

husband!mattheo who is practically in tears within seconds at your first ultrasound, a petulant frown on his face when you laugh at him

husband!mattheo who is borderline annoyingly overbearing when it comes to your health. “did you take all your prenatal vitamins? did you drink enough water today? what did you eat? do you need help with that?” “matty, i love you but PLEASE shut up.”

husband!mattheo who kisses every inch of you, worshipping your femininity, your beautiful hard-working body. wet hot kisses trail down your arms, linger on your round belly for a while, and eventually find their way between your thighs where he’d stay for hours if you wanted him to. he just wants to make his queen feel good while she’s growing their princess <3

husband!mattheo who snatches you up in his arms and cheers after finding out you’re having a girl. then he takes a victory lap around the backyard as he tries to process the fact that he’s gonna have a daughter

husband!mattheo who lays his head on your belly at night, half asleep and letting out soft murmurs about how beautiful your daughter is gonna be. “gonna look just like mommy, most gorgeous little girl in the world, you’ll have her eyes” “let’s just hope you’re less of a brat than mama is”

husband!mattheo who basically panics more than you when you’re going into labor “HOLY FUCK ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW??”

husband!mattheo who almost faints when he catches a glimpse of the baby’s head coming out of you. “ARE YOU OKAY?” “NO, I’M NOT FUCKING OKAY, MATTHEO!”

husband!mattheo who genuinely cries when he sees you hold your baby for the first time, the most beautiful sight in the world even if you’re exhausted and swollen. he’ll lean down to kiss the both of you on the forehead, his heart swelling with a love he didn’t know he was capable of possessing

husband!mattheo whose crying only gets worse when you let him hold the baby, sniffling and cooing at her. next to you, she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even as a newborn

husband!mattheo who’s terrified of being a dad, afraid to follow in his father’s footsteps. it was scary even with your constant reassurance, but the second your baby utters the word “dada” as she lay in his arms, his fears melt away

husband!mattheo who is the most girl dad of all the girl dads. as she grows, he’ll play dress up with her, let her do his makeup and paint his nails, and learn the name of every disney princess ever. whatever she wants, to be honest

husband!mattheo who can absolutely never get mad at your daughter. she’s perfect and can do no wrong and no one is ever allowed to make his princess feel bad!

husband!mattheo who tells you repeatedly everyday about how much of a good mother you are, about how naturally it all comes to you “you’re amazing, you know that, my love?”

husband!mattheo who would give his life for you and your baby a million times over. you are the loves of his life and he will work his ass off until the day he dies to make sure you’re happy

“we should have a boy next. i mean, i love playing fairy princess tea party, but i think it’s time for something else.”

[rowarn]

hybrid au part 3 - FINAL

other parts: one | two

cw: major character death, angst, happy ending tho, lack of communication, loving!kyle agenda, mentions of price finally

a/n: SO THAT'S IT. i hope it was worth the wait!!!! mwah!!!

Kyle noticed the way your light dimmed the following days. He was at a loss, one day you're bouncing off the walls and filling every room with the sweet sound of your purrs and the next it's cold and quiet. 

He tried everything, bringing home fragrant, expensive food and snacks, toys, whatever he could find that he thought would make you smile again. But nothing seemed to work. 

When you spend the entire day curled up on the couch, blankly watching TV, he decided he had enough. 

The following day, he was hooking your collar around your neck and forcing you to go outside into the sunshine. 

Your eyes burned as you stepped out beneath the sun's blazing beams. Days spent indoors, sleeping most of the daytime hours away, had accustomed you to darkness. It was hot and you already wanted to go back inside but one pitiful look towards Kyle told you that you were not getting out of this easily.

So you hang your head and allow him to lead you down the sidewalk. The military housing area was surprisingly quiet, the only sound was a lawnmower somewhere nearby. 

Kyle was silent, content with keeping his hand on the small of your back, a kind, protective gesture to assure you that he was still there as you glared at the sidewalk. 

Before you knew it, the quietness of the neighborhood grew louder and louder until you were walking through the gate of the hybrid-park. 

You looked around, watching all the happy hybrids and owners running around and playing lighthearted rounds of soccer or football. Casting a glance to Kyle, he gives you a crooked, boyish smile. 

“What do you wanna do?” he asks, glancing around, “We can take a lap around the park if you'd like?” 

You shake your head, “Can we just sit?” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” he coos, nudging you in the direction of an empty bench. 

You both take a seat, and look out across the park. While the nights still got quite chilly, it was beautiful during the day - a soothing breeze that rustled the green leaves in the trees and clear blue skies that you could look at for hours. 

You hated to admit it but - Kyle was right. You were starting to feel better, like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Being cooped up in the house didn’t help anything, in fact it probably made things worse.

A hand patted your head and you looked over to see Kyle beaming, as if he could see the tension just melt off of you. 

“I'm going to get us something to drink,” he muttered as he stood up, “Lemonade okay with you?” 

You nod your head, fluffy ears bouncing atop your head as you do. Kyle has to resist the urge to reach out and pet them, forcing himself to turn around and find a drink stand to get the lemonade from.

You're staring off at a dog hybrid and a young boy playing a heated game of soccer when you hear your name being called. 

Your head whips around to see Johnny standing there, tail wagging and eyes wide in shock. It's obvious he ran all the way over to where you are from the way his shoulders heave up and down with his heavy panting. 

“I-” he clears his throat, thinking over what he wanted to say, “I've missed ye.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, making the blood rush in your ears, “Johnny…”

“Come home,” he says, desperate and breathless, “I miss ye and I want ye to come back.” 

“Simon doesn't want me, Johnny…” you mutter, feeling shame burn at your cheeks as you look down at your hands - nails neatly filed down by Kyle just a few days ago. 

“To hell with him!” he spits, “I want you back, isn't that enough?” 

Your frown deepens. His selfishness ignites irritation within you, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“Why?” you ask, voice breaking as the word slips past your lips, “Why should I have to live like that? Being hated while you get to be loved?” Johnny says your name but you cut him off before he can say anything else, “That's not fair, Johnny. I have Kyle now and he loves me! I'm happy with him.”

“Can't ye be happy with me too?” he asks, sad, teary eyes cutting right through your heart. 

“Of course I could Johnny but…” before you can continue there's a sharp call of the pup’s name and both of you freeze. 

Johnny looks over his shoulder to see Simon jogging up behind him, a fierce glare in his brown eyes. A rough, gloved hand grabs the back of the hybrid’s collar. 

“What the hell do you think you're doin’ runnin’ off like that?” Simon snaps, anger masking the clear worry he had experienced at his missing companion. 

“I was just…” Johnny’s eyes drift to you and that's when Simon acknowledges your existence. 

The sneer on his face is clear even through the mask and it makes you shrink in on yourself, ears flattened back. Even after all this time, the sting of his rejection remains strong and hurts just the same. 

“What’s a gutter rat like you doin’ here?” Simon snaps. 

It annoys him that you're always at the source of his problems with Johnny. Whenever the pup misbehaves, you're always there. A bad influence. Typical cat. 

You look at Johnny. He doesn’t meet your gaze, instead staring up at his owner with an apologetic expression. You want him to speak up. You want him to defend you, to tell Simon to be nice or to apologize or tell him what you mean to him. 

But Johnny just sighs, “Sorry, Si.” 

The lack of defense towards you in the face of Simon solidifies everything for you in that moment. You look down at your lap, the crack in your heart only aching and stinging more and more with every beat of silence that passes between the three of you. 

Something ice cold touches the back of your neck and you yelp, launching yourself off the bench and onto the ground. Laughter fills your ears and you turn to glare at Kyle who holds a large plastic cup of lemonade - the cold thing he’d just surprised you with. 

“Sorry, love!” he apologizes but the laughter shows he's anything but. 

Soap speaks up then, asking if Kyle knows you. Your owner’s brown eyes shine with pride as he affectionately ruffles your hair.

“Found them on the street and brought them home!” Kyle tells them, sounding much like a proud father, “Best decision of my life!”

Your cheeks burn at his praise, his kind, loving words remedy the painful stinging in your heart that had been brought on by your previous owner. You take the cup of lemonade when he offers it to you, taking a sip and cringing at the sour taste that hits your tongue – much to Kyle’s amusement.

“You guys are welcome to come over anytime,” Kyle says, smiling as he affectionately pets your ears, “I’m sure this cute kitten would love to have a friend to hang out with.”

“Yeah…maybe,” Simon mumbles, sending you a sidelong glance that was cold and empty – telling you everything you needed to know without saying it. Absolutely not.

You find that you don’t mind that much. The idea of never seeing Simon or his painfully hateful gaze was nice. But when you looked at Johnny, who was staring at you in despair – you find yourself mumbling in response, “Maybe someday.”

The hope in Johnny’s eyes seers into your mind, even long after you’ve parted ways and gone home for the day. 

The days pass in relative ease. The depressive rut you found yourself in melts away and Kyle is thrilled to see that you’ve returned to your bright, bubbly self. You greet him at the door when he walks in, sit and purr beside him while you both eat dinner together, curl up against his side and happily snooze the night away. 

It’s peaceful bliss.

But one evening, Kyle returns home and tosses his heavy duffle bag onto the floor with a thunk. You get up to greet him, stretching your arms high above your head before padding over to him with a sleepy smile on your face. Kyle opens his arms for you, letting you tuck yourself into his chest for a hug. A loud purr emanates from your chest that only seems to make Kyle’s shoulders drop.

“What’s the matter?” you ask when you catch a look at his face when he pulls away; brows furrowed and lips in a tight line.

“Just got some sad news, that’s all, lovie,” he mutters, patting your head before he moves into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

“What news?” you ask, following after him, tail swishing nervously behind you. 

Did his parents pass away? Did a friend get hurt?

Kyle sets out some vegetables on the counter, hunting around for a knife before sighing, “You remember Simon and Johnny? We met them at the park the other day?”

You nod your head, “Of course.”

“There was an accident a couple days ago,” Kyle explains, slowly chopping up the celery on the cutting board, “Johnny got hit. He didn’t make it. Simon’s tore up about it.”

It feels like everything freezes right then and there for you. You no longer hear the chopping of the knife, no longer hear Kyle's voice or the sound of traffic outside on the street. All you can hear is the pounding in your ears and the sound of your own breathing.

Images flash behind your eyes in your grief. You can see Johnny’s boyish smile and his boisterous laugh emanating down the hallway. You can see him so clearly, wrapped around you as you snuggle and snooze together as the rain falls outside. You can hear the animated way he would tell you stories, waving his hands around and his tail thumping loudly on the floor.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel a hand cup your cheek. You blink away the tears and Kyle’s face comes into view, worry etched onto it. 

“What is it, lovie? Why are you crying?” he asks, clearly concerned.

“Johnny’s dead?” you ask, voice broken and wobbly as you fight to talk through tears.

“Yeah, love,” Kyle coos, thumbing beneath your eyes to rub away some tears, “Why are you so upset?”

Everything tumbles from your lips then. You tell him about how you lived on the street, how your life changed the day you met a rambunctious pup who wouldn’t take no for an answer until he had himself a friend. You tell Kyle about how, even though Simon was awful to you, Johnny was a light in the dark and how much you adored him and how much he meant to you. You tell him how Simon threw you out like trash and how much it hurt and how much you missed Johnny despite everything. 

Kyle held you through it all, tucking you tenderly against his chest as you cried it all out.

“I had no idea, lovie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead when your breathing becomes erratic. 

“I-I never got to settle things with him,” you wail, “He wanted me to come home and I-I couldn’t give him an answer.”

Kyle sighs, cupping the back of your head, rocking you back and forth until your cries quiet down to hiccuping sniffles, “It’ll be alright, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

Truthfully, he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn't know how he can make this hurt go away or help you soothe the grief you’re experiencing. All he can do is hold you close and comfort you whenever you need.

This time, when Kyle notices how sad you are as the days pass, he doesn’t force you to leave the house or do anything. He just lets your sadness run its course, doing what he can to ease your burden by making your favorite dishes and letting you watch your favorite movies over and over again until he can practically recite them by heart.

There’s a knock at the door that startles the both of you one evening. Kyle’s on his feet in seconds, hand drifting towards the firearm he keeps nearby before he looks through the peephole on the door and relaxes. 

You peek over the back of the couch as he opens the door. Simon stands there. 

Although he is masked, you can practically see how worn down and utterly devastated he is. 

“What’s up?” Kyle asks, hand twitching to reach out for the older man but thinks better of it. “Do you need something?”

“I wanna talk to that one,” Simon nods in your direction, where you’re still peeking over the couch. 

Kyle turns to look at you over his shoulder, asking your consent. You think it over for a few seconds before you nod your head. Not like Simon would do anything with Kyle here. 

He steps aside to let the larger man enter and closes the door, giving an excuse about getting drinks before disappearing into the kitchen.

Simon’s heavy boots vibrate the floor as he takes a few large steps towards you. You scoot to the other side of the couch when he sits down, the couch bouncing with his added weight.

His hands are folded between his knees where he rests his elbows on them. His tattooed skin ripples and flexes as he nervously fidgets with his hands. 

“Johnny wanted you to come home,” he starts out, staring intently at the floor. You swear you can see tears beading at his lower lash line as he says his companions name, “So I’m here to see if you will.”

“You want me back?” you ask softly, anxiously pulling a pillow into your lap.

Simon nods, “It’s what Johnny wanted. He cared about you, loved you. You’re all I have left of him.”

You’re silent at that. 

Despite everything, your heart aches for Simon. He adored Johnny more than anything – even if he hated you, his love for the pup was palpable. You could see it in his face every time he saw Johnny, eyes scrunching up happily. Johnny was his world and now that world was gone and Simon was left with nothing but bitter emptiness and a void that he was desperate to fill. 

You found yourself opening your mouth, ready to agree – ready to be the one to soothe your ex-owners devastating hurt. But then you found yourself looking into the kitchen, to Kyle’s back. He was hunched over the counter, vigorously mixing something in a bowl and you realized that you didn’t want to leave him. 

Kyle was yours. Kyle was everything you could ever need or want. He wanted and loved you when you thought no one else would. He didn’t give up on you even when you were difficult and cold. He cared about you, thought about you every day. He gave you everything you wished for so desperately during your time living with Simon. 

“I can’t,” you find yourself whispering, tears filling your eyes at how much it hurt to turn Simon away, “I know Johnny would want me to be with you, to make sure you’re okay without him but…I love Kyle and I want to stay with him.”

“So that’s it then?” Simon asks, voice small and weaker than you’ve ever heard it before. You know there’s a crushing weight on his heart right now, knowing he will be going home alone to a painfully empty and cold house. 

“Yeah…” You whisper, unable to look up at him as he rises to his feet. 

Kyle comes out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl in his hands, asking Simon if he was okay as he passes by him to the front door. The larger man just grunts in response and opens the door. The quiet click of it closing is all you hear of his departure before the warm bowl is in your lap. 

It’s a bowl of broth that makes your mouth water. The fact Kyle had made it for your just because warmed your heart.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, sitting down next to you, arm tossed over the couch behind you, fingers mindlessly stroking over the fuzzy surface of your ear.

“He wanted me to go home with him,” you respond, taking a sip of the broth.

“You said no?” he asks. You catch the worry in his tone – like he was scared you were going to tell him you were leaving him soon.

But you nod and his body relaxes in relief, “He only wanted me back because I reminded him of Johnny. He didn’t really want me, just the image of Johnny.”

Kyle nods, leaning over to kiss your temple, “That man loved that pup. But I’m glad you’re here to stay.”

You look over at him from over the bowl of broth as you sip it, “Yeah?”

“I would have let you go if that’s what you really wanted but…” He looks a little sheepish as he continues, “It would have hurt to see you go, kitty. I meant it when I said adopting you was the best decision of my life.”

You place the bowl down on the coffee table before launching yourself into his arms. He grunts as your weight slams against him, knocking him back onto the couch as he laughs. His arms wrap around you in a bear hug, squeezing you so hard that your ribs ache but you don’t even think about trying to pull away.

Though you don’t say it, he knows that you’re his to keep and that you love him just as much as he loves you. He couldn’t imagine life without you now. 

BONUS: 

“I think my boss is gettin’ impatient to meet you, you know,” he mumbles in your shoulder.

“Your boss?” you ask, voice almost too quiet to hear over your loud purring.

“Yeah, the old man’s been dyin’ to meet the cute kitten I talk about all the time at work,” he explains.

“You talk about me?” you ask, peeking up shyly.

He grins, “All the time. I think everyone’s sick of my voice at this point. But the Captain's really been begging to come and meet you. I’ve been waiting for a good time to bring it up. He’s a bit of a lover so you’d have to put up with all the pets and hugs he has to offer.”

Your eyes shine in interest, “I want to meet him!”

Kyle chuckles, reaching up to pet one of your twitching ears, “I’ll make the call then and set up dinner.”

You were excited to meet a new person. You hoped he was as kind and gentle as Kyle was. And even though the idea of Simon sitting alone and hurt in his house with nothing but the memories of his best friend, you weren’t going to let that stop you from opening up new chapters in your own life. 

do not repost on other websites, translate, or modify. reblogs welcome!

[orteil42]

Cookie Clicker turns 10 today! Having outlived our enemies, let us celebrate with a fresh batch of announcements!

🍪First of all, Cookie Clicker is 40% off on Steam this week! The perfect gift for your loved and/or hated ones! (the web version is still free forever but you don't get Steam achievements or music by C418!)

🍪Secondly! The mobile version has been lagging behind the browser game for years and is in dire need of an update. I've been dedicating most of my time recently to bringing its content up to par! Here's a progress report:

Compared to the current version, this update adds back 284 upgrades and 179 achievements from the web game, which leaves 83 upgrades and 94 achievements still unimplemented plus a good amount of heavenly upgrades. I am determined to close that gap!

Seasons and the pet dragon are currently partially implemented. These are complicated, compound features with side-effects in all kinds of places so once the update gets an alpha release I'll likely be needing everyone's help to hunt for bugs and oversights. I'm being as thorough as possible but there's no way I didn't forget some obscure interplay somewhere!

I'm also updating the UI! Cookie Clicker's interface makes heavy use of woodwork, which is largely absent from the mobile version; I've been aiming to bring it back. Rather than recycling desktop assets, I'm looking to push the game's visual identity towards less "plain wooden boards" and more "victorian biscuit shop" (something I'd have liked to go for when I first made the game but didn't quite know how yet). Here's some early screenshots!

I'm using Blender for the new assets, I might make a more in-depth post about my process in the future. Please note that these are experimental and I'm still fiddling with the look! Once I'm happy with it I'll ideally be giving the desktop game a similar makeover.

This update will hopefully come out later this year and will likely involve multiple rounds of alpha. Once stable, future updates will focus on adding sugar lumps and as many of the minigames as possible.

🍪Thirdly: the Makeship grandma plushie is real and we're doing a giveaway! Please read this twitter post to enter. Note that if the launch campaign succeeds we've got other plushies in mind! Maybe a wrinkler?

🍪Fourthly - there was going to be a really cool announcement here but I've been informed I'm not yet at liberty to discuss it. It's sooooo cool tho trust me. things happening. u gotta take my word for it. tune in next time

🍪Lastly:

i've got enough dough for like, idk 50 more? mom's recipe. white+dark+milk chocolate. they're very good thank you

PS. thank you for playing with us all these years! odds are some of you reading this have been here since the very start. that's mad to think about! Opti and I couldn't have done this for 10 whole years without all of you hyping us up. i want to see if we can do 10 more. get real freaky with it

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Could I ask how you think Rise! Donnie would deal with his first time with his partner (18+) would he be nervous or confident? Would he start blabbering about info he researched prior to try and hide how nervous or excited he is? I feel like if it’s his partners first time with a mutant he would probably end up over-explaining his anatomy to them.

First Time Headcanons (18+)

Rise!Donatello x reader

A/N: I’m not sure why, but I have this idea, that if Rise!Donatello should get to a point where he’s interested in having sex with a partner, he would be at a point where he’s very comfortable with them, and not that easily nervous. But with that being said, anybody can get nervous at any point in life, but I feel like he would be quite a bit calmer. Hope these headcanons was something like what you were looking for. Hope you’ll enjoy💜

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Mentioning of planned sex, softer sex, intense sex, passionate sex and rough sex.

You and Donnie’s first time was planned, no doubts about it. This wasn’t the kind of thing Donnie would just do in the heat of the moment. Maybe once he had gotten more used to it, but his first time he needed to be prepared.

Donnie is not really a nervous person. It’s a rarity for him to get truly nervous in the stereotypical sense. He doesn’t shake, he doesn’t stutter, and he doesn’t hide away. No - when Donnie is nervous, he tends to turn off his emotions and throw around quite a few sarcastic statements. It’s not his intention to make you unsure, confused or hurt you when he would suddenly turn emotionally cold - it was just a way for him to protect himself.

At this point you knew Donnie well enough to know what was going on. He may have prepared himself in every way possible, doing as much research as possible  on the human anatomy, so that he was sure to please you. And you would remind him that everything was okay. You understood him and he understood you. You could be yourselves around each other, and you would find a way to make this pleasurable for the both of you.

With all that Donnie had learned about human anatomy, he would of course tell you about it. That’s just how he functions. He’s a fact thrower and he finds comfort in it. And you listen and engage him in what he’s talking about. Some of the things you may already know, but some of them might come as a surprise to you.

The day of your first time, you and Donnie had decided to do it in his room, an evening where you knew the rest of his family was out, so that the two of you could be all alone. Total comfort, allowing both of you to get as loud as you may need to, without having to worry about anybody walking by Donnie’s room.

And loud you were. It almost surprised both of you. It wasn’t because you were going absolut at it, breaking the bed on your first try (a few rounds in you did get quite a bit rougher tho). No, it was simply because of the new sensations both of you were experiencing. It was just part of your processing, expressing yourselves with sounds of surprise and pleasure. Though if anybody had been standing outside the door, they might have thought you were shooting a porno… ups.

Your first round was intense and passionate, holding each other close as Donnie thrusted in and out of you at a sturdy speed. Your second round started out intense and passionate as well, with you riding Donnie just to try it. But halfway through, Donnie had flipped you onto your back, driving into you at a much greater speed. However your third and final round of the evening was quite something, with Donnie having you on all four, fucking you like you both were already addicted. It didn’t take long before you had your chest flat against the mattress and ass high in the air, screaming and crying for Donnie not to stop. Quite the journey the two of you went through to be honest.

[cultven]

Whumptober Day 6 - Not Realizing They're Injured

"It's not my blood."

RE2r Leon Kennedy X Reader

Content: Leon being a sweetie, Marvin mentions, Reader has been through a lot the past few days, teamwork!, and lots of hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Some mentions of blood/wounds (not graphic)

a/n: Wrote this for Whumptober day 6 a while ago but kind of just gave up on Whumptober because I am completely overrun by school </3 this one is still fun tho! (I am probably going to still post Whumptober content, just not at the right times lol)

You really wish you didn’t wear short sleeves today. Originally it was perfect weather to do so, with a cool breeze and warm air still surprisingly prevalent in the late days of September. What you didn’t account for was a zombie outbreak to begin the very same day. You were walking home from the story, retrieving a few necessities your roommate sent you out for, when you had your first encounter with a zombie. You’ll never forget the cold, white eyes that peered into your soul. Her pale skin was overtaken by lesions and blood, it was a gamble on whether the blood was hers or not. Thankfully you were able to dodge her attacks and settled into a sprint back towards your apartment. What was not so fortunate, however, was the explosion you were met with once you got back. Your apartment, your home for the past two years, all of your belongings, now nothing but ash and despair. 

How could this all happen so fast? One minute you were a normal citizen, and the next you were almost a victim of a horrible outbreak rampaging through your hometown. After brief consideration, you decided to head down to the police station only a few blocks from your apartment. You figured it would be better than leaving yourself in the open, plus they have officers and weapons there. If there were any safe places left in the city, it would be the Raccoon City Police Department. 

On arrival, you were met with many timid questions through a cracked door. You could tell they’d already been ambushed a few times by the way they were on edge to even speak to you, an outsider, after some convincing you were let fully into the building. There you sat with other survivors and police officers, trying to process that this was your new reality. Over time you lost more and more refugees. Officers who thought they were brave enough to survive got themselves killed, and citizens who began to get worried over their families all left until it was only you and Marvin left. That was until the rookie came in. 

Leon Kennedy, a tall man with brown hair and an adorable smile. The two of you instantly clicked. You were both similar in age and his personality meshed well with yours, resulting in deep conversations quite quickly. You learned he was supposed to have his first day around a week ago when this whole shitshow started but was told to stay away. As much as you grew a liking towards Leon, you could’ve scolded him for his idiocy. He should have stayed away, he should have spared himself from the horrors of Raccoon City. But you remind yourself that he couldn’t have known, and besides, in some selfish way you were glad he found you. 

With the task of getting out of the city at hand, you and Leon have grown closer and closer, which brings you to now, wandering the corridors together, flashlight in your hand and a gun in Leon’s. A groan emits from around the corner. 

“Did you hear that?” You whisper to Leon, keeping close since he is one of your only defenses against the zombies. Leon and a small knife Marvin gave you. 

“Yeah, stay behind me.” You nod slightly at his command, standing right behind his uniformed body. It should be illegal how cute he looked in the cop uniform. As the two of you rounded the corner, Leon cocked his gun and held both arms out to stabilize himself. Just as you had guessed, a zombie begins to come forward making its way into a sprint at the two of you. Before you could even think to react two bullets are lodged in its head as it falls limp to the ground. Leon puts an arm out in front of you, signaling for you not to move closer as he nudges the zombie with his foot. Dead. 

“Good aim.” You pat Leon’s arm as his gaze is still fixed on the body. He was still readjusting to the whole zombie thing. Even though he’s doing it out of necessity it feels wrong to kill the zombies. In his eyes, they’re still human, at least part way. Seeing he was lost in thought you nudge his arm a bit, “Let’s go. Marvin’s waiting.” He only nods as you begin to move again. Leon is grateful for you, he truly is. He doesn’t know if he would have the courage to do any of this without you. It seems there’s one good thing that came out of this tragedy at least. 

The pair of you continue walking, not having the luxury of spare time in this hell hole. To make things a little better, you try some small talk. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out of here?” 

“Hm, definitely get some good food. Maybe some fast food. Is it bad to crave fast food in an apocalypse?” You giggled at his question. 

“Probably not. I just know the first thing I’m doing is taking a shower.” You’ve been stuck in the police station longer than Leon and it is very telling appearance-wise. Your clothes were not only filthy, but you also admittedly smelled. It was a wonder Leon wanted to be around you, much less wanted to stay so close to you. But you suppose it wasn’t the first thing on your mind. 

“Shower is a good one! Can I change my answer?” Leon looked you in the eyes, smiling. You had to resist tackling him on the spot. He was so cute, even with dirt and grime on his face. 

“Nope! Can’t steal my answer.” You playfully responded, still trotting by his side keeping an eye out. 

“Aw, dang. Well, Mcdonalds is still pretty good I guess.” Leon conceded. You were about to respond when you heard noises coming from the main atrium. You looked at each other in confusion, then in worry. Marvin was out there. 

“I think we should head back there.” You state, turning your head back in the direction you came from. Leon agreed and you both began to backtrack, maneuvering over dead bodies and pools of blood. Gross. Right as you were about to reach the gate you felt your boot slip on a puddle. As you were falling backward muscular arms caught you just in time, capturing your body in a tight hold. You open your eyes and are met with crystal blue. Leon. You smile seeing the relieved look on his face, his arms pulling you in closer before releasing his hold. 

“Please be more careful. I’m going to die of a heart attack before a zombie could get me.” Leon huffs, half joking half serious. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You apologize, feeling a bit bad. Leon only shakes his head a bit before smiling one of his sweet smiles again and leading you with his arm. 

“It’s ok, let’s just go check out Marvin, yeah?” With soft footsteps you make your way to the main hall where you expect to see zombies but nothing. Only sharing a quick, tentative glance, you continue forward. You were about to call out Marvin’s name when you heard a long, guttural groan. Turning your heads you find yourselves a devastating sight, Marvin with his head completely bent to the side with white eyes. The eyes were always the creepiest part in your opinion, it was the first glimpse of the zombie apocalypse you got. With painful noises leaving his mouth Marvin begins to limp forward, acting like all of the zombies you had encountered before. Earlier that week he told you to promise him if he ever became one of them, to shoot him. At the time you thought the promise was unnecessary. 

Backing away, you could see Leon was sweating. He looked at the gun in his hands before quickly looking at Marvin once again. It was hard to gauge his thoughts, he looked conflicted in himself. “Leon…?” You whisper, still slowly backing away as Leon stays in place. 

“What do we do?” His voice was quiet and strained. Marvin showed him kindness and was one of the only reasons he was still alive at this very moment. He should have died a few hours ago but Marvin saved him, and Leon couldn’t return the favor. His breathing picks up and his head begins to shake. “What do we do?” Leon repeats, slightly louder this time. His head was now facing you, desperately needing you to guide him. 

“I don’t know.” You stutter out, feeling hopeless. Like Leon, you wouldn’t be here now without Marvin’s generosity. He not only physically helped you by providing food and water, but once everyone else was out of the station the two of you gave each other emotional support as well. You knew what Marvin wanted, but you couldn’t bring yourself to suggest it. 

“Should I…?” Leon’s voice trailed off, but you knew what he was referring to. He was staring straight down at Matilda, his hands violently shaking. Deep down you both knew it was the only way. Either that or leave him alone in this miserable state. If there was any Marvin left in that brain of his you knew he would want to be taken out. The atmosphere became suffocating. You inched towards Leon, trying to gain a sense of false security. 

“He- Marvin told me, before you were here, that if he turned into one of those things he wanted someone to shoot him. He didn’t want to survive as one of those monsters.” You solemnly repeat Marvin’s words back to Leon, who was only falling further into distress at the words. Now he knew what he needed to do, but bringing himself to do it was a completely separate issue. 

“I can’t.” No, he wasn’t trained for this. The academy didn’t build him strong enough to kill his allies like this. 

“I can.” You put your hands on Leon’s, staring into his soft eyes. For the past week, you’ve been surrounded by chaos and despair. If anyone were mentally ready enough for this, it would be you. Leon has protected you time and time again, it was your turn to protect him. 

“Are you sure?” Leon looked suspicious but allowed you to gently take Matilda out of his shaking hands. You squeezed one of his hands in your own, a gesture he mimicked back to you, before cocking the gun towards Marvin. It was your turn to be anxious now. Before this week you’ve never shot a gun, even then you’ve only used one twice out of necessity. You take a deep breath in. 

A gunshot rings through the room, but nobody falls to the ground. Instead, you feel a decaying hand grab yours and push you down, effectively knocking Matilda out of your hands in your stunned state. Of fucking course you missed the shot, why did you think you could get it in the first place? You weren’t trained for weapons, let alone a police handgun.

You’re now on the ground, fighting Marvin off of you as you frantically attempt to grab the knife attached to your hip. Leon watches in horror at the scene, stumbling to retrieve Matilda from the other side of the room. As he grabs the gun you successfully grab your knife and jab it into Marvin’s side. Much to your displeasure it doesn’t elicit any reaction other than a small groan. Losing your grip on the knife due to the many liquids such as blood and sweat surrounding you, Marvin gets his chance to take the knife out of himself and begin swinging at you. Luckily, Leon returns from grabbing his gun just in time to kick Marvin off, effectively taking the knife with him. 

Without hesitation this time, a gun goes off, and then silence. You look over to see Leon coldly standing over Marvin’s lifeless body. He liked Marvin, he truly did. Leon held much respect for his elders, but he knew this wasn’t the same man he saw at the beginning of the night. Even if it was, however, Leon still didn’t regret his actions. You were his haven in this hell, and if protecting you meant he had to make some hard decisions then so be it. As much as he wanted to believe the opposite, Marvin was never going to make it out in that state. But you had a chance. 

Looking over at you his heart was beating out of his chest. Even disheveled from a fight you looked beautiful. Not to mention the fact you could have almost died right in front of him. Leon yelled your name, running back over to you. He enveloped you in a hug, pulling away after feeling a warm liquid coat his clothes. He looked down in horror to realize the liquid was blood. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks, confused since you seem fine. 

“What?” You look down at his hands that were smeared with blood. “That’s not my blood.” You felt fine, maybe a little buzzed after the fight, and your heart was racing out of adrenaline, but nothing hurt. 

“Your arm…” Leon whispers, turning you slightly to the side to take in a giant gash on your upper bicep. It was likely from when Marvin was slashing the knife at you. You were so focused on getting him off of you that you didn’t feel the pain. 

“Oh shit.” That was all you said before Leon guided you over to the bench and firmly sat you down. He seemed angry. Not aggressive, just silent and mad. He grabbed a first aid kit and took out a rubbing alcohol pad. 

“I’m sorry, this might hurt.” He seemed genuinely hurt when he felt you wince against the pad, your teeth gritting together. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the phrase again, somewhat to himself. Luckily the gash wasn’t deep enough for stitches, only surface level. If you had sleeves on it likely would’ve been the depth of a paper cut. Damn you short sleeves. Leon began to wrap gauze around your arm as the room was buried in silence. Once you were all wrapped up and Leon put the first aid kit away you both sat in silence, about a foot apart and awkward. You weren’t sure why Leon was being like this, he saved your life. Did he think you were weak and didn’t want to associate with weak people? No, that’s not Leon. 

Little did you know, in his mind, Leon was killing himself over the fact he allowed you to get injured due to his empathy for a fucking zombie. His skewed moral compass could have been your first-class ticket to death. You deserve someone better than that, someone more rational. How is he supposed to get the two of you out of here when he can’t pull a trigger? 

Sick of the silence, you spoke up. “Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s up?” You look over, he is clearly still lost in thought. When he doesn’t answer you nudge his arm slightly, scooting closer so that your hips are now touching while sitting. 

“It’s just…” Leon trails off, allowing himself to reword his thoughts before spewing them out. “I hesitated to kill a fucking zombie and it almost got you killed.” 

“Leon, I understand your hesitation. He was our friend.” You inched your hand close to his but didn’t commit to touching it. You were uncertain whether or not he wanted to be touched in this state. He answered your question however by grabbing your hand and squeezing it on his own, a grounding technique. 

“Exactly, was. I knew it wasn’t him. I knew he was dangerous, and I still allowed him to get close enough to hurt you. I’m the cop here for God’s sake!” His frustration was taking over, you could tell all he wanted to be was a protector. 

“You still saved me, Leon.”

“Saved you from my own actions.” He let go of your hand and buried his face in his palms. The stress of everything was beginning to get to him, Marvin was only the final straw of everything that had been building up recently. 

“Hey,” You moved Leon’s palms from his face, taking his hands in yours and holding them gently. “Leon, without you I wouldn’t be here right now. Not only because you stopped Marvin, but because of all the other zombies and monsters you’ve saved me from today.” He still didn’t look convinced, so you continued. “Your hesitation only further proves how caring you are. Marvin was our friend.” Leon looked away at the word ‘was’. You sigh, moving putting one hand on his cheek and redirecting his gaze to you. 

“You’re a good person, Leon. I need you to know that.” It felt like there was a laser between your eye contact, anything that tried to pass through would simply burn out. You were all he could see and vice versa. Suddenly, Leon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. His face buried itself into your neck, beads of water, presumably tears, beginning to run down your skin. 

“Thank you.” It was just above a whisper, but you heard him crystal clear. There the two of you sat in each other's arms, recollecting yourself for the certain hell you had to face once more.

[boofeine]

boo ,,,, could you do mtl libido for each unit? hope ur well! i’m glad i found ur blog again, i was sad when i couldn’t search u up initially

heeyyy gorgeous!!! im soooo sorry for taking so long on this!! thank u sm for finding me 🥹💓

since u said for each unit im going to separate it for each one... hope that's what u wishing for !

MTL libido on seventeen members

MTL vcu members...

jeonghan —he's not resting... he LOVES to tease you as much as he can. penetrative sex is just a plus really, you will cum many times before it and before him.

seokmin —quite similar to jeonghan, he likes the foreplay, so he will take his time on it. his cock will be rock hard and red, aching to cum but he will still wait as much as he can to pleasure you.

jihoon —this man will have your jaw aching to make him cum on a blowjob. he takes so long that you even get competitive with yourself, and there's a big chance you're coming before him.

seungkwan —avarage stamina, normally goes for two rounds at max. gets hiper sensitive and can't stand the overstimulation. just a pouty whiny guy really.

joshua —goes for one sweet round and that's enough for him. the sex is very passionate and sweaty tho, so it's one worthy round.

MTL pu members...

soonyoung —he's CRAZY and wbk. he can go for hours and hours, you'll be the one begging to stop. wants to try the whole kamasutra.

chan —goes for hours and hours, and he's not even sweaty or exhausted. it's fucking crazy. normally, likes to cum first with you grinding on him to set up for the next roundS.

minghao —another freaky ass, that nonchalant attitude doesn't hide it for me. he's teasing and similar to jeonghan, will go for hours just to see you suffer while he stands there cockhard.

junhui —pretty good too, has a great dick and will have enough stamina to let you use it how you want it and how many times you do.

(this one was pretty difficult, i think they're all freakies)

MTL hhu members...

seungcheol —can go for multiple rounds even tho that's not his usual choice, he has those nights, and you love it when he's in the mood to ruin you with many rounds.

mingyu —pussydrunk face, he's restless on fucking you with his tongue, will cum on his pants while eating you out and will get hard again on workship just to fuck you.

vernon —good libido, likes to have you in multiple positions before cumming (his favorite is you on top). usually one round but gets too horny when you are, so go for more.

wonwoo —average, similar to joshua, likes one passionate round and that's enough to satisfy him. an obsessive dom tho, if he's subbing, maybe will go another round just to be on top.

[seraphicloves]

𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅?

⊱✿⊰ summary: the overblot aftermath except yuu has my personality lmao

⊱✿⊰ warnings: book 2 spoilers, lowkey bullying leona (but nice), yuu is reader, fully self indulgent, fluffy tho, like a few refs to reader being small cuz im smaller than even ruggie so yeah. Thats like the only physical depictor i think

⊱✿⊰ notes: i had this dream last night and boom bam i made this. I think its preppy and also its lit ny personality and also leona is like 😍

your eyes slowly fluttered open, the bright fluorescents adding to the dull ache in your head. as your vision adjusted you realized you had quite a few people surrounding you. ace and deuce and jack and grim? what happened...?

"what happened?" you muttered out, sitting up in the...cot? you were in the infirmary but why? the last thing you could remember was playing the special round of spelldrive and grim mentioned something about a special move.

"at the beginning of the second half grim threw the disc at your noggin and knocked you out." ace answered barely concealing his snort, "don't you remember?"

"no i don't remember." you grumbled, narrowing your eyes in a glare. ace gave you an apologetic smile that you weren't sure held any real sorry in it.

"i was trying to aim for victory!" grim exclaimed, pumping his fist up. he smiled widely at you and plopped into your lap. despite your annoyance you curled your arms around him, letting him snuggle into your chest.

"you amateurs need to work on your throwing skill." jack replied with an eyeroll.

deuce quickly interjected with a gentle smile, hoping to ease any tensions that might appear. "i for one am glad you're awake! i was scared the hit did some real damage."

"true, you were asleep so long you even missed the closing ceremonies. they're taking everything down now." ace said, still trying not to laugh. evem through your annoyance you couldn't really blame him. it did sound kind of funny that you got hit by a disc because of grim's terrible throw.

"which dorm won?" you asked suddenly, words falling from your lips hurriedly, "how did savanaclaw do?"

even with leona being so underhanded you still wanted him to get what he wanted. he just wanted to feel like he was good enough, something you could relate to heavily. you hoped none of them could tell the way your face warmed with your rambles. maybe you could blame it on pain meds..if this place even had them.

suddenly that growly rumble of a voice filled your ears, leona saying, "diasomia won, unsurprisingly."

your eyes jumped to where leona was, him and ruggie in cots side by side. leona looked goregous, with his long hair still braided and a few bandages scattered across his dark tanned skin. you really ought to focus instead of fangirling over his looks like a silly school girl.

"there was nothing we could do to stop it." ruggie added with a sigh, looking slightly more healed now, "it didn't help that we took a beating from every other dorm before we got to them."

you winced sympathetically, unsurprised the other dorms had gotten their revenge out during the game. even still you felt bad, but perhaps that was your annoyingly empathetic heart talking.

"housewarden! ruggie!" jack exclaimed, turning his body around to see the others in their cots. you slowly sat up, ignoring your dizziness in favor of getting the chance of getting closer to leona. you are surely going insane, why were you wanting to comfort leona after everything he did? why were you wishing to kiss his hurt away in front of your friends no less.

leona tsked, his arms crossed over his hardened chest as he said, "being stuck in the infirmary for anything other than a mid-day nap is about as lame as it gets."

his eyes wandered over to you and you felt your body warm, self conscious about the way you look. you could feel that your hair was a bit tangled and your clothes were slightly frumpled, making you wish leona would suddenly forget you existed. did he think you look bad? you looked at your hands, trying to cease your racing heart.

"and what's worse? none of the diasomia kids ended up here." ruggie pouted, his ears flattening aganist the top of his head. you felt your lips quirk in amusement, finding the small boy's annoyance kinda cute. he reminded you of your friends from your world (though that thought suddenly made your heart feel heavy.)

ace nodded and started talking about the head of the diasomia dorm, apparently being a major powerhouse. you didn't doubt it, seeing as half the guys at this school were insanely large or annoyingly good at magic. they still scared you, seeing as you were neither of those things.

"with that attitude you're never going to beat them." jack said with his fist clenched, all good old determination, "i didn't beat them but i will next year! i'll do anything it takes."

"does 'anything' include your capacity for evil?" leona asked with a slightly malicious grin. you felt mildly deranged for wanting to kiss it off of his face.

"have you learned nothing?" you asked, fighting the urge to get closer. once his grin widened, deliciously evil glint in those pretty brown eyes you felt your resolve wavering.

so you did get a bit closer, sitting on the chair beside his cot. he didn't seem displeased with your proximity as he said, "i didn't realize this was an after school special."

you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled past your lips, eyes lighting up with amusement. he was insufferably wonderful. "i didn't realize you knew so much about those after-school specials."

ruggie interrupted with his infamous laugh, making you feel suddenly aware of the way you were sort of flirting with leona. you backed up and looked shyly away, grateful your friends didn't seem to notice the way you had been half tempted to settle your and leona's debate with kisses.

"there's the leona i know!" ruggie said, making jack roll his eyes. jack reminded you of captain america if he was part of the omegaverse, but the boy's brain might explode if you tried explaining that to him..

"i can already tell this won't end well." jack muttered with a slight shake of his head. you felt your lips curve into a grin at the same time as leona. even though you most definitely didn't want leona try to cheat his way to the top you also liked his...ambition. you were far gone.

deuce, ace, and grim chimed in talking about how they wanted to play in the tournament for real next year. a small part of yourself wondered if you'd still be around by next year or if crowley would have found a way home for you by then. then you quietly wondered whether you would return to your old life or stay in your new one.

suddenly a little boy with red hair bounced into the room, jumping onto leona without a care in the world. your eyes widened, surprised by the freaking kindergartener entering the infirmary. he was adorable and sort of reminded you of your younger cousins, who were all around his age.

"unca! there you are! i finally found you!" the child giggled, hugging up close to leona. leona looked shocked for a moment before his face relaxed to his usual pissed off look and he hugged the kid back.

"unca leona...?" jack mumbled, matching your confusion. all the boys seemed equally confused that this tiny person was calling leona uncle and cuddling up to him without getting beat into a pulp.

"this is cheka, my brother's son...my nephew." leona explained boredly, ruffing the boy's hair. your eyes widened, reeling at the sudden revelation.

"so this is the next in line for the throne." ruggie said in a low tone, amusement filling his expression. you were still shocked this adorable little baby was leona's nephew.

"unca! i saw you play, you were sooo cool!" cheka giggled, his hands tapping against leona's shoulder in a badly attempt at rhythm, "teach me how to play pleaseeeeee!"

"fine, fine just stop screaming in my ear." leona grumbled, plucking cheka off his body and putting him down. which made cheka notice everybody around, particularly you.

the tiny redhead ran to you, jumping onto your lap. he was very similar to your cuddly baby brother so it was easy to just wrap your arms around cheka and let him hug you. you giggled, amused by leona's nephew.

leona was about to protest, and you could have sworn you saw a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. it gave you the smallest glimmer of pride, close enough to the third year that you saw the tiniest details.

"so the source of all leona's anguish is..." jack began, struggling to understand what was happening. everybody was to be quite frank.

"this innocent angel." you finished for him, ruffling cheka's hair. cheka giggled and squirmed in your arms, eyes wide and happy as he looked at you.

"shuddap, all of you." leona grumbled, "stop gawking."

you grinned and couldn't help the way you decided to sit on his cot beside him. you were small enough that you could fit on the bed at his side. cheka seemed happy by this decision because he could now crawl freely between you both.

despite leona's annoyance, he wrapped his arms around your waist to prevent you from falling off the cot. ruggie raised his eyebrows in silent shock, probably surprised to see his big scary upperclassmen cuddle with the random girl who just appeared at the school.

cheka rambled incessantly, asking questions and talking to leona. cheka seemed to idolize leona, making you wonder if he realized that. does leona know how much cheka loves him?

ruggie was laughing like a maniac at the new side of leona they had all discovered, probably wanting to use this as blackmail. you did think it was funny, but it was also freaking adorable seeing leona so soft. leona nuzzled his face into your shoulder, glaring at the first and second years all laughing their heads off.

"are these your friends?" cheka asked, turning around to look at them all. then he looked back at you, "is she your girlfriend?"

"oh for sure. we're besties with leona." ace grinned, even happier when cheka asked about your relationship with leona. you felt your cheeks warm, lips opening to deny the assumption.

but leona didn't give you a chance as he grumbled, "i won't forget about this."

though the boys were still amused they decided to leave, laughing and talking about "unca leona". the older boy glowered, tightening his hold on your body. hell even ruggie left, feelinf well enough to leave the infirmary for a moment.

"you gonna marry her?" cheka asked, bouncing on leona's stomach. leona groaned and pulled the kid off of him, so he wasn't treating the third year like a jungle gym. cheka glanced at you and added, "what's your name?"

"my name is [name] but everybody calls me yuu." you said, ignoring his first question and especially ignoring the way your heart throb at the idea. it was silly, you were a teen and thinking about marrying leona.

leona also ignored the first question just mumbling out a quiet, "furball always trying to start stuff..."

suddenly cheka jumped up, hearing the voices of his attendants. the little redhead ran away as quickly as he came, probably going to cause more chaos. he really was lucky he was so adorable...and the fact he was a prince.

being alone with leona made you acutely aware of the way he was cuddling you. his arms wrapped around your waist and his tail curling around your shin. he was warm, his firm body pressed aganist your back in such a comforting way.

"i didn't say this earlier," he began, his low timbre full of the beginnings of sleepiness, "but im sorry for hurting you when i overblotted. i didn't mean for you to get involved."

you blinked with surprise, your heart stalling as a lump in your throat. maybe he really did feel remorse for what he did, the thought sending a flutter of excitement through your tummy.

slowly you turned so your front was against his, faces inches away. you were both laying down on the small cot, his strong arms keeping you steady and grounded.

with that delightful dizziness in your head, you leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. he froze, soft gasp of surprise falling from him. his arms tightened around you, squeezing the skin on your waist.

"its okay, leona. i'm not mad." you replied softly, gifting him your forgiveness like you were sent straight from god. not that you knew if he even had a god in his world. perhaps even without a god, you wondered if he knew how to worship one. if he might worship you like you were one.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[shuenkio]

Camera Boy | Yjw ✯

Paring: Jungwon x Male!reader | Genre: Suggestive

Synopsis: Your best friend found out you're doing "that" for a living but why did he keep quiet, and wanted to be the one who made you crazy under his touch instead?

Cw: camboy, cursing, moaning, overstimulated, mentioned of cum, masturbate. 18+ no smut

Non proof read | Eng is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

AN: Was bored and decided to do the request even tho I said next week lol. Again I haven't written anything for the past 2 weeks so mistakes can be seen and a lil awkward.

Life as a cam boy while in college was quite interesting, since the college fee was sky rocket you couldn't help but to help yourself, with anything. So that's when you found out there's something to do with your body, ofc the app where you can make money, to pay off your debt.

Talking about college, you have made a friend wherein you call him Jungwon, ever since the first year. He was there, hang out with you, eat with you, do anything with you not to mention he loves to give you a free cuddle session whenever he feels lonely. —

Everything was so perfect, your life was blooming, nothing is in your way not when, one day, your very bestie Jungwon, found out your darkest secrets. He caught your live stream on that app, while jerking off yourself in front of the camera as your face covers in a mask to hide your identity. Then how did he know it was you? Well, there's no other than your voice, also the room you were in, it was indeed your room. You don't like people touching your stuff unless it was him only Jungwon, which rings the bell.

However there is nothing really getting out of hand, Jungwon actually seems to enjoy it and not against it? It is a miracle. Yet he kept his mouth zipped, waiting for the perfect moment. Low-key wanted to be the one and only who makes your squirm and shaken under his touch.

One evening after you finish all of your classes, you head back to the dorm, exhausted and mentally wanted to lay down all day.

As you open the door, and get inside, you drag your feet to lay down on the couch a bit before doing anything, not until you see Jungwon place a glass of water on the table in front of you, to cold you down. Actually it caught you off guard that he was wearing nothing, nothing at all.

"wooah, Jungwon... What are you?" You said, cover your eyes with your small palm. Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows confused.

"what am I? I'm Jungwon duh, ohh you talk about this, yeah it's too hot, the AC broke" he explains innocently. Seeing you all red ears only to fuel him even more, as he is swinging his dick round and round. This kid is different for real.

Can't help but to flush and paint in red, you can't bear to see him all naughty like this, laterally not a teddy bear at all.

"ok- Jungwon that's enough, at least put on some pants"

"oh make me!! Lol but, if you really want me to pant on, you gotta owe me something"

"something? What something? You can't be serious Jungwon, t-that thing is too big in my face" you claim, feel a bit amused and also distracted at the same time, why is he so big, it was the size of your wrist already.

"I know what you did m/n" Jungwon spit out, at first you thought it was nothing, but once it click you feel goosebumps from the top to the bottom of your toes.

"What did I do ? Jungwon?" Nervously, try to be clueless in case you get the wrong idea, however guess what, Jungwon responds with giggles instead.

"you make money on live didn't you, Cam boy?" Smirking on the corner of his lip, the sweet and cute Jungwon was nowhere to be seen, he discovered your darkest secrets already? No damn way, now what should you do, begging for his mercy?

"uh- no you're wrong Jungwon, I did not"

"oh how can you explain this" in a swift move, Jungwon pulled out his phone and showed him the Livestream you did last week, you seen your legs are rest on the chair, spreading open, as you masturbate for the audience, moaning and quivering. Now the moment is real, the cat got your tongue, you are dead for real, panic and trembling is not the right word to represent, it was more than that.

"Jungwon listen, please don't tell anybody, I'm doing that because of my collage please I'll do anything!!" Stuck in the cage at this state, you drop down to your knee, begging for Jungwon to spare your whole life. Would he have some pity and give it to you?

///

The room was filled with wet sound and moaning in pleasure, just like you did in your previous Livestream, leg open wide rest on the chair arm, and facing the camera. It's just a bit different this time, today it's not you who is giving yourself some love, but Jungwon is giving you a helping hand, yes he's the one who is jerking you off this time.

"FUCK babe, you're so good a-at this" falling into the world of ecstasy, you cries out, your dick is being dominated by your bestie which you have to call him by nickname on Livestream to avoid being recognized. Jungwon wrapped around your dick, stroking it nonstop, as the lube did their job. On the other hand, Jungwon also jerks off himself too, groaning softly under his breath.

"yes babe, moaning all of that for me" with that, he increased the pace of both, stroking his huge cock and your dick in the same rhyme, chasing for the climax. It was intense and erotic as Jungwon's cock kept throbbing

And begging for the release, same goes to you. The wet sound continues louder and louder as time passes by, both balls keep slapping against each other's thighs, along with cursing, and trembling follow under these hot sessions.

"holy shit m/n, I feel it, I feel it's coming fuck fuck fuck Aghh"

"Nghh"

Soon enough, Jungwon who was standing, arching his hip forward before a load of heat cum shot straight in your face. His eyes rolling to the back of his brain, took all the pleasurable feelings. You also came undone, soaking on your gamer chair.

Overwhelmed for the first time in a while of masturbating, Jungwon couldn't stand straight on his feet, after an intense moment, before hitting on the floor suddenly. End with that, as you finally catch your breath steady, you quickly end the live, laughing at your friend who was passed out on the ground. It's really funny, even his cock is given up on him too.

"that was some nice shit isn't it? Again, thank you for all your support, special thanks to my love who joined us for today, that's all for now see you late!!"

Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

Crd to all the owner dividers and pics.

Special thanks to my loyal reader for this request !

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (With Benefits) PT3

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count: 3.9k +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of weed, (implied) RichKid!Reader, jealous!Chris, pet names (cherry), choking, humiliation, heavy degradation, sub!Chris, dom!Reader, I think that’s all.

(A/N: I got this idea from this request. Tysm for the idea & inspiration. Hope this is good.)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

I haven’t talked to Chris ever since that party.

wich wouldn’t be too shocking, since we hate each other. but I’ve been ignoring him fully. I wasn’t even responding to his mocking or arguing with him.. just…

The entire situation of us, two people who hate each other so much, and have for so long, hooking up, is extremely toxic.

And I’m self aware, I know that.

It just never bothered me before... But he was treating me like shit. And I’m done with it.

It’s been a week now, and I don’t think he cares that much honestly. At first he went on like normal making witty remarks trying to start arguments and disagreements, but since I didn’t respond he started to do it less and less.

It feels so refreshing not to have a headache everyday.

Only con is, that we share most classes. So i have to see his face all the time. Tho I just ignore him.

At first I saw him walking a round with charlotte, and honestly I don’t know why she is still talking to him after almost hooking up.

I don’t know what he was trying to achieve with that. But if the point was to make me jealous he is so bad at it.

I’ve been talking to Ethan a lot though.

And like I thought, he’s a nice guy, and he always shares his weed.

Even though I have enough friends, most of them are ‘lunchbox friends’. Well except for Matt and Nick, but I can’t really talk to them often considering I’m trying to avoid their brother.

I feel like most of my friends are fake. Wich they are.

We’ll talk and have fun in school, but if I walk past them at the mall they will act like they’ve never seen me in their entire life.

Ethan though. Ethan is nice. His skater friends not so much. Well I guess they’re just critical. After all I’m not any type of alternative at all, and I frankly, don’t know how to skate.

But at least they respect me. Probably because I’m wealthy but ih well.

Ethan and I haven’t done anything.

Other than kiss.

I walk out of history class, a class I share with Ethan. We walk down the hallway side to side.

When we get to my locker- wich is only two away from Chris’ -I unlock it to put my books in it.

All this time Ethan had been complaining about how his next class would be math and whatnot. I had noticed that Ethan was skipping less and less classes now. I never realized how many classes we shared because he was always skipping. But now he wasn’t. And the lack of tobacco in his system was making him itchy and I could tell.

Once you got to know him he actually got quite talkative.

I look over my shoulder to look at Ethan but see Chris in the corner of my eye.

Chris…

Chris.

Without thinking I grab the collar of Ethan’s sweatshirt roughly crashing my lips onto his.

Ethan, having not expected it, doesn’t do anything for a moment, before he kisses back.

Pushing me against the lockers behind me roughly. His tongue finds its way into my mouth as we start to make out.

In the middle of the hall.

My arms wrap around his neck holding him close.

He was kissing me like i was the only source of oxygen. And it felt good. I could tell he liked kissing me, and he wasn’t bad at it.

“Gonna suck face in the hallways now too?”

I pull away slightly. My breath was coming out in short and harsh pants.

I ignore the voice. Chris’ voice.

…Chris

Instead I stare back into Ethan’s eyes. I try to focus on the way his hands feel on my waist as he holds me against the lockers.

His grip isn’t too tight, but it was firm. His forehead pressed against mine as I stare back into his dark eyes.

“Disgusting.”

I look over at him at the disgusted tone. I scoff. My eyes lock onto Chris’ and it feels like electricity shoots up my spine.

Ethan looks a lot like Chris, but he doesn’t have the blue eyes.

The blue eyes that I-

I pause all the thoughts leaving my brain as I hear Chris let out an irritated huff.

And suddenly the feeling of Ethan’s hands on my clothed skin feels too hot. Even tho he unironically resembles Chris a lot, he isn’t Chris.

And god when did my standard become: Chris.

I tare my eyes away from Chris’ gaze. My eyes locking back onto Ethan’s dark eyes.

While Chris’ seem cold and icy, Ethan’s are warm and welcoming. But I don’t want to be welcome and the warmth seems too hot.

It feels like going out in a hoodie on the hottest summer day.

-suffocating

“Fuck off Chris. You’re not any better”

I say to Chris, while staring back at Ethan. But before I can hear Chris reply the bell rings.

I let out a breath. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Chris slam his locker harshly and leave. And once he does I leave a peck on Ethan’s lips.

I slide out of his grip chuckling.

“Imma go now pretty boy, I’ll see you later” I smile at Ethan.

I quickly take out my stuff for my English class and speed walk past him.

★ ★

I’m late to my class but I can’t help but not care.

I share this class with none of them.

Not Ethan, not Chris, not charlotte.

Wich was a relief. Because I don’t know what that was. Ethan has never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable.

Chris had.

So why am I comparing them.

Why do I feel like the lack of just simple bickering with Chris is giving me withdrawal? Why does his glare burn through my soul? Why does it feel wrong being near Ethan when Chris was there? And why the tell did it feel like Ethan’s touch burned?

Why did I want Ethan to be Chris?

Well no let me rephrase that.

Why did I want Chris to be nice to me.

He’s always been rude and mean. I knew what I was getting into. And I liked it, and it felt great. So why am I missing the attitude.

Am I that much of an attention whore?

My eyes trail around the room. I take in the whiteboard none of the words written on it register in my head. I look over the students, mostly only seeing the back of their heads, since I sat all the way in the back

I’ve never felt so loved, alone and hated at the same time.

I know Ethen likes me, and it feels like I’m using him for escapism. To distract myself. I’m leading him on..

I feel so alone. Literally the only people I would usually tell, are the brothers of the problem.

And I’ve felt hatred so intense from Chris. And I know he hates me, and I know that’ll never change

★ ★

He days seem to pass so fast, yet so slow. And at this point I don’t know what I’m doing.

I stick to Ethan. Sometimes I’ll make out with him other times I’ll just stay close to him. Especially when Chris is around.

And I can see that he is getting more and more pissed off.

I’ve been wearing more revealing clothes. Atleast as revealing as it can get with the dress code and all. Mocking the fact that Chris can’t do anything about it.

I was hanging out at home. Alone since my siblings were once again at a sleepover. It wasn’t like they were always at one. And I feel like they’re too young to party and I trust them.

I trust that they aren’t lying to me.

Anyway, since they’re only one year apart they share some friends. So they both went to a sleepover birthday party from one of them.

I’m sitting on the couch, for once enjoying the pice and quiet. I have a movie playing, but I’m drowning more in my own thoughts than watching the movie.

I pause when I suddenly hear the doorbell ring.

I think that maybe it could be my siblings? No neither can drive yet.

Maybe it’s a package. Did I order something? But no it’s midnight they wouldn’t still be delivering orders at midnight..

I get up anyway trading over to the door.

I mean if it’s a killer and I go out this way…. Oh well.

My eyes meet Chris’ as soon as I open the door.

I go to slam the door in his face, but he catches it roughly throwing it open.

“Cherry, please” he huffs. He walks in his sharp eyes trained on me. Chris closes the front door behind him.

“Chris get out” I sigh. I purse my lips glaring right back at him.

If he stays i don’t know for how much longer I can control myself. I feel like I’m having withdrawal symptoms. I miss the way he hates me.

“Cherry, listen” he snaps slightly. I raise an eye cockily. I shift on my feet and cross my arms. My glare doesn’t let up.

But Chris is looking at me different. He doesn’t glare, he looks at me with… desperation?

“What?” I snap back harshly.

“Cherry, please? Literally give me anything?”

Oh, so he is as desperate as he looks.

“Give you what?” I play dumb. My arms stay crossed. I keep looking back at him, his pathetic state only serving to piss me off more.

He can’t even drive, how the fuck did he get here. Nobody knows were fucking so he probably didn’t ask Matt. But Ubers are expensive at this time.

“You know what I mean. Cherry, I’ll literally get on my knees right now and beg.” He says that slightly jokingly. He doesn’t actually think he’ll have to go that far, but if he needs to he will.

“So, get on your knees than, Chris” I mock back, thinking that he wouldn’t actually do it.

But before I can blink he’s going down on his knees right in front of me.

I raise my eyebrow staring down at him.

He dramatically puts his hands together making a begging motion. “Please, please, please cherry??”

I look down at him. He looks so cute when his eyes don’t look like they want to bore through me.

He actually looks desperate and needy right now.

I know I said I wouldn’t hook up with him, and I’ve been doing good at ignoring him for almost a whole month. But god he looks so cute, so… god

I thread my fingers through his messy long hair. His wavy brown hair. And I suddenly pull him up. He winces at the harsh treatment, but he lowkey deserves it for being an ass.

I hate how he stands just a little bit taller next to me.

I crash my lips on his and it feels like fire works go off. I’ve kissed Ethan so many times these past few weeks but it never felt this good.

My arms wrap around his neck. My fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Chris’ hands instinctively go to my waist. He holds me flush against him and I feel so comfortable under his touch.

I pull off of the kiss scoffing. My hand wraps around his neck harshly. I pull him down to my eye level while slightly choking him, and he just lets me.

“Hm? Did you not get your dick sucked by someone else?” I mock him, my tone is harsh and condescending.

“Did she not do it as good as I did?”

“Don’t flatter yourself” he grumbles under his breath. He has the audacity to roll his eyes at me.

My grip on his neck tightens and he lets out a sharp breath, one that almost sounds like a moan.

“And yet you still came to my house, got on your knees and begged for me?”

He falls silent at the harsh words. He purses his lip staring back at me with what looks like shame in his eyes.

I move him harshly, changing the place where we stand so I’m close to the door. I harshly squeeze his neck before letting go.

“Go to the living room, I’ll be right there” I nod to the living room behind him. Chris eagerly nods before going to the living room.

I sprint up the stairs and with in a minute I’m back again.

“You’re so fucking pathetic you know that?” I glare at him while towering over his sitting figure.

I go to slowly straddle his lap. His back is pressed against the back of the couch. He looks up at me with ever so pleading eyes. Looking at me like he was desperate, wich he was.

“Such a pathetic bitch. Going to your enemies house and begging to be fucked” I say harshly. My grip goes back to his neck as I choke him slightly. Not enough to actually choke him, but enough to make him lightheaded.

“Sorry, sorry” he closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

His eyes meet mine and he looks purely submissive now. It’s funny to me how he is so needy. Maybe I need to ignore him and make him submissive more often, because I like this sight.

I pull him closer by his neck kissing him again. His hands ghost over my sides not daring to actually touch.

I pull away abruptly, listening to his whine.

“Undress.” I says simply standing in front of him.

While I watch him undress I turn off the TV fully. The movie had been paused, but I hadn’t paid attention to it anyway.

He does as I say. He slips off all of his clothing. He’s left fully nude in front of me for me to look at.

He squirms under my harsh gaze. But he is turned on. It’s obvious by his rock hard dick. It’s already red and swollen, leaking pre cum, looking for some release.

I pull out the vibrator from my pj pants pockets. I had gotten it from upstairs. Chris never let me use it on him, unless he was being really submissive.

And since he was, I might as well have fun.

I press it to his tip gently, not turning it on anything yet. I look back at him. I capture his mouth in a kiss. And then turn the vibrator on. He actually flinches at the sudden stimulation.

The kiss is messy, mainly because Chris can’t focus. But The vibrator is literally on the lowest level.

I pull away from the kiss listening to Chris whines and moans. He keeps his hands at his sides. He knows better than to try to get it away. But he looks like he’s itching to just push it away, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure.

“You look so stupid right now” I chuckle.

I put the vibrator on the secound lowest level. But that alone is high enough for Chris to physically hold himself back from flinching. His moans and whines turn into breathless whimpers.

“Answer.” I scoff. And before I knew it I slap him across the face harshly. The clap echos through the room.

I was letting my pent up enger out, but Chris was enjoying it. As soon as I slap him, his mouth falls open in a silent moan.

Chris didn’t seem like the type. But he had a raging degradation kink.

The sting of the slap traveled right to his dick. His length was twitching in my hand. He was sinking further and further into the couch. He was enjoying this.

“I know-“ he breathes out. But I cut him off by turning the vibrator on higher.

His body practically jolts forward in pleasure. He tries not to come right then and there.

His hand grabs my wrist, the one that was holding the vibrator. “I’m close-“

“I don’t care Chris. If you come now you’ll have to go through the rest overstimulated.” I shrug. Then I abruptly turn the vibrator to its highest setting

He tries to curl his body in on himself but I push him back. And within seconds hes coming all over himself.

I keep the vibrator situated on his tip. I watch how he stays rock hard. His dick starts twitching as his whines get louder and needier.

He weekly pushes my hand off. But after A moment I take it off fully.

While he heaves for breath, I start to undress. I straddle him. When he feels me sink down on his tip his hands go to my waist out of instinct.

I sigh at the feeling. We haven’t fucked in what feels like ages. The stretch hurts. But still I purposefully clench around him to make it even tighter.

His eyes are clenched shut. He’s a moaning mess.

“Chris open your fucking eyes” I slap him again. His eyes flutter open.

“You look so cute all submissive” I taunt. I’m only half way down and I’m struggling. But he doesn’t need to know.

Before he can whine in answer I ram myself down. I wince at the feeling. But Chris’ moans are louder.

I start to gently bounce on him. But he is growing overstimulated quick.

I keep on doing that, my glare focused on Chris. Chris’ eyes shut tightly for a moment. He breaths harshly.

His eye meet mine again. He looks purely submissive. His head tilted down slightly, mouth slightly agape.

“Handsome boy, all needy to get fucked like this hm?” I wait for him to answer but he just whines and moans in response to my movements.

“Can you talk baby?” I ask, huffing. I grab his face, slightly squishing his cheek together with one hand. “Hm? You like getting fucked like this?”

He gasps when I speed up the pace. He blinks a few times, halfheartedly throwing back his head.

Another slap echos through the living room. His head is turned to the side his eyes wide. His mouth is agape as he tries to hold it together. “I told you to fucking talk Chris”

One of his hands goes to his cheek. He grits his teeth trying to formulate words.

But before he can, my hand goes to his neck gently squeezing as I start to ride him harder.

“So good- fuck-“ he breaths out harshly.

His eyes are half lidded. The rough treatment only serves to turn him on even more.

“Yeah, you like that?” I scoff. My hand snakes from his throat to his neck. I pull him in for a sloppy kiss. He can barely focus on anything, every sense in him overwhelmed.

I pull away from the kiss. My hands both move to his shoulders, To use as leverage to ride him harder.

Chris throws back his head, his eyes shutting. He only gets increasingly louder. My movements get harsher and more relentless.

I take one of his hands from my waits and position it at my clit. “Rub it” I demand. And as soon as I do he starts to rub it vigorously.

I clench around him, feeling my release wash over me. Chris’ hand on my hip gets harsher and harsher. I keep moving though, until I feel him twitch.

I quickly pull off an hover over him.

I sit down on his thighs, then start to jerk him off harshly. I put the vibrator back to his tip and turn it on.

Chris’ body harshly jerks forward. I put a hand on his chest and push him back.

And within a few seconds Chris is coming all over himself again.

We both pant as I stare at him. I keep sitting on his thighs as I watch him for a moment.

I lean down and leave a peck on his forehead. I pull him into me. My arms wrap around his neck, putting his face into the crook of my neck.

I pull away from him and slowly get up off of him. I pull on my panties, and pj pants again. As well as my top. Quickly getting dressed again.

I really don’t want to, but he needs to go. As much as I missed him, I made it a point to not hook up with him.

And now that I have, I might as well treat him like he treats me.

“You have to leave.”

He pause looking at me questioningly, It’s like he hadn’t expected me to tell him that. Like he expected us to just hang out and cuddle or something.

Which is not going to happen.

“What?” He questions, his tone sounding blunt, almost harsh.

“Christopher, I want you to leave” I say more sternly. I overpronounce every word to make sure his stupid brain understands it.

“Why” he scoffs frustrated. He stares at me like I’m crazy. Like I’m crazy for telling him to leave when leaving is literally all he ever does.

“Christoper.” I grit out my tone more harsh and serious.

I can’t help the loud scoff that I let out. I walk to the nearest bathroom. I grab a towel halfheartedly dampening it.

I walk back to the living room, where Chris sits mildly stunned. I throw the damp towel on him watching as he awkwardly cleans himself.

“What’s up with you” he sasses me. His gaze is judging.

“I hate you, Chris. I always will.” My words are harsh. And the more I talk the more I can see him narrow his eyes at me in anger, growing more upset by the second.

“Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean I like you. You’re a shitty person.” I take in a deep breath. I feel like I could say worse than that.

“I hate you, and you should leave.” I purse my lips. I watch his expression shift. His jaw clenches, and I can see that he looks like he is about to blow up on me.

The withdrawal symptoms of not fucking me were too much, but now he feels the rage. He remembers why he hated me so much. I can literally feel the hatred and anger radiating off of him.

His already sharp jawline only seems accentuated by the way he clenches it. He swallows his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Chris’ eyes narrow at me, but he just gets up and puts his clothes back on. He looked furious.

I hate him, so why would I let him stay, why would I forgive him. He got the Sex he wanted, so why was he so pissy about leaving?

Now fully dressed he walks closer to me, not touching me.

“What’s wrong with you?” He scoffs. His mood was now definitely sour.

“That’s how you always treat me Chris. Now leave” I snap back at him, getting just as angry as him.

“Okay cherry, have it that way” he gives me a halfhearted sarcastic nod. He then brushes past me to the door, opening it, before a loud slam echoes through the house.

I had sworn to not hook up with him anymore. And if I did that I’d treat him like he treats me. But why do I feel so shitty now?

Can’t a girl have sex and then he all giddy and want to cuddle?

Yes but Chris’ presence irks me. It’s disgusting. He is disgusting.

Masterlist

A/N: requests are always open. pls give me ideas on how to continue this <3 comment if u wanna be on the taglist

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos