#u are on an entirely different plane of existence no one wants to be on and its very hot of you @me

[graceofagodswrath]

Omg your Humans are space orcs/deathworlders + Transformers is just *d e l i c i o u s*. My complaints are pretty much the same, it seems that most humans on the franchise are just manufactured to be hated or simply annoying for being so useless. I want transformers to realize just how hard we have to work to simply stay alive *in our own planet*, with the sheer amount of diseases and poisonous animals and predators and weather and so much more, I want them to wonder how such seemingly fragile beings became the dominant species, how can we be so resilient yet so delicate... I'd like a transformer that particularly hates/is disgusted by humans to swap places with us for like a day or so, the first one that comes to mind is Starscream, I want him to get a glimpse at the daily fight for survival here on Earth and can't help but develop a tiny speck of respect for humans, not that he would ever admit it, even to himself, that he's secretly more mindful of where he steps when there are humans around ever since.

I literally just gave a rundown about this to a friend in a drunken rant the other night, so I am so ready for this.

Starscream wouldn’t be my first pick, based solely on the fact that I haven’t psycho-analyzed him the same way I have others, but imma do my best ~

For situation-sake so my writer brain doesn’t kill itself over context, imma do this in the form of Headcannons. Let’s say Starscream gets stuck in a human body and has to exist as such until he magically gets put back. Until then, he’s stuck with a human who is aware of what he is (vague gn oc/reader, up to whoever. Writing from the viewpoint of “one of us”).

(Also y’all can input any Starscream here cause imma write him in his basic form: whiney, stuck-up, clever little cunt).

- Bro is flabbergasted. Disgusted. Horrified. Out-of-his-mind losing it. Keeps praying to primus it’s a drug-induced hallucination or a dream.

- Wakes up on the soft cushions of a… couch? The word pops up in his head. He knew the basics from his overviews when their war traveled to earth. He brought his servos- No. Hands, up to his face, inspected his new honey, fleshy digits. The detail was too vivid to be a hallucination. Colors were both muted and bright. Starscream found himself automatically trying to adjust his optic intake. But nothing happened. Of course. Because fleshy organics can’t manually adjust their own sensory inputs.

- He curls his lips, and is instantly hit with the feeling of muscle contorting. Skin and flesh was an entirely different sensation from mesh and plating. It made his plating- damnit no, skin crawl. Another sensation trailed up the center of his back, spine and shiver popping up in his mind.

- Even the way his psyche worked was different. Like a new plane of existence. Thoughts were unorganized, uncalculated. Like something that squirmed out of his grasp as he tried to keep hold. Everything felt simplified, yet the awareness and sensations were overwhelming. His entire presence felt… hypocritical.

- Sounds distracted him from his insightful, yet horrific reverie. His gaze drifted to another area of the room, half-built walls sectioning it off, but with flat slabs atop. Counters. A face pops from behind the half-wall. Human eyes catch his, and the creature pulls its lips back to bare its teeth. To smile. Even though humans and cybertronians had similar facial anatomy, the little creatures were so ugly that it was hard to recognize similar expressions.

- “You good bud?” The thing asks. Starscream felt his new face twist into his casual sneer, one laced with aggravation and disgust.

- “Good? Is such a thing possible when you’re a skin bag of flesh and bones?” The humans only response was to broaden their grin.

-“Glad you haven’t lost the attitude. Means you’ll make it out alive.” The nonchalance threw the ex-cybertronian for a loop.

- “You… know me?” That grin turned into a smirk that made the non-energon in his lines boil.

- “You’re Starscream, second-in-command to Megatron, lord of the deceptions, yada yada yada… yeah I know who you are.” They leaned back against the wall, eyes boring into the deception. Starscream found himself wondering if human eyes were always so disturbingly piercing.

- “Wonderful.” He shoved the unsettled feeling to the back of his head, determined to figure out a solution and still be in control. “Then you can explain how and why I am in this disgusting organic form.”

- The smirk disappeared into an odd expression Starscream had never seen before. The human flattened their lips and pursed their… cheeks. It looked entirely stupid. But something in the back of his head whispered apologetic.

- “I’m not sure on the exact details, but I can tell you it won’t last long. I’m basically your caretaker until it wears off.”

- Instinctually, Starscream’s brows raised. “That’s it? Is this some new human weapon, cruel imprisonment within one your fleshy bodies?”

- The human tilted their head back and laughed, once again taking Starscream off guard. Their casual presence was so different from the fight-or-die everyday lifestyle that gripped his species.

- “Nope. Just a random accident that you’re the unfortunate victim of.” At the con’s bewildered stare, the human pushed their mouth outwards, changing the pitch of their voice as they said, “aww, poor baby. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” Then they whirled around and walked into the other room.

- Man is flabbergasted. Is out of his element and cannot function. Cue him trying to stand and do normal things, and bust his ass because the different sensations hitting him all at once. Organic nervous systems feel very different from techno ones.

- First thing he starts doing is eating and drinking. It takes a couple hours, but his “babysitter” eventually gets him to try something. Water first, of course (he refused any organic foods). The con is disgusted, but moderately pleased that the tasteless liquid isn’t slimy or thicker like he expected. It’s actually rather soothing to his human body.

- The first food he willingly tries is melon. Honeydew to be precise. Refused to touch meat, as the idea of eating actual organic flesh was unfathomable. He was pleasantly surprised to find the flavor of the fruit likable. Humans don’t taste things the same way cybertronians do. Whereas energon has a more electrical charge to it (to put it in human words), Earth flavors were smoother. Discovers he has a huge sweet tooth (as his “babysitter” put it).

- His human guardian took this opportunity to drag him out of their home and go shopping for more consumables. Let him pick things he found somewhat pleasing, but chose most others. Lots of fruit to try and other non-meats. Went in to try the other types of fruit. Has a preference for honeydew, strawberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, and grapes. Really likes (loves but won’t admit) pineapple and raspberries. The sour/sweetness is similar to energon. Citruses like oranges and mandarin are also similar, but he prefers more sweetness than straight sour. Kiwi is also a treat.

- (I headcannon that energon is similar to sour patch kids and skittles, super sweet and sour with an electric tang and texture. So all transformers would be immediate sweet lovers as humans because of the similarity).

- Hates anything dull or flavorless. Don’t try to feed this man spinach, he’ll call you grass-eating fleshbag.

- Drinks water only because he has too (stupid human body), but once he discovers those liquid flavors he can put in, it’s all he uses. Tried juices when he found out they were liquids derived from the fruit he likes. Got excited when it tasted almost like energon and tried to only consume juice from then on. His guardian explained that humans couldn’t only exist on juice, but of course he tried to argue that all he needed was nutrients in liquid. He then discovered smoothies. Nearly did the same thing until he actually tried them. Hated the thickness and gritty texture.

- A couple days go by and his guardian decides it’s time to get him tf out properly. Man is lounging around all the time. If he’s not on the couch making fun of human entertainment and politics, he’s following his guardian meatbag around and demanding answers for his current predicament.

- So his guardian starts small. Hauls his ass outside for a jog. This is where things really get interesting. Starscream is unaware of how human bodies work. When his guardian begins a slow run, he gets confused. Why would you run when you can walk fine? Where were they going? Leads to an explaination of exercise, which results in the con doing his usual snide shit of “you force yourselves to go through training otherwise your bodies become slow and unusable? How unsurprising.” And they’re like “yes and nooo, it’s so we can stay strong and get stronger as time goes on. Staying strong allows us to do cool things.”

- Cool things like what? Well his guardian gets an evil idea in their head. Starscream hates running. Hates using his legs and having nothing to do with his arms. Don’t even get them started on the tantrum he threw when he started sweating (fluids exiting one’s body? Horrifying).

- So his guardian introduces him to swimming. The con is a jet in his natural form, and the closest he’ll get to that as a human without a shit ton of equipment will be the water.

- Problem is the man has to learn to swim first. And willingly get in the water. Stays on the edge of the lap pool the first few times, watching with his nose turned up at the humans swimming.

- However, he starts to slowly dip his toes in the water. The sensation is… interesting. It’s not dislikable on human skin. In fact, on the hotter days it’s very soothing, like when he drinks water (finds out he can’t drink this kind tho, chemicals and bodies in it and such).

- Eventually he gets in, staying in the shallow area. His guardian helps him learn how to swim. It feels humiliating, learning to kick and tread water, while watching human children do it with relative ease. It feels strange to use his body in such ways. But with his guardian constantly reminding that none of his cybertronian peers knew or will know of his situation, AND their constant praise, he finds it in himself to continue.

- The praise he receives from his guardian is also something he’s not used to. As well as other humans willing to help him learn. It apparently wasn’t uncommon for many adult humans to not know how to swim or do other things, and gave him more confidence to learn. He’d never admit it, but he tried harder to learn just to hear the praise from others. It felt nice to be treated kindly. Better than nice. But again, he’d never admit it. He’d just respond with a clever quip. Never did anyone hear a thanks (but most quickly figured out he was grateful from the obvious burning red on his copper-toned neck and ears).

- Weeks drag on, and to distract himself from the impatience of going back to his normal, Starscream becomes an excellent swimmer. He finds it is like flying, the way the water holds up his body. When he holds his breath and dips under the surface, he can almost imagine his rocket boosters on his pedestal holding him aloft in the sky.

- From the work it took, he gained a slight appreciated for how his human body worked. At first he thought it was a hindrance. But as he worked with the others, he began to have an understanding that unsettled the cybertronian part of him.

- Humans were incredibly versatile. After he began to improve greatly at swimming, he asked about other activities humans did for exercise. The resulted in learning that humans didn’t always “exercise” to become strong. Many did it for fun. It was a hobby to them, and the exercise was a great benefit. It kept their minds clear, it kept their bodies healthy, and it satisfies a part of them that he was only beginning to discover.

- Starscream was aware of human creativity. It’s what had made their species a slight hindrance when they aided the autobots in the war, but because of their size, they were seen as nothing but bugs. Pests at the most. But as the con experienced this small bit of human life, he began to understand there was more to them than he’d like to admit. There was this drive to do things, to push themselves beyond their current capabilities.

- He learned of skills that human no longer needed but still learned to take pride in for fun. Swimming was only a base skill. There were humans that attempted to swim across the oceans just to see if they could, even with the high chance of death. Beyond swimming, there was running across land for days on end, jumping off cliffs and diving in spectacular ways, gliding across the sky’s on flimsy metal pipes and fabric, and so much more. Their adaptability to any environment was envious.

- It nearly terrified him, the thought of what if humans were the same size as cybertronians. What if they could acutally measure up to other species of their universe? They could do anything. They would be a real threat. Or the greatest ally any race could ask for.

- His lid has been flipped.

- Eventually he wakes up back in his habsuite in his normal body. The euphoria that rushes through him at the familiarity his nothing he’s ever experienced before. Checking his info screens, he discovers no time passed. As if he had dreamed all of it. But when he looks to his desk in the room, he sees it.

- Starscream picks the item up, inspecting it, and feels his spark skip a pulse. It’s a small ring and chain, attached to two metal objects. Both in the shape and color of a pineapple and raspberry.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Naruto/Death Note crossover but it's just me zapping Misa into Naruto w the dimension travel beams (and also I stopped reading Death Note after L died bc I got bored)

Deranged hot goth girl fucks with ninjas more at 11

Ok but taking it seriously:

Her Shinigami eyes could actually cause SO many issues for ninja in general. No disguise ever works on her bc she can see your name !! You can not go undercover with this bitch around she'll catch you near instantly!!

Also her being able to see peoples lifespans would fuck so hard there too, what a party trick to pull. I want her to push someone to do some insane shit while going "nah don't worry you won't die for another few months at least so you'll be fine!! :)"

I don't think she came w the death note itself just bc I don't think Misa could prevent someone from taking it from her and it's way too OP to deal with the logistics of what having it just out there in the world would actually mean. Pretty much any naruto character gets it and the story ends in like 3 minutes flat

I know that there are shinigami in Naruto canon, tho I'm not too familiar w the specifics.

Either way, it could be cool if we really got into Misa's relation to them— she can see them with her eyes already, maybe she can sense them too. She's like being drawn to different artifacts and prisons of shinigami, she can sense them from far away and they call to her ooOOoOoo

She ends up freeing that one specific shinigami from the mask or whatevers going on w that. And since she already has the eyes from Rem, instead of going "oh, thanks lmao *kills you*" when freed, they recognize that shes already been claimed by a shinigami and are like "Oh shit, nice contract blondie." and she has an actual opening to talk to them (and maybe get another funky death god contract along the way)

Misa continues to show she has unstoppable, unbeatable shinigami rizz even into the next dimension. They all want her.

(If nothing else, naruto world has PROVEN that if u roll high enough on a charisma stat, you can convince anyone of literally anything, no matter if it was like the driving force of their entire life since they were 5 or whatever. So why shouldn't Misa get to talk shinigami into liking her just by being violently friendly?? No really, why not??)

Shes collecting death contracts like Pokémon cards, causing actual fucking havoc everywhere she goes via unleashing ancient evils for deals for some of their power (thanks Misa!!)

She doesn't know how to fucking fight tho, she's a 2000's goth girl in chunky heels. She's getting by on her insanely high charisma stats, good luck, and the giant shinigami only she can see standing directly behind her with a giant baseball bat waiting for someone to get close enough to hit

Could be cool if her shinigami eyes let her see yokai in general too, and just say there weren't enough back in modern Japan to notice. But there's TONS around now and Misa is making little kissy faces at them trying to be friends

Her eyes keep her safe by marking her as already claimed by a shinigami, also making most yokai reguard her as one of them. That could also maybe be used to get her places she shouldn't be in / have weaknesses a normal guy doesn't

Like, seals designed for yokai work on her too

Her eyes need to be mistaken for sharingan at LEAST once and it must cause as many problems as possible.

It'd be neat if Rem was there too. Maybe Misa collecting all this power from different shinigami is actually in some quest to bring Rem back, via giving her that power she got from the other shinigami. She's like roaming the land in an effort to get as much power as possible to make Rem a new body or smthn.

The rules of how shinigami exist and are allowed to interact with the mortal plane is different than the rules where Misa is from, so there's like tons of wiggle room for creativity n "woahh I didn't know you could do that!!"

Misa herself is such a go with the flow morally grey gal w a very clear potential and allowance for absoloute insanity— I think she'd be super down with joining whoever just happens to be the first person she meets in Naruto world. Like. She bumps into the Akatsuki first? You KNOW she's gonna join in. She happens to land near Konoha first? Hell yeah she's loving the funky ninja village! Military dictatorship? Fine by her!

Shes so undying loyal, no matter how clearly wrong or deranged the object of her affection is. So whoever earns that affection first is gonna keep it p much the whole way through (honestly this world is just lucky she's still hung up on Light, which is why she still has sommee agency here)

I think the most interesting thing to do w her + what parallels her story best would be joining Akatsuki actually. Cmon, a terrorist organization "dedicated to peace" (through murder) she's so there for it, she's asking to pretty please help bc "Light would probably like it <33"

Also the Akatsuki cloak is like the only naruto outfit I can see her really rocking while keeping her signature style. ALSO also, Akatsuki nailpolish code,,,,

[thesharktanksdriver]

OHHHH I HAVE ANOTHER QUESTIONNNN.

So how does she conceal her identity? I don't think she wears a mask, so how does she do it so nobody recognizes her. I was thinking about the other day and thought that maybe she doesn't wear a mask, but people immediately forget what she looks like after looking away, any evidence gets destroyed, and whenever cameras take a video/ photo of her, her face glitches out. What do u think?

I can definitely imagine something like that but the funny thing is that her transformation power allows her to look different every time. Hair, hight, eyes and even changing some facial features to disguise herself. Having a person who looks different each time is hard to track down, especially when she can do it on a dime.

She routinely uses this ability to her advantage. On the run? Just go into a crowd and make herself a different person. I’ve always really thought the idea of magical girl transformations to be really interesting and cool especially how it can change their entire appearance, especially with the idea of them being able to change their magical girl form at a whim.

Speaking of magical girl transformation I imagine that only she can see her transformation sequence but no one else can if she doesn’t want them to. It technically happens on a different plane of existence so time isn’t the same there as it is in the human world. So in a mili-second she’s transformed when for her it’s a 2 minute sequence of sparkles ribbons and bows lol

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

How do I stop being so afraid of dying

I'm either the best or worst person to ask this question , i'm not sure which but i know my answer could feel abrasive so bear with me here

Before i get into any of my feelings on the matter, Just remember, you are here now. Present-ness is all there is. Present-ness is the antidote to fear. Anything you can do or touch or observe to evoke your senses and remind yourself to be present , start with that <3

now, For context, i have spent majority of my life completely enamored and obsessed with death, desperately seeking it out , as well as answers tothe questions of ~what happens to us~ because when my dad duering my childhood i felt i could no longer exist in the physical world without him, nor could i handle the mundane-ness of life, i could not be normal , i could not think about anything other than dying, it felt like the answer to every problem, in a way i was jealous of him, i craved that escape -

this persisted throughout my whole life until maybe like, 4 or 5 months ago lol, i finally like, Found some peace within myself, and now i don't actively want to die anymore :) But i do still feel deeply accepting of it and not afraid at all, because i believe you never really die, the energy of your soul just moves on to a different plane of existence where U actually have much more freedom & safety. ok I'll put the rest under readmore for length's sake

Like it just felt very safe to me, to die. And i believe that was maybe a psychic link between me & my dad, i could feel him around me all the time, and i felt he was in true comfort and safety,, But i also wondered if that was just my imagination trying to help me cope. As a kid our family had no religion so i never believed in the heaven/hell dichotomy and had no established preconceived notion of what happens when U die, only my intuition. But that was not enough for me, I needed real tangible answers, So you could say my dad's death lead me on the lifelong spirit-knowledge-quest which is pretty much the foundation of my entire personality at this point lol.

And ok here's the part where i can actually try to answer your question - Like i mentioned previously, you do not die. You really truly just leave your body & move on. You go to the astral plane, you rest, you heal. your family, ancestors, friends, anyone waiting for you on the other side will be there to guide you through your transition. All the burdens of your life will be instantly released and so your soul can only feel it's truest most loving essence. The eventual goal is to return to "source", however, you will probably not want to do that yet. Anything left unfinished in the physical plane you will want to deal with. Often our souls linger around in the astral to watch over & help our loved ones still living in the material. If there's still karmic attachments we will generally wait for them to pass too, so we can eventually reincarnate together and try again.

This is the general gist of info i've gathered over years and years of seeking the answers. Pretty much everything comes back to this. And as i've become more open to communicating with the other side, I am more sure of it than ever. That's actually why I don't feel so eager to die anymore, because I want to be a bridge for them, so they can have more direct influence in the material world. Because they really want to help us T-T they really want us to live without fear. Fear stops us from living this life to the fullest, they want us to replace fear with love.

Btw, death does not hurt. if you're afraid of it hurting, please just know, it does not hurt. idk how to explain this but there is no pain. I think many people are afraid of death because it sounds painful so i just wanted to add that in.

Life continues on the other side. It's different, but you're still you, your soul is still your soul, there is no hell. You'll still have your essence and your memories. You will be powerful in ways you can't even really imagine here. Time and space will bend for you in the astral. You will be burden-free. You will protect the ones you love and even sometimes be able to come to them in dreams. You can come back here too. One day you will even be able to return to ~Godsource~ when you feel you are ready. it's all love on the other side.

So please don't fear <3 death is natural death is nature. death is mysterious but there are many resources out there to learn about the afterlife. Even just like, watching/reading people talk about their near death experiences i find to be immensely comforting, as they mostly all describe the same beautiful weightless sensations and sense of total peace/acceptance.

Even though i finally found reasons to live, I still dont rly fear death, and feel kind of excited to have the full spectrum of my ~powers~ back lol. So maybe that's another way u could think of it, like, think of all the ways u can protect ur loved ones and send them little hints of your continued existence ..

also Sorry if this answer made you feel worse in any way, it's always hard for me to gauge how my opinions of death will go over with others, as i've had such a uniquely obsessive experience with it and it's so fully ingrained into my conscious thought patterns that maybe i could seem really intense/psycho without realizing ^_^; This message seeks only to bring comfort so i hope that translates accurately

The cure to all fear is mastering the technique of being Present in The Moment. When u feel the fear creeping in, try to ground down, recenter yourself, slow down & focus on your breath, in out in out, touch things in front of you, go for a walk, look at some trees, you're still here. You're still here right now and that's all that matters. The future is irrelevant, NOW is all there is, and you are here <3

Stay strong anon, try to replace fear with love whenever u can. Easier said than done, but it is possible to gain control over the sensation of fear, with practice and dedication, i promise. Much love to you <3 PMD9

[girlymatsu]

more aus!! more more!! Id love to hear some of ur other fav aus u have her in!! please if u can/want to!!!

WAAAUGH OK— uhh I talked a little bit about monogatari and yokai very briefly before which are one of my top favorites <33 most aus erina is apart of are like aus with world building that @tottymatsuno has made and he helps think of a lot of them with me ^_^

for example one of my favorites is the Akuma Riders au!! Erina’s demon self is Lilith, former lover of Adam, rejected and went on a rampage to rip the fabric of time in space in eden where she ditches her physical form as a husk back on earth and her spirit goes to different planes of time and existences, possessing others as a way to hide from those angels hunting her down.

And a version of Lilith/Erina split off from when she travels through different planes , finds Osomatsu/Satan when he’s still Lucifer and whispering to him in his head to find her ! And so Osomatsu becoming a fallen Angel finds Erina’s husk of a body in a dome of thorns and digs relentlessly to find her… and he just knows thru her voice pleading for him that this is supposed to be his wife

And Robin thought of the imagery (he wrote me whole entire fics 😭) of how Osomatsu sleeping beauty kisses Erina’s lifeless self and their lives becoming an intertwined ouroboros. Erina’s spirit goes inside Osomatsu’s body and lives inside of him and intimately share a body… she is warm inside his soul and their powers combine… and rule hell together

And then there’s even more with Osomatsu losing Erina’s soul in a bet with Hijiwara Shounosuke and he has to give up his throne to reincarnate as a mortal to find her— there’s a lot in between but happy ending is that they’ll find each other through several lives and become the demon king and queen again :) I GOT SO RAMBLY BUT YEAH!!

[conkreetmonkey]

In the process of attempting to create an incredibly basic Fallout 4 mod, I've realized that Bethesda games are needlessly hard to mod. Like, let me tell you about my journey so far:

(long one... yet another ConkreetMonkey wall of text, this one bemoaning Bethesda's spaghetti code and lack of decent modding resources)

First off, I should probably explain what the mod is intended to be. The Sanctuary bridge (known as the Old North Bridge, which is a real and historically significant bridge irl, mentioned by Preston Garvey upon seeing it for the first time) has always bugged me. It's half-collapsed, and cannot be repaired in the base game, despite seeing a lot of use as the main entry point to an important settlement. There is no mod fixing this that I like, as none remove the collapsed part without replacing the entire model. I've always wanted to see the thing repaired in an immersive way, but no matter how many workshop mods I download or in-editor changes I attempt, the collapsed part is baked into the model. The mesh itself needs editing.

The plan was simple: extract the model, make my 10-minute edit removing the broken planks and supports in Blender, and replace the original version with my slightly different new one. Since all I was to do was delete chunks of the model without leaving any open holes in the mesh, theoretically, the same texture should still work. The UV map would not need edited, as nothing I didn't remove changed in size or position. After replacing the model with this modified one, I would then either "repair" it in-game with Place Everywhere and some mods that add planks and support beams, or "repair" it in the official editor. It would finally look like the broken parts were removed and replaced with salvaged, mismatching wood, which is what would realistically happen. The "cleanest" way to do this would be to save a version of the plugin with just the edited model, and then one with my immersive repairs made in the editor, both uploaded to Nexus so others can benefit. They say to make the mods you want to see, and this one was both at the top of my list and felt very doable. I shouldn't even need to edit the navmesh or pathfinding because I'm not replacing any parts of the bridge NPCs actually walk over.

Roadblock no. 1: extracting the model. You can't just download it from the editor (to my knowledge), you have to extract it with a third-party tool called Bethesda Asset Extractor (BAE). So I download BAE and start sifting through the filenames of all the models in the game.

Roadblock no. 2: the filenames and organization are hot garbage, probably making sense to the devs but not to me, and there's no way to know what the model is of aside from the vague hint the name gives you. It's already become abundantly clear that this game was not initially programmed with modability in mind. I go on Reddit, and am informed by a helpful soul named u/ChaoTikPranXter that I can just open the editor, select the bridge, and see what its filename is that way. Of course! I do so, get the name, go into BAE, and extract the asset.

Roadblock no. 2.5: Bethesda's in-house engine apparently uses a weird-ass file format for 3D models called a .nif. Blender was unable to open these files. Thankfully, there exists a plugin that allows it to, which I downloaded and installed. When I tried to open my new .nif that way, however, only chunks of it displayed. The walking surface, the planes representing the alpha-channel bolt decals on the supports, and some bits of railing. This could not be right. The model was complete when opened in Nifskope, a 3D software that could open .nifs I downloaded when manually sifting through assets in BAE to check what they were (Nifscope, unfortunately, does not actually allow you to edit the models aside from rotating or resizing them along the XYZ axes, so it was useless to actually carry out the edit I wanted, which required the deletion of polygons). Apparently Blender was still struggling with the file format? With no other options, I used Nifskope to convert the .nif to an .obj (which took a few attempts, as the selection system in that program was hard for me to figure out).

Finally, after much trial and error, I had a full, unbroken version of the bridge that I could open in Blender. A compromise, since I'd have to convert it back to a .nif to get it back in the game (just adding more possible points of failure), but it was done. I had successfully opened the model in Blender after hours of trial and error, and downloading 3 third-party pieces of software.

Roadblock no. 3: Apparently converting a .nif to a .obj causes some eccentricities. The model is so massive it is not all visible at once as it far exceeds the render distance, and is also rotated 90° on its side for some reason, and is also positioned just below the "ground." Really hard to work with. I had to reposition it, which will definitely fuck things up down the line.

Roadblock no. 4: Also, BAE can't rip textures, just meshes. It's a known issue and I couldn't find any fixes or workarounds online, just forum posts reiterating that it's how things are. It's not terrible, I can work with a pure white model for my purposes because it's an inanimate object made of wood so it's pretty clear what's what, but now I'm going to have to figure out how to reapply the texture in-engine, which I assume will be a nightmare. Every time I want to move a file from one program to another it feels like I'm at the DMV.

Roadblock no. 4.1: Not really progress-stalling, just another example of Bethesda-ness: the groups on this model makes no sense. The walking surface is grouped with a random few bits of railing for some reason. Not all the railings, just some. All parts of the model are like this, mixed in with a little bit of everything else like the steam trays at a crappy buffet. Like, no shade towards whoever modelled that thing, but... why? Why did you organize it like this? Do 3D artists have the same esoteric approaches to object grouping as 2D ones have to layers? Am I even using the right terminology here? The only thing I know how to do decently in Blender is remove the hair from game characters downloaded from The Models Resource to see them bald (which, coincidentally, is all I should need to know for the edit I want to make).

So I, finally, after HOURS of toil, an entire afternoon, finally get to start making the actual edit.

It takes like 10, maybe 15 minutes.

This could have been so much easier.

I'm hesitant to even attempt adding my new model into the game. Is it really worth the time and effort? This was the easy part. Who's to say the model doesn't flip out again once I convert it to a .nif? I'm assuming the editor will let me copy/paste the size, coordinates and rotation from the vanilla bridge, but is that too optimistic? Will the textures want to cooperate, if there even is a way to reapply them within the Creation Kit? I had to download 3 third-party programs already just to open a mesh file in Blender. Now I'm seeing forum posts about how Outfit Studio is the best way to get .nifs into the game, so I guess make it 4. I think my best bet is likely to get a more experienced modder to help me out with this. I just hope I can find one who also wants to see this mod be created, because none I've found really do commissions, just requests they find compelling (understandable tbh, not shitting on them for that).

In conclusion, Godd Howard has abandoned us. If you're pro-mod, make your games easy and intuitive to mod. Modding is never simple, I know, but this is ridiculous.

[atlaswav]

Regarding that music reblog can u drop some music recommendations 🙏🙏🙏

ABSOLUTELY I LOVE THIS QUESTION the day has finally come when someone has asked me for music recs 🤞🤞 (i didn't know what to start with so ur gonna get a bunch of random artists i like)

also if anyone wants to ask for recs for anything at all (like books, fics, writers, etc.) pls ask!! i love sharing 🥳

beabadoobee — i love love love her new album this is how tomorrow goes, its 10/10 and every time she makes rock music adjacent she never fails to eat down and devour. my recs for her are beaches, take a bite, cologne, talk and ripples because they all have a sort of nostalgic vibe. like they're somehow so familiar even though you've never heard them before. i love beabadoobee she's so good at what she does.

hozier — okay i know he's lowkey middle aged woman core but his lyricism AND production are literally unmatched i get why the lesbians love him. I'd recommend dinner and diatribes, jackie and wilson, northern attitude (by noah kahan ft hozier), angel of small death and the codeine scene and movement 🙏 his music makes me absolutely ascend to a different plane of existence.

laufey — call me a basic asian all you want but laufey synthesises older jazz/classical sound with modern lyricism and structure and creates something so beautiful i love her so much and i regret missing out on her concert tickets every day. i love love love night light, must be love, let you break my heart again, dreamer and lovesick, all her instrumentals never miss. her songwriting is also top notch and gives young, dumb and in love energy ykwim 😍

taylor swift — HEAR ME OUT her new album specifically the anthology half of ttpd has like no skips and i will die on this hill. her older music is good too but i am here to talk about the anthology. the anthology has 10/10 songwriting and minimal production which makes the lyrics stand out more and i love it. i'd recommend the black dog, the prophecy, how did it end and peter because they make me want to scream and cry tbh. also good inspo for fic writing LOL

billie eilish — i have been a fan of hers since my emo phase in 2018 and i can confirm that finneas' production is genius. honestly i recommend the entirety of hit me hard and soft because it was meant to be listened to continuously with all the melodic motifs and lyrical motifs but yeah. also no time to die was a cultural shift that changed my brains hardwiring.

chase atlantic — okay wild 360 from billie eilish and soft ballads (and this artist has lowkey been ruined for me by a certain someone..) but they do have bangers 🎉 i love heaven and back, right here, die for me and dancer in the dark, their music is really sexual though so uh parental guidance 🤞

the neighbourhood — i love love love the vibe of their discography and even though their music might be counted as "tiktok" music because of some of their popular songs they're still so good. I recommend reflections, compass, devil's advocate and stargazing. introspective kinda vibes with their music yk.

the arctic monkeys — I LOVE THEM AND i regret not going to their tour every single hour. alex turner might be a grandpa but i love his accent in his songs and the production is literally liquid gold. pls listen to stop the world i wanna get off with you, snap out of it, fluorescent adolescent, you're so dark, one for the road, and honestly their entire AM album. It's their most popular for a good reason i fear.

i feel like i've rambled way too much but i do have more if you'd like. can you tell i'm a mainstream music kinda person with a couple less popular artists 😭😭 ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR ASKING I LOVE SHARING MUSIC AND DISCUSSING MUSIC ITS THAT INNER MUSIC NERD WITHIN ME if you'd like classical music recs however i'd be too scared to say anything at fear of invoking the wrath of my other classically trained musicians

[mojaves]

hehehehe pick five questions u really wanna answer for alex <3

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

see the thing is he does NOT have to travel. ever. he generally just. materialises wherever he is needed at literally any point in the day. so realistically he Could do that for simple things like. running errands. thats literally all he would use it for he has nothing else to do actually. ANYWAY. the materialising at will thing takes a LOT of energy, especially if he does it very often, so while it would be kind of more convenient in the long run, he would much rather just spend hours or days driving to his destination whenever he gets the free time to do that. keeps his energy in check. makes him feel a little more Human again. yknow. getting stuck in traffic. needing to stop for gas. the little things. he needs that more often than he would ever like to admit.

💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world?

he is Undead. sort of. thats like. the best way to describe it. kind of a ghost??? but also not really. he exists in the same way we exist. but he also exists on an entirely different plane of existence. on his days 'off' from work [walking people through the journey between life and death. simplest way to describe it] he is basically. stuck. in this plane of existence. not necessarily powerless, like i said before he can de/rematerialise at will which is very useful for getting out of. sticky situations. which he finds himself in a lot bc he's insane and sometimes forgets people can actually both see And perceive him in this reality so he cant just. steal whatever he wants from a store. he can also communicate telepathically/read minds - which is very useful for getting a sense of how someone feels when theyre dead so he knows how to deal w them. even though he is the same with literally everyone he encounters anyway regardless. he's an asshole <3 and i hate him. these also drain his energy but to a lesser extent. and he can and will use these to cause problems on purpose.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

triple shot espresso. black coffee. the more likely it is to make you feel like your head is about to explode the better. he thinks it's 'delicious'. but he may also be lying to himself. i couldnt tell you one way or the other.

😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved?

ambivert fits him best i think.... he thinks he prefers his time alone always and forever [and he DOES need to be alone sometimes] but his existence is a very lonely one and some company every now and again would do WONDERS for him. unfortunately he is very unpleasant to be around!!! he does NOT let people in he doesnt need to. they will be dead one day anyway. or theyre already dead. whats the point <333 [DUMBASS!!!!!!!!]

🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy?

he is a Talker alright. to the point where he will NOT shut up. is he doing that to cause a distraction for more nefarious reasons??? is he doing it for his own entertainment just to annoy people???? is he doing it because he is so painfully desperate for contact and communication and connection with other people that he will go anywhere and talk to anyone to possibly have a chance at receiving it????? for even just a moment?????? who's to say!!! not me

[oxiegoeimi]

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Art| #Sunrise

Artist| a-n-g-u-l-o

Two decades later, I still feel abandoned to this plane. Being caught up in eternity, I gazed upon the stars. Not lifeless entities propitiating gravity, heat, and light; these faces had personalities filled with peace and belonging. At least, that was how it was where I want to be forever if I must exist. The other party was filled with bondage, dehydration, hopelessness, and fear. Today, I try not to relapse into a past experience split into two. Yet, to ignore the heavens which so blatantly exist beyond our clouds and human conversation isn’t possible. To shut my mind off from the endless lifespan of our universe, I’d have to pretend that our dealings occur independent of the invisible forces holding our planet in orbit. To believe that languages of creation don’t have a foundational code in which all of it is manifest, I’d have to proclaim divine understanding. How can one born in 1987 CE encapsulate comprehension of infinity through 26 alphabetical characters? Texts I subscribe to weren’t even recorded in a dialect that remains in operation today. The words on each page were handled and translated to English by finite women and men for access today. Then, they were applied to a culture and ecosystem which is alien to the dealings of those who walked this planet nearly 2,000 years ago. No. Feelings and thoughts couldn’t begin to cover the myriad of variables animating me through breath, interaction, and time. Like a tree planted in the wilderness, my entire being relies on composers who don’t rely on my capacity to water and grow independent of themselves. The allure of intelligence only detracts from the poetry of such love. So, 20 years later is not different from 36. In fact, going forward indefinitely, it will take them to pacify my shame and numbness. Yup.

- oxiegoeimi

breath 11.1 🦁🏳🔐💙 remember to always #trust #nature 🌲 #Healer 🔥 #Spirit 🕊 #hope ⚜️ #grace ☔️ #love 🌸 #life 🌊 #unity 🌈 #believe 💝 #weareone ✂️🕚🎶 #energy #PinkySwear #prayer #meditation #freelove #hereandhereafter #dream #vision #Eternity #paradise #infinity #light #origin #writing #source journey #create #coexist #together 💜🌠🌅🌟

[isolctions]

JAIRA IVY BLACK + random headcanons i’ve gathered over the years.

i’ve been writing jaira since late 2016, these are all just hc’s and things i came up with but was too shy to post lolol. establishing trigger warnings for mentions of: violence, death, illnesses (both temporary and chronic), misogyny, mild discussion of gender / gender roles, pregnancy, mental illnesses, g*nocide (sort of???), c*lt like behavior, and more death. vampire stories are not happy stories, y’all.

for reasons unknown, i’ve always sort of played with the idea that jaira’s inevitable death was something that wound up foreshadowing itself through her life. at first it was going to be like, stupid little obvious drops like one of minnie’s favorite novels happened to be nosferatu or something. horror stories just intrigued her, almost as much as baldwin novels or hughes poetry did. but that was also like...too obvious. (i mean, she probably did like the horror genre to a degree & ate mary shelley’s frankenstein up.)

continued toying with said idea led me to come up with the semi-solid fact that minnie was actually a very ill baby. she was struck with fever in infancy and had a very short life expectancy of a few weeks. both of her parents were devastated. her mother already suffered miscarriages, they were preparing to bury their only child as soon as she’d been born. plus, this was literally 1900, so it wasn’t an uncommon thing for babies to fall so ill in infancy. but somehow, minnie survived, and her life continued moderately normal. still with a weakened immune system due to what the fever did to her and susceptible to other illnesses that science would eventually find vaccines for, but her life was relatively unchanged before her death.

jaira’s ‘death’ at twenty two years old / subsequent turning gave her the appearance of permanent youth. which she finds annoying. plus it got her into some pretty traumatizing situations because in her early naivete, she was often dismissed, belittled, taken advantage of and straight up put into danger. i’m talking grown ass men screaming blue in the face and physically striking her for simply thinking she was smarter than them. (she was. she had some college education and did apprenticing to be a seamstress by the time she’d passed away and made excellent marks in her studies.) but don’t worry, she no longer looks like twenty two year old minnie. natural scarring and pollution now makes jaira look a smooth thirty. sometimes she even gets mistaken for twenty five.

turning was a painful experience. 0/10 would never recommend. it is not nearly as poetic or sexy as literature and art make it seem. it is messy and bloody and terrifying and awful and painful and death. it is also a very long process. she literally never saw her parents or immediate family ever again, as after her ‘funeral’, her parents left new york city in their grief and each died of natural causes later in their lives. if they heard about a woman named minnie o’day performing in harlem’s jazz clubs and overseas, they wrote it off as coincidence.

this lines up with something else i came up with some time ago: there is a clear distinction to me between pure born vampires and human beings who have been turned into vampires. not only from a power-based standpoint but a biological one as well. (not to say that turned vampires don’t have powers and enhancements, bc they absolutely do. jaira specifically has super strength, accelerated healing of new injuries only — meaning, the injuries of her car accident do not & will never heal ever, enhanced senses of smell, sight and hearing, some increase in speed that unfortunately doesn’t measure to that of purebreds, telepathic abilities such as the ability to both read and speak into one’s mind, and if she concentrates hard enough she can levitate. but she only really uses levitation if she can’t get to sleep.) whereas vampires born as such were never really explained as having much physiology, humans turned into vampires kind of...are at a standstill to me. their organs, while not entirely dead, just sort of are stuck in more or less the same state they once were in. this means that while their hearts are not actively beating and the blood in their body is sort of just clotted mush at this point, not everything is done for.

(and from the perspective of writing vampires who are also women, such as sam’raa ebadi being a purely born vampire vs. jaira being a human previously, i like to think that while there’s obviously no active menstruation going on, that doesn’t exactly equate to menopause per se. the shit is still there, just turned off. there’s still all of the proper hormones and eggs and whatnot at a stagnant. but things like pregnancy rely on body temperature more than a state of living for me. and since turned vampires no longer have an internal temperature, they have to regulate this themselves externally. this made up a lot of jaira’s later feelings regarding her gender, especially raised up and taught with a completely different outlook of what femininity meant, she often felt frustrated and disillusioned because she is not like other women and she will never be. cue thoughts of: am i even a woman? i was taught what this meant for me but it will never be the same as it once was. i look like a woman but am i really a woman? if i don’t fit the expectations once given to me? what am i? while these thoughts no longer bother her, she is very much sort of disconnected of what she believed were societal expectations for being a feminine woman. she’s too old for this.)

i also believe that humans with comorbidities who were turned into vampires will still retain some of those traits. for example: a human with diabetic retinopathy that is turned into a vampire, while having slight enhanced visions from the biological change, still will have decreased vision based on how damaged their sight was to begin with, which in turn affects the way they hunt compared to a purebred vampire with all enhancements and no morbidities; or a human that is deaf prior to being turned still remains deaf, but with other enhanced senses such as sight or smell or movement that another human would not have. this is also why a lot of jaira’s early chronic pain via the fatal car accident as minnie is retained in her enhanced body, why she still has scarring and body pain, and why turned vampires in general experience increased vulnerability and weakness closer to their body’s death date. they’re not the same kind of enhanced creatures as vampires are; they’re just semi-functional dead bodies.

i never came up with a name for luciano’s cult. mainly because he’s no longer present in her life anyway and jaira has not fully committed to trying to kill him & the rest of the members. i just know that their goal was this weird, fucked up sort of ideology of humans being weaker and lesser than, and must be converted or otherwise exterminated in order to face the true dangers of the world. accomplishing this goal meant scouring the globe and preying on the dying by offering them eternal life in exchange for...well, everything they have. they may even manipulate and intentionally cause life threatening injury to acquire those they are particularly interested in. those who they don’t view as ‘worthy’ of this exchange are just simply eliminated. they also like to populate via vampire ‘children’ (those who are turned + those who happen to give birth to vampire hybrids), preferring those with more affinity of vampire traits than those without. so uhhh yeah. not elaborating any more on that bc it made my brain hurt.

jaira fled said cult in around 1970 after one too many acts of brutal violence and overall atrocity that unnerved her the more she realized their goal was less about helping people live and more about eliminating humans entirely. jaira does not talk about her time with them. she does not talk very much about her relationship with luciano, the humans they’ve killed, the hybrids she helped populate or the trauma and borderline PTSD this has given her. unless they happen to know who she is to them & come to her first, she does not seek out her hybrid children (or even subsequent grandchildren); in fact, the only child she acknowledges despite the estranged relationship is her daughter flora with her first husband ebenezer, born in 1956. (fyi: ebenezer is a seemingly immortal shifter who’s been around since the 1800′s and their daughter flora stopped physically and biologically aging past her 20th birthday. he owns a bakery in chicago. flora helps him run it.)

but on a lighter fuckin’ note. jaira, being a turned vampire and not a pure one, did show up in photographs at one point. given that 19th century cameras were the kind where you had to stay extremely still for and had a slight fuzziness to them, jaira is able to appear on some film cameras and the early 20th century flash bulb cameras because 1. i learned a few years ago that the easiest way to tell if a person was living or dead in an old photo is if the photo is super clear. bc they’re dead. so they’re still. 2. jaira...technically doesn’t have to breathe? like she does it out of habit at this point but it’s not necessary for her to breathe so she is able to sit still without moving. 3. while she ‘shows up’, it still is not a crystal clear image. when the film is processed, any photo of her / with her in it will appear hazy or with distorted looking orbs around her, and she looks almost faded in pictures. very freaky. she does not, however, show up on digital cameras or cell phone cameras bc uh............hm.............never cared to think abt it further than that. whoops lol

i wrote this somewhere actually but jaira is still a traditional vampire in the sense that you have to let her in. i remember this bc i unintentionally wrote in a thread for her once that she stood outside a love interest’s door and didn’t / couldn’t go in until he physically pulled her into the room. (said old thread with @blackplanct​​ is here if anyone wants to be nosy) she is also a traditional vampire in the sense that she hadn’t seen her reflection in nearly a century until they started making aluminum backed mirrors and it scared the shit out of her to see herself in real time. and she is alsoalso a traditional vampire in the sense that, if she’s getting on your nerves? being too violent? don’t wanna let her in bc you’re suspicious of her? drop some rice grains on the floor and she’ll irritatingly count those bad boys up. bonus delayed time if you mess up her count and she has to start back over.

so i’ve never actually contemplated a sort of au of jaira being a human instead. it just feels unrealistic, tbh??? however, if i do choose to write a modern / human verse for jaira for those who think this vampire shit is just...Too Much to contemplate, i’d like to think her life would be relatively unchanged from what it was meant to be during the 1920s — she would have been a seamstress, likely taking over her mother’s showing shop or eventually owning her own clothing store. she still would have married (and prbly still have divorced) ebenezer & had flora, the only change being that flora doesn’t hate jaira as much and she would likely be jaira’s only child. or if i wanted to keep it spicy, she still would be involved in private investigating or some sort of morally ambiguous work or smthn of the sorts. so that is an option on the table if at all necessary.

i will likely make additions / revisions to these at some point or even entirely axe them, who knows. but again these are everything i’ve theorized or vaguely mentioned in memes or threads from like early 2017 to now in 2021. we are also open for plotting & connections, because this old ass lady basically knows everyone over 50 within nyc.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[tymime]

Something I’ve been thinking about lately, and one of the things I miss most about cartoons and kid programming in the ‘90s, is the hosts that presented them. Whether it was a show with multiple segments, or a several hour marathon of some kind, something about characters talking to you and telling you what was coming up next made your viewing experience feel like an event, something special, something that you, yourself, were involved in and participating in, and not just passively consuming.

This is something that’s been missing for a long time, and something that’s much, much harder to do in the streaming era. Sure, we can still watch Tiny Toons on DVD, and “binge watch”, as we call it these days, an entire season of our favorite shows. But there’s less of sense of interaction, however artificial it may have been, and less of a sense of the shows being specifically selected for the audience in that particular moment in time. There were also programs like Nick in the Afternoon (with its U-Pick gimmick) and JBVO, where you could actually directly influence what you watched. You do, of course, have the freedom to watch whatever you want if you subscribe to the right streaming services, but to me, it was the characters that made all the difference.

It sorta gave the illusion that these characters were alive, at least on some other plane of existence. It also has a similar appeal as old school variety shows like Ed Sullivan and Johnny Carson, or even Vaudeville and circuses.

In general, I miss the days when kid programming felt more like they were catering to us, instead of just telling us what we should like.

[renchinworld]

NCT DREAM AS TYPES OF GROOMS ♡

before, during and after the wedding

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, NCT DREAM! ♡

- gender neutral

- on crack, what’d u expect from this account lmao XD

- the picture qualities are Jurassic negative HD 0.4K but they still look good because dem visuals infinity/10

DISCLAIMER: Considering that not everyone has the same religion and wedding traditions, just imagine that this is for y’all own culture & religion’s weddings. Also, these men will be down to marry you a thousand times in one lifetime so.... conducting a ceremony again is no problem (that equates to more honeymoons and we love honeymoons).

♡ MARK

The “I do this for my squad, I do this for my gang” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: The type to inform family and friends a year before the actual wedding (he says it's an adult thing). You and Mark will have everything ready as early as possible so y'all can just chill as the date draws near. Will also be loud about it but not in an intentional way, he’s just neomu excited.

⊰⊹ DURING: Dude will throw finger guns to the guests *ehem* Johnny & Yuta *ehem* while he’s literally right next to the priest. He will also shed a few tears and laugh at himself for crying as he sees you walking down the aisle. Will never forget to thank God for blessing him with you ♡

⊰⊹ AFTER: Mark will dance with you in different genres (except there’s no twerking and grinding because you gotta leave space for Jesus). After the big reception, there will be a smaller reception at home with just you, him and yall parents before the actual honeymoon. He will do everything you like once you two are alone tho ;)

♡ RENJUN

The “You’ll remember this as the wedding of the century” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: Renjun's the type to write the most touching and heartfelt vow that will make you both cry and then add some savage twist at the end which will make everyone laugh (flashback to Haechan's birthday vlive). He will also make sure that everything--from the theme to the background music--is aesthetic af.

⊰⊹ DURING: Mans will 100% cry as he pictures you and him spending your entire lives together once he sees you walk down that aisle. Also, he is genuinely crying happy tears but will wipe them dramatically while he’s being filmed by your wedding videographer for ✧ remembrance and effect ✧

⊰⊹ AFTER: “Renjun, why is the temptation of wife OST playing in the background?”

He will sing close to your ear and give you a peck on the lips once in a while while everyone's busy partying. You two will greet the guests for a short while and then escape in a private plane to an island getaway for your honeymoon… it will take off in front of everyone because... ✧ art ✧ Also, get ready for the most romantic love making in Maldives ;)

♡ JENO

The “You thought it’d be no jam but it was actually the best wedding” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: Lets you take charge of planning, but when he suggests his ideas it’s so top notch that you’ll be all “why aren’t you saying more?” and it’s because he believes that the wedding is not as important as the person he is marrying (opposite to Jaemin: Jeno thinks you’ll be happier if he just lets you do whatever you want--as an act of letting you have freedom in your creativity). He’ll be super helpful if you need it tho so no worries.

⊰⊹ DURING: Will accidentally open your veil before the person in charge says “you may now kiss the bride/groom.” He doesn’t care about the cameras, all he sees is you, you and you. Jeno won't cry in the actual event but he will be teary eyed af for sure (he's saving the tears for when you guys are alone).

⊰⊹ AFTER: He will take all his chances to carry you and hold you in his arms all night long. Jeno’s signature eye smile will be plastered on his face all night. That innocent face also prepared a bed of roses and other surprises in your room ready for the honeymoon ;)

♡ HAECHAN

The “We’re not going home until someone blacks out” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: Haechan will pull a prank on you before the wedding so that you’ll coming running to him and he’ll see you (he can’t take the “you can’t see each other the night before the wedding” tradition because he misses you already). He will even make the vow writing a group activity lmao: “Whatchu writing?” “Haechan, stop looking! This is supposed to be a surprise.”

⊰⊹ DURING: He will tell everyone “I’m not gonna cry, that’s sus” but will definitely cry while laughing and get laughed at by family and friends lightheartedly. Haechan will say the funniest vows out of everyone but will also make you emotional because he can switch from being humorous to serious in 0.00001 second.

⊰⊹ AFTER: Reception is real party vibes; it’s not over until it’s game over. He might get bored eventually so you too will sneak out laughing in your wedding attires and just chill around the hotel’s swimming pools. He might also push you into a pool so he can save you and bathe you afterwards ;)

♡ JAEMIN

The “I’ve been dreaming of this my whole life” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: He’ll make the wedding planner question their entire existence (opposite to Jeno: Jaemin thinks you’ll be happier if he plans the wedding for you--as an act of service). He’ll be super open to your suggestions though and will immediately change up anything you don’t agree with so no worries.

⊰⊹ DURING: Jaemin will also give one of the funniest vows but it's because he's unintentionally funny in his speech delivery. He will say the sweetest and uplifting words, refraining from being too emotional because he doesn't want to see you cry... but you still do. Dude might do mild aegyo in front of everyone just to see you smile again (you know the finger on pouty lips one that he does with Renjun? Yep, that one).

⊰⊹ AFTER: He will drag you somewhere when everyone’s busy partying just so he can give you a kissth. He’s down to party with your family and friends but only if you’re always by his side. And he definitely won't care if the party's over or not--once he sees that you’re tired or want to be alone with him, he'll announce to everyone that you guys are gonna bounce… and bounce you shall ;)

♡ CHENLE

The “We can afford a Kardashian wedding but I’d rather keep it simple” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: Boi WILL 100% invite his bestie Stephen Curry. There will be three weddings: one for the grand wedding (at an arena for all of Shanghai to see--he doesn’t like this one but gotta keep those investors in check, you know?). Another for a small circle wedding (just family and friends). The last will be the “just the two of us casually exchanging chips and diamond rings while playing pubg” wedding

⊰⊹ DURING: Daddy Chenle will never forget to mention his son Mark in his vows and speeches. His whole clan will shower you with gifts and affection so much that he doesn’t know if he should be happy or annoyed because they’re not giving you two enough time to spend YOUR wedding together. He’s staying put though because hakuna matata #the scorpio side jumped out

⊰⊹ AFTER: No one else is allowed to touch you except for him. He will carry you bridal style away from the building and to his car so he can have you all to himself. He’ll definitely cry happy tears when it's just the two of you.

♡ JISUNG

The “We really should’ve married in secret instead” Groom

⊰⊹ BEFORE: Will let you take control of the event but will pitch in his creative ideas here and there. Jisung insists that you have a small wedding but the number of NCT members is far from small lol. There's also a high chance of a beach wedding because he loves the open area (gives him more space to breathe plus he’ll see Haechan and Renjun trying to drown each other in the distance and that’s free entertainment).

⊰⊹ DURING: Dude will 100% get clowned by the NCT members while saying his vows (honorable mention: dreamies). He might rap some of his words out of nervousness (which everyone finds cute because it is). He will be all shy and awkward at first and then surprise everyone by his sudden bold moves (e.g. dip you as he kisses you, say the sweetest things). He will also cry happy tears as he sees you walk down that aisle.

⊰⊹ AFTER: He's truly grateful for all the support and love of everyone who attended but as an introvert and an Aquarius Plus Pro Max, he’ll be wishing on the inside that everyone just goes home already so you two can have fun alone. Mans will still get clowned by the members even during the reception but he doesn’t mind because he’s clowning them back now. His hand will be glued to your waist all night and he will sneak in a few kisses here and there.

♡ OT7:

- Everyone will get clowned by the other members regardless of the event so a wedding isn’t an exception. So either you protect your husband or join in on the light teasing... or both. 

- You may also get clowned. It’s NCT we’re talking about.

- This is a work of fiction. Except the clownery & RenHyuck drowning each other in Jisung’s wedding. That’s true to life.

Happy Anniversary to our Dreamies >u< we love you guys sm!

[cloudy-dayys]

Horror stuff isn't generally my thing, but your art has legitimately gotten me interested and now I'm curious about the catalog

WOW okay acey the mandela catalogue has a lotta stuff so ima grossly summarize the basics for u

(tw for suicide/religion/horror)

this is all based off christianity. lucifer somehow kills the arch angel gabriel and replaces him, overthrowing heaven (or planning to) in the process. he has these lil creatures called alternates that could be demons or smth else entirely. these things are freaky as fuck, they live on different dimensional planes. they can mimic human looks or voices and trick others. their main goal is to replace you. they do this by giving you M.A.D. which stands for metaphysical awareness disorder. aka they tell u things humans are NOT capable of knowing or handling. these things mainly play on ur fears. they drive u insane to the point of suicide, and only suicide, so they can take over ur body.

there's many things inbetween here that ill explain too.

this is alt!gabriel, or lucifer who replaced gabriel.

these are the different alternate types u have to watch out for.

these are type one.

alternate gabriel is shown to be apart of the type 2 class.

these are type 3. theyre very terrifying and if one even knows ur existence, ur basically already dead.

not much is known or referred to for the other types. only theories are present.

if u encounter an alternate, you need to follow the T.H.I.N.K. principle:

TELL an authority figure about your encounter

HINDER the alternate's movement

IDENTIFY the class type

NEUTRALIZE the alternate (if safe to do so)

KNOW YOUR PLACE IN REALITY

also to clarify, u cannot get any help from any sort of law or medical enforcement. the 911 operators are trained to not send help if u encounter an alternate so that way they put less people at risk as possible. in the series' own words, "nothing is worth the risk".

-

thats all u can mainly do. however just know u cannot stop these things. they hunt u down no matter what.

in modern times, 1980-90s, these alternates have infested around 5 counties, the mandela county being the hot spot for the current events of the story.

for the biggest characters u gotta worry bout is alt gabe, the intruder, and more recently the preacher and cesar. ill explain these dudes inna bit, but the intruder is its own thing i want to clarify.

this the intruder, aka 6. he targets lil kids and kidnaps them. there are over 3k missing reports of children because of him. he uses technology, mainly TVs, to invade people's homes. how he does this and what happened to the kids, we dont know. he kidnaps kids to drive families to despair and suicide. hes very sadistic.

now for the current events which were volume 1 and volume 2

-

we get an inside look of the victims that have fallen to alternates. our first 2 victims are mark heathcliff and cesar torres. unbeknownst to mark, cesar is now an alternate. we see alt!cesar call mark to come set up his security cameras at his house as alt!cesar and his mom are on the way to the E.R. (as shown we see alt!cesar potentially kill his mom) and mark agrees. he goes over, sets everything up, and leaves. we see an alternate follow mark home and proceeded to terrorize mark for 3 days straight as he locked himself in his bedroom. then we see the commotion and in the end, mark shoots himself in the head.

years later in vol 2, we have 2 more victims, adam murray and jonah marshall. it is shown they are apart of the BPS, which investigates paranormal activity. they are wanted fugitives and are on the run. a woman, who turns out to be an alternate, calls them and offers to pay em 500 a night for 3 nights to come investigate the ghost of her dead cat or whatever. these 2 agree and head over to her house, which happens to be cesar's house. adam goes in and investigates while jonah stays in the car. we are met with a new alternate called the preacher:

shit builds up as alternates keep harassing adam and manipulating him to go to the basement (where 6 resides). jonah repeatedly begs and pleads with adam to leave while they still can bc jonah is terrified. adam ignores him and a fight ensues between the 2. adam yells at jonah to leave, and jonah leaves adam in the house alone. what happens to adam is unsure, but we see jonah driving off while having a panic attack, stepping out of his car puking as the alternates over the radio he has guilt trips him over leaving adam.

-

those are the main events so far. new teasers have dropped nd whatnot. in the volume 3 teaser, which volume 3 comes out june 3rd, we see jonah is still alive and so is possibly adam. but we dont know for sure if adam is an alternate or not. alex also recently posted on his twitter this image:

with the caption, "will the defendant please rise?" so now we are unsure if mark and cesar are actually alive or whatever will happen between these 2.

-

these tapes and information are being investigated by a man named thatcher davis, who is taking this case into his own hands nd tryna figure out what all this means while protecting the public.

thats everything rn.

again this is grossly summarized and there's lotsa other info nd shit i didnt cover. go watch this on alex kister's YouTube if you want!

[hydrasquadd]

Inktober day 1

Gargoyle

Featured: @shatered-soul , Pearl (doesn't have blog :(

IMKTOBER LETS GO

We don't talk about the last time where I didn't finish it SHSMSM

that's why I'm doing digital this year because

I draw digital multiple times a day, every day anyway so

And also I'm moving and my art supplies are packed OPSUPSSSSS

Ok so

I decided to include a little bit under the posts this year to kinda talk about the arts and stuff because it's fun and a lot of these have funny meanings sjsksnjsjaskak

ALSO some of them will inevitably have HSS spoilers because these are all based on sys shit and so is HSS so uhhhhh

I'll include the tag hss spoilers or something if u don't want to see it.

OK moving on

Yes they are the same colors as last time, I literally color picked them from the old images LSJAJKAK

You may be wondering why mr green man looks so different, it's just the funny little "nogard form" or a dark world form just + horns and ears because reasons (For context, Nogard is an extension of headspace that is just an entire planet with a ton of shit, like the "main four" alters (by main four I mean like, the alters who where prominent when we discovered we where a system so they're like, important? In Nogard's creation.) They have entire kingdoms. The Acid Jungle is Codi's, the Endless Abyss is Pearl's, the Sun's Ocean is KN's, and the Lunar Planes are Truth's. Kris was just basically made big boss of the whole thing (because nobody was confident enough to try to take them down from leader position that they gained by fucking murdering people lmao), so they just kinda watch over the entire world? It's crazy but like, I'm not going the one to piss them off so- /hj) it's also been setting to a bit of VATP content. That's probably where it's known idk when I've ever posted about it outside of that. And yes it's technically a dark world since the main people responsible for it's existence are Deltarune fictives)

So the main idea for this one is sort of a play on the prompt. Since it's gargoyle, the immediate reaction is to draw the whole damn dragon. But it goes deeper then that. Since Pearl (the dragon) was basically the first split tm made to literally fight people, she's like the ultimate protector. So running on that I decided to add the current protector also, who is Sal. (Pearl barely fronts anymore so even if she is a protector, she isn't THE protector.) There is actually another protector in sys but I didn't feel like drawing them. (LMAO get fucked.) For no reason more then I really just didn't feel like drawing a whole nother person.

And I thought it would be cool if it was scary so that's why there's a smile on the face screen thing

It really stands out. I think I was planning to make Pearl's eyes glow but haha oops that didn't happen oh well.

I really haven't drawn Pearl's big wof dragon form in a while. Though it is THE iconic appearance she takes on, she's not a direct fictive of any character, more of like, oc fictive? I've heard that can be a thing so there you go. She fits into the world but isn't an existing character. She also will be a cat. Just a cat

[doctorstethoscope]

Moment || Aaron Hotchner x gn Reader

A/N: hiiii besties expanding on a lil prompt from the weekend due to popular demand! Thank you to @the-modernmary for  helping me with it!! If u liked this teeny bit of angst u will love her fics!!

just a little note for those of you who read The Right: I am going on vacation this coming Saturday-Wednesday. I will have the chapters queued to post for y’all, but I will not be able to respond to taglist requests or update the masterlist until I come back! Still let me know what you think about the chapters though, they’re some good ones! ok onto this fic.

contains: slight cursing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.7k

You take a deep breath as you walk out of Strauss’s office, taking exactly one beat to regain your composure before hastily making your way over to Hotch’s office, letting yourself in without knocking. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” you said by way of greeting as you crossed his office and settled into one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Tell you what?” Hotch asks, looking up from his paperwork with confusion knit across his brow. 

“That Strauss was going to harangue me the second I walked into the building this morning. I seriously didn’t even make it past security before she nabbed me.” You told him, disgruntled. 

“I didn’t know. What did she want?” Aaron asks, and you look up and see that he’s telling the truth-- he really didn’t know. 

“Oh… I assumed she would have cleared it with you before she asked me.” You said, your boisterous energy deflating the longer you sat in the chair. 

“Is she pulling you for undercover work? She always does that, and she never asks if we have anything coming up or what your consult workload is--” 

“No, Hotch. She’s, uh, she’s not pulling me for undercover work.”

“What is it?” 

“She said the director tapped me to lead the field office in Vegas.” You confessed, looking up and seeing the air leave Aaron’s chest. 

“Wow.” Aaron says, blinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“And you’re going to take it?” He asked. 

“I told her that I needed some time to think about it.” You answer him.

“What’s there to think about?” He wonders. 

There’s a moment where you think you might actually roll your eyes at him. There’s a moment where you consider begging him to give you a reason to stay. There’s a moment where you consider crossing the desk and depositing yourself in his lap, kissing him with the weight of all of the feelings that had you wanting to stay. 

But, after a moment, you realize that none of that’s happening. He’s sitting across from you, looking at you like you’d be the biggest fool in the world not to take advantage of this opportunity, and maybe he was right. Maybe you would spend the rest of your life wanting him one-sidedly, wondering what good you could have done for the world if you had simply accepted that he’d never love you back. 

“Nothing,” you answered, after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all.”

****************************

Aaron’s barely even distracted when you swing his door open and plop yourself into one of his chairs first thing in the morning. He’s used to it, by now. He may have been a less-than-willing participant in your friendship at the beginning of your relationship, but now he was glad to call you someone he was close to. His closest friend, really. 

His ears perk up when you mention Strauss. “Is she pulling you for undercover work?’ He starts to rant, already planning the tirade he’s going to deliver to Erin when he notices your demeanor change. You’re… shy, all of a sudden. You’ve never hidden from him before. He doesn’t like it. 

“She said the director tapped me for the field director position in Vegas,” You revealed. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut.

“Wow,” is all he can manage to get out, fighting the way his throat threatens to close up. “And you’re going to take it?” He asks, although he knows the answer will break his heart. 

“I told her I needed some time to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?’ He asked, allowing himself to hope for a moment that you’ll make some grand confession, to imagine for a moment that you might possibly feel the same way he does, to believe for a moment that he’s worthy of your love. But he’s not.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all,” you tell him, standing up and leaving with a forced casualness. 

Aaron had been married long enough to know that that tone and those words together mean the exact opposite of what they are supposed to mean-- but he was still confused. What could possibly make you stay? And how could he find it before you left? 

*****************

The following days between you and Aaron had been chilly, to say the least. You didn’t bounce ideas off of each other on cases like you normally would. You came to the opposite conclusions at every turn. You were out of sync, and everyone felt it. So when the case wrapped up on a Friday afternoon, you were more than happy to rush home to a bottle of wine, a pint of ice cream, your moving boxes and some trashy reality television.

You’d given up on packing after about an hour. Your heart just wasn’t in it. So instead, you lounged in your pajamas, sipping at your wine in the hopes that it would guide you to your first full night of sleep since you’d spoken with Strauss. You’re just about to head to bed when there’s a knock at your door. You swing it open, revealing Aaron, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. 

“I was an asshole.” He offers. “Am I interrupting anything, or?”

“Just packing,” you say, wanting to twist the knife a little bit even if it wasn’t truthful. Aaron is undeterred, and steps inside anyways. 

“I didn’t want you to leave with us still in the middle of the fight. You can be as mad as you want in the morning, but have a glass of champagne with me?” He asks, with those big brown eyes you could never refuse. 

“Fine,” you sighed, still easily won over by him, even when you were heartbroken and mad. 

“Here, you open it. Congratulations,” he tells you, handing over the bottle. You start picking at the foil, and he speaks up in the silence. “Things are going to be different without you, you know. I like that our team is structured the way it is… as a team, but you know, in a lot of ways, it was nice to have a partner in you.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I even have cups. They might be packed away,” you say, still picking at the foil and decidedly not looking Aaron in the eye. He chuckles a little at your comment.

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone. I mean, who else can rein in Derek, or get to see me the big picture, or talk Emily off the ledge when I’m sure she’s about to go rogue?’ 

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, setting the bottle on the counter, still unopened. Aaron heaves a sigh. 

“You should stay.” He says, after a moment. 

“What?” You say, blinking, because surely you must be drunk or dreaming or something else. 

“You should stay here. You don’t have to take the job in Vegas.” 

“Haha, very funny,” you joked, bringing your attention back to the bottle to avoid looking him in the eye. 

“I’m serious. Listen, I know I said there was nothing to think about, but I changed my mind.” 

“Oh, did you? And what if I haven’t changed mine?” You asked, getting angry now. 

Not able to hold back for another second, he takes your face in both of his hands and kisses you. “Just, think about that before you board a plane. Okay?” He says, and before you can even speak, you hear the door swing shut behind him. 

Damn you, Hotchner. 

You don’t sleep a wink.  When 8am finally rolls around, you pull yourself out of bed and get dressed, heading over to Aaron’s. As you buckle your seatbelt, you realize that you know you have to go over there but you have no clue what it is you even want to say to him. You hope you’ll figure it out without sounding completely insane as you knock on Aaron’s door, and he swings it open, still in his sweatpants and incredibly surprised to find you on his doorstep.

“I’m even more mad at you right now than I was last night,” you tell him by way of greeting.

“That’s understandable. I haven’t been very fair to you,” he agrees, and the fact that he’s being so reasonable only makes you angrier. You slip past him and step inside the apartment. 

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t just let me move on, start a new life and forget about the torch I’ve been burning for my boss the entire time I’ve worked here? You had to have the last word, even if I was leaving forever.” 

“No,” Aaron says, and you bite your tongue, trying to allow him a moment to respond even if you weren’t feeling all that gracious. “No, I couldn’t let you move on thinking the torch you were carrying ws unrequited.”

You’re struck by his words. “What are you trying to say?” 

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It’s a great opportunity for you in Vegas. I’m happy for you, and you shouldn’t let this--” 

“Hotch, what are you trying to say?”

“Just that I’m proud of you, and I know that you’ll do excellent work, and--”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to hide from me.” You call him out, and he looks at you for a moment. This time, you don’t break his glance. 

“I’m not trying to hide. I’m just too late.” He tells you, looking down at the floor. 

“Tell me, Hotchner. Tell me, please.” You beg of him, shifting to try to get him to look you in the eye.

“I love you, and I figured it out too late.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he’s ruined any vestiges of friendship that still existed between the two of you in this moment, and that you’ll board your plane to Las Vegas and he’ll become a creepy old boss that you never think about again. He takes a moment to look at you, a moment to mourn what might have been, a moment to remember the way your laugh made him smile while the memories were still fresh. He takes a moment, and then you speak up.

“No,” you correct him. “You figured it out just in time.”

tagging: @choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @torykjamie @maureen4y

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

 @itsmytimetoodream @averyhotchner @msmarvelsmain @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

hi besties I tried to tag everyone who said they wanted to be on my regular hotch list and a few of y’all who regularly interact with the right but if i made a mistake/u want to be removed u can lmk I will not be offended!!!