#v: starlight lover
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mrs2224 · 5 months ago
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A Court Of Shadows and Shields
Azriel (ACOTAR)/ Original Female Character, Rhysand (ACOTAR)& Original Female Character
Tags: Fluff, Smut, and Angst, 18+plus
Summary: Milla is a human girl from Virginia. She runs away from her home just to be pulled into Prythian, particularly the Night Court. Milla has to go through her new way of life, after picking up some power on her way through the portal. In her way, this new way of life is a second chance. Even if it was a rocky start. It is up to Milla and the inner circle to take down a new hidden enemy. While she is also battling herself, involving her connection with the Shadowsinger
Chapter 1: The Start of Something New.
TW: TW: Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, and Panic attack.
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All I could hear in the distance was shouting. My lips clicked for Brayden to ride faster through the woods. My hood over my head. My disgustingly white dress. That was torn up on the edges. I galloped faster and faster. There was a boulder in front of us. Before I could even think. Brayden tripped both of us flying forward. I quickly got up to my feet to rush to Brayden’s side trying to get him to stand. His leg was in bad shape. 
I could hear my father’s words in the distance along with his riders. I had my revolver in my hand. Brayden finally got up, and I petted him quickly. Grabbing the reins as we hurried farther into the woods. The leaves crunching. Brayden was somewhat limping. He trotted next to me. I hopped over rocks and branches on the ground. The pine and oak trees surround us—the Cold musky air of Virginia. 
We kept running till we were met with a ledge. I stopped short, the drop-off was about fifty feet. Down into a rushing river. I looked around to find a way to get across. If there was a bridge or something. I couldn’t go back. I would not go back. I felt my head hurt. My mouth was bloodied and bruised. I felt a sting in my stomach. I looked around. There was no way to get across. My heart sunk to my stomach.
The night sky was silent. As I felt footsteps approaching me. I looked to see my father drunk as can be. A gun in his hand. Two riders on either side. One of them was the man I was to be wedded to. The other was the man’s father. I stood my ground. Brayden was behind me. My dark brown hair was braided up and flying in the air currents from the river and the mixture of the night sky.
“Come back, Milla. It is very rude to run off at your wedding.” My father looked at me. His drunk words stung me deeply. If he was sober, he would have regretted this. But drunk words were considered to be sober thoughts. And He was never sober. Not after my mother’s death last year. 
“No! No! I will not go back. I will not marry someone because you want me to. I will marry someone because I want to. Not for land or wealth!” I shouted at him, My tears streaming down my cheeks. I stepped back moving closer to the edge knowing that the only solution was to jump. 
My father shook his head in a devilish sarcastic way. I had never seen him act this way before. As If I was an object, not a person.
“You are just a woman in my house, you don’t get to choose who you will be with!” He slandered his words as if he was satan himself.
Brayden shifted slightly behind me. My father looked at my horse and before I even could answer. He fired at Brayden. I screamed watching him drop to the ground. I sunk to my knees to see if I could save him. But he was dead already. My father grunted as he signaled his two riders to get me. I sprung back to my feet. The pain inside my stomach was blistering with fire. I stepped back to the edge of the cliff. 
“Get Over Here! Now!” he yelled.
I looked down the drop and back at him. I sighed and threw my revolver to the ground. I knew this was the end. I knew that this was where my story stopped. 
My brother called my name out in the distance, somewhere in the woods. Police sirens screaming as if I knew they were closing in on my father and his men. I took a deep breath. When my eyes blinked. Flames were coming from my irises. My face shed a tear before I grinned at him. 
“I’ll see you in hell” That was went I jumped off the side of the ledge. Fell down the cliff.
“MILLLA!!!” My father screamed my name. Shock in his eyes. He dropped his gun and bottle of alcohol. Sprinting to the edge to watch me fall. He looked away moments after. Not wanting to see all of it. 
I closed my eyes thinking this was it. That I was gone and that this was the end. But then just like that, I felt gravity around me putting me into a blue shield. I felt a power or force inside myself that I had never felt. I felt my fingers and my body started to charge up. Then there was a cyan-blue glow hollowed into my eyes. 
And then I felt nothing. As my body traveled through something before I fell out of the sky, the cyan blue illuminated up to the heavens above me. Like I was Thor tunneling down into battle from Asgard. I was finally met with a hit from a tree and another tree. I was freefalling till my body plummeted into the white fluffy snow. I was in pain lying on the ground. The coldness around me. I turned to my side as I vomited up what appeared to be blood and before I passed out onto the snow. My eyes were still glowing brightly. 
I was out for a couple of hours. I launched myself from the snow. Panting as I looked around to see where I was. It was cold, and the large snowflakes covered my legs and dress. I didn’t know where I was. I slowly got up on my feet. I had a gash on my stomach and a tear in my dress. As I was keeping it closed. 
I stumbled through the snowy ground. Hissing in pain. The crunch of my boots into the knee-high snow was the only sound. I panicked being alone in the night with no one. I started to shiver and then I cried out. 
“HELP ME!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” I screamed, as I was crying holding my stomach. 
I saw lights in the distance before I made my way slowly there. I was wobbling on my feet, trying to walk normally. It took some time to get there. But once I got there. It looked like a training camp. It wasn’t very busy. I Screamed out crying once again.
“SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” I belted out my lungs. I felt them squeeze around me. I couldn’t breathe at all. My eyes were still glowing blue. My hand was on my stomach. I stumbled into the camp. I fell and lay there. I looked up at the sky.
I heard sets of boots heading in my direction. They appeared over me. Three men were looking down at me. They were all wearing devil wings. I knew for a fact that I was dead. Because no human can wear wings. One of the men kneeled, looking over my body, his eyes widened. His voice was rich and deep as he looked behind him. 
“Get the Commander here immediately!” He shouted and looked at everyone around. “Help her, bring her to the healing tent.” The man said. Before another man picked me up with no trouble. He carried me into the camp
I was placed in a small tent. And was set down on a mattress-like stretcher. Something I remember seeing after one of my brothers was being pulled out of a car. My mind was numb. And I felt numb. I was so tired and I was in pain. So much pain. 
“Cassian, she’s in here” a Mumbled voice peaked from behind the tent.
 I must have been dozing off into a slumber because I wasn’t aware of any conversations being played out. All I knew was I had a weird feeling inside me that was batting within itself. Like four different things were fighting each other. I had no idea what was causing it. I fell fifty feet and now I am dead. I hope to believe I am. I heard more mumbling. But all I could get out of it was. 
“We have to tell….” more mumbling. “The High Lord about this..” The voice was serious and concerning. My eyes were still glowing. I don’t know why my eyes were glowing. The Commander looked down at me, I felt his stare behind the illuminating blue glow. Before he left the tent. I was alone once again. 
I fell back asleep in the tent. I dreamed of nightmares and being chained up and beaten by my father with the help of the man I was supposed to be married to. But when I woke. I was no longer in the tent in the camp. 
I was in a bedroom. My eyes were back to their normal color. They treated my stomach with some stitches it looked to be. The pain was somewhat still intense. I was panting out, I rose from the bed. But I was still in this dark room. There was no window or light. It seemed like to me I was in a cell. A cell with an actual bed. There was an iron door in the room. Yep definitely in a cell.
“Is there somebody there!?! I need help!!” I called out. 
But none answered. I panicked. I don’t like being in small places it makes me react and panic. I fell on the floor trying to breathe from being too closed in. My vision was fuzzy and my hands were shaking. I didn’t even notice when someone walked in. Well, two figures were approaching me. I looked at the wall. Before a voice appears to my left. 
“Who are you?!” The voice was deep, raspy, and a little bit elegant. The man approached me. 
I panicked and did backflip. Crouching looking at my hands gripping the stone floor before looking up. 
“Whoever the Hell are you?? Where Am I!?!” I panicked. My eyes were filled with fear. I was looking around the room. I was so fearful that I was going to die in heaven. I guess I was right about seeing someone in hell. 
The man kneeled in front of me, he grabbed my chin forcing me to look up at him. I didn’t see much other than violet eyes. I have never seen anyone back at home with eyes like that. They were hypnotizing me. His eyes were on mine for a while. before he let go and lowered my chin.
He turned away from me before walking to the door. He looked to his right and singled the other guy to bring me out of the cell of a bedroom. 
The man nodded to him before approaching me. He slowly lifted me to my feet. I looked down at his hands. That was now placed on my shoulders. They were scars, no more like burns to be exact. Like the ones on me. On my legs. He had two large wings on his back too. But he was only a silhouette. He has some blue illuminating throughout certain areas. Like a gemstone or a light. I couldn’t figure it out. My black eye was bulging on me. The man nudged my shoulder as I muttered
 “What’s going on? Where am I??” But the man never answered instead he walked with me. One hand on my shoulder. Pushing me forward. Wherever I was, I was not in Virginia anymore.
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dreamyplaylists · 1 year ago
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Annie and Hughie Playlist
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taegularities · 5 months ago
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meraki | jjk (m)
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MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3
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TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs
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1:04AM, Her
There’s a word for how you do what you do.
A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.
Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.
Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.
You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.
Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.
For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.
You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.
And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.
You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.
Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.
But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.
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1:04AM, Him
Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.
Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.
They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them. 
It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.
Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.
Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.
He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.
He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.
But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core. 
Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.
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1:12AM, Her
You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.
Or so you think.
You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.
It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.
Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.
But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.
Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.
And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.
It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.
Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.
Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.
You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.
And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.
As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”
“I’d guess so.”
His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.
Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.
Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.
You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”
“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”
“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”
Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.
“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.
So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.
“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”
You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”
“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”
“Aren’t you going, too?”
“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”
“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”
“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
“I guess so.”
Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.
So you question, “You taking the bus?”
“Nope. Subway.”
“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”
“…Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.
But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”
“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”
“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”
He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”
“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”
He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”
You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”
His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”
“I mean… you know me.”
“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”
“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”
“I don’t. You approach me.”
“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”
He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.
“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.
“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”
“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”
“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”
Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”
Shit.
Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.
“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”
For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”
Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.
You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
Right… you need to go home. You forgot.
“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”
“Sure.”
With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.
You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.
Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”
Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.
Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”
“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”
“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”
“Just a lot later than necessary.”
“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”
And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.
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1:25AM, Her
You catch up to him fast.
“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.
Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”
You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”
“And you’re idiotic.”
“Well… shit.”
This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR. 
You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”
“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”
His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.
You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey.​ Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”
Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”
“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”
That’s it. This look of his.
Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.
And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”
His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”
He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.
Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.
You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.
Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.
He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.
You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.
In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.
You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.
But…
He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.
You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.
Yet…
You don’t want this to end just yet. 
So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—
“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”
This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.
“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Uh… not until the afternoon.”
“So you can sleep in.”
“I guess.”
You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.
“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.
“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”
In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.
Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.
Whatever.
You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”
No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”
Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?
“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”
He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”
You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.
“You must be crazy.”
“I am,” you confirm.
“You think I’d do this, huh?”
“…Maaaybe?”
“No.”
Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.
So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.
He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.
More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”
“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”
“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”
“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”
You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”
He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”
“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”
He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.
“Alright. Then… good night.”
And that’s it.
You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.
You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.
At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.
You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”
He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”
Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”
Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?
You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”
“Thanks. You’re very nice.”
The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.
But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—
“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”
Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”
“You wanted to take a walk.”
And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.
“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”
You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”
Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.
Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”
“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”
Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”
Nothing easier than that.
“Deal!”
“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”
“North-east.”
“Good. Works for me.”
The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.
You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.
So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.
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2:13AM, Her
The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.
Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.
But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.
You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.
At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.
You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.
You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.
For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.
But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.
He asks, “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”
“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”
“Nah. I’m used to them.”
“…Oookay.”
He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.
Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.
“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”
“I can!”
“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”
See what?
You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.
Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”
“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”
You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.
Not that you ever had the chance to.
He doesn’t really hate you, does he?
Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.
The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.
And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.
Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”
Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.
“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.
“Shut up.”
“Found anything?”
“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”
You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”
“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”
You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”
He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”
Well… you didn’t want the night to end—
“I…”
You hesitate.
He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.
“Yes?” he prods.
“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”
He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”
Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.
With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”
Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”
You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Watch.”
He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.
He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.
“What?” you question.
“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”
“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”
“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”
“You’re…”
Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.
Warm and soft; gentle.
As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.
The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.
And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.
But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.
Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”
“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”
“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”
“Yeah… why?”
“No reason. I do, too.”
“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”
“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”
You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”
“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.
But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.
He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.
And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.
You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”
He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.
But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”
You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.
Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?
“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.
“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”
“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”
This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.
You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”
He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—
“No, I don't.”
Ah. Ah.
Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.
And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.
Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”
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2:19AM, Him
You’re irritating to the core.
You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.
Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.
Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.
She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.
But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.
“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”
Your… what now?
Excuse me?
Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”
You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.
Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”
“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”
The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”
“Was it really?”
“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.
He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.
But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”
“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”
He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.
Right?
He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?
Anyway…
“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”
“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”
A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.
Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.
The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.
So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…
He pauses. Where… are the flavours?
Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.
You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”
He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.
He answers, “It’s fine…”
But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.
You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”
“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”
“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”
But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.
Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.
But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.
Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”
It does look good…
But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.
Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…
Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.
It’s good. Very damn good.
And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”
“Alright. Be right back.”
“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”
So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”
You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.
“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”
“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”
Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.
And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.
“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”
“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”
“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”
“Hm… was it, though?”
Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”
“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”
You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.
And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—
“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”
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2:49AM, Him
The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.
Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.
Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.
It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.
You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.
Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.
You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.
Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.
When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”
Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”
“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”
Bingo. He thought so.
“Ah… why?”
“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”
Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”
“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”
You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”
“Doesn’t it?”
You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.
Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—
“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”
“Shut up.”
The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.
“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”
Jungkook frowns.
“Jieun?”
“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”
“Ah… Right, right.”
“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”
“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”
“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.
It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.
“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”
“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”
“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”
Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?
And…
Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?
Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?
The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.
But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.
“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”
You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.
“I know. It happens to me, too.”
“Really? How?”
Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”
“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”
“How so?”
“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”
Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.
“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”
You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”
“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”
You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.
“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”
This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.
It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.
“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”
The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”
“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”
His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”
“…But?”
He knows what’s missing.
“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”
Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.
But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.
You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.
But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.
“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”
“Shu—”
“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”
One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?
“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.” 
“…You think?”
Damn.
Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.
But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.
“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”
Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”
“Oh… right…”
Right.
He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.
It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.
“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”
Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?
And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?
“That’s so nice,” he says.
“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”
Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?
The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.
So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”
You know…
The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?
That type of thing?
But he doesn’t say any of it.
“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”
“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.
“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.
He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.
But somehow, he can’t stop looking.
Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.
Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”
There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.
He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.
This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.
So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.
Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.
Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—
And then, a vehicle roars from afar.
Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.
One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?
You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”
“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”
“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”
“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”
Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.
“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.
Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.
Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.
You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.
His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.
Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.
Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”
As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.
When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?
It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.
For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”
“What? You were lau—”
“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”
You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.
So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”
Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.
“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”
“Ah… Yeah? Why?”
“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”
His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”
You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.
“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”
“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”
“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”
Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…
“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”
“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”
You’re observant, he’ll give you that.
“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”
“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”
“Would she be awake, even?”
“She’s a night owl. I know that.”
“Uhm…” 
He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.
“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.
“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”
That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.
Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.
He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.
Your body is so clearly encircled by it.
Bedazzling.
Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.
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3:25AM, Her
You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.
Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.
“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”
Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”
You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”
“What for?”
Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.
“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”
“How old is… Jieun anyway?”
Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.
“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”
‘93, as far as you remember.
“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.
“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”
She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.
A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.
His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”
“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…
You smile.
“Just a friend,” you repeat.
“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”
Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”
But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”
“I know you won’t, baby.”
She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”
You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”
Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”
Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”
“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you so much.”
“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.
She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.
So you ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Hm? Nothing.”
Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”
You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”
He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”
“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”
He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”
“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”
“Mhm. Okay.”
You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.
He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.
Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.
You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.
You laugh quietly at yourself.
Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.
He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.
But his body won’t move.
Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.
He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”
You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”
“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”
“…The couch is too small.”
“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”
You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”
“Why?”
“You can’t sleep on the floor.”
“…Why not?”
You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”
“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”
You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.
“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”
He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”
The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.
As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.
But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”
Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”
“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”
“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”
You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.
But all he responds with is, “What?”
“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”
It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.
“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”
Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—
Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”
“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”
“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”
This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.
“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.
“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”
“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.” 
He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.
“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”
An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.
Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”
“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”
You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”
You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.
“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”
Well.
“That you are,” you verify.
“Damn.”
“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”
“Maybe.”
“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”
Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.
“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.
That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.
There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.
And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.
You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?
Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”
“Hm?”
“Is it uncomfortable down there?”
“Uh… a little.”
You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”
“…What are you talking about?”
Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.
You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”
He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”
Your answer is immediate.
“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay… okay.”
As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.
“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.
“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”
“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”
“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”
“Thought so. Are you tired?”
“Definitely.”
“But you’re not sleeping.”
“Because you’re talking.”
Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.
When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought. 
And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”
“That’s really why, huh?”
“Mhm.”
“The only reason there really is?”
“What else could there be?”
You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”
“Yeah?”
Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.
Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”
He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.
You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”
“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”
And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.
His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.
They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.
Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?
A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.
And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.
Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.
Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.
He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.
But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.
He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.
What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…
It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.
Reacts so effectively.
Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.
And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”
“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”
Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.
It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”
Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…
“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”
“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”
Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.
But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.
He’s loving this.
He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”
Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.
“Good. Good, good, good.”
The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.
His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.
And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.
But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”
Oh, he didn’t just…
Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.
But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”
“Ah? Where are you going?”
“Wait.”
He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.
“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.
You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.
“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”
“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”
“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”
“Ah?”
“Mhm.”
“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”
Exactly.
Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.
But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.
The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.
When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.
It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”
“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”
“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”
“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”
“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”
“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”
You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.
He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity. 
You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.
“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.
You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.
But it’s hard. So hard because—
God, he’s lapping you up so good.
So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.
He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.
Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.
They don’t make men like him anymore.
Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.
He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.
Tell him, “This should be enough.”
And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”
You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.
Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.
On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”
“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”
“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”
You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.
You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.
He must have.
Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.
Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.
“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”
“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”
No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.
Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.
Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…
You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.
But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.
Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.
And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.
Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.
Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”
He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.
You tell him, “Use my panties then.”
“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”
Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.
Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…
Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.
Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.
As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”
“Yes— yes!”
“Mhm…”
He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.
You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.
But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.
So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.
Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.
Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…
You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”
He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.
Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.
You wonder how he likes what he sees.
Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”
Good to know.
So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.
He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”
And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.
The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.
“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”
But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his. 
The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.
Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.
“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.
“What?” you voice. “Not good?”
“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”
You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”
“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”
His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.
You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”
“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”
“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”
“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”
And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.
The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.
And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.
“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”
Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.
His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.
In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”
Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.
You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.
Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.
Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.
The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.
You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”
“Crazy… right?”
“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”
He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”
You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.
Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”
“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”
“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”
You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.
But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.
Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.
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5:12AM, Him
Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.
The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.
And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.
Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.
But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.
You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.
You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”
“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”
“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”
Well, shit.
Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”
He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”
“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”
“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”
“Woah. You sing?”
“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”
He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”
But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”
Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”
“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”
Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.
“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”
Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”
“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”
He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—
A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.
“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”
And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.
His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.
He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.
Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”
“Uh… all good.”
“Yes. All good indeed.”
Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”
Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?
And behind that, the town.
If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.
The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.
But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.
From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.
Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.
And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.
Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.
He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.
“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.
He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.
Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.
Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.
He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Hidden spot then.”
“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”
The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.
It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.
He likes it that way.
No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.
Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.
He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”
He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.
If you did, you’d never let him live it down.
You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?
But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.
“Good?” he asks.
“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”
The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.
He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.
But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.
“You… did it for me?” he asks.
You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”
“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”
“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”
“Thank you. Really.”
You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.
He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.
There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.
Because of you.
Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.
Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.
But…
He’d love to talk to you again.
However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.
“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”
Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”
“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”
“Sure? She is.”
He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.
“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”
Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.
“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.
“So she is your type.”
Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.
And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.
So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”
“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”
“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”
“You do not small-talk.”
“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”
He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”
“The type thing!”
“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”
The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.
Just for a second.
Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.
In some way, it still does.
You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”
“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”
“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
Cute.
But he’s not giving in this easily.
He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.
For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.
He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—
They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.
You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.
Crazy.
But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?
Yes.
The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…
When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”
You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”
As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”
“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”
“I guess so.”
He guesses so.
It’s been a while since he fell in love.
Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.
His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.
He means it. And you seem to know.
Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.
Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.
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READ BELOW!!
the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰
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raitonsfw · 1 year ago
Text
𝚓𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 | 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚎𝚟𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚏𝚢𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛
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synopsis: Fyodor offers to take care of you on your period, as weird as that seems to you. Normally it would be the usual gestures, like milk chocolates and warm baths; but you never thought he’d be into this.
warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, smut, period smut, blood play/kink, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v intercourse, dirty talk, creampie, massages, petnames (my love, good girl), insecurity about having a period, fyodor's a sweetheart.
a/n: marked it as dark content because well, blood play. if its not your thing that's okay, personally was just craving fyodor in every type of way today so this idea came about. wc: 2.7k. m.list
now playing: MOON CYCLE by melanie martinez
divider credit: @benkeibear
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You had curled up near the window with one of Fyodor’s blankets wrapped around you. It was cold outside, nothing new, it was winter after all. The holidays would be coming up soon and you reminded yourself to look for a present for him in the next few weeks. A mug of hot cocoa sat amongst the coffee table and you stared at it solemnly.
Fyodor hadn’t come home yet.
It’s the same routine over and over. You wait by the window, seeking solace in the snow that stuck to the branches of the trees. His footsteps were often covered over by the time you awoke in the morning, the goodbye forgotten on the tip of your tongue because he never managed to disturb your sleep. He was silent in the dawned sunrise, the light barely reaching the windows that he opened for you. The birds chirped lightly as he left without so much as a trace lingering within the bedsheets next to you.
The window was your company, in its hinges and blinds. It was your only company as you waited for him to come back from his post. You didn’t know what he did most days, it didn’t matter in your eyes. He never brought home the insolent manner he forgave in the midst of his work. He’d lay everything outside the door and walk in with a fresh aura, something you were grateful for. And then the rest of the night, he was yours.
The hot cocoa had gone cold, the marshmallows melted into the drink and you frowned at it. You forgot you had made it for yourself, too preoccupied by the starlight moving its way through the sky. It wouldn’t do much for you anymore, the comfortability of the hot drink wouldn’t make your pain go away. It was that time of the month, where everything ceased to be exciting. It felt horrible, especially without your lover’s arms massaging your aches away.
Fyodor would take care of you, to the best of his ability at least. Chocolates would be sitting by the fireplace and warm baths would be drawn for your sake when he knew you weren’t feeling all that well. Fresh blankets would be piled onto the edge of the bed as well as some of his clothes for you to wear. But what he couldn’t help you with was the insatiable wanting that overcame you, you wanted him on a silver platter. Wanted nothing but to be touched by him, in every place you could imagine. Wanted nothing but to touch him and make him beg with that lovely accent of his, dripping curses from his lips.
But you couldn’t picture Fyodor ever doing such a thing for you. Not when his hands were so clean, you knew blood would surely taint his demeanor. Maybe he would even leave you, disgusted by the simple question. You didn’t want to ask, afraid of what the future would look like without him due to a stupid fantasy. A stupid desire.
The front door opened with a quiet noise, pulling you from your muses. Your head snapped towards it and you smiled. “You’re home.”
“My love, you look cold.” Was the first thing he said when he saw you, cuddled up in the corner of the sofa. You nodded, snuggling up more into the blanket. His scent wafted off of it and it eased you as you watched him put his belongings down on the kitchen counter.
“I have the fireplace going, plus I found your blanket at the bottom of the closet.”
“Ah, so that’s where that went.” He chuckled lowly, shedding his overcoat and hanging it over one of the dining chairs. His hat came off next, resting on the same chair. “How was the day?”
“It was fine, I just read a book.” You held up the small book from your lap, flipping through the pages for emphasis. “I finished it too.”
“Was it one of the ones you found from my collection?” He asked as he moved around the living room, tidying up some of the mess you had made. He picked up the stale hot cocoa mug and pondered at it for a second. “Would you like another one?”
“No, it’s okay Fyo.” You sighed, waving your hand at him. You probably wouldn’t drink a fresh one either. The dull pain crawled against your back and you pouted a bit. “I don’t want to waste another one.”
He murmured a tiny ‘okay’, bringing it over to the kitchen counter. You continued talking about the book you read, it was one of the ones you found from his massive collection. He had a library of sorts, to say the least. Bookshelves lined the bedroom you shared with him, novels housed within the wooden crevices. You were stunned when you first saw the shelves as you moved your belongings in, forgetting how much of a bookworm he could be.
Now they comforted you as you sat alone on those chilly days, waiting for his return.
“You’re not feeling well?” Fyodor asked, a hint of concern sprinkled in his voice.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem to be.” He came up behind you, leaning over the sofa to kiss the top of your head. He placed his hands on your shoulders and squeezed gently, trailing them down your back. His fingers kneaded into the depths of your shoulder blades, relieving some of the pain that sat there. “My love…”
You shivered at his touch even though it was over the blanket, reveling in the way his presence felt. He gently moved your hair away from your neck, pressing a few kisses there with a soft hum. His tongue lapped at the light hickies, some he left days prior when he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. One of your hands came up from under the blanket to rest in his hair as he sucked a few more into your skin, a soft moan leaving your mouth.
“Did you miss me?” Fyodor asked quietly and your hand ran through the soft strands of his hair, pulling at them lovingly. You captured him quickly into a hushed kiss, moving your lips gently against his. A short noise came from his mouth, like he was a bit shocked you kissed him first. He wasn’t used to you making any moves, normally you let him take the reins and decide how he wanted to move his chess pieces with you. A strategic game it was, he had to come up with new ways to keep you entertained so you wouldn’t become bored.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He muttered against your lips, a smug laugh coming from him. You pulled him closer to you, that wanton feeling hitting hard in the pit of your tummy and you whined into the kiss. You needed him, needed to watch as his eyes rolled back from searing pleasure, needed to hear him force your name out between sobs-
He broke the kiss, patting you lightly on the arm and you looked at him confused as he leaned back up. “Fyodor-?”
Your confusion fizzled away as he picked you up from over the sofa and you realized you shouldn’t have started this. You shouldn’t have gone with your instincts, shouldn't have given in. You couldn’t tell him no, he knew you wanted him from the way you just acted– how were you supposed to tell him you were on your period?
Or did he already know from how you were acting? Did he not care? You couldn’t tell. Panic set in underneath your skin and you fidgeted in his arms as he brought you to the bedroom. As he laid you down on the bed, you hesitated when the white sheets caught your eye. “W-Wait, hold on.”
“What is it, my love?” His hands snaked underneath the soft shirt you were, one of his shirts, and you let out a yelp at the cold intrusion. Fyodor rolled his hips against you slightly and you whimpered a bit as his erection rubbed against your clothed clit. You really didn’t want to stop, a small sigh had escaped him and you were going feral from it.
“Ah, your hands are cold.” You whined out, but you didn’t really care all that much. “I don’t think we should-”
“It’s okay.” Fyodor said, looking at you with concern again. You felt your heart sink at his expression as he got to his knees and off of you to give you space. “We can stop if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You trailed off, looking towards his bookshelves. He really did have quite a collection, the series neatly cluttered together in the heart of the center shelf. You avoided his gaze on you, hoping he wouldn’t question any further. But deep down, you were praying he’d realize and still fuck you into oblivion.
Fyodor’s eyes kinda widened, seemingly understanding why you were acting this way. You knew he wouldn’t shame you, a warm bath was waiting and he’d go out to get you that milk chocolate for you, letting you eat it to your heart’s content. “Time of the month?”
You nodded and a wave of sadness rushed over you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t help that you feared the worst. Not that he’d leave you, but that he wouldn’t indulge you. Your arousal had already settled within your body, the buzzing sensation rushing through your veins. It would be such a bother if he stopped now-
Fyodor pulled you from your thoughts again. “Please don’t cry.”
You felt him rub small circles into your hip and you couldn’t be more thankful at the intimate gesture. He pressed his face into your neck, holding you in a tight embrace and you let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t mind.” You heard him murmur into your neck, his hands trailing to your waist. “I can take care of you.”
“With a bath and chocolate?” The familiarity felt nice, though your mood became dampened. You glanced down at where his hands were, but you didn’t question it.
“No, my love.” Fyodor made his way down to your chest, planting kisses above your breasts and over them. He sighed fruitfully as he thought about what you asked, hiking your shirt up over your tummy. “Well, yes if that’s what you want waiting for you afterwards…”
You watched him lap his tongue against your chest, sucking bruises into the delicate flesh and you groaned out, head falling back against the pillows. He let out a slight laugh as you opened your legs for him a bit, letting him settle in between them. Moving downwards towards the pudge of your tummy, Fyodor pinned you to the bed by your thigh.
His fingers slipped inside the waistband of your (his) sweats and you gasped as they found your clit like second nature. He massaged it gently, taking in your choked whines. “I’ve been thinking about you all day…”
His violet eyes bored into your figure as you seethed under his touch, his forefinger dipping slightly into your cunt. He moaned to himself as he felt the wetness, the blood that pooled there, slicking up the tip of his finger. Of course he didn’t care, he just wanted you– in fact, you might’ve awakened a new kink in him.
“Maybe I’ll even taste you, savor you on my tongue…” He continued with a whine etching the end of his sentence, mocking yours as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows weakly. “You want me to-?”
You cut him off sharply, the ‘yes’ falling from your lips as his fingers slid fully in. Curling them in and out, you arched your back with his name falling from your lips. “F-Fyo-”
“Yes, my love?” He didn’t stop, sped up his movements even, looking up at you with endearing eyes. Yours stared back, albeit some uncertainty filled them. He kissed you once to calm your nerves before lowering back down towards your thighs with an assuring smile. “Don’t worry about the sheets.”
He slipped his fingers out quickly and tugged your sweats over the swell of your ass, pulling them off completely. Pad and panties forgotten, he moved them aside to the edge of the bed somewhere. Gripping both of your thighs, he hoisted them over his shoulders and fervently licked a small stripe up your cunt to test you. And when you moaned out, eyes shutting tightly and hands flying to his head, he dove right in.
He savored your metallic taste, lapping at your clit and into your cunt with a lick of his tongue. Fyodor groaned into you as you pulled his hair, your thighs twitching as he drove you crazy. He could feel your slick against his cheeks, but he didn’t mind. He welcomed the way it made you squirm, you were pliant and submissive, desperate to feel something– anything. You were completely putty in his hands and his dick throbbed in his trousers, strained against the white material.
He came up for air, his face stained and you gasped. But, again he didn’t mind, simply just wiping it off on his sleeve as he moved to pull himself out of his confines.
“Fuck, can’t wait any longer.” Fyodor breathed out as he positioned himself between you. Sinking in slowly, a low moan was drawn out of him and you nearly came right then and there. His hands came to clasp yours and his dark eyes fluttered shut as he bottomed out. He felt you tighten around him and he shook with pleasure as he thrusted into you. “Such a good girl for me…”
You whimpered in response, feeling the way he dragged within you. It felt like you were on fire, every single instance of you dreaming about this coming to the surface and melting from his touch. He pushed into you again and again, a slow rhythm, and even though it was slow, an obscene noise came from it. The wet squelching made you dizzy with excitement and Fyodor buried his head into your neck again, panting out small curses.
It felt amazing, Fyodor could barely contain his moans. His cock had stuffed you to the hilt and your blood made it so easy to fuck into you without much force. He rocked into you with tiny whimpers, trying so hard not to cum but he felt it rushing up his spine the more he plunged into you. This was the best decision he’s ever made, to take care of his lover who needed him.
You chanted out his name, your back arching up into him and he thrusted into you faster. He pinned you down again as he changed his position, leaning back and pulling your thighs close to his hips as he sat almost on his haunches. He watched his dick disappear in and out of you, the so-called red filth becoming near molten gold to him. You gripped the pillow above you for leverage as he plowed into you. You felt your orgasm nearing, expelling within your nerves and you whimpered, looking at Fyodor. He looked back at you with hooded eyes and pressed one of his hands on your tummy.
His hips faltered slightly and you watched his eyes roll back, pumping shallowly into you and painting your insides with his cum. He fucked it into you and your orgasm followed right after him, nearly shattering your senses as you clenched around him harshly.
Fyodor pulled out of you, littering kisses against your flushed cheeks as you caught your breath. He massaged your hips fondly and smiled warmly. “I’ll run the bath for you, my love.”
You don’t know what you did to get such a perfect lover; one minute you were in such a dark place and the next, he’s there to kiss your sorrows away. He went to run the bath for you and you looked at the sheets, blemished with you– you and him combined and all you could think of was how the hell you were going to get the stains out.
“Don’t worry about the sheets. I’ll take care of it, now come here and let me take care of you.”
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a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!
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stellar-solar-flare · 14 days ago
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S T E V E R O G E R S
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This list has all my Steve Rogers works, sorted by length (longfic, oneshot, drabble/headcanon). I have noted down which ones have an AU version of Steve - works with just 'Steve' are about the Avenger we know and love. All my work is for 18+ only but stories have ratings based on their specific content.
MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3
Beautiful star dividers by @steviebbboi, thank you.
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L O N G F I C S:
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A Fairytale Of A Disaster | Steve x Doctor!Reader | Explicit
Reader has been stood up by her Valentine's Date. Or has she? Romance, fluff, meet-cute, hurt/comfort. COMPLETE, 4/4.
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Brilliant Steel (AO3) | Steve Rogers x OFC, platonic Bucky & OFC | Explicit
The AI Head Strategist, Captain Steve Rogers's world implodes as a wave of inexplicable, supernatural events washes over the globe. The problem: the brilliant mind that might be the key to solving all this belongs to a woman Steve once scorned, and she won’t be happy to find him standing at her doorstep. In an effort to save the world, Steve and Bucky team up with a woman that Steve once thought would be much more than a teammate. In a universe much more vast and stranger than anyone ever thought, they’ll have to learn to rely on each other — wits and gifts and weirdness and all — to keep said world on its rails. WIP - 5/x chapters published.
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For Centuries (AO3)| emperor!Steve x Stark!princess!Reader | Explicit
As you, the only daughter of King Howard Stark, arrive at the court of Emperor Steven the Righteous to be wedded and crowned the Empress of the Centurial Empire, your husband-to-be is not what you expected. This is a 'From Political Marriage to Love Marriage' story, featuring lots of romantasy elements, court politics, and protective, righteous Emperor Steve Rogers. The slowest of burns. WIP - 19/x chapters published.
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Equinox (AO3)| soft dark!mob boss!Steve x superpowered!Reader | Explicit
When you’re caught in the crossfires of a war brewing underground, Steve does what he has to. And as you get pulled deeper into his world, it may very well turn out that starlight can scorch, too. A dark romance story about a woman scorned and a man who is so much more than he seems. WIP, 10/x chapters published.
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Volatile | Steve x scientist!Avenger!Reader | Explicit
Reader has been subjected to an aphrodisiac while on a mission. Steve and the medical team attempt to find a solution. Smut with feelings, eventual fluff, eventual happy ending. COMPLETE, 3/3.
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O N E S H O T S:
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Cinderella Magic | Steve Rogers x Reader | T+
The entire thing had been like something out of a movie, starting from how Steve – to you just Steve, one of the regulars at the bookshop you ran – had barged into the store yesterday and blurted out that he desperately needed a date. Fluff, romance, friends-to-lovers. 828 words.
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Every Bit As Magical | Steve x Avenger!Reader | G
When the car stopped, and Steve went round to open the door for you and help you out, you were practically bursting with curiosity. Tumblr Prompt: "Steve Rogers + a day at Disneyland?" Fluff, romance, established relationship. 567 words.
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Malogranatum | soft dark!Avenger!Steve Rogers x mob boss!Reader | Explicit
“You know there are lines I do not cross,” you said. Tumblr prompt: "Steve + Mob AU + ”Would you really do that for me?” + nefarious." Dark romance with themes of obsessive love. AU - canon divergence & mob themes. 2,417 words.
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Warmth | Steve x chronically ill!Reader | Mature
Steve is the most caring husband and the best heating pad in the world. Even on the bad days when you don't feel easy to love. Hurt/comfort, established relationship, protective Steve Rogers. 1,771 words.
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Worthy | Steve Rogers x Reader | Mature
You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a year. When a journalist is out to get you, you will have to stand together and come out stronger. Romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff & hurt/comfort, protective Steve Rogers. Reader has past trauma and unspecified mental health issues. 2,045 words.
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H E A D C A N O N S & D R A B B L E S
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kink headcanons for different versions of Steve | Explicit
fall-themed dates with Steve headcanons | Mature
getting ready for a Halloween Party with Steve | T+
coming home to Steve after a long day | G
tempting Steve at a Halloween Party | T+
a 3-sentence fic about Steve being a good dad | G
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halcyon-hyacinth · 7 months ago
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“You have far less blood than V in your body right now,” Neuman says. “Not ideal. What’s your type?”
Starlight stops breathing. Stops speaking. Chemical-borne instinct informs her it’s an attack and to act immediately. Her heart, thundering forward, tells her something else entirely.
“Your blood type,” Neuman clarifies, in a tone she usually reserves for chauvinistic senators.
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babybemydownfall · 5 months ago
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things that shimmer in the dark Part V: Feyre NSFW Thank you for the love and shares and comments. I love this story so much and I hope you do too.
He opened his eyes. They were so brilliantly violet, so full of starlight, that it shocked me. I wondered if I would ever get used to him, and all his power, and everything he was. I hoped not. Whatever became of us, I hoped he never stopped being spectacular to me.
And then he blinked, like he was finally fully awake, and suddenly looked horrified. “Fuck. I should not have slept in your bed, Feyre.”
AO3 or below the cut.
Part V: Feyre II I woke to pale, wintry light filtering in through the uncovered windows. The air was freezing, chilling my face and shoulders, but the rest of me was toasty and warm - thanks to the thick feather duvet and the hot, naked body wrapped around mine. We were in the same position we’d fallen asleep in: Rhys spooned up behind me, his arm across my waist, our legs entwined. The bond between us was glowing inside me, like it was content at our physical closeness. I stayed very still, listening to his deep, regular breathing. He hadn’t woken yet. There were quiet movements in the house: the creak of a stair; subdued chatter from the floor below. A bird chirped outside as it swooped past the house, and everything felt… peaceful.
It occurred to me it had been a long time since I’d slept in a bed with someone. That had been Tamlin, months ago - back when I was truly broken. But even then, he had never held me. Not when I was a ghost, being destroyed by nightmares and vomiting my guts up every night. Not when I had needed him to.
Not like this: like I was precious. Wanted. Something worth protecting, worth holding on to.
I felt safe, lying here with Rhys. And not just from outside threats: from myself. From the darkness and despair that clawed at my skin, trying to climb all over me, to consume me. I had had another dreamless sleep. It could only have been a few hours but I felt like I’d rested for days. And even if a nightmare had come for me, I knew he would never have left me alone. He wouldn’t have rolled over and pretended to be oblivious. Not long ago he had found me in a bed full of ash, my fingertips on fire; had held my hair and stroked my back as I threw up over and over again. I had assumed he was mostly concerned for his house, and trying to save it from being engulfed by my flames. But reflecting on it now, there had been an undeniable tenderness in him; the same tenderness I could see in his eyes as he gazed at me, as he murmured my name and kissed my skin and watched me move above him.
Last night had been… extraordinary. It would take me some time to process it. The strength of our desire; the ease with which we pleased each other’s bodies, and the unbelievable sweetness of it. How he reached for me down the bond and I let myself collide with him without a second thought. I gave him everything I was and didn’t even question it. It was intriguing, and frightening. And I suspected it would have been beautiful, too, if we were truly lovers. If I was ever to see us that way.
But that was not something I could face just yet. A problem for the future.
Right now, I needed to get out of bed and go to empty my bladder. I wanted to bathe and brush my teeth. I was loathe to wake Rhys, to leave the warmth of the bed and the memories of last night, to face the reality of a new day - but I didn’t have much choice. I tried to be as gentle as possible, starting by unentangling my legs from his, but I had barely gotten anywhere when I felt his arm tighten around me.
“No.” His voice was thick with sleep. “Stay.”
Forty eight hours ago I had said the same word to him - and now here we were.
He held me even closer, nuzzling his nose against my shoulder, pressing a kiss there. His hand came up to hold my breast and his thumb softly stroked my skin - not in an arousing way. It was purely affectionate. And suddenly I saw a glimpse of the future: of a relationship that was more than just ridiculously hot sex. I knew Rhys was not the cruel, cunning High Lord he had to play. I knew he could be tender, and loving. He had already shown me that. Would we spend mornings like this one in bed, talking, reading, kissing? Would we make each other laugh, and share a thousand jokes that were funny only to us? Would we build a whole life together in Velaris, where his bedroom would become ours, where his arms would become my home - for the rest of eternity?
Something inside me said, Yes please.
It was the first time since I’d gone under the mountain that I had seen any kind of future for myself. And it was comforting, knowing that I could even contemplate such a thing when my thoughts had been nothing but blackness for so long. But it was also terrifying. Forty eight hours with someone was not enough time to change the entire course of my immortal life.
Was it?
“Come on,” I said to Rhys instead, forcing myself to refocus on the present. “We need to get up.”
I shifted onto my back so I could see him. His eyes were closed, his long black lashes resting against his cheek. He looked so calm, so relaxed. He was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and my heart thumped harder beneath my ribs.
“No,” he grumbled. His leg crossed over both of mine, trapping me. “It’s our day off.”
“I heard footsteps on the stairs and they were not just the dainty feet of my sisters. You don’t think it will be suspicious if we’re both still in here when everyone else is up?”
“I don’t care.”
“You do.”
He opened his eyes. They were so brilliantly violet, so full of starlight, that it shocked me. I wondered if I would ever get used to him, and all his power, and everything he was. I hoped not. Whatever became of us, I hoped he never stopped being spectacular to me.
And then he blinked, like he was finally fully awake, and suddenly looked horrified. “Fuck. I should not have slept in your bed, Feyre.”
My mouth opened in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because…” He rolled onto his back as well, rubbing his hands over his face. “I have nightmares too. Bad ones. I could have hurt you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He glanced at me again, wary. “I might.”
“No. I trust you. I know you - in here.” I tugged gently on the bond. It made us both shiver: reminding us of all the things we had done in the night; of just how intimate we were becoming. “You would have recognised me.”
I didn’t know how I was so sure, but I was. With every single piece of my being.
“And anyway,” I went on, “did you even dream?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “No. Not at all.”
“Me neither.”
We smiled at each other, at what that implied.
“Gods, Feyre,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “I have waited so long for you to smile at me like that.”
“Like what?”
Instinctively we turned towards one another again. He reached up his fingers and brushed my hair away from my face. “Like you actually like me.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I teased.
He moved closer and I felt his erection press into my belly. “Well, I like you. Very much.”
“Rhys! No. I need to get up. I need to pee, and wash, and clean my teeth.”
“And then come back to bed.”
“And then,” I countered, “go downstairs and pretend we did not fuck all night and wake up wrapped around each other.”
He gazed deep into my eyes; saw that I was serious and then sighed. “Fine.”
“Can you please warm the air for me before I get up? It’s freezing.”
“Do it yourself.”
I scowled at him. “I can’t.”
“If you learned to use your powers, you could.”
“It would be quicker for you to just do it than argue with me.”
He smirked. “I already have.”
“Prick.”
He laughed as I pulled back the covers and stood up. “I’m guessing you’d like a full, hot bath too?” he asked, his gaze roaming unashamedly over my body.
My aching muscles went slack at the thought. “Yes please.”
“Only if I can watch you.”
“No!” His flirting was so audacious today. I didn’t want him to see how much it was turning me on, although I suspected he already could. “You know how that went, last time.”
“Yes. You seduced me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I didn’t mean to. I did just want a friend, and a back scrub. You touched me first… So if anything, you seduced me.”
When he sat up the duvet fell to his waist, revealing all the perfectly defined muscles of his shoulders, chest and abdomen. I wanted to reach out and touch him. To lick him.
“And I would do so again,” he said seriously, desire flashing in his eyes. “Over and over. I will, back home.”
Even as hot liquid pooled in my core at the blatant promise in his words, a retort came to me: Velaris isn’t my home. But that wasn’t quite true. This manor house below the Wall certainly wasn’t. I belonged in Prythian. And as I was never going back to Tamlin, that only left the Night Court.
And Rhys.
I shook my head slightly, chasing that thought away. “After my bath,” I said firmly, “I want to train my powers.”
“Really? On our day off?”
“Really. Will you teach me?”
His lips twitched in amusement. “Will you say please?”
I strolled to the bathing room, completely naked. At the door, I glanced back at him over my shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Not a chance.”
Then I shut it behind me - and locked it.
Fortunately he had also warmed the air inside and the bathtub was full, steam rising from the surface. I used the toilet and then stood in front of the mirror. I almost expected to see myself covered in him: tattoos and black night curling around me like the memory of his fingers, his body. But I still looked like myself. Messy hair, bright eyes, pink cheeks. Happy. It would be impossible for anyone to spend a night being loved like that by Rhys and not be happy.
While I bathed, I heard him leave the bedroom and cross the landing, heading to the other bathroom down the hall. I washed carefully, finding parts of me that were sore - particularly my inner thighs. My internal muscles ached too. Not that I was surprised: no one had ever been as deep inside me as he had. No one else had made me fall apart from that feeling alone.
I got out of the tub before I let my mind wander any further. There were towels on the rail and I wrapped myself up in one. Again, I thought back to forty eight hours ago. What would I be doing right now if I hadn’t asked him that fateful question? There were moments in life where the path ahead forked in completely opposite directions; where the two possible futures could not be more different. I had experienced many of them: killing the wolf; heading under the mountain; making my bargain with Amarantha.
Defying orders on Calanmai and finding Rhys for the first time. Letting him save my life in exchange for my time, my freedom. And, just two days ago, being brave enough to wonder what would happen if I dropped my towel to the floor.
I had set us on this path together - but I knew, deep down, that we were always going to end up here eventually. It felt inevitable because it was. We were drawn to one another; connected by that bond between us which just seemed to be growing stronger every day. I hated feeling powerless - it was perhaps, after Tamlin, after Amarantha, my worst fear - but I also didn’t want to fight it. Not when it was this good. Not when Rhys was so playful and unguarded, when simply looking at him made me burn up with lust.
Not when I had started to remember happiness, and laughter; to feel the very edges of the hole inside my chest beginning to heal. I couldn’t define what we were, couldn’t think too hard about what it all meant - that was too much. But for now, I could damn well enjoy myself.
I found new toothbrushes and paste in the cupboard, and headed back into the bedroom in my towel with fresh, clean teeth - only to realise I hadn’t brought a change of clothes. I hadn’t known we’d be staying. Or had I just been too distracted by Rhys to think about it? Was I going mad with desire?
He knocked before he re-entered the room. He was dressed and smelt fresh, like soap and his usual citrus and jasmine. He was rapidly becoming my favourite scent.
He quietly shut the door and looked me over from head to toe, his gaze darkening as he did so. “Feyre. This is very reminiscent, isn’t it?”
I didn’t take the bait. We didn’t have time. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“You do. I took the liberty of packing some for you.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to be prepared.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me, so I could pack for myself?”
“I was… avoiding you.”
I frowned at him. “Fine. Can I have them then?”
He pulled out a small case from thin air and passed it to me. Inside was a fresh set of Night Court-style clothes, this time in dark grey; my leather trousers, jacket and a white shirt; and seven pairs of my lacy underwear. Far more than required for an overnight stay.
I picked them all up in one colourful handful and held them out between us. “What…? Why…?”
“I didn’t know which little scrap you’d prefer.” He was smirking, his hands in his pockets. I associated that pose with power. Danger.
“You could have asked me.”
“Where would be the fun in that?”
He was radiating sexual energy. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “Which pair do you want me to wear today then?”
His smile became feline. “Thank you for considering me in your decision, Feyre darling. But if I am perfectly honest… I would rather you wore none at all.”
There was a fire deep in my core and it started to pulse. I felt the heat bloom beneath my skin, felt my breasts tighten. “You are incorrigible,” I managed to say.
And then suddenly he was striding towards me, reaching for my waist. “You are naked under there,” he growled, and before I could stop him, he kissed me - hard. Just like the rest of him.
I immediately dissolved, opening my mouth, welcoming his tongue against mine. My body pressed itself into his, my arms wrapping around his neck, my feet rising onto tiptoes to get closer, to have more. I needed him. It was a simple, undeniable fact. And it had to happen right now.
He walked us backwards until I hit the wall. Ten seconds later I almost jumped out of my skin when there was a loud knock on the door.
“Are you two up?”
Cassian.
Rhys trailed his mouth down my throat, thoroughly unphased. “Answer him,” he murmured, and I could tell he was smiling.
“Yes,” I said weakly. “Just getting dressed. By myself. I mean, Rhys has his eyes shut.”
He knelt on the floor and pushed the hem of my towel upwards.
“Are you coming for breakfast?” Cassian asked impatiently.
There were soft kisses climbing up my thighs and I couldn’t speak anymore. Rhys laughed quietly against me. His voice sounded perfectly normal when he answered: “We’ll be there soon.”
Cassian scoffed. “Hurry up, you lazy cunt. I’m starving and our delightful host won’t feed us until we’re all present.”
Even through my haze, I was shocked by his language. Rhys seemed to know this. As he nudged my legs apart, he said: “He’s Illyrian. I’ll take you up there one day. Most of them can’t get through a sentence without swearing.”
We both listened to the sound of footsteps fading away down the stairs. Then he tugged open my towel, baring me to him entirely. “There is no shield this morning, Feyre. A total absence of sound is suspicious in itself.” He trailed kisses down the creases of my hips and I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning. “So you have to be a good girl and stay quiet. Okay?”
I nodded, feeling myself grow even wetter. He breathed me in, his strong fingers curling into my thighs with enough pressure to hurt. “You know, I happen to like the word cunt,” he said thoughtfully. “But not at much as I like yours.”
And then he lifted my left leg with his hand, spreading it wide, and put his mouth on me. Forty eight hours and I had already learned this was one of his favourite things to do. Forty eight hours and I already knew he was exceptionally good at it.
He licked me from bottom to top, from inside my entrance all the way up to my clit. He sucked and lapped there, sending pleasure like shooting stars all the way through my body, before delving back down and repeating the sequence again. And again, and again. Occasionally he would alter course, teasing me by biting my inner thigh, my belly; by kissing my folds, or plunging his tongue all the way inside me. His free hand was on my right breast, his thumbnail flicking over the hard peak of my nipple, adding fuel to the blaze that was engulfing me.
It didn’t take long at all for me to be close. He felt fucking phenomenal, and the way he was groaning against me, telling me how aroused he was too, was unbelievably hot. My fingers were in his hair, not to guide him - he didn’t need that - but to hold him to me. I never wanted to let him go. Everything inside me felt so good, so sweet as it built and built, and I wanted to stay there for the rest of time.
But the end was fast approaching - and he knew, of course. My hisses and gasps, the way my hips were moving, riding his face, were telling him quite clearly. He focused all his attention on my clit, kissing and circling relentlessly until I thought I couldn’t bear it anymore, until it was too much sensation, too much for me to take-
And then I soared over the edge, my orgasm roaring through me. It took all my strength not to scream as wave after wave crashed over me. Rhys kept licking me until I pushed him away, completely spent. He stood, lifting me as easily as if I weighed nothing, and carried me to the bed. But when he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me, it was gentle and tender. Not a continuation - an ending.
I gazed into his eyes as he said softly, “One day, I will spread you out and really take my time. I want to make you beg and moan like you never have before. You have no idea what you do to me, Feyre."
I shifted my leg against his rock solid cock. “I have some idea.”
He smiled, running his fingertip along my jaw. I thought he was going to say something else but then he seemed to change his mind, kissing me again instead. I liked tasting myself on his mouth. He and I would have this secret - and all our other ones - all day long. A tangible reminder of our illicit liaisons.
“We should go down for breakfast,” he murmured against my lips.
“You already have.”
He buried his laughter in the side of my neck, which made me shiver.
I ran my hands over his broad back, down to his waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to come too?”
“For breakfast, or inside you?”
I smiled against his silky hair. “Either. Both.”
“I always want both. Particularly the you part.” He looked up at me again, so unreasonably handsome and endearing. He would be so easy to fall for - if I hadn’t started to already. “But I am genuinely afraid Cassian will be back any moment to break down the door. And as amusing as it would be to see the look on his face, I don’t want him to find us like this. Especially you, naked and flushed and delicious. You are… so beautiful.”
And all mine.
That’s what he didn’t say, but we both knew it was true.
I let him pull me to stand and finally got dressed as he opened the windows and remade the bed. I chose the bright red lacy panties - something told me he’d like them the most. And indeed, as he watched me pull on my leather trousers over the top, I could see he was already thinking about taking them off again later.
Once I was fully clothed, ready to train with him after we’d had food, Rhys took my hands in his. “Thank you,” he said solemnly.
“For what?”
“For seducing me. Or allowing me to seduce you, as you claim.” I laughed and squeezed his fingers. His forehead came to rest on mine, our eyes falling shut. I could feel his heart beating loudly down the bond, echoing in my chest. “Thank you for letting me in, Feyre. Thank you for helping me start to heal.”
Suddenly I felt the sting of tears as a well of emotion rose up inside me. “Thank you. For… everything.”
There were so many things I was grateful to him for. Too many to count - not least, saving my life. Multiple times. But I didn’t get chance to elaborate because the sound of a large, muscled Illyrian running up the stairs crashed right through the moment.
“Rhysand! Feyre!” Cassian bellowed from the hallway. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Rhys sighed, stepping back from me. “Time to go.”
“Yes.”
“One day,” he began, “we will-”
But the door rattled on its hinges and he opened it by magic instead, saving it from ruin. Cassian looked furious. As we hurried after him, I wondered what Rhys had been going to say - and knew that whatever vision of the future he had for us, it wouldn’t be too long until I was ready to hear it.
Until I was ready to share my future with him. Every eternal moment of it.
18 notes · View notes
vawifey · 6 months ago
Text
welcome to my master list
Alternate universes
theories
Reverie audios
Old flame 🔥🖤
Gael lover 🖤
Flowers 🌻 Casey
Casey and Honey🌻🍯
Cyril and Dove 🥼🕊️
Law and sweets🍬🩺
Jacob and dearest😈❤️‍🩹
Kane/dion/vasserva/bunny❤️‍🩹😈
Roman and Pip🕰️
Neo and darling 🐺🦊
Marlowe and detective 🕵️‍♂️
Nathan and sidekick⚗️🧑‍🔬
Des and love💗
Ellis and gem📖💎
Duncan and coworker🐺
Gage and bug🍭
 Axel and sunshine💗🩸
High school ex’s become best friends🍬🖤
Tyrant character, OC 🩸🖤
Dove (sylvan) character OC🥼🧬
Bunny/ v (Calla lily )character OC🐰💐
Sweets (indigo) character, OC🍬💛
Reverie audios
Castle audios
Library trio 📖🎙️🧙🪄
Fake relationship🍬💗
Evie and Knight 🐺🩸
Beth and beautiful🐺👀
Celine and Lydia🩸👑
Miss Liza and sugar🥧🩸
Unforgettable best friend 🩸
Claire and ranger🐺
Valera🍾🩸
Chloe and dewdrop 💧
Glenwood🐺🩸💧🔥
Redacted audios
Gabe 🐺🥺
Porter and treasurer🩸 💎
Hux and Damien🍃🔥
D.A.M.N Crew 🌊😈🍃🔥
Gavin and freelancer💗🖤
Caelum🧸
Sam and tank🐺🧛
Elliott and sunshine☀️⭐️
Brachium🖤
Sweetheart and milo🍬💗
David and angel 😇🐺
Lasko and dear 🌊
Avior and starlight ⭐️
Aaron and smart ass💻
Vincent and lovely🩸⚡️
Asher and babe 🎮🐺.
Redacted audios
Gba
Mahatma and Atilla
Hip switch and partner
Albus bvsz / Albus bw😈
Bastards vs 🧟
Faithful
Devlin
Bastard warrior
Yuuri voice
Starboy and brightest⭐️
Alphonse and Seth 🗡️🍬
Alphonse/ Seth sugar/boo🍰🗡️🍬
Casper and charlie🍕
Yuuri voice
The hurt era😭
The hurt begins
Anyone else scared
Broken clay heartS
Spoilers 🚩
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huuuughie · 7 months ago
Text
CW: Extreme manipulation and Non-con elements, including gender transition
Thinking about what could happen past Episode Five of season four, and specifically about Cate’s powers.
Homelander hates Butcher, Starlight and the rest of The Boys. THATS obvious in everything he does, but he’s also a smart man (or Sage tells him) and he realises that Hughie is the one thing that ties them together. They all care for the kid and adore him, each in their own way.
So, it only makes sense to use him against them, right?
At first Homelander was just gonna torture him, maybe shoot him up with V and see if he could make him suffer from that, but then he remembers Cate and her powers…
He makes her start by getting Hughie to forget The Boys and Starlight, and plans to send him back out there and watch them all try and get their friend back. So, he also gets her to make Hughie distrust them if he ever sees them, just in case.
But then Hughie looks down at him with this big smile and says, ‘Hey, I’m Hughie. Nice to meet you!’ He’s by no means a huge fanboy, but it’s enough to make Homelander change his plans a little. He makes friends with Hughie and gets the younger man to trust him, mostly without Cate’s help but she does make sure Hughie will turn a blind eye to any of their violence.
It’s after a few months and Homelander is itching to get this new version of Hughie to intercept with the boys when he smells it.
Arousal.
Little Hughie Campbell seems to have a thing for Homelander when he doesn’t know who he really is or what he’s done to him. Homelander is disgusted at first, hating the idea of touching a man in any way like that, but then Sage simply suggest he makes Hughie can a sex change!
With Cates help he’s all willing and excited, though Homelander lets him keep his fucking pro nouns and chest, it’s just a cunt he needs on the boy anyway.
By no means did he expect to have Hughie turn into his little boytoy, but it makes it all worth it when Starlight is brought to the tower for some kind of debate and sees Hughie walk right into the room and sit on Homelander lap.
“John, don’t forget you promised me lunch together!”
Homelander grins a violent smirk as he kisses Hughie and watches Starlight drop her jaw in shock and nearly gag.
With a hand sliding down to cup Hughies cunt, he asks his lover if he knows the woman in front of him.
Starlight visible tears up when she hears his answer as he looks her dead in the eye, “oh no, I don’t, sorry! I’m Hughie, how do you know my boyfriend?”
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2baddiesfanfics · 3 months ago
Text
Starlight Sonata
Pairing: Kafka x Himeko
Tags: Restraints, Parallels, Dacryphilia, Kafka's Spirit Whisper (Honkai: Star Rail), Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery
Summary:
After Kafka shares a night of pleasure with a virtual stranger, even she is shocked by the intensity of her feeling toward a young navigator. Tying her fate to her through the use of Spirit Whisper, her ability is put to the test. But will Himeko come when she needs her the most?
Read on Ao3
Kafka was used to being hurt. Growing up in the back alleys of New Babylon of Pteruges-V, she was already running heists by the tender age of 13. It wasn’t like she had a choice. It was either take what she needed to survive or be captured and brought to an orphanage where she’d likely perish.
Bruises and scars came with the territory. Over time, she ceased to feel the pain that resulted from each. The only part of her body she was careful to protect was her face. As she grew and came of age, she’d quickly learned it was her most valuable asset. Men were such gullible creatures. Manipulating them didn’t even require her to use Spirit Whisper. All she had to do was feign the slightest bit of interest, pull them into bed, and they’d sing like a charmony dove.
Women, on the other hand…they were trickier. But she relished the challenge. Until that is, she met Himeko. They must have been no older than their early twenties at the time. Kafka had made the biggest move of her career by infiltrating the Penacony Philharmonic. After acquiring a pricey violin on one of the many planets she had hitched a ride to, she’d learned to play thinking it was yet another valuable skill to add to her arsenal of tricks.
As she adjusted her score on her music stand, her eyes were immediately drawn to the fiery-haired beauty sitting in the front row on opening night. It was a miracle Kafka was able to focus enough to get through the performance. After the show, she was shocked by a knock at the door of her dressing room.
“Excuse me, madam. There’s a woman who claims to be an old friend of yours asking to see you. Should I allow her entry?”
Now this was truly fascinating. Kafka didn’t have friends. As far as she was concerned, people were meant to be used and then discarded when no longer beneficial.
She grinned in amusement. “Sure, why not?” 
The security guard shot her a confused look and then escorted the other woman in. Kafka waited for him to shut the door before starting a conversation.
“So ‘old friend’…remind me what your name was?”
“I’m Himeko, navigator of the Astral Express. We may have never met before, but I’d like to change that.”
Kafka extended her hand. “Pleasure’s all mine. Name’s Kafka.” She normally used a pseudonym, but she wanted to hear how her given name would sound rolling off this Himeko’s tongue.
“You’re quite talented. May I ask where you learned to play like that?”
“Trade secret. Why? Looking for lessons?”
“No, just…curious.”
“Curious enough to talk about it over drinks?”
The other woman’s smile gleamed back at her. “How does eight thirty sound?”
————-
The longer they spoke, the heavier Kafka’s heart grew. This was something she wasn’t used to. She found herself searching for a way to extend the conversation. Himeko seemed to have taken a genuine interest in who she was, and unlike usual, Kafka was actually intrigued to learn more about her as well. It turned out the woman sitting across from her was far out of her league. She had majored in interstellar travel dynamics at a university Kafka had heard of but could never pronounce correctly. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say Himeko was a genius.
“And that’s how I ended up here on Penacony tonight. Luckily, one of my old friends had an extra ticket to this performance. I’ve been making progress on repairing the Express but skidded to a stop just when I thought I had everything figured out. Now I’m stuck here until I can earn enough credits to purchase more parts.”
Kafka reached out and patted her hand. “Oh, I’m sure a pretty little thing like you will have no trouble here.” While her mind told her to pull it back, she couldn’t help but let it linger. The warmth of the other woman’s skin felt foreign but familiar at the same time. She might have said it felt like home…if she knew what home was actually supposed to feel like.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m being too forward but…if you’re looking for a place to stay for the night, I have a room at The Reverie. I keep telling them a suite is extravagantly excessive for a single woman. A king-sized bed is much too cold,” Kafka purred.
Himeko gazed directly into her eyes. The lack of fear Kafka sensed from her made her feel like she had met her match and she was hungry for more. She moved her hand from under Kafka’s and slipped her fingers between hers. “Let’s see if we can’t warm things up a bit for you then.”
What they had was something Kafka had never experienced before. Every touch felt like a combination of fire and electricity thrumming through her body. This wasn’t the usual routine by any stretch of the imagination. The taste of Himeko’s tongue, the way the other woman’s hands tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, and the feeling of her hips thrusting against her own made it hard for her to think. In the heat of the moment, all that kept echoing in her head was “Mine, mine, mine.” And there was only one way to ensure Himeko remained that way.
The trigger words for Spirit Whisper came out between erratic breaths. “Listen…to me…Himeko…”
Between crimson strands of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, the navigator’s gaze locked onto hers in a trance. “Y-yes…anything…Kafka…please…”
For years she had lived her life like every day could be her last. She had only ever looked out for herself out of necessity. Betrayal was an inevitability of her lifestyle. This was the only way to ensure she’d never have to experience it coming from Himeko. “From this moment on, you are mine. No matter where you are…no matter where I am. If you hear me call for you…whether we are on the same planet or galaxies away…when I need you…you’ll be there for me. Swear it.”
“I…oh, Aeons, yes!...I swear it…fuck…” she ground out before all either of them could see was a universe of stars in each other’s eyes.
-------------------------
Now, years later, Kafka was looking up at blurred points of light, the frigid night air of Belobog piercing her flesh. Her ragged puffs of breath were the only source of warmth around for miles. She knew she’d likely face an early death – it’s why she always lived her life on the edge. Moving her hand across her belly, she brought it close to her face and saw her gloves were stained the very same color as her first – and only – true love. 
Himeko. Ever since that night, nothing had been the same. She’d tried to forget her. Figured even the hypnotic call of her Spirit Whisper was nothing but a dream. Something her mind had fabricated outside of reality. But in this moment, it couldn’t hurt to try.
“S-save me…” she begged before her vision went dark.
------------------------
Strange. Kafka had always imagined death to be a silent experience. It almost sounded like she could hear someone calling her name, only the syllables were muffled and hard to make out.
“K-kafka…please…please wake up. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. If only the Express had been faster, damnit! Please!!”
She could feel heat. Twitch her fingers. Unsure of what she’d witness, she attempted to open her eyes and was met with a sight that assured she had, despite the many, many crimes she had committed in her lifetime, made it to Heaven.
A cough shook her body, and she felt an unbearable piercing pain in her side. “Ah, fuck! Himmy, careful, sweetheart. I thought one couldn’t feel pain after you pass to the other side. Guess that must be my punishment.” As her vision cleared, the woman next to her was barely recognizable. Her entire face was red and swollen, her cheeks glistening.
“Oh, Aeons…Kafka! It’s me. I’m here, just like I promised I would be. I’m so, so sorry…” she managed between sobs.
“W-where in the blazes am I? This looks much nicer than where I last took a nap.”
“I brought you to the Goethe Grand Hotel. We’re on Jarilo-VI. It’s a miracle you’re alive right now. I have connections to an Underworld doctor here. She just left.”
“Hmmm…you always seemed like too much of a goody-two-shoes to have those kind of connections…”
“Kafka, please. Be serious.”
As the Stellaron Hunter fully came to, she realized the pain had dulled and was replaced with a different feeling entirely. Looking upon Himeko in this state of utter distress…she realized she was the cause of her tears. This was the first time someone had actually cared about the state she was in. Yes, Spirit Whisper was the reason she knew she had been injured. But this was deeper than that. All her power required was that the person under its influence answered her call. Normally said person was void of any emotion at all. However, now she was in the arms of a woman not because she had seduced her, but because there was genuine concern for the state she had found her in.
“I…I’m sorry, Himeko. I never thought I’d see you again. I know we didn’t leave on the…best terms.”
That was the truth. When the navigator had awoken the next morning of their fateful encounter, Kafka was nowhere to be seen. The only evidence she had even been there were the marks she had left behind on Himeko’s skin.
“I was scared. I didn’t know what I was thinking. In fact, I wasn’t thinking. I was acting out of self-preservation. You wouldn’t understand. You’ve known love your whole life. I’d only read about it in cheap romance novels I found in shady motels. Please…accept my apology for being young and dumb.”
Fresh tears poured down Himeko’s face as she held her gently in wordless acceptance. Kafka reached up slowly, a single finger wiping away the moisture.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but…if you’d let me…I’d like this night to end much differently this time.”
“I…I don’t know…”
“Can we try? Tell me to stop and I will, I promise.”
“Kafka, I don’t want to think. You had me worried sick. The last thing I want to do is argue.”
“Then don’t,” she replied. She shifted her body to face her, careful not to agitate her injuries - that underworld doctor must have excellent training because the pain was much more manageable than it had any right to be. “Don’t argue. Don’t fight. Just let me thank you for saving my life.”
Kafka took her hands in hers. “Trust me?” Himeko looked at her and then nodded hesitantly, unsure of what to expect. Suddenly, the rings on the other woman’s fingers glowed a deep purple. Thick strands of thread emerged and she expertly wove them around her wrists.
“Well, that’s new,” the crimson-haired woman joked.
“A lot has changed since we last saw each other,” Kafka chuckled. “But not how I feel about you. Now, normally I’d be much more athletic, but given the circumstances, would you mind straddling my lap?”
Himeko obliged, thankful she had removed her black overcoat and was clad only in her usual thin white dress. Swinging her bound arms around Kafka’s neck, she felt secure. The Stellaron Hunter trailed her fingers across her chest and felt the other woman’s nipples harden through the fabric. Sighing in contentment at the feeling, Kafka smirked with the knowledge she could still make her feel this way. 
Her face was so close to hers that Himeko could feel her breath on her lips. “Ready?”
“I think I can handle whatever you throw at me this time,” Himeko murmured before their mouths collided. She felt Kafka’s grip tighten on her hips as she slipped her tongue between her lips. The Stellaron Hunter groaned, and the sound brought out something animalistic in her. The navigator writhed against her, unable to use her hands to relieve the growing pressure between her thighs.
“I can help with that, you know. All you have to do is ask,” Kafka muttered between kisses.
“I don’t…suppose you’re going to…touch me with gloves on…”
She had a point. Moving one hand from her waist, Kafka brought it up to her mouth, pinched the fabric between her teeth, and yanked it off. “Better, princess?”
Himeko had to stifle the loud moan that threatened to escape her. “It’ll be better when those fingers are inside of me,” she managed. 
The Stellaron Hunter ducked to trail her lips down her neck. “Be careful what you wish for, dear.” Hiking her dress up, her hand snuck beneath the other woman’s already soaked panties. The navigator’s head snapped back at the feeling she had been longing for for years.
“Ooo, doesn’t take much, does it?”
“S-shut up…”
“If I wasn’t injured, I’d put my mouth to much better use, but alas…” she taunted as she moved her fingers in a slow circular motion against her clit. She felt Himeko shutter at the sensation and took it as an invitation to slip inside her.
“Fuck…Kafka…faster…” 
“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” She growled as she honored her request. Feeling the navigator rock into her fingers, she adjusted her angle, feeling her grind into them at a rapid pace. “Don’t hold back…let me hear you…”
Himeko couldn’t stay quiet if she tried. A mix of curses, cries of pleasure, and Kafka’s name emerged as she rode her to orgasm. When she had slowed her movements, her forehead rested on Kafka’s. 
“Mmm. Now that you’ve fucked the anxiety out of me, I believe it’s time for me to help you recuperate.” Tugging at her restrained wrists, the Stellaron Hunter got the point. With a snap of her fingers, the threads disappeared.
“I’m glad I was able to reassure you I’m not broken. Yet. But I hardly think I deserve to be cared for in that way. After all, I was the source of the wor-”
Himeko put a finger to the other woman’s lips. “Stop. Just…stop. Earlier you mentioned you grew up not knowing what love was, right? It hurts my heart to think you’ve never known tenderness. The chemistry we have, it’s…great. Fantastic, actually. And while hot and heavy is more our style, I’d like to show you what it’s like to be truly cared for. Please?”
Kafka let out a heavy sigh. Whether it was out of relief or hesitation, she wasn’t sure. This meant the navigator wasn’t just in this for the fun of it. She felt…sorry for her? No, that wasn’t quite right. If this was love, she couldn’t tell. But in all the various trysts she’d had, none of them had felt quite like this.
“Who am I to deny such a generous request?” She said cheekily as she laid back down on the bed. Himeko rolled her eyes, but her playful smile betrayed her love of Kafka’s nonchalant brand of humor. 
Carefully sliding off her, she settled into her side. Thankfully the Stellaron Hunter was wearing an easy to open button down blouse that made things a lot simpler than having to lift it over her head and risk opening the wound in her side. She kissed her gently, her hands moving to unbutton and expose her body to her. 
Feeling Kafka’s breathing grow quicker, Himeko reminded herself not to rush things. She gently ran her fingers down her chest, stopping to feel the weight of her breasts in her hands. “It’s ok to just relax and enjoy it,” she said in a reassuring whisper. “You’re allowed to let your guard down. I won’t hurt you.”
Hearing this almost made her break down. All she had known was being hurt and hurting others - both intentionally and unintentionally. The navigator felt Kafka ease into her arms as if she was asking to be held. “That…feels really…nice…” she panted.
“Do you want me to keep going? I understand if you need a moment…”
“No…aeons, no…don’t stop…”
Himeko felt the other woman’s nipples grow hard between her fingertips as she teased her. With a few more firm squeezes, she moved her hands further down to the hem of her pants. Slipping the button from its hole and unzipping it to give her more room, she kissed the shell of her ear before saying, “Ready for me, baby?”
“Yes…need you…”
Her hand slid under her panties while the other continued to massage her breast. Kafka groaned at the overload of sensation as she watched her toy with her. The navigator was met with no resistance but continued to stroke her cautiously to avoid ruining any bandaging around her wounds. If the Stellaron Hunter was in any pain, she certainly didn’t sound like it.
“Hah…Himmy…have mercy…faster, please…” she begged.
Kissing her neck, she obeyed. Her slick ensured zero friction, just jolts of pleasure every time she made the rounds against her clit. Kafka’s hand now covered the one on her chest, her grip indicating she wouldn’t last much longer. Once again, Himeko murmured into her ear, “You’re being such a good girl for me, finally just letting me have my way with you instead of the other way around. It’s nice to give up control every once in a while, hmm?”
“Fuckkkk yes…feels so good, so…fucking good…ahhhh!”
The navigator had rubbed her in just the right way to send her over the edge. She felt the other woman shutter against her and she gripped her closer, holding her tightly to reassure her that she’d never let go.
When calm once again settled over the two, they lay looking at each other in the dim light of the hotel room. 
“Thanks. For everything,” Kafka started.
“No need to thank me. All I did was answer your call.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“A part of me did try to fight it. Why would I want to save the life of the woman who broke my heart? But in that split second, I knew if I didn’t make a decision, we’d never have a chance to make things right. I want you to face this instead of running, Kafka. Face me. Tell me I wasn’t just some girl you used years ago as a contingency plan,” she pleaded.
The Stellaron Hunter cupped her face with a tenderness she didn’t know she was capable of. “I’m getting awfully tired of running away. Perhaps I need to run toward somewhere. I think that somewhere is what normal people call ‘home.’ Will you be that for me, Himeko?”
“I wish you would have asked me that sooner. The Express has taken me on many adventures, but none could ever measure up to that night I first met you.”
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ryn-halo26 · 3 months ago
Text
Redacted Audio masterlist
The sovereign fan club(rp) + Orion rp blog + Naos rp blog + Li Hua rp blog + Li Hua imperium + Delius rp blog + Fooliverse Ryn rp blog + Hydra rp blog
Rak'Xit reborn au (my pride and joy)
Memento Vivere, Fili Mi (oc)
Lone wolf master of none(Darlin and Freelancer)
v-v-v-v-Virgo (oc ft. Freelancer)
Photographed photographer (oc ft. Freelancer)
Sovereign headcanons 1, 2
Oh in a Blink Gone (oc)
Omne initium difficile est (oc)
Enemies never lovers (oc)
A'Xeatum 1, 2, 3, 4
Assigned songs
Waiting for Apollo(Bright Eyes and mentioned Obscura)
Wen'alak joins E'Laetum and Min'Ara's side
Sovereign Moodboards 1, 2, 3
Anchor of Desire(Bright Eyes)
Eclipse Requim Casino (oc)
After lesson break(Starlight, Freelancer, and Bright Eyes)
My favourite vampires (ft zsakuva pet)
D'Derin'Ara 1, 2
Bright Eyes, ever bright, brightest star I see tonight
Major L, D'Deridahn(Bright Eyes)
The sovereigns: Wen'alak : Fel'Ees : L'Rhenn : E'Laetum : Kir'Sha : Fel'Ees redesign : more to be added
Redacted me, redacted me again, redacted me again again, redacted me again again again, redacted me again again again again, redacted me again again again again again plus li hua, redacted me again again again again again again (me)
Pre upgrade inspection(Bright Eyes)
Seer Obscura 2, Electric boogaloo(Obscura)
The fan club members!(Freelancer, Blake, me, other's ocs)
First of Water (oc)
Professor Seth (oc)
Game night (ft my brothers)
Paper Aeroplanes (oc ft angel and lovely)
Wen'Girehk
Sleep in a dream(me)
Haunted by his mother(oc)
The Sky Gods' Epithets
The chorus sings to you, Harpy(friend's oc)
Go/Weiqi(oc)
Ocs' cassettes(oc and me)
Welcome to my home(me and friend's oc)
A parent's comfort(me)
Memes of the Roleplay blogs
Best Boi Yarrow(friend's oc)
Break from temple duties(oc, me, and friend's oc)
Oc and Listener Voice Claims(some of them)
Redacted me but angry (me)
Are my feathers weird?(oc)
New hairpin(oc)
Brothers 1, 2 (oc)
Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?(me)
Perfect as you are(me)
Wait they don't love you like I love you
Fooliverse Ryn , fool!Ryn 2
Delius Martin(oc)
Nightmares, with strings pulled by my hands(friend's oc)
Redacted Ryn is going through it (tw:medication)
They're canon to me okay?(Bright eyes x Obscura)
There there, my dear(me)
Where they meet in the middle(oc)
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simlit · 1 year ago
Note
Sims Say the Darnest Things: When you get this, list five of your characters and their best quotes so far. Then pass it on to five other storytelling simblrs. (I wish for more)
hope you don't mind me using this ask to repost the other one so I can delete the reblog xD it's just easier having everything story related on this blog, but I added some new quotes to the original ones!
Y E H L “And so what if we are? I want to be horrible with you.”
“I distrust everyone, equally. Show me one who is pure of heart, and I will show you that which has lain itself most vulnerable.” 
“If we shall live together and die together, then we should very well be able to sit beside one another. We ought to talk as neighbors, or perhaps like lovers, though, not as friends, because that requires too much honesty.”
T A R Y N “I knew from first I saw you, there was scarring in your soul. They’ve been very unkind to you, haven’t they?”
"There is nothing more gentle. It comes and leaves in silence, and takes with it every dead and dirtied thing. All my life long, I have known nothing so profound as to open my eyes to a morning blanketed in fresh lain snow. Whatever ill tarried in a hundred nights, would be hidden beneath a coat of pure white. And all would be still and quiet as it was when it was newly born.”
Z E H E L "I’ve always been selfish, at my core. Even beautiful, fine things get caught up inside me. But you were… You were like mountains covered with flowers; The one thing in my life I desperately desired to fight for. You gave me hope. Wherever you go, however far we might be, you are still part of this world. And so, I will do everything in my power to save it, so that it might be ever beautiful. For you."
“My father will have no interest in hearing anything from you. You should consider yourself lucky that it is not him stood before you, or you would not be taking breath so freely. Indeed, I find it difficult to justify that I should not burn you alive.” J U D I N E “Would even starlight dampen in the face of savagery? I feel we stray further from their grace.”
E I F R A "I’m not stronger than you, and I can’t protect you from monsters or magic. But I can keep you in my thoughts. I can look after your heart, and be sad when it hurts. That’s what I can give to you.”
W R A I T H "If I loved them, does it matter? It wasn’t forever. If I’ve forgotten them now, does it mean I loved them never?"
V A R Y A “And why not? Why should we care if they’re privy to our aggressive lovemaking?”
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mikaelsrose · 1 year ago
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whats ur fav fics you’ve written and whats ur fav yhay someone else has?
I'm most proud of my latest two fics - Ghost of You and The Lover's Caress 😌
As for someone else's then it's easily Haunted Memories and Buried Memories by @starlight-starfury, but I love absolutely e v e r y t h i n g she writes so if you're looking for a recommendation then run to her blog ✨
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abdul-racing-posts · 2 years ago
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And Revue Starlight adopts Arcana Arcadia Main Act "Stage Before Dawn" as an anime
Plot: A Beautiful Day in Galatic Empire change into chaos when The Death with The Red Wings and Rose Hi-jacking their warship "Le Pendu" (French: The Hanged Man) from Armory Seven then The Death with his Co. departs from the Armory Seven to defeating The Scarlet Princess and Lovers in earth and moon to become most Dangerous Terrorist in Solar System and Leading the Role.
Cast: Emperor: Akira Yukishiro (CV: Hotaru Nomoto) Empress: Liu Mei Fan (CV: Yume Takeuchi) Tower: Hikari Kagura (CV: Suzuko Mimori) Lovers: Claudine Saijo (CV: Aiba Aina) Death: Tamao Tomoe (CV: Tomori Kusonoki) Red Wings: Kotoha Tanaka (CV: Risa Taneda) Rose: Chisato Shirasagi (CV: Sumire Uesaka) Scarlet Princess: Maki Nishikino (CV: Pile) New Genesis: Tsumugi Shiraishi (CV: Minami Saki) Shiburin: Rin Shibuya (CV: Ayaka Fukuhara) Lily: Riko Sakurauchi (CV: Rikako Aida) DK: Dia Kurosawa (CV: Arisa Komiya) Swordman Morgan: Shizuka Mogami (CV: Azusa Tadokoro) Red Misfire: Ran Mitake (CV: Ayane Sakura) The Tactical: Yukina Minato (CV: Aiba Aina) Dark Nemuri Hime: Miki Hoshii (CV: Akiko Hasegawa)
Angels from Rising Sun: Shohei Ohtani (CV: Himself)
Headingley Reaper: Ben Stokes (CV: Himself)
Captain Anaheim: Mike Trout (CV: Himself)
Trent Lightning: Joe Root (CV: Himself)
Super Max: Max Verstappen (CV: Himself)
Mr.360: AB de Villiers (CV: Himself)
King of Bangalore: Virat Kohli (CV: Himself)
Badshah: Babar Azam (CV: Himself)
Hitman: Rohit Sharma (CV: Himself)
El Diablo: Fabio Quartararo (CV: Himself)
V-System: Will Power (CV: Himself)
Cervera Alien: Marc Marquez (CV: Himself)
Springboks Crusher: Siya Kolisi (CV: Himself)
New Cast will announce soon…
OP: Eternity is Dying and Living ED: Liar Rouge
Date of Release:
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8Its April Fools Days
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sheetmusiclibrarypdf · 2 months ago
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Great Jazz Standards 2nd Edition (New sheet music) Easy Piano
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Great Jazz Standards 2nd Edition (New sheet music) Easy PianoBest Sheet Music download from our Library.Please, subscribe to our Library. Thank you!100 All Time Jazz StandardsBrowse in the Library:
Great Jazz Standards 2nd Edition (New sheet music) Easy Piano
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Great Jazz Standards 2nd EditionDownload Songs included: - All The Things You Are - April In Paris - Autumn Leaves - Blue Skies - Bluesette - Body And Soul - Don't Get Around Much Anymore - I'll Remember April - In A Sentimental Mood - Mood Indigo - My Favorite Things - My Funny Valentine - My Romance - The Nearness Of You - Satin Doll - Stella By Starlight - Tangerine - The Very Thought Of You - When I Fall In Love - When Sunny Gets Blue
100 All Time Jazz Standards
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV6bx7nM0A8 Track List: 100 All Time Jazz Standards you have to listen to: 00:00:00 It's A Big Wide Wonderful World 00:03:22 Lover Man 00:08:01 In the mood 00:11:24 Summertime 00:16:37 Four Brothers 00:19:45 Too young to go steady 00:24:36 Mood Indigo 00:28:15 St. Louis Blues 00:32:45 The Shadow Of Your Smile 00:35:33 Take the A train 00:38:45 In A Sentimental Mood 00:43:10 I thought about you 00:48:09 You Don't Know What Love Is 00:53:21 Stardust 00:58:26 Take Five 01:00:42 Minority 01:05:06 Moonlight Serenade 01:08:57 Passi da gigante 01:10:56 Waltz for Debby 01:14:07 Round Midnight 01:19:31 Sing Sing Sing 01:27:00 God bless the child 01:31:05 Satin doll 01:33:28 Nancy 01:37:04 I fall in love too easily 01:40:14 I Could Write a Book 01:44:32 My Favorite Things 01:47:36 On a Clear Day You Can See Forever 01:50:09 Corcovado 01:54:26 Blue Moon 01:59:05 What a Little Moonlight Can Do 02:05:58 How High the Moon 02:10:10 Dream A Little Dream of Me 02:13:00 Fly Me to the Moon (In Other Words) 02:16:02 Georgia on My Mind 02:21:19 Stella by Starlight 02:23:49 Caldonia 02:27:41 I'm in the Mood for Love 02:34:48 Love For Sale 02:37:51 Blue Train 02:40:57 I Wish You Love 02:43:49 Nuages 02:47:05 Moon River 02:50:26 Nature Boy 02:53:27 Night and Day 02:55:59 Indian Summer 02:59:10 Body and soul 03:04:18 Besame Mucho 03:07:39 Our Love is Here to Stay 03:09:55 The Girl of Ipanema (Garota de Ipanema) 03:13:30 The Way You Look Tonight 03:18:16 Song for my Father 03:22:40 Tea for Two 03:25:36 There Will Never Be Another You 03:28:39 They Can't Take That Away From Me 03:31:35 Whatever Lola Wants 03:34:38 Dolphin Dance 03:38:39 My Romance 03:42:45 On The Sunny Side Of The Street 03:46:42 Over The Rainbow 03:54:07 Watermelon Man 03:58:01 Blue In Green 04:01:57 Goodbye Pork Pie Hat 04:04:51 Cheek to cheek 04:08:56 Line for Lyons 04:12:14 Misty 04:17:08 Cantaloupe Island 04:20:11 Fair Weather 04:23:11 I'll Be Seeing You 04:28:28 What a wonderful world 04:33:37 Ain't Misbehavin' 04:36:48 All of me 04:40:20 Unforgettable 04:44:36 The Masquerade Is Over 04:50:21 Blue Bossa 04:53:01 The Nearness Of You 04:58:26 Stormy Weather 05:03:17 Strange Fruit 05:06:47 Freddie the Freeloader 05:10:11 You Go to My Head 05:14:31 My Funny Valentine 05:19:46 Since I Fell For You 05:25:26 Teach Me Tonight 05:29:57 It Could Happen To You 05:33:16 A Night in Tunisia 05:38:14 Everything Happens To Me 05:42:41 I Can't Give You Anything But Love, Baby 05:47:58 Autumn Leaves 05:49:12 Just The Two of Us 05:53:07 Perdido 05:56:19 I Remember Clifford 06:01:26 I'm A Fool To Want You 06:05:22 Time After Time 06:09:47 Stand By Me 06:13:49 La Vie en Rose 06:17:15 My Baby Just Cares For Me Read the full article
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takanuru · 2 months ago
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Starlight Monster Movie Madness Presents Carnival of Souls
🌟🎥 Get Ready for a Night of Haunting Thrills! 🎥🌟
Hey there, Monster Movie Lovers! 👻✨
This week on Starlight Monster Movie Madness, we’re diving into the eerie and unforgettable classic Carnival of Souls! 🖤🎠 A surreal, spine-tingling tale that will transport you to a shadowy world of mystery and chills. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this one!
📽️ Catch the full movie right here: 👉 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8VsspQmPes
So grab your snacks, dim the lights, and settle in for a spooky cinematic experience like no other. Oh, and don’t forget to let me know in the comments—what’s your favorite scene or theory about this cult classic?
✨ Make sure to subscribe to Starlight Monster Movie Madness for more timeless thrills, chills, and cinematic treasures! Hit that thumbs up if you're ready for the show!
🎥🌕 "Where the monsters come to play, and the classics come alive!" 🌕🎥
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