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sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 4 months ago

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ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ғᴀʟsᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Summary : Your father is fed up with your shenanigans, so he arranges a marriage to Rome's famous general and gladiator, Marcus Acacius.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral F and M, Implied age gap, Scars, Misogyny, Spitting, both give switch vibes,

A/n : I put a dub-con warning just because it is a forced/arranged marriage also ty and enjoy @multiversed-daydreamer for listening to me yap about this all day luv ya 💕

The table was set, lit, and ready for a feast. Grapes, wine, cheese, and meats lined the table. Being the daughter of a powerful general had its perks, not that you liked the kind of life you had. You understood you were privileged, your place in society clear. You knew that if it weren't for your father's position, you would probably be a slave to the hierarchy. But it didn't mean you had to like your life.

You were 18 and shockingly unmarried—not that you cared. You had more fun sneaking away to the parties that would happen late at night. You were happy for the fact you weren't tied down yet. The thrill of escaping your father's watchful eye and diving into the forbidden world of Rome's underground festivities made your heart race.

You had a reputation, one that was far from ladylike. Wild child, they called you, and you wore it like a badge of honor. You knew what sex was, what things happened in the dark corners of those parties, but you were still a virgin. Your knowledge came from observation, whispers, and the daring escapades you had witnessed, but you hadn't crossed that final threshold. Not yet.

Your father, a stern and formidable general, was a man who worked with gladiators and other powerful figures in Rome. His influence was vast, and his expectations were high. He had grown increasingly frustrated with you lately, and you couldn't quite understand why. His annoyance with your antics was palpable, but there was something more, something beneath the surface that gnawed at him.

As you sat there, wine goblet in hand, you sipped slowly, savoring the taste. You knew he would tell you to only have a single glass, a rule you delighted in bending. The door to the grand hall burst open, and there he was, your father, his expression a storm of irritation and something deeper, something darker.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Drinking again?"

You looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Just a single glass, Father, as you always insist."

His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room with swift, purposeful strides. "You think I don't know what you get up to, do you? Sneaking out, causing trouble. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On our family?"

You sighed, placing the goblet down. "I know, Father. But you can't keep me locked away forever. I'm not a child anymore."

He stood before you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're my daughter, and you will behave with the dignity and decorum befitting your station."

You met his gaze, unflinching. "And what if I don't want that life? What if I want to be free, to make my own choices?"

His frustration seemed to boil over, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You don't understand the dangers out there. The people I deal with—the gladiators, the politicians—they're not like the ones at your little parties. They're dangerous."

You softened slightly, sensing the genuine worry behind his anger. "Then tell me, Father. Explain why you're so frustrated lately. What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitated, the walls he had built around himself momentarily crumbling. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter. "There are threats... to our family, to our position. I'm trying to protect you, even if it doesn't seem like it."

You reached out, touching his arm. "I want to understand. Help me see what you see."

He looked down at your hand, then back at your face, a mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice resigned. "But you must promise me, you'll be careful. This world is not as kind as you think."

You nodded, determination filling your chest. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. But I won't be caged."

Your father's expression hardened once more, and the momentary softness disappeared. He sat down at the table, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping one into his mouth. "Enough. This isn't up for discussion," he snapped. "You are to be married."

Your heart plummeted. "Married? To whom?"

His eyes were cold as steel. "To a man who can protect you, who can secure our family's future."

You jumped to your feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "No! I don't want to be married off like some piece of property. I won't do it!"

He towered over you, his presence suffocating. "You have no choice. This is for your own good."

"Who is it then?" you demanded, your voice rising in defiance. "Is it Lucius? That lecherous old man who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Your father shook his head, his jaw clenched. "No, not Lucius."

"Is it Gaius, then?" you asked, pacing around the table, barely noticing your father grabbing a slice of cheese and eating it with deliberate calmness. "The pompous fool who thinks he's the smartest man in Rome but can't even string a coherent sentence together without tripping over his own ego?"

"Not Gaius."

"Then it must be Quintus! The brute who only knows how to solve problems with his fists, who would treat me like a possession rather than a person."

"No, it isn't Quintus either," your father snapped, his patience wearing thin. He took a deep drink from his own goblet, trying to steady himself.

"Who then? Who could possibly be suitable in your eyes?" you spat, your desperation clear.

Your father took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's Marcus Acacius."

The name sent a jolt through you, and you took an involuntary step back. Marcus Acacius, a name whispered in both awe and fear throughout Rome. A man known for his prowess in the arena and his cunning outside it. A man with a reputation as cold and unyielding as stone.

"Marcus Acacius?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "You can't be serious. He's a gladiator, a killer."

"He's more than that," your father insisted. "He's powerful, respected, and capable of protecting you from the dangers you don't even know exist."

You shook your head, your mind reeling. "No, Father. You can't do this to me. I won't marry him."

"You will," he said firmly. "And you will do it for our family, for our future."

You felt the walls closing in, the life you had known slipping away. You slumped back into your chair, staring at the untouched food before you. "What if... what if I've already been with someone else?" you blurted out, hoping to find some way out of this nightmare.

Your father's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Have you been taken by another lover?"

You hesitated, the lie heavy on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath kept you silent. "No," you finally admitted, defeated.

"Then it's settled," he said, the finality in his voice chilling. "You will marry Marcus Acacius, and you will do so with dignity."

Tears of frustration and anger welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I won't be happy, Father. Not with him, not with this life."

He reached out, a rare gesture of tenderness, and touched your cheek. "Happiness is a luxury we can't afford," he said softly. "But safety, security—that is something I can give you."

You pulled away, the weight of his decision crushing your spirit. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."

His hand fell to his side, and his eyes hardened once more. "Freedom is an illusion, my daughter. And you will learn that soon enough."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the grand hall, the weight of your impending marriage pressing down on you like a vice.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

It had been a month of plotting and planning, each day dragging on as your impending fate loomed ever closer. Today was your wedding day, the day your life would be sealed into a destiny you hadn’t chosen. Final preparations had been completed yesterday, and now you were meant to step into the role of a dutiful daughter and bride. You had woken up earlier than your maids would have roused you, knowing your father would want you to rest more so you appeared extra fresh for Marcus. Instead, your nerves had kept you up all night, the shadows on the walls morphing into ominous shapes as you thought of your future.

The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, and you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. Your small bag, packed with bread, a few pieces of jewelry to sell, and the spending money your father occasionally gave you, lay hidden under the covers of your bed. The plan was simple: catch the slightest bit of rest before your handmaid came in to wake you, then escape before anyone noticed.

The door creaked open, and Lucia, your handmaid, entered with her usual gentle and serene presence. She glided to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a warm glow that felt almost mocking given your circumstances. You sat up in bed, the light highlighting the bags under your eyes from a sleepless night.

"Good morning, my lady," she said dreamily, her voice like a lullaby. "The sun is shining so beautifully today. It's a perfect day for a wedding." She moved to your side, her hands deftly beginning to arrange your hair with practiced ease. You watched her reflection in the mirror, feeling a pang of guilt for the deception you were about to execute.

"Your dress is so beautiful, my lady. It's like a dream come true. You'll look like a goddess, a vision of perfection," Lucia continued, her words meant to comfort but only adding to your anxiety. The dress she spoke of hung in the corner, a symbol of the life you were being forced into.

You let her continue, her words a soothing balm against your churning thoughts. As she began to apply a light makeup, using berries to tint your lips and cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of finality creeping in. "You'll be the envy of every woman in Rome," she continued, her voice full of admiration. "Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You'll be safe with him."

Safe. The word echoed in your mind, tinged with bitterness. Safety was a cage, and you longed for freedom. Suddenly, you sat up, startling Lucia. "I need your dress," you blurted out, your voice urgent.

She looked at you, shocked and confused. "My dress, my lady? Why would you want my dress?" she asked, her hands frozen in mid-motion.

You gave her a reassuring smile, reaching under your bed to pull out a dress you had kept for a long time. It was a simple yet elegant gown, one she had always admired. "I have something for you," you said, handing her the dress. "I've seen how much you like it. Today, I want you to wear it and have fun. I just... I want to feel normal before the wedding."

Her eyes widened, and a smile of pure joy spread across her face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much!" She looked at the dress, then back at you. "But what about you? Where will you be?"

You hesitated for a moment, crafting a believable lie. "I'll be eating breakfast with the soldiers. I need a moment to myself before the chaos begins."

She nodded, believing your words, and quickly changed into the dress you had given her. You watched as her usual plain attire was replaced by the elegant gown, the transformation bringing a genuine smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. "You look beautiful," you said, forcing a smile. "Now go, enjoy yourself."

Lucia beamed, her happiness palpable. "Thank you, my lady. I'll remember this day forever." She gave a small curtsy and hurried out, eager to enjoy the brief taste of luxury you had gifted her.

As soon as the door closed behind her, you sprang into action. Your heart pounded as you grabbed your small bag from under the covers and moved swiftly towards the door. The corridors of the castle were quiet, the early hour ensuring most were still in their beds. You moved with purpose, your sandals barely making a sound on the stone floors.

Every step you took was filled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. You had never been so bold, and the risk was immense. If you were caught, the consequences would be severe, but you couldn't live a life that wasn't yours. The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage with Marcus Acacius spurred you on.

You reached the courtyard, the cool morning air filling your lungs as you dashed towards the farthest end where the horse stables were located. The sound of hooves and the scent of hay greeted you as you approached, your eyes scanning for a suitable mount. Freedom was within reach, and your heart soared with the possibility.

But then, a familiar, stern voice cut through the morning air. "Where do you think you're going?"

You sprinted, your sandals slapping against the cobblestones as the guards closed in. Heart pounding, you reached the barn, your fingers fumbling with the latch. The sound of pursuing footsteps fueled your frantic efforts, and finally, the door swung open. You dashed inside, the scent of hay and horses enveloping you. There was no time to lose.

Without wasting a moment, you chose the newest and fastest horse, a powerful chestnut stallion that had always intimidated you with its raw strength. It was your only chance. Your hands shook as you grabbed its mane, your heart hammering in your chest. The stallion snorted, sensing your urgency. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

"Hyah!" you urged, kicking your heels against its sides. The stallion reared, its powerful muscles tensing beneath you, then surged forward, galloping towards the gates. The wind whipped through your hair, the thundering of hooves drowning out the shouts behind you.

The gate loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close. You leaned forward, urging the horse faster. As you rode, you navigated the narrow alleys and sharp turns of the castle grounds, the stallion's speed making every twist and turn feel like a life-or-death gamble. The guards were not far behind, their yells growing louder, but you kept pushing, your eyes fixed on the gate.

You had run from the guards before, slipping through their grasp with quick wits and nimble feet, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the danger more palpable. The horse beneath you was your only hope, its powerful strides eating up the distance between you and the gate. But it was also a wild, untamed force, difficult to control.

As you neared the gate, you saw it beginning to close. Panic surged through you. With a desperate cry, you urged the stallion faster. The ground seemed to blur beneath you, the world a whirl of motion and sound. The horse’s breath came in powerful snorts, its muscles straining with effort.

Just as you thought you might make it, the stallion stumbled on a loose cobblestone. You were flung from its back, the world spinning around you as you hit the ground hard. Pain shot through your body, your vision swimming with stars.

When you opened your eyes, the sky above was a brilliant blue, and the scent of earth and grass filled your nostrils. You groaned, trying to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"Easy there," a deep, soothing voice said. You turned your head and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of a stranger, his face handsome and strong, framed by dark curls. He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze of pain and confusion. "Who... who are you?"

A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "My name is Marcus Acacius. And you must be my bride."

The revelation hit you like a bolt of lightning. This was the man you were meant to marry, the man you were running from. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not the tyrant you had imagined, but a man filled with genuine concern and curiosity.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Marcus continued his voice a mix of authority and kindness. "It's dangerous. Let me help you."

The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear. You had been fleeing from your fate, only to run straight into its arms. As Marcus helped you to your feet, his hands strong and reassuring, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your destiny was more complex than you had believed.

Marcus's strong arms guided you inside, each step a reluctant surrender to the fate you had been trying to escape. The castle's grand corridors, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, were eerily quiet in the early morning light. You were disoriented, the pain from your fall mingling with the turmoil of your thoughts.

As you entered your bedchamber, a familiar and unwelcome face greeted you. Aurelia, one of your father's maids and his well-known mistress, stood there with a smug expression. Her presence was a bitter reminder of your father's indiscretions and the fractured state of your family.

"Well, well," Aurelia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "What a surprise to see you here, my lady. Running away on your wedding day? How very unbecoming of you."

You shot her a withering glare, your temper flaring. "Spare me your lectures, Aurelia. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious drivel."

Aurelia's smile widened, enjoying your discomfort. "You should be grateful for the match your father has arranged. Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You could do far worse."

You clenched your fists, your anger barely contained. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify spreading your legs for my father? That you're doing it for power and security?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may not like me, but I'm here to make sure you fulfill your duty. Now sit down and let me get you ready."

Reluctantly, you sat down, feeling trapped and helpless. As Aurelia worked on your hair and makeup, her touch was firm and unyielding. Her presence was suffocating, her every word a reminder of the life you were being forced into.

"You think you can escape your destiny?" Aurelia continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "You're just a foolish girl. This marriage is your only chance at a future."

You bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel her smug superiority. Instead, you focused on the mirror in front of you, watching as she applied the final touches to your appearance. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable—a vision of beauty and elegance, but one that felt like a mask hiding your true self.

Once Aurelia finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "You look perfect. Ready to be a proper bride."

You stood, your heart heavy with dread. The grand hall awaited, filled with guests and the weight of expectation. As you made your way towards it, you felt the walls closing in, your fate sealed with every step.

The hall was decorated with lavish flowers and banners, the scent of incense filling the air. Guests whispered and watched as you entered, their eyes following your every move. At the far end, Marcus Acacius stood, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The ceremony began with the priest’s voice, resonant and solemn, echoing through the hall. The guests fell into an expectant silence, the only sounds being the faint rustling of their silk garments and the distant clinking of goblets. The hall, lavishly adorned with ivy and flowers, seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow, casting shadows that danced like phantoms along the walls.

You stood at the altar, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. The priest’s words, though intended to be a comfort, were like a dark incantation, each syllable wrapping around you tighter, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your fate. Your eyes flickered over to Marcus, standing with his back straight, his gaze unwavering. He looked every bit the powerful man he was rumored to be—tall, imposing, with a presence that commanded the room.

You recalled the whispers you had heard over the past months—the stories of Marcus Acacius. The tales were rife with speculation and fear, his name often mentioned in hushed tones. They spoke of a man whose ambition knew no bounds, whose cruelty was whispered about in every corner of Rome. Some said his eyes held a darkness that could see through to the soul, while others claimed he had a penchant for the macabre, often indulging in extravagant displays of power.

As the priest began the traditional vows, his voice a monotone murmur, you tried to focus, but the words blurred into a cacophony. "Do you, Marcus Acacius, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

Marcus’s voice was steady, unwavering. "I do," he said, his tone deep and commanding, sending shivers down your spine.

When it was your turn, the words caught in your throat, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I do," you managed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, the weight of your submission crushing your spirit.

The priest nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the priest declared you bound by law and faith, the room erupted into applause, the sound a thunderclap that seemed to echo off the very stones of the castle. Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, leading you down the aisle. The guests showered you with petals, their faces a blur of congratulations and forced smiles. You felt like a puppet, each step you took dictated by an invisible string.

The reception hall was a whirlwind of opulence, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, while musicians played melodies that mingled with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The hall’s high ceilings seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars.

You clung to the edge of the hall, the laughter and music a distant hum, your mind wandering back to the dark tales you had heard of Marcus. The rumors were impossible to ignore: they spoke of his ruthless ambition, his cold demeanor, and his unsettling fascination with power. Some said his parties were a mask for darker pursuits, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into obscurity.

As Marcus moved through the crowd, his demeanor was that of a king—gracious yet commanding, his laughter rich and resonant. He was surrounded by his closest allies, men whose eyes gleamed with greed and ambition. They raised their goblets in his honor, their voices melding into a chorus of congratulatory toasts.

You stood near a heavy oak door, the cool stone beneath your fingers a reminder of the stark reality you now faced. The night was growing darker, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting an eerie glow on the festivities.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you away from the door. It was one of the guards, his expression grave. "My lady, you mustn't go near that door. Your father has given strict orders. Any guard who aids your escape will be put to death."

You stared at him, a chill running down your spine. "What do you mean? You can’t be serious. There’s no way out of here. You’re all trapped too."

The guard’s eyes flickered with a mix of pity and resolve. "It’s true, my lady. Your father’s command is ironclad. He has spies everywhere. If you try to leave, he will know. And the consequences for anyone who helps you are severe."

A knot of fear and frustration tightened in your chest. "What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and pretend everything’s fine?"

He hesitated, his grip on your arm softening. "No, my lady. But perhaps you could find a way to make the best of this night. Try to speak to him, learn his intentions. There may be more to him than the rumors say."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your mind spinning with the guard’s words. With a determined stride, you made your way through the crowd towards Marcus, who was leaning casually against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol, but his gaze sharpened as he saw you approaching.

"Marcus," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I... I appreciate it."

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You mean when you tried to flee?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "You have spirit, I'll give you that."

You forced a smile, trying to gauge his true nature. "I only wished for a moment of freedom. But I suppose that is behind us now."

Marcus took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom is a fleeting thing, my dear. But power... power is eternal. And together, we shall wield it."

Your stomach churned at his words, the rumors about him echoing in your mind. "Is that all you care about? Power?" you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You misunderstand me. Power is not an end, but a means. It ensures safety, prosperity, and control over one's destiny. Is that so terrible?"

You struggled to see past the image you had built of him. "I’ve heard things about you, Marcus. Dark things."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "People fear what they do not understand. Let them talk. What matters is that I have the means to protect those I care about."

His words, though seemingly sincere, did little to quell your doubts. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your father’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Honored guests!" he called out, drawing everyone’s attention. "The hour grows late, and it is time for my daughter and her new husband to retire to their bedchamber."

A murmur of approval and knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Your heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation filling you. Marcus extended his hand to you, his grip firm and possessive as he led you through the throng of guests towards the grand staircase.

As you ascended the stairs, the weight of your future bore down on you. You glanced back once, seeing the guests' faces fade into the distance, their laughter and conversations becoming a dull roar. When you reached the door of the bedchamber, Marcus paused, turning to face you.

"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and intense. "We have much to learn about each other."

You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yes, we do."

He opened the door, and you stepped inside, the room lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The bed, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to loom ominously in the center. Marcus closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding like a final seal on your fate.

As he moved closer, you felt a mix of fear and curiosity. This was the man you were now bound to, and despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of you that longed to understand him, to find the truth beneath the rumors.

"Let's start anew," he said, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Whatever you have heard, whatever you fear, put it aside. We are bound by more than words and vows. Let’s see where this path takes us."

You recoiled from his touch, your anger bubbling to the surface. "I'd rather fuck a pig than you," you spat, your voice dripping with venom. The shock on his face quickly morphed into a cold, calculating expression.

"You need to learn your place," Marcus hissed, his grip tightening on your arm. "You should consider yourself lucky to have me, especially with your reputation."

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "Lucky? Is that what you think this is? A blessing? I know what people say about you, Marcus. They call you ruthless, a monster. I'd rather die than be your plaything."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak so boldly for someone in such a precarious position. But let me make something clear: you are mine now. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you in line."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You can't control me. I'll never submit to you."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Is that so? Tell me, my bride, are you truly a virgin, or have your wild antics already sullied you?"

The question caught you off guard, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "How dare you—"

"Answer me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Are you a virgin?"

You clenched your fists, refusing to be cowed. "Yes, I am," you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. "Not that it's any of your business."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "So, you are pure, despite everything. Interesting."

"You think you can just claim me like some prize?" you retorted, your voice rising. "I won't be your obedient little wife. I won't be another notch on your belt."

Marcus's expression hardened, his grip on your arm like iron. "You will be my wife, and you will learn to respect me. You don't know the first thing about power or survival. But you will."

"You don't scare me," you lied, your voice faltering slightly.

"Don't I?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You should be scared. But perhaps you're just too stubborn to realize it."

"Stubborn?" you scoffed. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to bow to a tyrant?"

His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he did something even more unexpected. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, passionate intensity.

You froze, your mind racing as his kiss deepened. There was a raw, undeniable heat between you, a clash of wills and desires. Your initial shock gave way to a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite name.

As his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, you found yourself responding, your body betraying your mind. The kiss was a battle, each of you struggling for dominance, neither willing to yield.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing. His eyes were dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them. You stared back at him, defiance and confusion mingling in your gaze, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that."

His words, so out of character, only fueled your anger further. "Sorry?" you scoffed, pushing him back slightly. "You think a simple apology will make up for everything? For the way you've treated me, for the way you think you can just claim me?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I know I can't make up for it. But perhaps... perhaps we can find a way to understand each other."

You were silent for a moment, then your eyes narrowed. "Understand each other?" you echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what this is about? Understanding?"

A dark, reckless impulse surged within you. You grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. "You think you can control me?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You think you can just take what you want?"

Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with even more intensity. The kiss was fierce, a clash of wills and desires. You could feel the tension between you, the thin line between hate and something far more dangerous.

Marcus responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The room seemed to spin as you lost yourself in the raw heat of the moment, your anger and frustration boiling over into something wild and unrestrained.

You broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. "You want me?" you demanded, your voice a low, challenging whisper. "Then take me."

His eyes blazed with desire and a hint of confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Shut up," you snapped, pulling him closer. "No more talking. Just... take me."

With a growl, Marcus responded, his hands tearing at your clothes with a desperate urgency. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric fell away, and you pressed your bodies together, the heat of his skin igniting a fire within you.

"You're infuriating," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And you," you retorted, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, "are a tyrant."

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire, "I hate you. And I need to feel something other than this... this helplessness."

He captured your lips again, his kiss searing and demanding. "I hate you too," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming your body. "But I can't resist you."

The world outside ceased to exist as you gave in to the storm between you. Clothes fell away, and you were left exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.

"You think you can control me?" you challenged, your voice breathless.

"I don't need to control you," Marcus replied, his hands gripping your hips. "I just need you."

Marcus brought his thumb to circle your clit, his rough touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned slightly, your head falling back in bliss. His voice teased you, dripping with arrogance. "What, haven’t you touched yourself before?"

You gasped, grinding down against the hard length of his cock straddled between your legs. His smirk faltered at your audacity. "Of course I have," you retorted, your voice edged with defiance, a spark of rebellion lighting your eyes.

Marcus gripped your hips, lifting you off him with ease before moving to sit back against the headboard, his arms casually behind his head in a display of smug dominance. "You want the virgin to do all the work?" you taunted, your eyes narrowing in displeasure as you crawled closer.

His smirk returned, darker this time. "The virgin, huh? That's what I get to call you now?" He paused, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "You're the one who's on me like a dog in heat."

You looked at him with a dark expression, sitting back on your thighs, your chest heaving with frustration and desire. With one hand, you began to caress his upper thigh, mimicking the movements you'd seen from the sex workers in your father's employ. Though inexperienced, you weren't ignorant; you'd read secret novels and asked questions of your father's mistresses. But nothing had prepared you for the raw reality of this moment.

"You know what to do?" he questioned a challenge in his eyes, his voice a low growl.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue. The taste was oddly addictive. You wrapped your hand around his thick length, marveling at how it almost didn't fit in your grip. Steadying him, you licked the tip, eliciting a deep groan from him.

"Don't be shy," he patted your head condescendingly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Despite your nerves, you collected spit in your mouth and let it fall onto the tip of his cock, watching as he rubbed it around with a satisfied smirk.

You took the tip into your mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, and groaned at the flavor. He moaned deeply as you sucked gently, guiding your head with his hand. You gagged slightly as you tried to take more of him in, your hand still gripping the base, your eyes watering with the effort.

"Spit on it," he commanded. You did as he asked, letting more saliva dribble onto his length. He patted your head again, a gesture both condescending and encouraging, and you resumed sucking, taking him deeper into your mouth. You gagged again, but he didn't let go, enjoying the sight of you struggling to accommodate his size.

"Come on," he urged, pulling you up to straddle his hips once more. You thought he was finally ready to take your virginity, the moment you'd both been building towards, but he surprised you. Gripping your hips with firm hands, he moved you so his face was between your thighs.

"What are you—" you began, but he cut you off, his lips attacking your clit with a fervor that stole your breath. He completed the arc with his tongue, taking your bud between his lips and sucking hard. You almost screamed, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Oh God," you moaned, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting yours with a predatory glint. "Marcus, baby… Marcus," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need and desperation.

He resumed his assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You began to grind against his mouth, the sensation too much to bear, yet not nearly enough. The tension built rapidly, your orgasm approaching with a force that took you by surprise.

"Marcus!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your body tensed and then shattered into a million pieces. He held your hips firmly to his face, lapping up every drop of your release as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

You fell back onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he crawled over you, his face slick with your essence. "Well, well," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his features as he rubbed his cock against your still-sensitive pussy. "Are you all fucked out already?"

You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.

"You hear that?" His gruff voice asked, pulling you back to the present as his cock dragged from your cunt, pushing back in slowly. The squelch of him pushing deep inside you was loud, the sound of your arousal undeniable. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

"Yeah, you do," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Hear how wet you are?"

You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, every scar and wrinkle telling a story, the grey in his beard adding to his rugged appeal. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race.

A moan escaped your lips as his thrusts grew more desperate, more hungry. He caught your wrists together in one of his big hands, pressing them down into the mattress with a grip that left no room for escape. Your thighs were splayed wide, almost uncomfortably so, pressed down by the width of his hips. His cock was splitting you open, and you were so impossibly wet that you could hear it every time he pushed back into you, a lewd squelching sound that only seemed to spur him on.

He grinned wildly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "You like that, don’t you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Only I can make you this wet, make you submit so completely."

You could only moan in response, your body arching beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. "Marcus," you whimpered, the intense pleasure making you delirious. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a world where only he existed.

His grin softened slightly, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes as he looked down at you. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one driving home his dominance. "You're mine now."

You wanted to hate him, to deny the truth of his words, but with your body quivering beneath his, you knew he was right. You were his. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word claimed you, bound you to him in ways you had never imagined.

His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you."

Your response was a garbled moan, your head thrown back in ecstasy. His words, his touch, everything about him overwhelmed you. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly, ready to snap.

He seemed to sense your impending release, his movements becoming even more deliberate, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let go. I want to feel you."

The command sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room, a testament to your surrender.

His weight pressed you into the mattress, his skin hot and slick against yours. You felt every throb of his heartbeat, every shudder of his breath. It was an intimacy you had never experienced before, raw and all-consuming.

As the waves of your shared climax ebbed, you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of passion.

As he lifted his head, his eyes met yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions. The intensity of his gaze made your heart flutter, but the softness in his expression was unexpected, almost tender.

"Well," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, "I guess the rumors were wrong. You're not a virgin after all." He paused, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, not anymore."

You felt a flush of anger rise within you. "And what if I wasn't? What difference would it make to you?"

He smirked, the familiar arrogance returning. "Just proves you're not as innocent as you pretend to be."

You pushed against his chest, forcing him to roll onto his side. "You're insufferable," you snapped, your breath still coming in short gasps. "You think you know everything, but you don't."

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough."

You glared at him, the heat between you not entirely dissipated. "You don't know anything about me."

His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. And I know you feel something for me, whether you want to admit it or not."

You scoffed, turning your head away. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a shiver running down your spine. "Get over yourself," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your insides twist. "I could say the same to you."

You pushed at him again, trying to create distance, but he caught your wrists, holding them against the mattress. "Let go," you demanded, struggling against his grip.

"Not until you admit it," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Admit what?" you hissed, your anger flaring again.

"That you feel something for me," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

You glared at him, refusing to give in. "You're impossible."

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rolling onto his back. "Maybe I am. But so are you."

You lay there in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and palpable. Despite everything, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the strange mix of hatred and desire that left you breathless and confused.

Finally, exhaustion began to creep in, your body heavy with the aftermath of your intense encounter. "This doesn't change anything," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned.

"Maybe not," he agreed, his tone equally soft. "But it's a start."

You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes already on you. "What do you want from me, Marcus?" you asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "But I want to find out."

You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly comforting. "Then don't. Just sleep."

You turned onto your side, your back to him, trying to create some semblance of space. The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't ignore the warmth radiating from Marcus's body, the solid presence of him beside you. There was a strange sense of comfort in his nearness, an unexpected feeling of safety that contrasted sharply with the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay there, the exhaustion from the night's events slowly began to overtake you. Your muscles relaxed, and your breathing grew steady and slow. You felt the mattress shift slightly as Marcus moved closer, his arm draping over your waist in a possessive yet gentle gesture.

For a moment, you considered shrugging him off, but the weariness was too much. Instead, you let yourself sink into the feeling of his arm around you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back. It was oddly soothing, a stark reminder that despite the tumultuous start to your union, there was a potential for something more, something deeper.

"Goodnight," Marcus murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated before responding, the word barely a whisper. "Goodnight."

PART 2

3K notes · View notes

aseaofyoongi · 1 year ago

Text

my heart did | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: e2l | bully romance | smut | angst

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: as soon as senior years comes to an end a lot of teens shed who we were and strive to be flourish into a more polished version of themselves. although, broken hearts aren’t so quick to heal what happens when thoughts reveal all we need to know?

warnings: lets begin.. themes and mentions of bullying; brief physical violence; brief mention of blood; bickering; denial of feelings; mention of less than ideal parents; cliche high school themes (in flashbacks); foul language; oral (m. receiving); penetrative and unprotected sex; clitoral stimulation; nipple play; thigh riding; vag fingering; overstimulation; sub!jjk themes - he is a good boy; he uh.. arrives on her face.. anyways; i hate this trope ugh but miscommunication; jjk has a big d!; not edited.

word count: 25,5 thousand words

posted: wed sept. 6, 2023 at 12:28PM

notable songs: like i want you - giveon | thinkin bout you - frank ocean | like or like like - miniature tiger | war of hearts - ruelle | sunday morning - maroon5 🎧

The sun is now setting.

Behind you as the last hours of the late summer evening approached the sun was beginning to finally pucker its lips against the horizon, as a result, the sky became dusted with hints of deep orange, yellow and purple. The clock finally struck nine o’clock and you couldn’t help but slump down on the palms of your hands, sitting behind the main desk on the same stool you had been since the beginning of your shift. Your pupils followed as the little hands on the clock hung on the opposite wall seemed to move slower and slower, completely freezing you in time.

Fucking Mondays.

You sighed. When you had initially signed up for the work study position at the library you thought things would be just a bit different.

For example, you thought being a staff member here would get you free access to course books and materials but that wasn’t the case. Right before you’d been hired, some idiot named Yoongi who worked behind the help desk at the computer lab was caught selling copies of the course materials to multiple students on campus.

Like—right before you were hired and now that privilege had been swiped right off the tip of your fingers the moment your member badge had been printed.

Secondly, time behind that rotating door at the main entrance just stopped. No, more like slammed down on the brakes abruptly the moment you crossed that threshold. There were no warnings or brake lights or even a bright sign to apprise in advance.

Another drawn out sigh escaped your lips.

There was no exaggeration in your boredom, however, besides the ‘promises’ of saving money on school materials vanishing entirely, you still needed the monetary earnings so you hid behind a fabricated smile and immediately accepted the job offer happily.

Well, as happily as you could be.

God, you were jaded. Five after nine. Only five minutes had gone by yet it felt like an eternity.

Your mind was on overdrive yet your body remained stationed in the same exact place—in the same exact position. Not a single tendon transposed and they constricted your muscles in place. You were there sort of glued to the metal surface of the stool but fuck did you wanted to move.

Needed to actually. You needed a sort of mobile stimulation but still you couldn’t seem to get your arms and legs to comply. Not until your focus circled around your extremities and your need to just fucking. . do something.

You crossed your legs to the left, then to the right, then you hung your legs on the wooden bar under the desk to give them a rest from just hanging on your side, then you sat with your legs spread open before realizing you wore a skirt and you quickly pressed your thighs together tightly. Shift after shift you grew more angsty, more impatient, more exasperated with the sluggish speed the hours of the night adopted.

Slowly, you reached into your bag and unwrapped a piece of gum before sticking it in your mouth. You chewed slowly. Seven after nine, only two minutes have gone by since you last looked at the time.

Okay, maybe if you number your chews to the rhythm of each second then time will somehow speed by. Right? You began your countdown backwards from sixty.

You chewed down on the watermelon flavored stick of gum. Sixty.

Again, fifty-nine.

And, again, fifty-eight.

Once more, fifty-seven.

In just a matter of minutes the sky behind you turned pitch black and finally the stars came out to play, they pranced around dancing in the sparkling delight and you couldn’t really help but envy their freedom as they lived without confinement.

“Tell me something. .” You quickly registered that irritating tone, that very familiar and insipid, absolutely annoying and vexing tone. The same one which sent a bubbling shot of acid to course into your bloodstream every time you were faced with the disdain of hearing it, “should I reprint you a copy of the employee manual? Last time I checked skirts above the knee and gum chewing are strictly prohibited in the work place.”

You leaned your head to the side, narrowing your eyes in his direction as he stood by the doorframe, “you’re not the supervisor, let alone the manager,” you murmured through gritted teeth, “fuck off.”

He shook his head slowly while clicking his tongue. He was mocking you, the little shit was mocking you, “Not a manager. Just someone who likes to enforce the rules especially comes to you.”

“Rule enforcer?” you scoffed, chewing louder and louder as you chomped down, purposefully smacking your gum in the process, “sounds a lot like you being a little bitch. I guess it’s all just the same to me.”

“Bitch?” he guffawed.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” you challenged.

“Mini skirt, gum chewing, and foul language. You’re really making this so easy for me,” he mocked.

The extent of your interactions were always, always, reduced to this. Just the endless streaks of taunting, the continuity of poking at each other buttons beyond forgiveness, and to top it all of the boiling irritation cooking up in the pit of your stomach.

As far back as you could remember there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in the mixture of your interactions together.

You and him met the summer before the ninth grade. From there on you knew him once classes began. Well ‘knew’ was a very loose term in this situation. The two of you were just teens, fifteen years old to be exact, in the same school, in the same home room, yet from different cliques.

His brown eyes drank you in like he was consuming every inch of your soul—it was invasive, intimidating, and exactly what you deserved. Deep down you were one hundred-percent sure of the fact.

��What?” you barked.

“Just remembering the good old time,” he smirked, “the ones where words remain your preferred and deadliest weapon.”

What transpired from that night was nothing compared to his cold gaze and punctured words.

Faint lights of that night sparkled into memory, years have passed but you remember every detail as if it was just yesterday.

The school bathroom was your least favorite place in the building, it was usually crowded with destined criminals, the stench was horrid and it was the obvious root of every ridiculous rumor to ever be birthed within the walls of Oakwood High School.

You leaned against the white ceramic sink, your back faced the stained plastic mirror as you faced him sitting on top of the toilet tank. He was the personification of trouble, the very synonym of everything you needed to stay away from.

The two of you came from two different worlds.

He was draped and wrapped up in a black hoodie, complemented by dark distressed jeans while his rugged and muddy boots stained found camp on the toilet seat, staining it beyond repair.

“What exactly is it that you need from me?” he asked, his tone wasn’t as stern or deep as you usually heard around the halls. There was a slight stutter; a falter.

“It’s more than one thing,” you exhaled, your eyes flickered between him and the stall just to the right of him, “. .that I need from you.”

He hummed, “go on.”

The sun trickled in through the foggy windows and it embellished very detail, every feature that you had never once before noticed on the boy before you. His eyes were giant orbs almost doe like, his lips were a deep taint of roseate the same one which dusted the apples of his cheeks. There was a certain delicate look behind the dark aura he cemented within himself.

You took paced steps in his direction feeling just a bit dizzy the closer you became.

Perhaps, it was that overbearing piss smell.

Or, perhaps, you just didn’t want to go through with this. You wanted to call this off but there was this fervent exhilaration burning just below your skin—you wanted to continue speaking to him, you wanted to envelop yourself in the softness of his lips.

But this wasn’t right but you couldn’t help the guidance of your feet, until finally you stood right before him.

Up close his eyes were prettier, shinier yet darker and you easily found yourself swimming in them engulfed in vastness simulating the bottomless sea.

He was everything you wanted and everything you needed to stay away from.

Two different people. Two different worlds.

“Are you going to tell me what you need?”

“I think,” your palm landed on his knee for support as you climbed onto the toilet seat taking a seat on his lap, “it’s much better if I show you.”

By now, and by the radicle of his reputation you expected for him to push you right off his life, for him to gargle the disgust in the back of his throat and regurgitate it right back on you. But he didn’t instead his gaze intently followed you every move, he probably already noticed your quivering figure hiding behind your confident facade.

There was no shaking off this nervousness, even but in your mind you reminded yourself that you were you and he was simply him.

“Show me what exactly?” he swallowed, his Adam's bobbed distinctively, “you know this is the first time you’ve ever uttered a single word in my direction.”

“I highly doubt that,” you hid your nervousness behind the security of your confident tone.

“It’s true,” he continued, “I bet you have never even noticed that my locker is directly across from yours.”

“Wait. .” You hooked your bait, hanging it low over his head attempting to reel him in once and for all, “do you spend your time in the halls looking at me?”

“I never said—“

Your palms found their way up to towards the back of his neck and you inched closer to his face vividly detailing the golden tone of his glowing skin.

You never noticed before, he was always an arm’s length away, which was probably your fault to begin with, but he was truly beautiful.

“You did kind of imply it.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“Does to me.”

His eyes remained on your lips as you tucked your lower lip under your upper teeth. There was an unreadable expression ignited behind his pupils, something you’ve never seen before, not behind the frigid gaze of your best friends and it certainly wasn’t present in the way your boyfriend looked at you either.

It held the comfort of tenderness and it wrapped you right into his warm embrace.

“You know, you keep averting my question.”

“Remind me, once again,” you smiled softly, “what is it that you wanted to know.”

“What do you want to show me?” you pursed out your lower lip before licking them agonizingly slowly to almost emphasize their plumpness. While coating them in a thin layer of the sheen shininess from your saliva. That put him in a trance, his eyes were locked on you intently. It’s working.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, your lips hovered right over his, the waft of your paced breath fanned one another. His mouth was enveloped with the cool aromatic scent of mint. You liked that a lot—it drew you in.

He froze against the white tiled wall behind him, his eyes were closed and he waited in anticipation of your lips finally meeting his. Instead, you took the liberty of snapping a mental picture. One you knew you would hang in the forefront of your mind for a very very long time, because after today, after the tones of both of your pink lips finally meshed together everything would go to shit.

And it would all be your fault.

“For someone who’s begging to kiss me you sure are taking your sweet time.”

The pads of your fingers brushed against his velvet lips as they spread wide depicting his smile, in turn you’d notice the way that very smile trickled to everyone of his features. From the dimples impaling his honey cheeks to his scrunched up nose and brows scrunched up together.

“I’m not begging,” you objected, laying against his chest—he was broad you could tell even under the dark clothes and he felt firm. All you wanted was to be cocooned in his heated touch.

Even in the scorching summer his warmth is.. a solace. You didn’t mind being consumed by it burning in the flames ignited by his touch.

“I asked. Just curious to know if you would even want to kiss me,” say no, run away, run away from me, you yelled at him in your head.

“Curious?”

You hummed, “So.. Do you wanna?”

“Kiss you?”

You hummed again, “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. It’s just one kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” He asks a lot of questions.

“Okay,” he breathed.

There were many things you forbid yourself from submitting to at the expense of your insatious desires. This included consuming sweets past eight o’clock, drinking any type of soda, and even suppressing anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in return for the validation of others. Deep behind the rhythmic beating of your heart you knew this should’ve also included kissing him. You knew you should’ve backed off, said no, avoided him as if he was something you ran away from.

But you couldn’t help but be guided here by the pure delight of getting to have this for once. You wanted to be selfish and drown in those very desires you didn’t dare act on prior to today. Not under self-induced circumstances instead something you know could hurt him right after you pulled away from his lips.

You were a wretched person but all you think about, all you cared about was the way he inched closer towards you, rapidly closing the gap between the two of you. The only sounds bouncing off the walls were your needy pants and the thump thump which composed a song out of the beats of both of your racing hearts.

His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, his eyes explored every inch of your face taking in every depiction of your features. And no matter how many times you could attempt to hide it—he would know. He could clearly see the birth of the flames rampant behind the tones of your eyes.

He nudged his nose against yours, and your mouths fell together, soft and open. You closed your eyes instantly and they felt heavy, almost as if your eyelids were glued together. Though, you urged to open them, to live in every single second your lips remained connected with his, because you knew this wasn’t likely to happen again. Not after today. Not ever.

You couldn’t help but want to bear witness to the perfectness of your lips dancing against one another.

His mouth was silken, you found yourself melting into his body, into his lips, into his touch. Nobody had ever kissed you with the unspoken one passion he was.

No one. Certainly not your boyfriend.

You allowed yourself to become drunk under his trance and he fed the butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach rapidly.

You wanted to camp in the fondness of that moment forever, and ever. and ever. . .

Vacating the stool you stood by the large windows facing the parking lot behind the library. However, your attention was clutched by the sparkling stars, it was a form of a distraction. You wanted to stop thinking of him, his gaze seizing your figure tracing the outline of your legs, the curves and dips between your hips and waist and finally the sneaky peaks of your collar bones under your crop top.

His eyes were hard to read making it impossible to decipher whether he undressed you or condemned your being.

Though, you knew you deserved the latter.

“Words were never my weapon,” you whispered the fib hoping that you would believe it if you heard it outloud. It didn’t work.

He chuckled, “right. . your lips were the blades that pierced my heart and your words were the bullets that finished me off.”

“Jungkook. .” you trailed off.

“What?” he spat, “can’t handle the truth?”

Fuck, that hurt but you deserved it.

“Jungkook, just shut up.”

But his back was already turned towards you and his eyes no longer scanned you like you were the phrases typed on the pages of his favorite book.

“I’m so. .” you began but you just couldn’t get it out.

“There it is again,” Jungkook shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, collecting your thoughts why did you always manage to say the wrong fucking thing, “I’m just trying to apologize to you for. . everything.”

“Right. . now?” he wore a puzzled expression, his eyes squinted with skepticism. Back in highschool Jungkok was quiet, shy and mysterious. He could’ve easily flown under the radar and lived his life in the seclusion of being a wallflower. But then you happened. You in that bathroom, on his lap with his lips on yours.

Even now, years later, you could still feel their phantom softness on yours.

You played with the loose thread on the hem of your top averting the scrutiny of the judgment in his eyes, “better late than never.”

“You put me through hell and I’m supposed to act as if all is forgiven. Today, because you can no longer live with that guilt?” there was a smirk plastered on his face while traces of venom laced his words.

“That’s not the reason why…”

“Then, why… Why?”

Words failed to roll off the tip of your tongue, and there was a cloud of shame hanging over your head but Jungkook was resentful and cold with his words and you knew that at this point your apology would do nothing to fix what was already broken. Nevertheless, you stood there like a child being scolded because the least you could do was be the receiver of his resentment.

“Are you looking for a shot at self redemption? To feel better about yourself? Or maybe the guilt really is eating you bit by bit. Whatever it may be I don’t forgive you and I never will. You wanna know why? Because unlike others I’m not convinced that people like you can change,” he continued, there was a rampant anger burning in his eyes now, “you look back on our time in high school and feel this sense of. . relief that you were who you were. There is not an ounce of your being that would go back and change things and if we were to turn back time you would still choose to be the viper who could go around injecting your venom into others at free will. I know you just want to leap over that stepping stone and prove to yourself that you have grown-up but you can’t fool me and you will not make an example out of me.”

“That’s not. .” you drifted off, tears swelled behind your eyelids but you blinked them away, “That’s not why I wanted to do Jungkook. .”

“No?” he asked.

“No,” you muttered through gritted teeth, mad at your past self for being a piece of shit, mad at him for not allowing you to speak, mad at life. Everything.

“You want me to forgive you?”

You remained quiet.

“Then, beg.”

“You know what?” You quickly wiped the tear that trickled down your heated cheek, “I actually did mean to apologize but I’m not sure that you actually deserve it anymore.”

They say what comes around goes around and you were certain this was the circle of justice you would forever be looped in the extent of your interactions with Jungkook because, this is pretty much how they always played out. He would never forgive you and you would never be able to form the right words to ease the pain of what you have caused. There wasn’t anything that you could do or say.

Things would always remain this way.

He turned away from you once again, “if I don’t deserve your apology that only proves you don’t deserve my forgiveness.”

You looked at the clock on the opposite wall, it was now finally thirty minutes past nine and you were due to go home. To be embraced by the comfort of your sheets, to bask in their warmth, something less chilling than his frigid words.

Grabbing your bag you slipped past him hoping that you would now stoop to becoming nothing but an insipid wallflower.

Entirely, invisible. That’s all you wanted to be.

Fucking invisible.

Your cloak of invisibility was short lived because as soon as you crossed the threshold to your dorm you were met with a crowded living room. Amongst the faceless features of the random strangers spread out in the tiny space you spotted a similar face belonging to the biggest pain in your ass and roommate adjacent, Hobi.

You trudge through the ocean of bodies, resisting the sway of the waves leading to bump to those in your way, simply wanting to get as far away from whatever this was as soon as possible. When Hobi’s eyes finally met yours you signaled him towards using your pointer finger—quickly, his smile dropped, beads of sweat adorned his temples and his head hung low.

A party on a Monday was… Definitely, Hobiesque.

With paced strides he stumbled towards you following you down the small corridor and into your room. Hobi’s eyes hung low, the buttons on his shirt hung open all the way down to the pit of his stomach, his cheeks were red and puffy, his hair the right amount of disheveled, and he had a tight grasp on a nearly empty red solo cup (it definitely didn’t look like it was his first or last drink). The lights were dimmed but even under the shitty lighting there was a bright glimmer outlining his figure.

“Now, before we begin this intervention,” his words were a bit slurred, “I had a really shitty day.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you hung your bag on the hook behind the door and threw your keys on the desk.

He slumped down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression—you weren’t sure if the shift in his usual energetic charisma was due to the alcohol but you didn’t like it. You were so used to seeing his heart shaped lips spread into wide curves showcasing the amiability of his colorful personality.

“Okay, which one of us should go first?” he asked.

“Don’t you have a party to get back to?” you sat by the pillows on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard, your legs pressed up against your chest as you laid your head on your knees.

“I’ll get back in a minute,” he replied nonchalantly, “just tell me about your day.”

Hobi laid his head closer to your legs, quickly you found your fingers combing through the dark strands with a thin layer of sweat. There was a cool draft slipping in the room through the window left slightly ajar. The bittersweet flashes of your time in that library behind the main desk played back in your mind.

“I saw… spoke to Jungkook tonight,” your voice was soft, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. You and Hobi have been friends since your senior year in school and while he wasn’t there for the horrid days of your freshman year tyranny you confessed to everything you had done during those dark days—everything that happened with Jungkook.

“Spoke?”

You nodded.

“You two have the same work study you’ve spoken to each other before right?”

“Yeah, but our conversations are always reduced to nonsensical banter. He pushes my buttons and I push his, sometimes we even land a few jabs at each other when the other isn’t looking but today,” you felt at ease sitting there in Hobi’s company, the only noise surrounding the two of you came from the booming of the loudspeaker stationed in the living room, “…it was personal.”

“How personal?” he continued peering up at you with idle eyes.

“I tried to apologize for, well you know.. everything,” you sighed, “and things didn’t really go as planned. Stupid of me I know.”

“Definitely, not stupid. You tried to make things right. There’s no harm in that,” his thumb rubbed your hand softly as it wrapped around your shins.

“There was definitely a lot of harm done.”

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “what you did is not justified, but all that matters is that you are trying to make things right and we can only hope he is willing to forgive.”

Jungkook’s vicious words played on a continuous loop in your head. He was not willing to forgive. He never would be and sincerely you couldn’t blame him for him.

This guilt.

It will eat you alive and as a result you will experience a slow and excruciating death. A well deserved demise and one that became written in the stars for you the moment you kissed him in that fucking bathroom.

Still, a timid smile slowly creeped on your lips. Hobi’s hopefulness is your safety net, the only thing you could ever need to keep pushing forward.

“Enough about me and my self-inflicted issues,” you cleared your throat, “what’s got you so down today, sunshine?”

“We broke up.”

You laid beside him on your bed, reaching down taking his hands into yours hoping he’d feel the same deal of comfort you do by him.

“What happened?” you offered.

“I was in my dance practice and he—“ he paused, “he just fucking texted me. Said he couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Did something happen before all of this?”

“We’ve been on a bumpy road lately,” he hesitated before continuing—you guessed it was because he was trying to structure his thoughts, “two dancers dating bring a conflict of interest into a relationship.”

“Please tell me you guys aren’t just fighting over your choreography.”

He remained silent before continuing.

“You two are going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you shook your head, “I need details, Jung.”

“Don’t call me, Jung,” Hobi poked out his lower lip, frowning, “makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”

“I can’t be mad at you when you’re so adorably tipsy,” you pinched his rosey cheeks.

“Stoooop,” he swatted your hand away from his face while stretching out the letter ‘O,’ “I’m being serious though. I think it’s really over between Jimin and I, forreal this time.”

“You’ve said that every other time the two of you have broken up over dance.”

“Right. .” he yawned, cozying up under your sheets while his eyes began to close.

“Oh, no,” you smacked him upside the head with one of your cushions, “get up and go host your little party.”

He brushed it off turning before turning away from you, his soft snores now a remix to the music playing just outside of your door, “who the fuck throws a party on a Monday. . Hoseok, get up!”

“I know, you’re so irresponsible for letting me throw a party on a weekday.”

“Bitch.”

As it turns out, kicking people an hour after a party had started wasn’t as easy as it looked. Leaning against the front door you finally came face to face with the mess left behind. The music still played, though, much lower now and there was an array of empty beer cans, red solo cups and other waste decorating your living room.

It was as if you were standing in front of the mirror looking back at yourself, you were nothing but a mess of a human being. It was uncanny.

Although, this mess you could clean, and you would, you weren’t sure if Jungkook would ever allow you to pick up all of those broken pieces that you had shattered all of those years ago.

For what it’s worth you really wanted to try. You wanted to make things right.

It is now Tuesday and the weather is horrid.

The last time you checked, the forecast called for scattered showers and mostly cloudy days. But, now it’s one in the afternoon and as you settle down on the bench by your bay window overlooking the narrow street, the sky was overtaken by the torrent clouds weeping viciously accompanied by the occasional strikes of loud thunder.

Usually, when the weather looked as shitty as you felt you opted for staying home and becoming enveloped in the comfort and warmth of your sheets, today would have been no different but of course luck is never present in the deck of cards paving your life, also having an irresponsible roommate usually doesn’t help in any way.

“Please, don’t forget my ginger ale,” he coughed dramatically, running his hand through his disheveled hair, “I can’t believe I feel like literal shit.”

“You can’t believe it?” You sneered, “you drank half of your alcohol supply before I even made it home and the party had only been on for like thirty minutes.”

“Fuck, I did that. Didn’t I?”

“You did,” you playfully yanked your covers off his body, “you drunk fuck.”

“That was my nickname in highschool,” he smiled.

“It was,” you zipped up your rain jacket and grabbed the umbrella sitting on your desk, “now go take a hot bath and don’t throw any more parties while I’m gone.”

You heard his infectious giggles as you closed the front door behind you. The two of you lived on the third floor so the walk down the stairs to the lobby wasn’t too unbearable. Through the clear doors of the main entrance in the rain you saw how the downpour fogged up the path ahead. Namseok’s Kitchen is only a five minute walk, you can do this.

Walking out you opened your umbrella and stood still for just one minute paralized by the pitter patter of the droplets meeting your umbrella.

It was the beat to a dreadful song you knew too well.

You pushed past the blue metal doors of the gymnasium. Your nostrils are no longer consumed by the smell of sweat and dirty laundry and the muffled conjunction of laughter, voices, bouncing balls, and whistles died out the minute the door closed behind you.

Gym class was a drag and there was truly nothing worse than an hour long class period with sweaty kids in such a tiny space. Usually, you opted for walking on the track for the duration of class but that option became futile the moment it began to pour an hour ago.

In fact it was still raining, but you stood under the navy awning covering you from becoming soaked. Your eyes are closed and you lean against the red brick wall inhaling the scent of petrichor, the resulting smell of the parched earth just as the pouring rain continues to beat anything standing right below it. The sweet aromas seeped into the air sweeping past your nose with the soft breeze that blew by.

It was as if the earth had exhaled, emanating its distinct fragrance from millions of pinpoints all at once. Inside that smell, the seconds slowed and each moment seemed to dilute. It filled you with relief.

Then, suddenly the remnants of your heaven became blurred and the walls holding up the roofs began to tumble down and with it a whiff of nicotine became tangled in your nose.

Your eyes shot open and there he was, Jungkook. The boy you’d kissed a week ago in the boy’s bathroom.

“Cigarettes are bad for you, you know..” You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach as soon as he turned. You heard what happened to him but you hadn’t gotten around to seeing him yet, you’d been avoiding him.

“Yeah, I keep thinking I’ll quit and I can’t seem to make it past a couple of hours,” he was honest and he smiled, two characteristics you thought had died the moment your boyfriend’s fist met his face. He still had a soft purple bruise under his eye to prove it.

“You need something else to get your mind off of it.”

He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out and leaned right beside you on the wall. Up close you saw a deep gash on the apples of his cheek, it was still red but stitched up.

“I know.”

“Are you really littering right now?” You eyed the discarded smoke under the tip of his chunky combat boots.

“Right, sorry miss president of ‘i love earth’ or whatever,” he bent over, picking it up and placing it in the pocket of black jeans, similar to the ones he wore that day minus the rips around the thighs.

“It’s actually called, ‘advocates for planet earth’ for your information.”

“I love earth sounds better,” he shrugged, “should consider the name change.”

“I’ll bring it up in our next meeting.”

“I’m surprised,” Jungkook began, his eyebrows furrowed together and you could tell he was in a mental battle to continue, “that he lets you join cute little nerdy clubs.”

Twenty minutes before you entered the boys bathroom last Thursday, you and your friends sat in the library during study hall, your homework long forgotten and with continued complaints of loud talking all of you had settled for a game of quiet dare or die.

The set-up was easy.

There were two piles out in-front of you, one die, one dare. The object of the game created by your friends was to choose a dare and record yourself completing it before the end of the school day or else you’d have to do something even more embarrassing from the die pile.

Your dare was to graffiti the side of the school. A bit excessive, compared to the other ones which only called for kissing each other, going against school dress code for the rest of the day or skipping the last period.

Ditching the crumpled up paper you chose a die deciding that whatever it was at least it probably wouldn’t come at the expense of being expelled.

‘Kiss Jeon Jungkook (loser)’ it read.

You could’ve said no but you didn’t. Instead you fed into the taunts of the very boy you’d find your eyes lingering after. The same boy who occupied your thoughts day and night, the same one who kissed you like no one else has and whose touch (though, brief)—permanently marked a trail of goosebumps only he could procure.

“He doesn’t control me, Jungkook.”

“He doesn’t,” Jungkook nodded, registering every gravity of your words which felt heavy on his tongue. If your boyfriend didn’t control you then that meant you had also dealt a hand at the countinuously fucked-up encounters between him and your boyfriend. But this also finally cemented the idea that you had kissed him willingly; you saw it in the way his eyes sparkled even when the sun had been hibernating for the duration of the day.

He seemed to have finally realized that both of those could be true. That love and pain could dance together hand in hand when it came to the two of you.

Your eyes scanned his chocolate ones, slowly reaching up using the pads of your finger to caress his cheek. They were full and warm and you were careful not to inch too close to the purple and green-ish spot under his eye.

“Will you believe me if I tell you something?”

“Tell me.”

“I really did enjoy that day.” You clarified, “our kiss despite what I said afterwards.”

He chuckled, “hopefully saying me too doesn’t get me another black eye.”

The tightness in your chest squeezed tighter and immediately you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When Jungkook was around you felt as if your heart and mind collided against each other and you were left in a daze, castaway in your own body and mind. Like, right now, your brain urged you to walk away and get as far away as possible from him but your heart called out to him and down that same path it set out a route leading to his silken lips.

Your heart beat to a deep crescendo nearly synching to the sound of the beating rain against the awning just overhead.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to class?”

Snapping out of your daydream you replied, “uh, yeah, I should get back.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you around.”

Jungkook smiled, “I’ll see you around.”

The hefty winds blew your umbrella yet you remained in the same exact spot just a couple of feet away from the entrance to the dorm building. You were drenched from head to toe causing your gray sweats and hoodie to stick to you all while they weighed you down. Although you were inclined to move away from the droplets adorning your figure, your legs just would not submit to the command.

The smell, the dark skies, and the feeling of the rain on your skin all ignited a sense of familiarity, contentment yet melancholiness.

There were too many feelings jumbled into one.

“If you stand here, like this, you’ll end up sick.”

You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed until the moment his voice overshadowed the roaring screams of the pouring rain. Jungkook’s outfit mimicked yours slightly but even you could admit he looked much better than you. He wore gray sweats and a gray hoodie draped off his shoulder over a white wife beater. His tattoos peeked through outlining the beginning of the sleeve following the length of his extremity down to his fingers.

He’s breathtaking, he’s always been.

“I wasn’t aware that my well-being was any of your concern.”

Jungkook combed his slender digits through his jet black hair inching closer to you until his umbrella covered the both of you, “it doesn’t,” he said, “ I just figured you were either drunk or too much of an idiot to be out in this storm.”

“Well, in that case that makes us two idiots standing out in this weather.”

“I was not out. I’m not crazy,” he cleared his throat, “I just so happen to see you through my dorm window.”

He came down for you, “yet here you are now.”

“Need I remind you, if I wasn’t, you’d still be out here getting soaked.”

“Soaked,” you snickered.

“Grow up,” his voice was laced with annoyance but the rose tint on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

“Where did my umbrella even go?”

He pointed to your feet where your Converse swam in a puddle and there was your unbrella was looking as fucked up as ever. Immediately, you made a mental note to never buy umbrellas at the dollar store ever again. You supposed that’s the only thing you were good at; making one wrong decision after the other.

You huffed, “ah, I’m okay. It’s okay, I got it from here.”

“Were you going somewhere?”

“You don’t have to help me, Jungkook,” you didn’t dare look at him because Jungkook was good at one thing, it was peeling back at your layers with his piercing eyes. He made you feel vulnerable—bare. And you always feared the psychedelic enchantment wiring in your brain whenever he looked in your direction.

Back then that was your excuse for not helping him, for not being a better human being. It was a shitty excuse, you know that now but you always feared your willingness to succumb to your hearts’ cries.

You feared falling into him—falling for him.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed, “just lead the way. I have nothing better to do anyway.”

“I was just going down the street to Namseok’s Kitchen to get Hobi some chicken noodle soup. He isn’t feeling too well this morning.”

“That’s only a five minute walk,” he nodded toward the path ahead, “Let’s go.”

Five minutes felt like an eternity as the two of you walked towards your destination in utter silence. The street was pretty empty—only Jungkook, yourself and the rain remained. . And your thoughts, of course. They ran at record speed as you tried to relive every single moment from your past, you know; divulging in all the good times and wanting to fix every fucked up thing you’ve ever done.

If only you could turn back time you’d make things right.

In an attempt to skip another puddle, to prevent your socks from becoming sodden you accidentally moved closer to Jungkook and your elbow brushed against his. The feeling wasn’t foreign to you and it transported you to those nights, all of those moment when your bodies were so close you could smell the soap he’d used that morning, cardamom and vanilla, the scent still lingered around in your nose and you wondered if you were just hallucinating or if he actually still used the same soap.

“While you order I’ll get us something hot,” he walked you to the glass door of the small diner, then turned towards the coffee shop across the street.

“Jungkook!” You called out and he looked back in your direction, “Hold on,” you dug in your pocket reaching for a ten dollar bill, “Here.”

“Just worry about the soup and get one for yourself. Your body will thank you tomorrow morning,” he shouted back.

He disappeared into the shop as cars sped by in his shadow. You almost didn’t believe he was just right there. With you. Was he?

The bell on top of the door chimed as you walked into the restaurant, the squishing sound of your drenched shoes against the white tile bounced off of the baby blue walls. As you walked closer to the counter you wrapped yourself in a tight embrace to provide yourself with some warmth against the blasted AC. The place has always been light on decoration and made to feel more homey than anything else. There was a faux wall with photographs of customers hanging from loose thread, next to that there was a small circular table where the polaroid and its film was stationed. The remaining walls held all sorts of artworks in different shades of azure from Seokjin’s boyfriend, and Hobi’s brother, Namjoon. Towards the front was your favorite place, a bench stationed in-front of the floor to ceiling glass window.

Namjoon approached the register, “oh no, what the fuck did he do now?”

“He threw a party and woke up sick as fuck. I was just coming to get him some soup. He’s said he would puke anything else.”

“And that little shit made you walk?” Seokjin walked up behind Joon taking a seat on the stool beside him. “Look at you…” he motioned towards you and you took a look at yourself in the circular mirror hung behind the two guys, a fucking mess, “you’re all wet. Did he make you come here alone?”

Before you even had the chance to answer Jinnie continued, “I’m going to kill him. You hear me?” He turned towards his boyfriend, “I am going to kill your brother.”

Joon mumbled, “I might just join you.”

“Before your two go on a killing spree…” you leaned against the wooden surface of the counter, “I kind of offered because I felt bad for his dumbass.”

“He still let you come all the way down here in this weather and that is enough to plan a crime,” Seokjin hissed, “Joonie will you get her a towel from the back?”

Joon disappeared behind the beaded curtain.

“Okay, so one soup for the idiot and one for you?”

You nodded, “yes, chicken noodle soup please. Can you make that three though?”

“Who’s the third one for?” He raised an eyebrow staring you down like you had an intimate secret you were keeping from him. Well, technically, you were keeping some things to yourself but you weren’t lying just withholding the truth. It wasn’t the same thing.

“It’s for the person who accompanied me here today.”

“And who is that?” Joon asked, they were both overprotective, like older brothers, “you only have one friend and unfortunately I am related to him.”

“Not a friend. . Just someone I know.”

They hummed in unison exchanging suspecting looks between one another. Then, the bell on top of the door chimed once again, the same way it did when you walked in. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, his scent gave him away immediately.

“Hi, welcome to Namseok’s kitchen,” Jin greeted him.

“Hey,” he walked deeper into the restaurant until he finally stood right next to you as you continued drying off, “here. I got us lemongrass tea. I didn’t know what you like so I figured I get you the same as me.”

Grabbing the to-go cup from his hand, you reply, “yeah, I like lemongrass tea.”

You took a sip, basking in the heat of the piping hot liquid as it traveled down your throat and into your tummy. A tired whimper escaped your lips, as you became entirely immersed in the flavors of the lemony taste exploding on your tongue. There was silence around you but you could feel three sets of eyes on you and instantaneously your eyes shot open.

“I almost forgot Jin, Joon, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Jin and Joon, Hobi’s brother and brother in law.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Jinnie smiled in his direction and Joon followed suit, “Jungkook..” He repeated, “why does your name sound so familiar?”

“I went to highschool with Hobi and..” he pointed at you, avoiding even the utterances of your name. There was no disgust lingering in his face but then again his expression was unreadable and you were sure he was masking his true feelings at the expense of the two men in front of you.

“I knew it,” he clasped his hands together but as soon as you saw the thoughts wiring in his head and connecting together you shook your head to prevent him from continuing. Thankfully, he understood immediately, “yeah, I thought I had seen you before.”

Jungkook also connected the dots because Jin hadn’t been in high school at the same time he was. Jinnie was three years older than you guys were and by the time he and Hobi had moved into town Seokjin had already graduated. But he was now aware that you had mentioned him in passing—now he knew that you had to have mentioned something about that time.

“I’m going to go check on those soups,” Jin announced walking back towards the kitchen, “Joon, come on join me.”

You walked past Jungkook with the brown cup held tightly in your grasp before taking a seat on the bench by the front window. The storm still ran rampant outside and the streets remained barren. Jungkook sat two tables down, near the wall, far away from you.

“Do I owe you anything for the tea?” You mumbled holding up the cup in his direction.

“I told you to not worry about it..”

“I didn’t know Seokjin would bring that up,” you didn’t look at him, eyes lulled by your dusty white converse, “I didn’t know he would remember you.”

“Just forget about it,” he shook his head, “you don’t need to explain.”

“No, I feel like I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Jungkook, please let me,” your eyes watered and your voice faltered.

He sighed, taking a small sip of the tea before continuing, “please don’t explain. I don’t need an explanation. I have buried it all, it still lives in my head but it’s buried and I don’t need to resurrect the tsunami of emotions that comes along with that..” he pointed at his temples, “it’s still here but please do not awaken them. I don’t want to brush the brush off of those memories.”

You two were the only people in the shop but you knew Joon and Jin were behind one of the walls eavesdropping. It was silent and the only noise in the small space was the whirring of the AC.

“Are our good memories also buried somewhere?” You knew better than to ask but you needed to know.

“I put those to rest first,” he admitted and your heart sank, “those memories, although good, were an incitement to everything else that lingered right behind. I had to get rid of those memories to get rid of everything else.”

“Okay,” tears were beginning to swell up in the corners of your eyes and you tried your best to blink them away, “yeah, that’s okay. I understand why you had to do that.”

“I’m sorr—” Jungkook began.

“Don’t, please, you’re not the one who should be apologizing to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you do that.”

The bell at the front desk chimed, ripping your attention away from Jungkook. Seokjin stood behind the counter holding two paper bags, “order’s up.”

Walking up you thanked him and grabbed the bags, “thanks. I’ll have Hobi venmo you for this.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he smiled softly, “free lunches till you guys graduate remember. That goes for you too now, Jungkook.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he handed him the smaller bag, “I mean it. I better see you around here more often.”

“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen him wear in years. It was radiant and lit up his face with warmth. The indents on his cheek were deep and they framed his rose lips like they were a work of art. Not even the silver hoop piercing his bottom lip shone as brightly as he did when he smiled. You almost forgot how good it looked on him and you couldn’t help but stand there and admire him taking mental pictures to keep forever.

He deserves someone better. Someone who’s going to make him smile like that until the end of time. Someone who wasn’t you.

“And thank you for coming along with her since Hobi couldn’t.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I would offer you guys a ride back home but Jin and I walked to work today. Guess we didn’t really think things through either.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you zipped up your rain coat and pulled the hood over your head, “it’s only a five minute walk back.”

After thanking Jin and Joon, the two of you exited the store and cut in through the alley way before landing on the road leading back to the dorms. Once again, the two of you stood dangerously close to one another radiating off each other’s body heat and before you knew it the building came into view and Jungkook led you up the walkway leading you to the main door. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want him to leave you but it’s not like you could actually say that.

You were a mere burden jumbled into bad memories and the worst years of his life.

“Thank you for coming along,” you pushed the thoughts although you don’t think you could ever really get rid of them.

“No thanks needed. I couldn’t let you take the trip on your own, especially not in this weather.”

He couldn’t let you. Your heart began to race as you tried to keep yourself from reading too much into his words. They probably didn’t mean anything… But what if he still cared? What if Jungkook still cared about you?

“See you around.” He nodded before heading off in the direction of his dorm.

I shouldn’t have said anything.

You turned around, but Jungkook was no longer near. His back was turned in your direction as he continued trotting down the sidewalk. Great! Now you’re hearing voices, after reaching for the metal door handle the voices reappeared.

Our memories are flavored in bitterness but I still can’t get her off my mind.

Jungkook was gone.

The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfires and no matter how hard you work to extinguish that fire it is always too little too late. That’s how you felt as soon as you crossed the threshold from the bathroom and into the congested hallways. Everyones prying eyes read you so intently condemning you for the hypocrisy of allowing someone like Jungkook to permanently ink his lips on yours. The passionate dance the two of you composed left behind the imprints of his lips as he tattooed your skin with each one of the pecks he left behind.

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out, unlocking it, quickly seeing the photo your friend had snuck of you on his lap pop up. Your mouths devour one another and your bodies pressed together closely while your hand rests on his shoulder.

You wanted to frame it—live in the pixels of that picture forever.

‘Death complete bitch.’ Your best friend’s text read below the photo, ‘I can’t believe you actually kissed him.’

‘I can’t believe I did it either.”

‘What was it like?’

The worst part about it is that it had to come to an end. Your mind traveled an hour back and you recall the velvet feel of his lips as they moved against yours mimicking the softness of clouds. At the sametime his tongue was saccharine tasting of the sweetness of strawberries and maple syrup leading you to guess he had either waffles or pancakes for breakfast that morning.

All you wanted was to run back into that bathroom.

‘Nothing memorable. Just glad it’s over.’

‘Don’t worry you won’t ever have to kiss him again.’

Yeah, that was the fucking problem. You wanted to kiss him again, preferably you wanted to kiss him forever.

‘Yeah, thankfully.’

You didn’t know when that kill switch that made you a complete and utter bitch was flipped on, but all you remember were those calamitous days when you didn’t really know who you were and who you were meant to be. Those days were marked with pen squiggles, they were blurred and you chose to permanently turn the light off and lock the door behind you in that section of your brain.

Middle school was rough to say the least. But that was the beginning of your novel and you knew perfectly well who you were now.

You had the friends you did because they made you look good, you had the clothes you did because you had a reputation to uphold and you had the boyfriend you did because someone like you is supposed to be with someone like him. Those were the simple unspoken rules of high school and at first they were easy to follow until they weren’t.

Everything was simple until that summer before freshman year. The day you visited the park near your house and you spotted him, with his chunky black boots and signature black outfit matching his jet black hair. The two of you were only fifteen then but he already had a tattoo on his wrist peeking out of the sleeve of his crewneck, back then he didn’t have his lip piercing—not yet at least.

“I thought you only hung out in abandoned buildings and sketchy alley ways,” you remembered telling him that and the two of you spent hours on those swings talking the afternoon away. Back then, you learned Jungkook was a gentle giant disguised in an intimidating disguise. He was thoughtful in the way he looked at life and dreamt about the future, he was caring in the way that he spoke about nature, tattoos, music and everything else he held a deep passion for and lastly, he was attentive in the way he listened to you thoroughly drinking in every detail you had shared.

That was the Jungkook that made you fall for him in the blink of an eye but back then you didn’t know who he was and you were certainly not made aware of how things would end up.

The bell dismissing you from your last period class snapped you right out of your thoughts and you dashed out the door of the classroom wanting nothing more than to escape home and be left alone to bask in your thoughts.

“There’s a fight outside!” a few students called out running past you.

“Let’s go!” someone else yelled across the hallway.

You were nervous to ask but you did anyway, “fight? Who’s fighting?”

“Your boyfriend’s fighting someone,” a girl you didn’t quite recognize replied, “Jungkook, or something like that I think.”

By the time you made it to the parking lot there was already a crowd of people forming a circle around both boys. Jungkook held his bloody nose while your boyfriend clenched and unclenched his hand, likely to relieve the pain of hitting Jungkook. You ran in their direction but as you neared them you saw as the boy you called yours landed another punch on Jungkook’s face causing him to fall back on the concrete.

He didn’t fight back, didn’t even respond to the other boy’s insult. He just sat on the ground holding his face waiting for it all to be over.

“Hey,” you finally reached him, shoving him back to prevent another callous attack on the boy behind you, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“I saw the fucking picture,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“The girls and I played a game of dare or death,” you explained, “it was only part of the death I had to complete. It didn’t mean anything.”

He lunged towards you and poked at your chest, “you still kissed him.”

The crowd went silent and your boyfriend’s anger highlighted the very thing you’d intended to place under lock and key—your pretty little secret no longer a secret or even pretty for that matter. You felt light headed and you weren’t sure if it was the punishing rays of the sun or the mental strain this was all causing.

You didn’t regret that kiss; you never would but you also thought that picture would stay between you and your friends.

A wave of murmurs swayed all around you and you knew your reputation was descending by the second.

You didn’t dare look at Jungkook, you knew his hypnotizing dark eyes would make you crumble. Seeing him like that. . The way he did all helpless and unprotected would compel you to care for him and cradle him in your arms until nothing or no one else could hurt him, “It meant nothing. Okay?” You heaved, “It meant nothing.”

Instead, you were dragged away from the boy your heart screamed out for.

Fuck, do I still like her?

Just shut up, Jungkook. It’s too early for this.

I shouldn’t be asking myself that. Ever.

Presently, you’ve gotten to know Jungkook for being reserved and fairly quiet, similar to how he was in high school except back then he actually spoke to you. But now, he is quiet and he doesn’t bother uttering a single word in your direction. The only times he ever addresses you is when he throws continuous jabs at you, landing every single one—he spews spiteful words of retaliation as a result of the shitty person were years ago and although you knew it was well-deserved that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Unlike his recently reserved outer shell, you quickly learned Jungkook’s mind traveled at the speed of light and for two days now, you could hear the constant battles of thoughts breaking out in his head.

Words crashed against each other; phrases were left abandoned half way through and ideas were left unfulfilled.

You groaned smacking your silk pillow over your face, your mind was exhausted on overdrive and increasingly overheating all because Jungkook couldn’t ease his thoughts and empty his mind at five in the fucking morning. Who. . Thinks this much at such ungodly hours of the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet.

The scattered clouds invaded the dark blue sky dusted in shades of purple.

Does she think of me?

I do.

Did she ever feel what I felt when we kissed?

I did—I do. I still feel it. Similar to how the sun feels on you on a hot summer day, the sparks on their ignited route as they traveled through every single inch of your skin setting it alight even today. You felt it then and you could feel it now.

Finally, his thoughts ceased and you guessed he’d probably drifted off into a slumber. He probably looked so peaceful you thought, grabbing one of your extra cushions, laid on your side and placed it in between your legs like a mommy pillow. Sleep came knocking on your door and your eyes began to feel heavy.

Jungkook probably looked like an angel as he slept. You could picture him laying in a sea of his messy sheets against his golden tone.

By the time you woke up once again, it was nine in the morning and the sun peeking in through the windows ripped you right out of your sleep.

Your room door burst open, “hey! I knew you’d be awake. What do you have planned for the day?” Hobi took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Whatever happened to knocking? I could’ve been naked you know..”

“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.”

“Fair enough,” you laid facing the ceiling, “I wasn’t going to do much today just going to check Mr. Kim’s list. He posted it on the bulletin outside his class for our upcoming project.”

“Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be in the dance studio. You wanna come see me later?” His heart-shaped lips did very little to cover his pearly whites as he grinned, “I’ll give the front desk your name so they can let you up when you get there.”

“Please, don’t forget like last time or I’ll have to fight someone for real this time,” you said.

“Won’t,” he called out as he strutted towards the front door, “I promise. See you later.” You heard the door open and shut before you began falling asleep once again but the peace and quiet was very short lived because you heard him again.

What did I even dream about?

You wondered the same. Was he the type to dream up cute scenarios in that pretty head of his as he drifted off for the night? Did your face invade his mind in the late hours of the night? You hope you did.

Your name echoed in the basis of his mind followed by the emission of thunderous groans.

He seemed. . frustrated.

Ah, fuck. Yes, Jungkook just imagine it’s her.

The image in your head was impure as soon as you finally realized what Jungkook was actually doing. You’d imagined his hand disappearing under the base of the pyramid forming through his duvet. Stroking himself slowly, his head lolled back against his headboard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, while his eyes fluttered closed as his eyelashes batting away all reminders of reality.

I want her touch—need it. So bad.

You’d become too enthralled in the symphony of Jungkook’s whimpers that you hadn’t really noticed the death grip you had on your bed sheets as your knuckles turned white and the way your legs rubbed against each other in a desperate plea for some friction.

This was private. Jungkook needed privacy and while your mind opened a portal which prevented that, the best thing you could do was ignore him and the sensual persuasion laced in his bedroom voice, no matter how desperately he called out for you, it wasn’t right.

Ignore.

God, I would fuck her so good.

Think of something else.

With my cock buried deep inside of her. Fucking her into my mattress until she’s shaking with the overbearing stimulation of pleasure. Until, even her own name becomes a mere afterthought.

You grabbed your phone from the night stand but your lame attempt at a ‘distraction’ was useless. His words were addictive and you were already soaked right through your panties. Your sheets began sticking to your sweaty skin while Jungkook’s ardent words continued heating you up.

She would take me so well. Fuck!

A shower! That’s what you’d do—just take a cold cold shower to ease those thoughts and shut him out until he finally finishes.

You hissed as the hard pressure of frigid water hit your body from the shower head, even this wasn’t enough to mask the way your body shuddered as Jungkook continued. It was even more enticing that after everything—after his hostile gazes and cold words your face was in the forefront of his brain as he touched himself.

His alluring thoughts kept on playing one after the other and your cunt became the victim crying out to him with patterned pleas he would never hear. Your juices strolled down your inner thigh mixed in with the streaks of water and you could no longer bear the desperate thumps of aching cunt. You were going mad, honestly his stamina and self control were all to blame. The combination was torturous.

While you weren’t one hundred-percent sure of what he was doing the way his thoughts became sporadic weathering winds of pleasure and then tranquility. It was a cycle, he would be on the verge of succumbing to his peak and then all of the sudden he would stop. Before beginning once again and again and again.

The viciousness of his desire lasted until right around the time you turned the shower off and you couldn’t tell if for the past twenty minutes you had been in your own personal heaven or hell.

I hate how much I still want her.

I hate that I can’t have her.

You can have me, Jungkook. You can have me now, tomorrow and forever.

The heat was overbearing and you could feel the way your tank became soaked with sweat and the thin fabric stuck to your body. You heaved as you pushed open the glass door into the English building. Mr. Kim’s room was on the third floor and the bulletin board was stationed right next to his door. After opting out of climbing three flights of stairs you ride the elevator up and exit out to look at the posted partners for Mr. Kim’s upcoming project. Walking down the main hall you turn left and there it is—there he is.

The simplicity of his outfit was composed of a plain white tee, gray sweat shorts, and over the ankle white socks tucked into black slides. The colorful ink adorning his skin still peaked under the sleeve of his shirt, his black wavy hair rested on the nape of his neck.

The hallways were completely empty and his back still faced you so you kind of just stood there unsure of what to say or do. I mean you’d heard him masturbating just a few hours ago and while you truly did not mind even the slightest you weren’t quite sure how to even interact with him moving forward. While he seemed to despise you for the events that unfolded back in high school this morning was a complete change of events. His voice was dipped in sex as he moaned your name until he finally came.

God, why was it so hot in here? Is the AC really off mid-summertime?

“Hey,” his doe eyes stared at you, studying your off-putting exterior. Your eyes were blown wide, your tank was still soaked with sweat and you just stood there ogling him, “are you okay?”

He stepped towards you with worrisome eyes. ‘Oh yes Jungkook, I’m okay. I’m just picturing the way your hand climbs up and down the length of your dick, head tilted back, mouth slightly opened as groans form at the root of your throat. You know, the way you probably looked this morning.’

Instead you decided on a soft, “I’m okay.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he placed his hand on your shoulder and you nearly fainted at the intense heat emitted from his skin to yours, “here, sit down,” he guided you to one of the lounge chairs sat opposite Mr. Kim’s class, “have you drank anything today?”

How could you kindly explain that was not the kind of thirst you were looking to quench.

“No. .” you shook your head.

“Okay, okay,” he grabbed a water bottle from the black backpack sitting at his feet. You hadn’t even noticed it before, you had been so focused on him the entire time, “here drink some.”

The bottle was half empty meaning his lips were on it and now your lips would be on it too. This wasn’t really what you meant when you said you wanted to feel his lips on yours but you didn’t really mind either.

“Yeah, sorry, I got thirsty on the way here,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I can get you one from the vending machine.”

You must’ve been looking at the bottle resting in his grasp like an idiot, “no, it’s okay Jungkook,” you rested your palm on top of his hand, “it’s not like we haven’t kissed before right?”

His eyes turned a shade darker than their usual brown and he cleared his throat, letting go of the water bottle right into your grip, “right.” he stepped back as if you were a cactus ready to nick him with one of your spines, “I was looking at the list for Mr. Kim’s class and we are partnered together with Jimin for the project.”

“Okay, should we meet at my place tonight or tomorrow? This is due this Monday,” you took a sip of the water tasting the remnants of Jungkook’s strawberry chapstick left behind on the rim.

“I have a basketball tournament due tonight but we can meet tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow,” you repeated, “any time?”

“After four?”

“See you then.”

For the first time in forever Hoseok had actually left your name at the front desk of the studio on campus. After being left up you walked in through the double doors of the dance studio where the music blasted at highest volume and your best friend’s shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden floor as he moved throughout the room swiftly executing his choreography with perfection. Hobi was a force to be reckoned with and dance was his element.

“You’re here,” his professional and focused aura peeled back as soon as he saw you enter the room, “I need a break anyway.”

You sat on the floor with your back resting against the wall of mirrors.

“I’m here and I cannot believe I witnessed such perfection,” you clapped your hands, “I still cannot believe my best friend is talented enough to finally snatch me away from poverty.”

“You know I got us,” he sat beside you before laying his head on your lap. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, “but let’s not forget you chose to be poor.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I can’t really help having idiotic parents,” you shrugged.

“I know baby,” he cooed. Hobi was quiet which was definitely out of his usual nature where he radiated a blinding luminescent orb around his being. He fidgeted with the strings on his sweatpants and opened his mouth only to say it again.

“Hoseok, you’re anxious and it’s making me anxious. Just say what you need to say.”

You combed your fingers through his damp hair, “I saw they, your parents, left a voicemail for you last week. Did you ever get back to them?”

“No,” you sighed, “and I don’t think I want to either. Everything they tried to do and were willing to do was truly wicked and unforgivable.”

“You never told me what happened.”

“It involves Jungkook, of course, and everything we did while in high school, Yeonjun’s party the summer before senior year.”

“The one he threw the week before school started?”

“Yes.”

“To this day I still can’t remember shit about that night.”

You chuckled, “a lot of our classmates don’t remember that night at all but I do. I remember every single detail.”

He didn’t say anything so you continued.

Yeonjun’s lake house was like a maze. There were numerous narrow halls with an array of doors carved on each wall and it was the same for every single corner you’ve turned into so far. The little bit of alcohol you had began clouding your mind and you felt more intoxicated than you actually were. Your kitten heeled black sandals clacking against the hardwood floor sought a way out of this elaborate labyrinth and back to what you originally came for.

The music playing just a floor below faded as you traveled deeper and deeper into the second floor, although you could still feel the booming bass vibrating right under your feet.

You just needed a bathroom—not because you actually needed to use it but because you needed to take a minute to yourself. . to breathe. Every other corner of this house including the back and front yards and even the fucking lake are already invaded by massive seas of drunk teenagers. Their voices were too loud, the music was headache inducing and the atmosphere adopted a stench of sweat and b.o.

After ditching the red solo cup on a nearby console table, you leaned against the off-white walls closing your to block out the dim lights making you a bit lightheaded.

Seriously, who even had this many fucking rooms in one house. You mumbled.

Sure, your family was wealthy but you were nothing like the Choi family. Your parents were both doctor’s devoting their time to the tiny private practice the two of them founded but on the other hand Yeonjun’s family came from a long lineage of businessmen and they practically owned a handful of the businesses for miles and miles around.

You weren’t jealous of all of the extra zeroes attached to his parents’ net worth, you and your own lived comfortably enough to not have any financial complaints. However, his parents were more liberal and they didn’t clip his wings. They weren’t clingy or demanding and they certainly did not push anything on him that he didn’t want to do. Your parents were not this way, they were controlling, and they told you what to do and eat, who to hang out with and date. With covetous thoughts you wondered if there would ever be a point in your life where you could feel as free as Yeonjun did.

Maybe now that you’ve turned eighteen things would be different. Doubtful—your birthday was a month ago and nothing has changed. Unfortunately, you still lived under their roof and relied on their money.

You removed your shoes and hesitated whether to travel back down stairs and out somewhere into the depth of the forest but immediately erased the thought from your mind as you looked down at your bare feet, mini skirt and crop top. This wasn’t really an appropriate outfit to go off exploring the woods in the middle of the night.

The minutes continued ticking by and finally you spotted a door at the end of the opposite hallway with a vertical rectangular piece of frosted glass cut right down the middle. Your feet traveled down the heated floors before your hand reached out for the black knob; turning it slowly.

It was a rooftop balcony.

The railing was wrapped in garden lights, while two sets of black cushioned reclining beach chairs sat around a propane fire pit. There was a massive grill to the other side, a bar that would put a nightclub to shame and a huge patio furniture set.

Your eyes thoroughly scanned your surroundings before landing on the boy leaning against the rail staring at the idiots swimming in the lake below. For the first time since you met him approximately four years ago his legs were exposed under the light washed knee length jorts, he wore a white t-shirt and a pair of black and white checkered vans. Still, right up the alley of what his style embodied but you had to admit you missed his signature chunky boots.

He still hadn’t noticed you so you walked up slowly, “I never thought I’d see you at a party like this,” you whispered in his ear before jumping right beside him.

The moon rays reflected a twinkle in his dark eyes, “Yeonjun and I are cool.”

“So, why aren’t you down stairs?”

“Why aren’t you?” his gaze traveled from your black painted toes all the way up to your eyes as if he was studying you intently.

“Too crowded,” you shrugged, “and not enough room to breathe.”

Jungkook looked ahead, his vision once again consumed by the dark green and brown shades of the dense forest once again, his side profile put artworks all across the world to shame.

“Yeah, same,” he added, “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret but parties aren’t really my thing.”

“No way. . I’ve seen you at every party for the past three years,” he dramatically rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice and you chuckled before continuing a bit softer, “is this your first one?”

Jungkook nodded, “first one I’ve been invited to and the first I’ve ever attended too.”

“We’re breaking records tonight aren’t we.”

“I guess I’m feeling a bit audacious.”

You sneered, “audacious? Big word.”

“Don’t tell me you think I’m stupid like the rest of our classmates. .”

“I did my internship in the main office last year which included sealing report cards and sending them off,” he walked to one of the chairs and laid on it placing both of his palms under his head. Was he flexing? Couldn’t be. “You’ve practically taken every AP class offered at our school and aced all of them too. It’s a miracle how you have managed.”

“What can I say?” he smiled and his cheeks rose like two loaves of bread in an oven, “I’m all brains baby.”

“Brains and beauty,” you corrected.

“I can’t also be ‘beauty’ when you’re here; living, breathing, being,” Jungkook is the personification of all of your desires and his aura worked hard to draw you closer and closer in his direction no matter how hard you worked to stay away, for his sake. Even when you tried to repel away from him the gravitational force he exuded called out your name and your tympanum became inundated by the wails of his being.

Only he lived in your thoughts.

The video-like memories you have shot of him throughout the years loop in your mind day and night. It was dizzying but you didn’t want it any other way.

“You are beautiful,” you let your thoughts roll off your tongue freely—too tipsy to care and too enthralled by his striking features to lie about what you truly felt. What you’ve been working so hard to suppress for the past few years. You were tired of hiding, so fucking tired, “with your big beautiful eyes, and your cherry lips and rosey cheeks and all of these tattoos,” you carried on, “oh, and those piercings. Don’t you know that Jungkook?”

He was flushed and his head became tilted down as he played around with the silver rings on his fingers, “know what?”

“That you are more beautiful than life itself.”

Jungkook scooched over on the chair and patted the empty space beside him inviting you to sit near him and you did. He laid on his side while his face rested on his left palm.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“I only had two sips of Hobi’s drink,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been on cranberry juice most of the night.”

“So this is not a case of drunken words you’ll forget once the sun comes up?” he leaned in closer and you could see the faint freckles dancing on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose.

His eyes sparkled projecting bright constellations never before seen in the heavens, “I could never forget anything about you.”

“You know I can’t believe that right?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve forgotten about me for the past year,” he smiled devilishly, “you haven’t spared me the time of day. I’ve missed your sneaky glances. The way you’d drop your pencil half way through algebra just to bat those pretty eyelashes in my direction kind of like you are now.”

“I didn’t do that just to look at you,” you clutched the thin gold chain hanging from his neck, guiding him closer to you, “I was just genuinely clumsy.”

“I’m just saying it’s funny how the pencil always fell in my direction,”

“Forget the pencil, Jungkook,” shivers cascaded down your back as his lips hovered over yours—his breath fanning against them. The aroma of lemon, and mint, with woody and balsamic undertones tickled your nostrils.

Jungkook shook his head, his eyes remained on your lips as you swiped your tongue along them, “it’s not about the pencil?”

“It’s not,” you added, tucking the few strands of hair that framed his face behind his ear. You just wanted to lay there with him forever, to be consumed by the warmth of his embrace, to lose yourself in the tenderness of his kisses, to wake up next to him tomorrow and also every single day after that.

“So just admit you wanted to lo—”

You lips landed on his and finally you remembered just how magical kissing Jungkook was except unlike that day in school the bathroom, today, it wasn’t a game. You were there on your own free will and you didn’t care who was around to see. The only concern clouding your mind was how much more of him you craved. The way your mouths moved each other made you feel inebriated, even more than alcohol ever could and you weren’t afraid to admit his lips had you addicted.

The silver metal hoop hung onto the corner of his lip felt cold, but so good in comparison to his heated kisses. Despite where you were or how many people currently invaded Yeonjun’s house it felt like you and Jungkook were the only two people on the entire planet. Just the two of you with your lips dancing on each other with the moon and the stars baring as your only witnesses.

Jungkook pulled away slowly—panting slightly, “please shut me up like that more often,” he held your face, resting his forehead on yours and pecking your lips continuously, “tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll always kiss my stupidity away.”

You nodded, “Jungkook, how about I kiss you like that always and forever. Not only because of your stupidity as you call it but just because.”

“Are you trying to confess something?”

He sat across from you on the beach chair taking your legs onto his lap, his soft hands massaged the soles of your feet. You swallowed back the guttural groan riding up your throat melting deeper into the chair due to his therapeutic touch. His fingers moved higher and higher up the length of your extremities, halting right above your knees, yet he continued kneading his fingers into your skin.

“Tell me.”

You hummed.

“I need you to be an open book with me. What are you looking to confess?”

Your eyes remained closed as he continued touching you gently—almost feather-like, “Jungkook, I can’t really think when you’re doing that. .”

“Should I stop?”

“No, please,” you pant.

He continued kneading your thighs, “tell me.”

From the tips of his fingers currents of electricity trickled onto your skin, “ah, fuck. .” you breathed, “I like you Jungkook. I like you. Okay?”

Hobi sat up beside you, now leaning against the mirrors as well. The sun has begun its journey towards the horizon and its rays peaked through the slightly drawn blinds, “wait so you guys. .?”

You nodded but said nothing else. That night had been a secret between you and Jungkook.

“On the roof of Yeonjun’s house during our senior year back to school bash?” The surprise in his tone was evident but you weren’t taken back by it all.

“Yes,” you smiled faintly, unwilling to hide the giddiness you felt from the memories of your time together from Jungkook, “it was our little secret. We swore to each other we wouldn’t say anything to anyone. That’s why I didn't mention anything to you before but obviously someone saw and word got out that same night.”

Hobi sighed, “don’t tell me another fight broke out between him and your dumbass ex-boyfriend.”

You shook your head, “this time it was different. I wasn’t scared of what others thought anymore. In that moment I decided I would stop caring. I wanted to stop hurting him,” your clammy hands began to shake slightly and Hobi placed his palms on top of them to stop their trembling, “that night after the party we rode around all night aimlessly. Enjoying each other’s company and truly I was the happiest I had ever been all my life. Everything went to shit as soon as I made it home and walked in through the door. My parents waited for me to get in, they sat me down and began rambling about my change in behavior and how different I had become.”

He hummed and you took that as a sign to continue.

“As soon as I sat on the chair that night they slid over my mom’s phone and there was a picture of Jungkook and I kissing on one of the longue chairs. I swear I had dejavu from freshman year.”

“Did you ever find who took the picture?”

“I never did but I always figured it was one of my ex’s minions or something,” you shrugged, “to be honest, trying to figure it out was the last thing on my mind. They started talking and talking rambling on about my personality change and rebelliance and how Jungkook was the cause of it or some shit.”

“How did they even come up with that?”

“I asked myself the same thing,” you snickered, just thinking about it even now makes your blood boil, “but it didn’t matter. Being eighteen didn’t matter; they just wanted to keep us away from each other at all costs. They made all types of threats to make me press charges and file a restraining order which I obviously refused. Then, they vowed to make his life hell if I didn’t stay away and I didn’t want to find out what they meant so I decided to comply and stay away.”

“Okay, now I’m beginning to understand why you moved in with my family half way through senior year,” his thumb rubbed circles on the dorsal side of your hand, “were they mad when you left? I used to ask my mom if your folks ever reached out but she always avoided the question.”

“They were livid but nothing they could ever say or do would ever make me stay in that place.”

“Did they manage to leave Jungkook alone?”

“Well, after the big cut-off Jungkook and I were never able to find our way back to each other,” your voice was low, almost as if you couldn’t hear yourself it just wouldn’t be true, “and I moved in with you and your mom and I completely blocked them out of my life.”

“Good. I’m glad you ditched them,” he pinched your cheeks, “you deserve better than them and their money’s no good to you anyway.”

“I just wish I would’ve kept in contact with him. Maybe tell him what was going on or something,” you scratched the back of your neck obviously frustrated at your lack of communication skills as a stupid eighteen year old. You were such an idiot—why couldn’t you open your fucking mouth?

“We all make bad decisions at one point in our lives but you had no choice, baby. You were sandwiched into the wall one bad choice up against another. You made the best decision you could with the circumstances at hand,” he snuggled closer to you, wrapping one hand around your shoulder, “don’t beat yourself up over it please.”

“I love you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you more.”

Today Jungkook’s highway of thoughts has eased and though you liked how calm the morning has been you also kind of missed the feeling of his lingering presence—almost as if your own shadow was missing.

You despised waking up towards the early hours of the afternoon but today you couldn’t seem to peel yourself out of of your bed, until finally you couldn’t fathom the idea of napping your day away—plus couldn’t do that even if you wanted to because Jungkook and Jimin would be over in about thirty minutes to begin working on Mr. Kim’s project.

Jimin had been the middle man in this entire set-up, he had both of your numbers so he took it upon himself to text the two of your separately (because he knew you and Jungkook were physically impossible of initiating a social exchange amongst yourselves), and get you both on board with a neutral territory to meet at. Of course, Jimin’s idea of a neutral territory involved a place where he could catch glimpses of his ex strutting around which meant your apartment was his ideal meeting spot and although his thoughts hadn’t revealed anything so far you just knew Jungkook wasn’t ecstatic about this whole arrangement.

After taking a quick shower, getting dressed and setting up a plate of sliced fruits and a couple bags of snack size chips and cookies you heard a light knock on your door.

Taking a deep breath you turned the knob before pulling the door open. It was Jungkook and as always he looked breathtaking. You were beginning to think comfort was his go-to because yet again, he wore sweats and a simple t-shirt—tattoos still peeking out at you, his bottom lip still pierced with the same small silver hoop, hair half up half down and his book bag slung on his left shoulder.

Removing his headphones he stared back at you as you continued ogling him, “hey. .” he greeted in his deep tone.

Why is she staring at me like that?

Do I have a stain or something?

He looked down at his shirt but when he saw nothing he just stared back at you tilting his head slightly.

“Hi,” you stepped out of his way and he finally crossed over the threshold into your apartment, “you’re the first one here so we’re just waiting on Jimin to make it before we begin. Please sit anywhere.”

He nodded.

The apartment wasn’t necessarily big but it wasn’t small either. An open floor plan made up the space between the kitchen and living room area with a rectangular island separating the two rooms. Immediately to the right of that was the door leading to Hobi’s room, then your room sat at the end of that hall just a couple feet away and the bathroom was just across from your door.

Yet even as you walked towards the kitchen and Jungkook made strides towards the love seat in the living room you felt like the two of you were cramped in a tiny box with the temperature hiked to the highest setting. God, there were about a million things you could say or offer him but nothing could ever mend his broken heart and that was enough to keep your lips sealed tight.

Where the fuck is Jimin?

I don’t know if I can be here alone with her for much longer.

And it’s so fucking hot. I’m gonna pass out.

Fuck, you knew it. He’s upset. Though you already figured coming here was probably hard for him, you didn’t imagine it would hurt you as much as it did to actually know how much he despised being in your vicinity, but it did.

Jungkook sat rather stiffly on the couch, bag still slung on his back as if he was ready to leave, staring off into the distance while his leg bounced up and down anxiously. Strolling past him silently you nearned the thermostat and cranked the AC up higher.

That’ll literally fix nothing at all.

You turned around taking a seat on one of the accent chairs near the row of windows on the opposite end of the living room. If it wasn’t for the invasion of his thoughts, the silence would be killing you softly.

“Have you heard anything from Jimin?” he finally looked in your direction but not into your eyes instead they lingered lower—in the direction of your legs. The hunger displayed in his eyes took you back to the night before when he moaned your name so sweetly.

“Nothing,” you tapped your screen to show him the lack of texts and placing the phone back on your thigh, his gaze followed almost like he was hypnotized.

You would give anything to hear him just one more time—Fuck, just once more.

He cleared his throat, snapping out of those sinful thoughts cooking up in your head, “yeah, same. And I’ve texted him like three times.”

“I’m thinking that little shit bailed even though he planned this whole thing,” you were scared to form your thoughts into actual words, “do you want us to start or would you rather wait for him?”

He breathed out almost exasperated—damn, you should’ve kept the suggestion to yourself. You were about to take it all back but then he finally spoke up, “We’re both here now. I think we can begin and then fill him in. . If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the best we can do,” did he just willingly comply with staying alone with you, “I’ll go get my notebook. Gimme one second.”

“Okay.”

Right. . Okay. Just here to get our work done. That’s all. That is all. Yeah.

You sat beside him on the couch startling him just a bit—he seemed tense, “so we’re supposed to pick a movie, and match no less than three scenes to at least one of the emotions listed.”

“I say we do the very minimum and pick the movie I’m sure we’ve all watched,” he asked, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook.

“Titanic?” you asked.

“No, The Blind Side,” he scoffed, “do we really want to sit here for one hundred hours just to recap the eternity that is Titanic?”

“But the emotions for Titanic are so easy to dissect; we have happiness, love, and jealousy right off the bat,” you argued, “the assignment is practically done for us already.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to do Titanic. We need to stand out. Be different.”

“It’s an intro to writing class. I vote for taking it easy, weren’t you just moaning about taking it easy anyway?” your tone was a bit condescending you’d admit but the way he scanned your figure was addicting. There was nothing you craved more in this world than to have his gaze drink you in as if you were his favorite drink.

“I wasn’t moaning.”

I was last night though.

You swallowed hard, biting your tongue and holding yourself back from going along with begging him to moan the way you’d heard him do so the night before. His husk groans so low and sweet, so fucking sweet, “But you were.”

“It was a suggestion. There was no moaning involved.”

“Well, maybe if you did moan I would cave and take your suggestion,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could ever stop them.

He smirked, “so you just wanna hear me moan.”

Don’t smirk.

Eternally mad at her, remember?

The internal conflict raging within him gave you at least a little bit of hope. As you mapped out the field of his thoughts you figured he wanted nothing to do with but distance himself; to be cold and standoffish but he also revealed he wanted you. He wanted you near—to hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It was confusing and headache inducing but you liked that you still lived in his mind the same way he lived in yours.

You shrugged, “maybe I do.”

“Please, don’t,” his eyes finally met yours.

Look away.

But he didn’t and you were glad he didn’t.

“Do you want me to beg Jungkook?” you purred low and slow—the translation intended was desperation and you hoped he understood exactly what you were hinting at. You were tired of hiding behind your emotions.

She’s a fucking pied piper and I’m the snake hyptonized by sweet song and mindlessly slithering towards her.

Yes, Jungkook. Come closer, come to me. If only he could listen to your thoughts, this would be a whole lot easier.

Fucking one way telepathy.

“Uh,” there was a mere blank look plastered on his features. His pupils were blown and a soft tint of rose dusted his cheeks. It was as if your words had sucker punched him and he was still processing the hit.

You moved closer to him on the couch, placed your hand on his thighs to balance yourself as you drew closer to his ear, “please, Jungkook. Please, I need to hear you moan again.”

Fuck.

Fuck!

He groaned and the honeyed husk tone sent a trail of goosebumps up your thighs resulting in your panties becoming moist, “please.”

“Jungkook, I want you,” it was the first time in years you’d heard those words adjacent to his name and fuck did it feel good.

Fuck it.

His calloused hands were now on your waist and he began guiding you to lay on the loveseat before your hand landed on his chest to stop him.

“I said I want you,” you sat him back down before kneeling in-between his legs. The fit of his sweats got tighter, lifting and taking on the shape of a tent, “you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment so that means I’m in charge here today.”

Tell her. It’s easy.

Tell her you want her too, you fucking idiot.

He never vocalized it but you didn’t mind—knowing the thought pranced around on his mind was more than enough for you.

“Are you okay with taking these off?” he complied, taking his sweats off swiftly, letting the pool at his ankles. Jungkook is fucking big and you were taken back by the sight, “good boy,” you cooed.

His head fell back on the headrest while his eyes were shut tightly and his breathing became uneven. Oh! He likes that. He likes being called a good boy; you made a mental note to call him that again if you find yourself in a similar predicament.

You raked your nails along his inner thigh, “Jungkook?”

He hummed.

“What do you fantasize about?” you laid your head on his thigh, his dick just a couple inches away from your face and truly all you wanted was to take him all in your mouth.

“Alot of things.”

You reached up, taking his length into your hold and he winced at the contact as you began moving your hand up and down once and once again, “I need more details than that.”

“I think of. .” his words became jumbled in his throat as you continued your very mellow and teasing touch, “of you doing, ah fuck, of you doing all these things to me.”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head at his semi-confession, “Jungkook, have you touched yourself while you think of me, hm?”

Of course, you already knew. You’d heard it yourself but you just loved seeing him become so affected and so sensitive as a result of your lewd utters.

Your palms traveled up to his pink tip and began rubbing circles with your thumb painting it white with his precum.

“Good boys don’t touch themself.”

Jungkook’s mouth remained agape but there were no words communicated instead he formed a sort of soft whimper, and that was the kind of motivation your body needed to go into overdrive.

You wanted. . No, needed to rid yourself of these suffocating ass fucking clothes, you needed to touch yourself—to release that tension aching so painfully in between your legs. But you didn’t. Today was not about you.

“I know. .” he groaned, digging his nails onto the black leather couch, “but when I have you invade my thoughts,” he paused looking for all of the right words, “I just can’t control myself.”

“Hm, seems like I have a lot to live up to compared to your fantasies,” you kissed the head enveloped in your hand before swiping your tongue along his shaft and he hissed.

His saccharine noises should be made into a playlist so that you could be able to replay them over and over everywhere you go but especially when you lay under the covers of your bed in the late hours of the night. The only thoughts occupying your mind would be the compositions of his lustful cries as your fingers worked diligently to get yourself off.

It was so tempting to just allow his hands to continue traveling down your stomach and waist, a few more inches and his fingers could be at the exact location where your body screamed out for his attention.

You wanted it so bad.

You tutted while clicking your tongue, “sit back, Jungkook,” you removed his warm feeling away from your lower back and placed them on his knees before patting them softly, “and keep your hands to yourself. Yeah?”

“It’s really hard to,” he said, “nearly impossible when you’re working so hard to get me off and you’re just sitting there squirming whenever I talk about touching you. Cause the thought has lingered around in your mind, right?”

“Jungkook, this is not how tonight is supposed to go.”

“Then, how is it supposed to go?”

Your hand began moving up and down his cock, pumping him once again before you felt the corners of your mouth beginning to sting as you wrapped your lips around him. It was painful. . Good painful though. With each passing second you bobbed your head on his cock working to take him inch by inch but no matter how much you tried, it was nearly impossible.

His hand snaked around your neck aiding you, sinking himself deeper into the warmth of your mouth. With strings of saliva streaming down your chin, puffy lips, heated skin and a sort of fucked out look in your eyes you continued the repetition.

Seeing him lose himself under the ministrations of your touch and mouth was overwhelming and drove you to the verge of nearly succumbing to the peaking orgasm lurking close by. Instead you diverted your mind to what you were doing instead of what you felt. Placing one your hand around the base of his balls massaging them into your touch, while you put firm pressure with your thumb on the perineum—and that’s when you saw the explosion of fireworks erupt in his eyes while his thighs began to shake.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Her mouth is—fuck!

“I’m so close,” a needy whimper escaped his lips, “please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Please.”

You complied, nearly choking on his cock. The feeling of being nearly rid of your ability to breathe was addicting and yes, if tonight were to be your last day on earth it would be a pleasure to die with Jungkook’s dick in your mouth.

“I’ve been a good boy,” he cried out, “can I please cum?”

Been such a good boy. So good.

You hummed in approval right before he spilled into your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it before turning to see his splayed out body—all limp and tired.

After wiping the corners of your mouth you sat beside him on the couch. Your knees were red and stung just a bit but honestly you could do it all over again—all night if you could. Slightly, opening his eyes he looked down, placing a kiss on each knee.

“I never thought we would-” he paused momentarily, “we would do something like this ever again.”

“Really?” your voice became hoarse, “because I’ve thought about it for a long long time now.”

“You have?”

“I have,” you continued, “and I’d like to think you do as well but if you’re ever ready to actually admit what you truly feel you know where I’ll be.”

I do want you. So bad.

And my feelings for you have always remained the same. I still have feelings for you, I feel everything for you. I always have and always will.

He didn’t say a word but simply offered a sly smile before slipping away to get himself together in the bathroom.

… But you were not disappointed.

He needed time and that’s okay. You’d be more than happy to give him the time to dissect this peculiar relationship the two of you have. . developed. It’s the least you could do after all these years.

In your heart you just hope he finds his way back to you.

“So you sucked him dry and then you both continued to work on the project like nothing happened?” Jimin asked; his head laid on Hobi’s lap. Yes, they were back together. This was apparently the reason why he had missed the project session the night before.

“We were kinda forced to when your ass was MIA from the very meeting you set-up.”

He rolled his eyes, “nobody forced you to suck his dick.”

“Fuck you, Jimin.”

“Why don’t you begin by fucking Jungkook instead.”

“Jungkook and I aren’t fucking anytime soon,” you sighed spinning around on your desk chair. The ceiling seemed to come crashing down on you even as you thought of gravity of your fucked up reality, “it’s like I can feel that he still feels something for me but he just won’t vocalize it.”

Hobi caressed the apples of Jimin’s pink cheeks, stroking them lightly with his thumb. They were the picture perfect image of love—whenever they were not fighting of course.

“So you sucked his dick at the expense of what?” Hobi inquired.

“I really just wanted him in my fucking mouth,” you shrugged not really wanting to scramble for any other explanation because the truth of the matter is all of you would always calls out for Jungkook whether you wanted to or not.

“Oh, baby,” Hobi abandoned his place on your bed and kneeled in front of you holding your hands in his, “while I support all forms of slut revelations and tendencies as your best friend it is within my obligation to require you to tend after your heart.”

You nodded.

“Jungkook is alluring, captivating, mysterious and absolutely handsome—” Jimin cleared his throat behind him, but he ignored his boyfriend and proceeded, “and the two of you have a lot of history both good and bad but you have to understand what happened in the past is yesterday’s event. Jungkook can break your heart or hurt you in any way and it’ll be just as fucked up no matter what happened between the two of you back in high school. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hobi was right but how could you shut out the part of your brain which justified every single way Jungkook could tear you apart? Underneath the spark; shining bright in your eyes every single time he appeared in your line of vision you knew you deserved his wrath for every inconvenience you had a role in while inserted into his path.

“Don’t just say it. Mean it.”

The room felt smaller, suffocating, colder and Hobi’s words rolled around in your head in every single direction. The three of you were sprawled around your full bed watching a random movie Jimin had picked out. You sat up against the headboard while the two of them laid on their stomachs facing the television hung on your wall. You weren’t alone but your bed felt empty and as you looked off to your right you couldn’t help but be transported back to last night when you and Jungkook finally settled on the Titanic.

The tragic telling of two people who found their way to each other against all circumstances and the barrier of societal norms and expectations that stood in-between them. Of course, aside from Leo unnecessarily dying in the final act this could be a retelling of pinpoints on your relationship with Jungkook. You liked each other, your parents were against it, you lived in the moment and you let your heart lead a way here and there but as soon as the iceberg (your parents, your ex, and even you) became introduced as the antagonist the two of you found yourselves swimming in an ocean of heartbreak and despair.

You would always assume responsibility for every single way you hurt Jungkook in the past but if one thing must be crystal clear is that you also love him. You did back then and you do now—the only difference is that back then you were looking to please all of those around you and you suppress your feelings in the deepest pocket of your heart but you wanted to liberate it all. You were finally ready to listen to your heart.

It was a composition to a beautiful song, one so loud it courses through your very being, awakening your nerves and causing your thoughts to explode into a frenzy.

You wanted him here with you. Snuggling into you sharing longing looks and deprived touches.

You wanted him to be open and push all of his fears away.

You wanted him to realize that you were different now. Things were different and you would treat him so well.

I need to talk to her. Yeah.

Almost as if his brain and his phone were wired together you heard a ding go off right beside you.

‘Hey, can we please talk?’

Your heart sank because in your experience that sentence never led to a good thing. Never.

‘Sure. When are you free?’

‘Right now.’

‘Hobi and Jimin are home. You can come over if you don’t mind some company or we can meet somewhere else?’

‘Come to my apartment in 5.’

‘K.’

Jittery was the exact word you’d use to describe Jungkook at soon as he opened up the door to his apartment and stepped aside to allow you in. The length of his finger had a slight tremble and his eyes were blown wide.

You hadn’t really seen him like that in a while.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

He nodded, “yeah, just a bit stressed with everything going on plus I’ve had like five energy drinks in the past five hours.”

“What’s got you so stressed?” you asked standing before him, you felt hesitant to sit anymore. I mean you did have his dick in your mouth like less than twenty-four hours ago but you didn’t want to push it and you certainly did not want to invade his personal space.

“Too many things, honestly. School for one. .” he ran a hand through his hair taking a brief second to determine exactly what he wanted to reveal to you, “work study plus now I'll be co-coaching the swim team as well.”

“You’re headstrong Jungkook,” you offered, “I’m sure you’ll do amazingly even with this hectic schedule you are so determined to take on.”

“I went to this psychic once and she told me my ambition to take on everything would lead to my demise,” he chuckled airily, “I’m beginning to think she was right.”

“Psychics are bullshit. Who says you can’t have cake and chocolate ice cream too?”

“Right,” you hadn’t noticed before but casual was Jungkook’s new staple. Seems like he has drifted away from his black boots and particularly dark toned outfits. You liked that version of him quite a lot, although you hadn’t really shown it in the past. However, you also liked the version of him standing before you where he maximized comfort and migrated to mostly tones of white, gray and nudes, “of course you would make that comparison. Cake and chocolate ice cream have always been your go to dessert combination.”

“Isn’t it everyones?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “for example my nutritionist might say it’s too sugary.”

“Well, fuck the psychic and that nutritionist of yours too,” Jungkook’s laugh is just like the rest of him—inviting, sweet and genuine. When he laughs, it’s addictive enough to make you want to make him laugh again and again, just so you can hear that sound and see her giggly smile as much as possible, “forreal, but also just remember you gotta just live in the moment, don't worry about tomorrow or even yesterday. Today is all that matters.”

“I definitely agree but funny enough I kinda wanted to talk to you about what happened last night..” He cleared his throat, “on the couch of your apartment. Well you and Hobi’s apartment.”

You looked down at your dusty white converse before finding his eyes once again, “what exactly did you want to talk about?”

Go on. Go on.

“We’re good right? Are you okay after—well, you know,” was he worried about hurting you after you suck him off yesterday? God, you could suck his dick all over again and then once more after that or preferably until your jaw locks and your knees dissipate. Though, that still wouldn’t be enough to extinguish the burning desire in the pit of your stomach.

“What exactly are you asking?” you took a step towards him, “shouldn’t I be the one making sure we’re good especially considering all of our history together?”

“Forget that.”

Don’t bring it up, please. Just forget about it.

“I can’t Jungkook,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure we’re okay and I wanna apologize for what happened. Please, let me do it. I don’t want you to resent me for the rest of your life because of it.”

“There’s no need to. I forgave you long ago. The cold stares and snarky comments were always just a front,” he confessed, “I forgave you the second after everything went down.”

“And I thank you for that but I still need to do this. I need to get it off my chest,” you reached for his hand; the warmth of his hold settled your nerves and finally you were able to go on, “Please, forgive me Jungkook. For going through with that dare and kissing you in the bathroom. I did want to kiss you but I should’ve never let them take a picture; it only made things worse for you. I’m sorry for not comforting you after your fight with my idiot ex, although I wanted to. I was scared but you were too and it was my fault so I should’ve been there. I’m sorry for ghosting you after we spent the night together at Yeonjun’s party—my parents, they gave me an ultimatum and I was just a high school senior still very dependent on them and I know that’s not an excuse but I managed to make it one back then. Most of all I’m so fucking sorry for not reaching out to you sooner and making things right. I just hope it isn’t too late now.”

His hands abandoned yours and instead he leaned over before cupping your face, “I told you already. I forgave you for everything a long time ago.”

“I appreciate your kind heart and forgiving nature, Jungkook,” you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in the process, “but still I needed you to know how truly sorry I am.”

“Please, stop apologizing,” he sighed, “the past is the past and you have no reason to be apologizing to me right now.”

“You keep saying that but I did and I do,” Jungkook’s stare was comforting; his eyes felt like embers burning your skin under the sun rays shining bright during the mid-afternoon sun, “and I will continue to do so at any given minute. I need to make up for all of that lost time—every single minute; every hour I’ve let you slip through my fingers. You deserve to be treasured, loved and cherished for the rest of your days and I will do just that if you allow me to.”

“What exactly are you asking me?”

“I’m simply asking that we allow things to ride out and perhaps the tide might just take us somewhere beautiful.”

He giggled, “do these sonnets just live in that pretty little head of yours?”

“My head is more than just pretty,” you challenge.

“I know that,” this is the giddiest you’ve ever seen Jungkook be. In recent times he had adopted a sort of hard shell, which he often wore like a shield but today as he leaned on his kitchen island with his head propped up on his palms he looked elated, “I just like the way you describe the potential of there being an. . us.”

“Do you like it enough to give things a chance? Maybe even go on a date?” the tremble in your extremities gave away just how truly nervous you felt, though you tried your best to hide it. You’d never asked anyone out before but for Jungkook you were willing to make the first move.

She’s so poetic with her affinity for love. I like the way her eyes light up when she talks about us being together.

“How about tomorrow?”

“I’m free tomorrow.”

The following day was a blur overshadowed by a nimbostratus cloud which swept in a vicious squall with gusts so powerful your room was left a literal mess as you spent hours prior to Jungkook picking up frantically looking for the perfect date outfit.

Now, you sat in your little casual red dress in the passenger seat of the car Jungkook borrowed from his best friend. Your balmy sat atop your thighs and you tapped your fingers lightly on your heated skin.

The night sky was beautiful—drowning with a million of bright stars and a moon so illuminating it spotlighted your path. Nightlife here roared with vibrancy and the sidewalks were congested with people bar hopping or looking for dinner spots among other things. This scene had great capability in finally claiming your attention away from Jungkook and his sinful thoughts but it was hard. Every single image Jungkook painted within the beauty of his mind blasted in your head seemingly like a framed art piece in a gallery. Except, the only difference was that roaming around a museum was peaceful, whereas Jungkook's wandering thoughts made you quiver and sent glacial shivers down your spine.

For the duration of the ten minute car ride he’s use the weapon known as his mind and managed to peel your clothes off, re-imagining the way your mouth moved on his cock, then, within seconds he painted a picture of what it would be like to fuck you against the hood of his car. You’d admit the depiction of you against the cold metal bumper with your dress hiked up to your waist, while he pounds into you relentlessly really was more than enough to ignite (with the man sitting behind the wheel; eyes hyper focused on the road ahead; and his tattooed knuckles gripping the steering wheel), about a million fantasies you wanted to fulfill with his assistance.

But the urge to have the heat of his touch roam every inch of your body became abated when Jungkook parked his car and you found yourselves sitting across from each other in the red booth of a seafood restaurant on the pier. The incandescent bulb overhead did very little to irradiate the space between you and yet Jungkook still looked as radiant as ever. The muffled and incessant chatter of the patrons scattered throughout the establishment became similar to the buzzing of bumble bees and truly you weren’t really too sure you could make out conversations they engaged in.

You were kind of nervous and although you’d hope it wasn’t too obvious you couldn’t help the way your eyes scanned the room and your body failed to comply with the simple order of sitting still.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook sat up on the leather seat and looked off outside the glass window drinking in the vicious waves as they crashed against the golden shore.

You look beautiful every single day.

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I see your signature black boots have finally made a comeback,” you followed his eyes out to get a view of the roaring sea, “I thought you might’ve grown out of them.”

This look—tonight was the epitome of teenage Jungkook core and you couldn’t help but savor the brief stroll down memory lane. Of course, back in high school you’d always had a tiny little crush on him and while you worked to get over it; that was not an issue today. You were gawking—practically drooling at how amazing his biceps looked under the sleeves of his white tee, his black jeans hugged his thick thighs and his hair was tied half up half down and of course those damned black boots.

“They’re my secret weapon. I just keep them in the back of my closet for special occasions.”

I also know they were always your favorite look on me.

“In that case, I’m honored that a night with me is considered a special occasion enough to bring out the boots,” Jungkook finally turned towards you, his eyes shining bright like jewels even in the shitty lighting.

“I figured it fit our little slice of history perfectly.”

“Don’t tell me these were the exact ones you wore that day?

“They are the exact same ones.”

“I thought you would have gotten rid of them with everything that transpired,” you whispered; talking about the past still felt taboo.

“I contemplated that many times,” he shrugged then proceeded in a timorous voice, “but I just couldn’t. There is an abundance of bad memories attached to them but the memory of my first kiss trumps all negatives.”

“Your first kiss?” Your shock was evident and for a second you had to look around just to make sure you weren‘t too loud but the people around the two of you were too into their own conversations. They were oblivious to the little corner you and Jungkook occupied towards the back of the restaurant—in your own little world, “I-I was your first kiss?”

He nodded before taking a small sip of his water.

“Jungkook?”

He looked at you, “what?”

“Are you being one-hundred percent serious. . I was your first kiss?”

Jungkook pressed his lips into a tight line causing his cheeks to become impaled by his chasmic dimples; then, he closed his eyes briefly before taking a deep breath, “I was a loser in high school. Of course, I was spared a few friends but in the ‘love’ department I was lacking severely so naturally no one was ever interested in pursuing anything romantic with me. Until, that afternoon when the girl I’d been crushing on finally walked up to me in the bathroom.”

“If I could go back in time and embrace the feelings that I had for you, Jungkook just to tell you how I actually felt I’d do it in a heartbeat,” your heart beat rhythmically in your chest and quickly you began feeling fatigued as if your air supply would be cut off if you didn’t peel back every single one of your layers and confess exactly how you felt.

“If I could go back in time and tell you what I actually felt despite the consequences I’d also do it in a heartbeat,” he murmured, taking your hands in his.

“Good evening and welcome to Under the Sea, can I get you started on anything tonight?” the server approached. Her hair was tied up messily and she wore a black polo and black pants while carrying around a small notepad and pencil in her hand. She seemed friendly but a bit overwhelmed—though, you couldn’t really blame her, this place is leaning a whole lot towards chaos.

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Jungkook said, a fib of course, the two of you had been too busy talking to scan the menu before she came over, “I’ll take the Cioppino. Anything looking appetizing to you?”

“I think I’ll take the Paella.”

“And for drinks?” she asked scribbling away on her notepad.

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“Same here,” the two of you handed back the menu, “thank you.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she smiled before walking off towards the kitchen.

The rest of the night at Under the Sea was brief and while you and Jungkook indulged in small talk here and there the two of you were starving and more concerned about getting something in your stomach. After leaving the busy restaurant Jungkook led you in the opposite direction of the parking lot towards the small park across the street from the beach. Right under the live oak tree there was a blanket laid out with numerous flameless candles flickering their feeble light around the very spot. As you got closer you noticed the basket sitting next to the blanket on the grass and the rose petals scattered around.

“Jungkook. .” You became stunned at the attention to detail of the man before you. Everything looked so beautiful, “you did this all? W-when did you even have the time to set this up?”

“I set everything up before our date and I know some of the workers from the restaurant and asked them to check in every once in a while and bring our snacks out like five minutes ago so nothing would spoil.”

“You prepared snacks for us?”

“More like I cut-up some fruits.”

“In that case I’m judging your knife skills.”

“Not too harshly though,” he tittered softly and airily. It mimicked the comforting tunes of lullabies, “come one, let’s sit. I have some things lined up for us tonight.”

You sat beside him on the velvet fabric, you folded your legs to your side and used one of the spare blankets to cover your lap. Before you there were two medium sized tabletop easels and a selection of paints and brushes.

Jungkook removed the white button up he’d left unbuttoned and kept on the white wifebeater. For the first time you finally had a full view of his sleeve; on full display. The black traces filled in with colorful shades adorned every inch of his right arm all the way down to his wrist. You had the urge to reach out and trace every single pattern but you held back—you and Jungkook were good but this is the beginning stage; first you have to dip your toe in and test the waters.

She’s staring at my arms. . Be calm.

Don’t flex. . Don’t flex.

Dammit.

He flexed, reaching up to brush a stand of hair back and out of his face.

You smiled, “so, what’s supposed to be our inspiration for painting tonight?”

“Each other. You paint me and I’ll paint you.”

“Jungkook, I’m a lousy painter,” you whined.

“The point isn’t for it to be good,” Jungkook began brushing soft strokes on the canvas, “it’s about the creative process. . the ideas that your mind interprets into art.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you scoffed.

“Art didn’t always come easy to me.”

“How did you know this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?” you finally picked up a brush and squeezed a dash of paint on the wooden palette, allowing your hands to work freely—to create.

“The first time I drew anything for others to see was in high school,” his eyes were gleaming with thoughts of reminisce, “Ms. Julie, reached out to me sophmore year, said she needed my help designing the yearbook cover for the seniors that year.”

“I remember the cover that year,” Jungkook looked over at you and there was a layer of joy featured on his face, “it was absolutely beautiful and I also remember every single cover after that being just as amazing.”

“Thank you,” his cheeks were a crisp crimson now, “I designed all of the year books every year after that as well. Actually, I still help Ms. Julie from time to time even now.”

“That’s amazing. It’s truly a gift that your hands possess and I’m so glad we get to see what they create.”

Jungkook stopped his movements all together, his gaze no longer set on the easel, instead he looked downward, his cheeks still burned bright, maybe a little more now than before and by the paced heaves of his chest he seemed to be calculating his every breath.

“Thank thank you,” he stammered.

“And just so you know I intend to shower you with compliments, so get used to it.”

He beamed, “what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your passions?”

You shrugged, “Hm, I was never really good at anything back in highschool and while I knew I had to do something. I had a really tough time figuring things out.”

“But then. .”

“Then, I did an internship at the daycare on campus the summer before classes started and I realized how much I love being around all of the kids,” you said, “and at that moment I automatically knew what my major would be, come the fall semester.”

“Funny how life works right?”

“One-hundred percent.”

The cool draft of the expeditious night swept by softly allowing you to leave behind the once scorching afternoon. Right now, you became a resident in your very own slice of heaven and in your head the only people around for miles were you and Jungkook. For the past thirty minutes, the two of you haven’t crossed many words, you were too focused on contextualizing the perfect artwork—one that’ll remind him of you wherever he sees it.

Now, you were not an artist by any means but you tried nevertheless. The best interpretation of him you could come up with was to depict the sheer contrast between the different versions of himself.

The two were slightly different yet when meshed together working symbiotically to make Jungkook the perfect mixture of tranquil, mesmerizing and lulling all in one.

Your canvas was split in two—one side you painted baby blue with music notes substituting the clouds in what would be the bright afternoon sky and and a lousy excuse for a guitar sitting on the bottom. This was the version of him that lived inside and the one only a few people got to see. His mysterious aura and great passion for music. Then, on the opposite side you painted a black background in combination with it there was an abundance of colorful art supplies scattered all throughout. This one represented what he chooses to show and what many saw on the outside on his day-to-day course.

After some finishing touches you moved back on taking one last look at your work, “okay. . Here, I tried my best but it’s not your face. Just some things that remind me of you.”

“Let’s see,” he hummed excitedly, waiting for you to turn the canvas around.

“Be nice, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

When Jungkook was excited there were a lot of distinctive actions that communicated with his body and expressions. His eyes lit up like the explosions of fireworks on a summer night; his shoulders were raised up past his jawline and his cheeks burned bright.

“It’s not good, okay,” you beamed at his cheerfulness; it was cute how thrilled he was.

“It’s perfect,” he leaned closer to sneak a glance, “come on. Let me see.”

“Fine,” turning the canvas around felt like an invasion of privacy, although everything on it was solely about him, it was still like a clear window into your soul and how you saw him.

You’d never been this vulnerable before with anyone. Never.

He scanned the explosion of colors sitting in-between your hands. Jungkook’s lips curved up while the corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement.

“This is amazing and absolutely the best depiction of everything I love.”

“Don’t lie to me, Professor Picasso.”

“I don’t lie about art,” he reached for it and you placed it in his hands, “and this is a masterpiece.”

You scoffed.

“I’m serious,” he argued, “this is going up on my art wall. Front and center.”

“This better be the only thing on your art wall,” you muttered.

Jungkook finally grabbed his canvas holding it close to his chest. . Well, as close as he could due to the wet paint, “Here’s mine.” he still had not turned it around for you to see.

“You know you actually have to turn it for me to take a look.”

He chuckled, “I know but nervousness is contagious. . Just gimme one second.” He took a deep breath before slowly turning the canvas in your direction and there you were. Same facial features, hair style and red dress you had chosen for the night. The talent his fingers convey is jaw dropping. It is evident Jungkook is an amazing artist through and through.

“Jungkook. .” You knew he was good; you’d seen the covers he had designed for the highschool yearbook back then, still, that didn’t prepare you for this in the slightest bit to see yourself from his point of view, “I don’t have an art wall but this will definitely be the beginning of one in my apartment.”

He guffawed while passing his painting over.

“I’m serious,” you continued, now closely examining his precise attention to detail. He got every single attribute down to the smallest scars and birthmarks, “your talent is impeccable. Just look at how amazing this is. It’s actually not fair at all. I want mine back.”

“No way! You can’t take back gifts you have already given away to someone.”

“Yes, I can,” you argued, “especially if my gift looks like shit next to yours.”

“It most definitely doesn’t. I already told you, I love it and it’s going up on my wall and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he leaned closer, placing a soft peck on your forehead and clutching the painting tight in his grasp.

You groaned admitting defeat, “but I am expecting a lot more paintings from you.”

“Always.”

Of course. As long as you’re beside me, and even if some day for some reason you aren’t, you’ll continue to be my muse forever.

His muse. You love the sound of that.

The sound of the pouring rain beat rhythmically on the glass window. For the next few hours your bed was your haven and Jungkook’s bare arms were your form of a warm blanket.

Although the clock on your night stand marked four o’clock, the day was as dark as night and as the sun refused to come out to play the dark nimbus clouds invaded the stretch of the expansive sky, refusing to allow even a single ray of light to illuminate your bedroom.

The power had gone out but the two of you had lit up some candles in various locations of your room. You were both in your underwear, semi-sticky with a thin layer of sweat coating your entire body as a result of the air conditioner no longer being on.

Even in the heat the two of you couldn’t untangle yourselves from each other.

“We’ve been laying here in the heat for hours,” his fingers raked over your shoulder and down to the middle of your back.

“There’s nowhere we can go to cool down for the day. I’m afraid these four walls are it for us today,” you complained.

“And moving will only make us hotter.”

“I think the two of us being tangled up like this is already making us hotter.”

His hands tightened around your waist, “yet there’s nothing you can say to let me go.”

“Then, it’s a good thing I don’t want you to let go,” you crossed your arms on his chest and laid your chin on them; looking up at him through your lashes taking in his figure as he laid back against the headboard.

“Why are you looking up at me like that?” he asked though his eyes were still closed.

“I just like having you. . here.”

“In your room?” he asked.

“In my life,” you confessed, “I guess I never thought we could make it here again.”

“I had faith—hope. I knew that eventually we would get to talk and forgive each other.”

Every fight and every bicker was a call to drive you closer to me. Immature I know, but it was all I could do and say to get close to you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong to me, Jungkook,” you traced lines over his collarbones leaving before sparks of electricity; you felt as they traveled down to the tip of your finger, “if anything I was constantly praying you’d forgive me.”

Forgiving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

“I walked away after Yeonjun’s party,” he caressed your cheeks with the pads to his finger, “that was my worst mistake and I knew exactly how it looked too; like I just hit it and quit it.”

“You didn’t hit it and quit it, Jungkook,” you sighed, “I did that to us. I was the one who walked away from us. None of it was your fault.”

“But I let you walk away. I didn’t fight for us.”

“Hey,” you cradled his face in your hands, “I didn’t let you fight for us. This is on me.”

But I never went searching for you. I just let you—walk away. The night you got up from that longue chair on the rooftop of Yeonjun’s house I thought that was our beginning; I just never thought it could be our end instead.

“It’s on us,” Jungkook leaned into your touch, softly moving his cheek against your palm, “but we can only work to overcome our past. . Together.”

You held onto the gold link looped around his neck, clutching it in order to pull him towards you until finally your faces were just an inch away from each other, “Together.”

“Kiss me, please,” his breath fanned across your lips as you continued guiding him closer and closer to you—his eyes were closed once again and he completely succumbed into this trance of your navigation. His lips were warm and velvet; parting slowly before they landed on yours. You became lost in the way your heartbeat continued beating faster and faster. The soft ballad of the steady thrumming tickled your ears and along with the taste of his mint lips on yours you began feeling a bit faint.

The room was still hot, the power was still out and you still sat on Jungkook’s lap but now you became exhilarated riding off the feelings in the way your body connected. It wasn’t just the kiss—no, it was also the way his electric touch began tracing the lines outlining your body, traveling down between your breasts, then down your stomach and up your sides until they rested on your hips. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed around with the elastic waistband of your panties, rubbing small circles on your lower back.

You were breathless pulling away from that kiss but in between breaths you managed to pull his forehead against yours before allowing yourself to speak one again, “Jungkook, can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

“I-I want you, Jungkook,” your brain felt like it melted right into mush and there were no coherent thoughts in your head that didn’t revolve around Jungkook.

You were dickmatized. Yes, you were.

“You have me.”

“I want all of you.”

“Take it all,” he whispered.

Do anything you want to me. Do everything you want to me. Do whatever you want with me. I am yours for the taking.

You felt the beads of sweat strolling down your body accompanying the slight tremble in your every movement. Still, you moved with the facade of faux confidence and soon you found yourself straddling his thigh, sinking down against his heated and sticky skin. Indulging in a steady pace you began moving back and forth against his thigh all while holding onto his shoulder for support. Jungkook’s head fell back against the wall but his hands never left your waist guiding your movements to the quickened beat of desperation.

“You look so pretty riding my thigh. You know that?” he smirked; his cheeks were the tone of wine. Jungkook bit his lip to maintain focus on the sloppy motion he continued to maneuver.

You hummed entirely consumed by that heated feeling in between your thighs—entranced in the way his soft whimpers only guided you towards that very place where you could finally reach out and touch the stars.

“Fuck—fuck, keep going, yeah?” you stammered never ever wanting him to stop being the root of your every desire.

What gave her the impression that I’d stop? This. . Us, it just feels so right. I will never be able to live in a reality where the image of her getting off on my thigh could ever cease—not after today. Not ever.

“Just-just let me guide you, baby girl,” his voice was low and husk followed by a series of unpaced breaths.

“Take me there, Jungkook,” you moaned.

Oh, fuck—I’ll take you there baby. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you there.

His fingers dug into you while his fingernails left behind marks of deep crescents traced on your skin. The guidance of his movements was near animalistic and the fabric of your panties was now sticking to your juices and there was nothing you craved more than the desirous urge to unravel under the trance of Jungkook’s ministrations.

Back and forth; back and forth you moved reaching higher and higher as your fingertips brushed touch the points of the luminous star and before you knew your teeth sunk into his shoulders suppressing your moans and your hips no longer followed the rhythm he previously set and you were finally swimming in the night sky—so high; so satiated.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that-that was amazing.”

“You tired yet?” he asked.

“Not at all.”

Jungkook hugged your waist and flipped the two of you over; your bodies pressing together heatedly against the ocean of sheets, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together once again. His hands quickly dipped under the waistband of your panties reaching for your inner thigh, until you felt him press the pads of his fingers in between your folds smearing the combination of your juices. After his torturous teasing he slipped two fingers pumping them in and out of you quickly.

“Oh, baby,” he finally pulled away from your lips, allowing a string of whimpers to slip past your swollen lips, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Jungkook, faster please,” you rocked your hips to match the beat of his fingers moving in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?” he hummed, “tell me. You want to cum at the mercy of my fingers?”

“Yes-yes. That’s what I want please.”

Jungkook laid beside you on the bed with his face buried in the nape of your neck. His hand still worked diligently to get you off as he whispered soft praises against the shell of your ears. You were in your very own depiction of utopia—euphoric with stimulation of endorphins.

“I’m close-close, Jungkook,” you dragged your nails down his back, likely leaving streaks of red trails behind as he quickened his pace. Meanwhile, you felt your body temperature skyrocket and the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened until it could not become any tighter and for the second time that night you felt how the storm passed and once again you floated throughout the night sky.

While Jungkook strove to read your body like the ink inscripted into the pages of his favorite book; the absence of his wandering hands made you feel empty—as if you couldn’t really breathe. At all.

“What happened, baby girl?” his lips traveled downwards on your body while his hands finally worked to unclasp your bra, (two orgasms later you couldn’t believe you still had all your undergarments on), and now your breasts became the forefront of his attack and leisurely he took each nipple in between his teeth smirking at your gasps and shudders as a result of your sensitivity, “are you the one who can’t stand the rule of not touching today?”

“Ah—,” he lightly bit the side of your left breast before kissing it better, “the only thing I hate right now is that your dick isn’t in me right now.”

He laughed; the booming sounds struck just like the raucous cries of thunder just outside your windows, “what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you tonight?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I can feel how hard you are against my leg.”

“What? This?” Jungkook sat-up on the bed working to remove his boxers. When he finally did he discarded them to the pool of clothes somewhere on your bedroom floor while his cock sat before you like it had been a few days prior. Jungkook laid back down in front of you, placed a tender kiss on your forehead before he moved closer towards you, lifting your leg up and allowing it to rest on his hip. Once positioned he began rubbing the head of his cock against your clothed slit —especially focusing on the sensitive bud.

He traced the lines of your lips over and over until you couldn’t take it any longer and tears began filling your eyes and you chanted hastely begging him to fuck you right into the mattress.

“Please, Jungkook,” a needy whimpered rolled off your tongue, “please fuck me, please fuck me please.”

Jungkook was now on top of you and he reached down, moving your soaked panties to the side before he lined himself at your entrance. You closed your eyes anticipating that moment when his cock would slip in and stretch you out so good you’d feel full beyond relief. And just as you imagined he slowly pushed himself past your entrance, your mouth fell agape at the sensation of his cock invading you inch by inch.

The feeling was immeasurable and better than anything you’d ever felt before.

“Will you be okay if I move?” he asked almost out of breath.

You nodded frantically.

“Just let me know if you wanna stop at any point, okay?” he remained still.

You nodded once again.

Jungkook moved cautiously, setting a lento rhythm—almost as if he thought you’d break if he fucked into you too hard. His tattooed hand brushed your heated cheeks as he continued his agonizingly slow thrusts. The room was still silent for the most part except now in company to the pitter-patter of the pouring rain the two of you contributed your very own duet composed of his guttural groans mixed and your shaky pants.

His lips left sweet kisses behind on both of your cheeks, then your nose, your chin and lastly your forehead.

She looks so fucking beautiful like this; all sweaty and aroused just for me. Fucked out just for me. I’m so lucky. So lucky.

“Jungkook?” you tucked your bottom lip under your top row of teeth.

“Yes?”

“Deeper, please,” you whined, “not faster but harder. I want to feel you deep in me.”

Deeper? Fuck. She’s gonna be the death of me. I swear she is. I’ll fuck you just how you’d like baby girl. I’ll fuck you right.

“Okay—okay,” he stammered.

Jungkook stopped his movements and pulled out momentarily as he adjusted his position in between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing past your entrance once again, and yes, it felt just as jaw dropping as the first time. Jungkook’s pace remained lento except now whenever he was about to push back into you he made sure to lunge himself deeper causing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours to echo within the walls of your room.

“Oh, Jungkoook,” you let out a drawn-out moan, chanting his name repeatedly, “right-right there, oh, Jungkooook. Right there. Please don’t stop.”

He continued penetrating you just as you wanted until once again, for the third time that night, you were on the very edge of the planet. You could see the exact place where the sky met the earth. Trotting towards the phenom you felt the way your heartbeat quickened and finally as you approached you began clenching around him until you witnessed an explosion of stars behind your eyes; a feeling so blissful your knuckles turned white as you clutched the sheets underneath you in your grasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. .” he hissed pulling out quickly.

“What’s wrong?” you gasp at the feeling of emptiness now substituted by a ravenous void.

“I almost finished inside of you and we forgot to wear a condom,” his cock was held tightly in his hand.

You swiped your tongue on your lips, “would you like some help with that?”

“That is not how today is supposed to go,” he mocked.

“Fine,” you shrug, “but I was going to offer my body as an alternative.” Jungkook’s pupils become dilated, your words obviously peeking his interest, “come on my face, Jungkook.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Jungkook towered over you on the bed, kneeling right beside you on the bed—by now you were spent, too tired to do anything but lay there and admire the way his head hung back as he worked to find his release. The design of his tattoos followed suit beginning all the way from his shoulder blade, to his flexed and veiny bicep all the way down to the tight clasp of his finger around his shaft moving hastily from base to tip.

“Look at you, baby girl. All eager for me to come on you,” Jungkook said through clenched teeth, “you’re so naughty for me. All for me.”

“All for you, Jungkook,” you repeated, “I can’t wait to feel just how warm you’ll be on my face. Come on, baby. ”

Your mantra of praises rolled off your tongue semi-automatically but you were needy to feel his seed on you so you continued using your words to aid him in the process of jerking off. He continued moving his hand up and down his length until the tip became painted white with drops of pre-come.

“I’m almost—” he cried out; his guttural whimpers sent waves of glacial shivers interlacing with the ridges of your spine.

“Yes, Jungkook. Be a good boy.”

“I am a good boy,” his labored breathing came out in puffs, “I am. .”

“Then, come on baby. I’m waiting.”

Jungkook was immersed in what you knew was likely the build-up of his approaching release. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly, while the muscles in his stomach tightened accentuating his already sculpted physique while his cheeks turned a bright scarlet.

“I’m coming!” He cried out.

The spurts of his white semen painted your face as he worked himself to the very last drop. Even in his moment of release Jungkook was careful enough to aim towards your mouth and chin and you licked everything within reach of your tongue.

“Let me get a wet rag and I’ll clean you up okay?” Jungkook stood from the bed and placed a kiss on your forehead before walking towards your bedroom door and opening it up.

A few seconds went by and suddenly you heard a loud shriek and a plethora of muffled words which sounded a lot like your best friend, Hoseok. Not a lot of time went by before you saw Jungkook enter the room frantically before slamming the door shut and leaning against the wooden surface.

“Hoseok’s home?” you laughed.

“And Jimin.”

“And they saw?”

“Mhm.”

“Please remind me to never leave this room naked again.”

“Yes! Please remind him!” Hoseok yelled from just outside the door.

A bursting titter erupted between the two of you and Jungkook climbed back into bed with you before he helped you wipe off the mess he’d made on your body, then laid down beside you.

“Can I ask you something?” You began snuggling deeper into his embrace.

“Yes?.”

“Will you stay here tonight?” You asked barely above a whisper—barely audible.

Jungkook rested his chin on the crook of your neck, “of course, I’ll stay with you tonight.”

There was no place you’d rather be than embraced in the solace of Jungkook’s warmth.

Tonight, tomorrow, and forever after that.

I’ll always stay with you.

an: you know what im about to say right? ignore the smut scene ~if you must~ it literally took me like two weeks to write because my brain wasn’t working >.<

i literally started working on this like a week before seven released…. *gulps*

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts reactions #bts imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut #bts jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #mentions of literally every member + txt’s yeonjun

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 7 months ago

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Blue and Fire Engine Red, Pt 2

Kara shuts the door of her car shut behind her, and smoothes her sweating palms down the front of her jeans. She should have stayed in uniform, she thinks. She’s no longer on shift, but she always feels more confident with a badge pinned to her chest. As it is, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, she feels exposed, as though anyone looking at her would be able to see just how fast her heart is racing.

But she’s come this far-- she can see this through. Exhaling deeply, Kara starts the short walk up the drive to the firehouse’s open bay doors. As she crosses the threshold sounds of activity fills her ears. She glimpses firefighters rolling hoses and mounting them on the engine, and others are buffing the chrome bumper of the ambulance. She catches the eye of one, she thinks she recognizes him from multiple calls– Brainy, she’s heard the others call him. He brightens at the sight of her, and to her horror comes trotting over to greet her.

“You are approximately 32 minutes late, Sergeant Danvers,” he says precisely. He clasps his hands behind his back.

“I–I’m sorry?” Kara asks. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming, let alone what time she planned to show up.

“Since I glimpsed you conversing with Lieutenant Reilly, I anticipated you would seek her out. Seeing as your shift ended one hour ago, and the precinct is 30 minutes from the firehouse, you are, by my calculations, late.”

Kara blinks. “There was traffic on the freeway… how did you–?”

“The lieutenant can be found in the gym,” Brainy clips, extending an arm towards the far corner of the engine bay. There, Kara glimpses a glass paneled wall and the outline of a pull-down machine.

“Thank you,” Kara issues numbly.

“You are most welcome.” Brainy then turns and returns to the ambulance and his chores. By now Kara’s thundering heart has climbed to her throat, but it;s too late to back out now that she’s been seen.

Kara wipes her palms again, nodding to herself. “You can do this,” she murmurs. “Look sharp, Danvers.”

Kara follows the hum treadmills and the clink of weights to the back right corner, where a glass paneled room sat under the spiraling staircase up to the second floor. There she stops, mesmerized by a dark swinging ponytail. Lena.

Lena running.

Lena running in a tank top and spandex shorts. Muscled arms swing in rhythm with her bobbing head, and Kara can glimpse round earbuds nestled in her ears.

She almost turns away, if only to keep from getting caught ogling. But a sweaty towel smacks Lena in the side of the head, pulling her attention to the young woman smirking off to Kara’s left. Nia, is it?

“Got a visitor, LT!”

Lena’s head swivels towards Kara without breaking stride. Her sweaty features brighten at the sight of her.

“Sergeant Danvers!” she chirps. She hops onto the strats of the treadmill, taking a moment to tap the machine off before stepping down entirely. She uses Nia’s towel to wipe her glistening face and neck, her breath huffing lightly. Kara’s mouth goes dry. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Kara blinks, giving herself a little shake to re-orientate herself. Then she gives as easy a grin as she can manage. “And give up a free autograph? Not on your life.”

A smirk crosses Lena’s features as Nia steps up to stand at her shoulder. “Autograph?”

Kara plucks her calendar from her bag, giving it a playful flourish. Nia’s brow furrows, then lifts in delight.

“Oh my god! Miss March has a fan?!”

Lena turns towards her coworker with a roll of her eyes. “Nal…”

“Yeah?”

“Give us a minute, will you?”

“But–!”

“Nia.”

Nia sighs. “Fiiiiine…” She grabs her water and phone from beside the weight bench, and all but prances out with a smug, knowing smile in Kara’s direction. “Nice seeing you, Sergeant.”

They wait until Nia slips out, leaning them together with nothing but charged air between them. Kara gazes at Lena, who gives a soft smile in return. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lena smiles back. Her cheeks are flushed, and Kara feels a glimmer of satisfaction at the thought it might not be entirely from exertion.

“So…” she says. “I have a place or two in mind for that drink. Someplace… friendly.”

Lena gives a slow nod. “I like friendly.”

“Someplace where we could get some privacy.”

Another nod, this time accompanied by a deliberate step forward. “Privacy is good.”

“And, ahhh… one of them just so happens to be walking distance from my place.”

Dark eyebrows lift in surprise, and suddenly Kara finds herself awkwardly trying to reel herself back.

“I mean, you know, in case we can’t drive after. I didn’t mean to imply– not that I expected… um, that.”

Pressing her lips together, Lena waits for Kara to talk herself out. It serves to jolt Kara back into herself; she chuckles. “You going to cut me a break here or what?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Lena returns, grinning. “I’m curious to see how far we’re not going to go on this date.”

Kara laughs. “Okay, okay. Look– what I mean is that I don’t expect anything more than a drink to get to know you better. That’s all.”

With a slow nod, Lena saunters even closer. “Message received,” she murmurs smoothly. “That said…”

She leans in close, until Kara can smell the tantalizing tang of sweat and the subtle fragrance of Lena’s shampoo. Her heart pounds so hard there’s no way Lena can’t hear it.

“If any of that,” Lena continues, “were to follow… I wouldn’t be averse to it.”

Unable to help her answering grin, Kara cocks her head. “Well, before we even get to that, we do have one order of business to get to first.”

She flips the calendar tauntingly between them, even going so far as to let the thing tap against Lena’s chest when she waggles it playfully. Lena glances down sharply, clearly having forgotten the “true” purpose of Kara’s visit. She throws her head back and laughs a full belly laugh that turns Kara’s insides to jello.

“Guess I’ll have to rustle up something to sign that with–”

A marker flies out of nowhere, bouncing off of Lena’s chest. She fumbles to catch it, and Kara lunges for it on reflex. Their heads crack together audibly, and they both stagger apart, cursing.

“Jesus fuck–!”

“Godammit!”

Nia’s voice calls cheerily from outside. “You’re welcome!”

Kara locks eyes with Lena, who grimaces at her.

“You said something about privacy?”

#supercorp #blue and fire engine red #oh kara-- don't ever change #awkward yet also sexy?#y'all know its true #Lena is *delighted*

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even-disco-baby · 1 year ago

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COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.

PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.

ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.

PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.

ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.

Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.

[Try to sit up.]

ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.

…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.

YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.

PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.

The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.

+1 MORALE

Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!

Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.

I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]

INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.

But…

YOU — But?!

INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.

PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.

YOU — [Pull out the photo.]

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.

You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.

INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…

It’s a great photo.

EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”

COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.

HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.

“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”

“God, Kim, you scared me…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.

“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death.”

“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”

“Okay, I guess. Tired.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”

He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.

EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.

“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”

“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”

“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”

HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.

“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”

“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”

“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.

COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”

INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…

“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]

“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]

KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”

“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.

INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…

KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.

“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”

EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.

“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”

“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”

“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”

“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”

“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”

“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”

“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”

KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.

EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.

“What else did the phasmid say?”

YOU — “A lot of things.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”

EMPATHY — He means it.

YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”

“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”

“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”

“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”

“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.

EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.

YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”

INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.

“I guess so,” he says softly.

VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #kimharry #harrykim #however the heck you wanna tag it #sorry more of the dora saga is coming soon i prommy #but i felt like posting this old one i wrote a few months ago #‘’how come they’re at the coastal shack but kim has the photo even tho he’s not around to take a picture of the phasmid in the bad end’’#well you see. i don’t know. 👍

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year ago

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Hi~ can I request a headcannons of househusband!Eli Jang & 9-5 working!S/O? Also please include elementary school!Yenna too? Thank you in advance 💙

My god. I've completely misread this. Uhh. Will make it up in future, but clearly I have an Eli agenda I want to push so. Please forgive me. First for taking so long, and then second for responding with this GARBAGE heh.

Eli Jang x Reader: Returning home

G/N. Soft and featuring Workers!Eli.

Inhale, exhale. Repeat two more times.

Eli then removes his jacket, taking off the god awful Worker's badge with it and running his hand quickly through his hair.

A small routine to shake off the working day before stepping into the threshold of your shared home.

Where Eli is just Eli, and not a beast running around for Eugene and the Fifth Affiliates.

Where he is simply Yenna's dad and your partner.

Hearing the front door click, Yenna comes tearing out. Chubby arms held wide open, waddling with confident steps and shouting "Daddy!".

Another routine.

Eli scoops her up, smiling wide while she clings to his neck. Breathing in her scent as she garbles about her school day. Being reminded that for so long it was just the two of them against the world.

Time marches ever forward, and he wonders how much longer - how many more years he has of this greeting, this innocence, something too precious to fully put into words.

You lean against the doorframe, taking in the sweet sight. No matter how many times you see this, you never tire of it.

When your eyes meet Eli's, you exchange a smile.

Just the two of them. Until you came along.

"Welcome home," you say, voice becoming muffled as he also pulls you into his arms.

And then there were three.

Embracing and cuddling each other. Happy to be reunited even if it's only been a day.

Eli Jang understands clearly what he's doing with Workers.

It's worth it, he repeats over and over in his mind. Now his daily mantra, his driving force.

It's worth it, he convinces himself and find that it's no longer a lie as he holds you both in his arms.

He has promised you and Yenna happiness. He has promised himself that this cannot end in tragedy.

If it means he gets to keep you both, to protect his little family, to be selfish and be happy, then-

Eli will fight the entire world. He will do whatever it takes.

#welp #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism fic #lookism fanfic #eli jang #eli jang x reader #jang hyun #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #wannaeatramyeon

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green-fifteen · 9 months ago

Text

Day 4: Harry Du Bois Gets a Clue

Prompt: Learn Fandom: Disco Elysium Pairing: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi Word count: 796 Summary: YOU - Wait, you have a boyfriend? read on AO3 instead

for @fluffyfebruary

DESK OF HARRIER DU BOIS - Spilled coffee streams down the side of your desk, drips from paperwork that is due to be processed in only a few hours. The papers are fully soaked now, however. Along with your badge and the end of your tie.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - There is someone standing behind you, watching the coffee spread over the floor.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Oh, nice. I was thinking your workstation was getting too neat. Only right that a fucking mess gets to wallow in his own disaster."

YOU - "You know what? This is the end for me."

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Don't be an idiot. If you were going to die, you would have done it already."

YOU - "No, I really think this time is the one. Each day only brings new torment."

VOLITION - It does feel bad, but you might be exaggerating. You're already thinking about where you're going to find a mop and a cloth to clean this mess.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "No, absolutely. You're right. Just end it, Dick Mullen! It's not like your boyfriend would have anything to say about it-- then again I wouldn't put it past you to forget that when you take the shot."

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] - Boyfriend?

YOU - "Boyfriend?"

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I am not doing this with you, you prick. Fuck off." He strides away.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - Since you've been back from Martinaise in one piece (minus some core memories), you might have laid it on kind of thick one or two times. Things like 'Jean, help me file these reports, I don't know where anything is because I have amnesia.' and 'Jules, can you call Requisitions for me, I don't know the number because I have amnesia." You suspect, no-- you know your amnesia is getting on everyone's nerves.

EMPATHY - He's a little worried about you, anyway. That's probably why he mentioned your boyfriend.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Failure]- Wait a damn minute. Back to the boyfriend thing. Did you forget about him? Was he swept away in the flood of booze and amphetamines, along with everything else? You're getting a sick feeling in your stomach.

PERCEPTION - At that very moment, you see your partner. He just walked in from the snow, his hat peppered with snowflakes. He makes eye contact.

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] - Your stupid heart beats a little off tempo.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success]- Kim always knows what to do. Ask Kim about this.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant comes closer, unwinding his long scarf and removing his hat. He gives you a small smile as he sits down across from you.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Good morning, detective."

YOU - "Good morning."

INLAND EMPIRE - You shouldn't rush into questioning him. Just be friendly, first.

YOU - "So, Jean said I have a boyfriend."

KIM KITSURAGI - "He did?" One eyebrow is lifted high on his face.

YOU - "I spilled my coffee all over my desk, that's why he brought it up."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay," he says, sounding unsure but still smiling at you. "I don't mind. I know we haven't talked about it precisely and 'boyfriend' is perhaps a tad puéril… but it's good enough for most people in relationships."

YOU - You have no idea what he's talking about.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Don't you? Don't you feel that, champ?

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - Kim is looking at you with humor, seeming to expect you to take your time. Suddenly, it's very clear: Kim Kitsuragi is your boyfriend.

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY [Medium: Success]- YEAH! YES! Holy shit, do you know what this means? Boyfriends make out, big dog! They do more than that. They touch each other, Harry. Tell Kim you want to touch him, right now. Maybe you can convince him to do it on your desk.

VOLITION - Do not do that. You're at work, don't embarrass yourself.

LOGIC - Your desk is covered in coffee.

DRAMA - But what if he said yes, my lord? Think of the spectacle-- the other officers would know then, wouldn't they? They would all know that Kim Kitsuragi belongs to you.

YOU - "Gah."

KIM KITSURAGI - He looks on the verge of laughter. His eyes are folded up in mirth behind his glasses.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Come over again tonight. I'm cooking."

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY [Godly: Success]- Ask if you should bring your pajamas.

YOU - "Should I bring my pajamas?"

KIM KITSURAGI - He can't resist chuckling softly at the look on your face.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - You're certain you know the face you're making. It's a terribly fond one, with a heavy flavor of awe. You look like someone just handed you a warm puppy.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I would like that."

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ameagrice · 2 years ago

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chapter fifteen | play dead

percy jackson x fem reader

this is an extremely long chapter. I’d advise food and a drink before reading ;)

Annabeth winced every few minutes as you walked. Grover would groan and munch on a Campbell’s tin can, and Percy would nudge you and ask if you were okay.

“Course I am,” your brows came together. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just asking!”

You elbowed him gently. “Are you?”

Percy nodded. “Yeah. I’m more worried about Annabeth and Grover than myself, though.”

You eyed the boy up front, still groaning. He tripped over his own hoof. “I think he’s good.”

“And Annabeth? She looks a little…” he tilted his head. “I don’t know, like, hurt.”

You flayed your hands. “That might be because—and get this—she is hurt.”

Percy rolled his eyes and reached out a hand to shove you. You laughed and threw yourself right back, bumping him in to a lamppost. “Ah!”

Annabeth and Grover turned around, and you sent them a brief ‘peace’ sign. They carried on their tin munching and wincing.

“You’re so annoying,” Percy groaned. “I think my shoulder is broken.”

“You’re so dramatic, Percy Jackson,” you sighed, playfully. “Anyway, don’t get too distracted by your elbow.”

“Shoulder.”

“Because—”

“This is it!” Annabeth called up front.

Your little group stood together in front of a records building.

“Oh, cool!”

Annabeth sent you a firm look. “No, you idiot. This is it. This is how we’re getting to the Underworld.”

You raised your eyebrows, shaking your head a little. “Yeah. And we can shop on the way past.”

She shoved past you. “You’re unbelievable.”

Percy snorted, so you pushed him in first.

He stumbled through the doorway, the bells above the threshold jingling to signal your arrival. You would have kept your smile, but it slowly slid off your face.

Because where the hell were the records?

“Guys,” you said slowly, looking around without moving. “You see all the dead people, too, don’t you?”

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” Annabeth huffed.

Aside from the smell of must, the other distraction was the constant mumbling. These people, as young as newborns and as old as elderly in ancient clothing, muttered or sat crying or talked to themselves. Some just stared at the space in front of them, or at their feet. Behind a desk to the side of the extremely crowded room sat a tall man with bleached blond hair buzzed short, with chocolate-color skin. He was so buff you knew he meant business when he said it. He could break your arm with a twist of his hand.

If he looked at any of you when you walked in, you wouldn’t have known it, since a pair of very dark slim sunglasses covered his gaze. In a silk, well-tailored suit, he stacked up coins on his desk, where a bell sat at the end of it.

The strangest part of all, however, was definitely the people. Whom looked staticky and fuzzy if you looked at them for too long.

His desk was a raised podium, so none of you had a choice in having to look up to him.

A name badge caught your attention: Charon.

You whispered it, testing it on your tongue. Percy turned down the bold route.

“Your name is Chiron?”

Something shifted. Charon leaned across the podium, smiling sweetly, coldly. “What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent. British, perhaps. But also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

“N-no—” Percy said.

“Sir," he added smoothly.

“Sir," Percy ground out, jaw tight.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R- O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," Percy’s tone changed to one of a lot more anger.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

“We want to go to the underworld,” said Annabeth.

Charon’s mouth twitched. “Well, that’s refreshing.”

You pulled a face. “Is it?”

“Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No crying. No ‘there must be a mistake Mr Charon!’.” He sighed. “So, how did you die, then?”

It seemed this part caught your group off guard. Percy turned his head from the corner of your eye to look at you, and surprisingly, so did Annabeth on your other side.

“We drowned,” you said boldly. The first thing to come to mind. “School boating accident.”

“All four of you?”

You all nodded.

“Haven’t heard that one before.” He looked mildly impressed. “Don’t suppose you have have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Percy said confidently. You turned your head, a line coming between your brows. He dug in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of…drachmas? He set four of them out on the desk. Where the hell had he gotten them from?

"Well, now ..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drach-mas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ...". His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

Then Charon looked up, at you or Percy, you couldn’t tell for the glasses. That cold stare seemed to bore a hole through your body. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy stumbled. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

“We have to get to the Underworld,” Percy informed almost desperately.

“It seems such a fun place,” you added, as if buttering the guy up would help. “Who better to come first than you?”

“Cut the crap, you little mini demigod.” He hissed lowly. “I’m not buying it. Leave while you can. I’ll just take these and forget I ever saw you.”

Like his tone of voice changed the feeling in the room, a couple of souls stood, pacing as though they were agitated, lighting cigarettes or talking louder. One woman started sobbing, an awful, gut-wrenching cry that almost traumatised you by sound alone.

Percy reached up and snatched the coins.

“No service,” his voice shook. “No tip.”

Charon growled again-a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

“It’s a shame, as well,” he continued. “We had more to offer.”

More?!

Percy let coins rain on Charon’s desk. He watched them bounce and clink together like glass beads.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh...just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?”

“A lot. I’ll bet Hades doesn’t pay you what you’re owed working here.”

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

“You deserve better,” Percy swayed. “A little appreciation. Good pay. Respect.”

Buttering him up. Percy was buttering the guy up. And you hoped it worked.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

The boy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off." He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

For a second, you almost couldn’t believe it. It had worked. Things were going your way.

You held back at the back of your little group. As you passed, following Charon’s lead, a tall woman in a long fur coat tried to grab at your hair; you leaned away, dodging her as what felt like water trickled down your neck at her touch. As you leaned one way, a boy younger than you tried to tug on your coat, and a little girl in bloody ribbons blinked wide-eyed as you passed.

Inside the elevator, crowded and stuffy, stood souls already in waiting, holding small green boarding passes. You shoved yourself in between two women, one older wearing a strange dress of what looked like netting and gloves of the same material, and a girl in bell bottom jeans and a bright green shirt.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," Charon announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend. "What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous." "Oh," she said. "That's...fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

His words sent ice down your spine. It was no lie that everybody at some point had to die. Death was unavoidable, something that happened to every living thing whether they liked it or not. That didn’t mean the inevitable didn’t terrify you, or scare you silly. Death was scary because it was so unknown. You hoped this trip to the land of the dead might make your final trip there some day less scary.

You weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around you started to change shape. Their versions of modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying. You wished there was something to hold on to, but found you were too anxious to move. Nothing about this was comforting. To your left, Charon’s suit had changed as well, to a black hooded robe. His glasses were gone, replaced by empty sockets just as Ares’ had been. He turned his head slowly, and your organs dropped, the breath leaving your body.

“Well?”

You shook your head, trying to will oxygen back in to your lungs. “Nothing,” you whispered.

The longer you watched, the more transparent his face became, until you could see through to his skull. Your skin began to turn clammy. This was doing nothing to help your fear. If anything, it only enhanced it all.

And suddenly, you blinked. The elevator was no longer that, but a large, wide wooden barge. Charon stood at the front, pushing across what you thought at first was just water, with a large oar. The closer you looked, and the harder you stared, you found things floated in the ‘water’.

The oily liquid was filled with torn diplomas and floating wedding rings, stuffed toys and plastic baby dolls. Bones floated here and there. And you realised then, that these were people’s loved dreams. Their hopes in life. All dumped in one, unforgiving place. You couldn’t take things with you when you went.

The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across-hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above you all, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

In your chest, something spread like tar, sticking and forcing your organs to try harder to keep you going. Your heart beat wilder, your lungs sped up, and you felt a lonely sense of isolation and quietness. To your left, Annabeth and Percy were holding hands.

You faced the quiet alone.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as the eye could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones-the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of the boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted the golden coins into his pocket, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

The four of you followed the spirits up a well-worn path. Here, pressure filled your eyes and throat—the sense to cry was getting stronger. And you couldn’t for the life of you explain why. Maybe because somewhere in your mind, you knew this was the end for everyone. This was the final destination, the end of a ride. You just didn’t want to be here yet.

The entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with secu-rity cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy’s voice came, asking Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

The four of you stood together, thinking. Here, Annabeth would be the expert.

“Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

“Harsh.”

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

All your eyes turned forward.

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

"But if he's a preacher," said Percy, "and he believes in a different hell...."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—uh, persistent, that way."

The howling was so loud, now, that the ground was shaking under your feet. You looked around, beginning to grow agitated.

Then,a good few feet in front of you, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh holy—”

“He’s a Rottweiler?!” Percy exclaimed.

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead." The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living.”

“But that’s okay, because we have a plan.”

You kept your mouth firmly shut. Even if you wanted to speak, nothing really would come out.

Closer you came to the lines and the dog, unable to meet its face.

"Can you understand it?"

"Oh yeah," Grover said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy dug around in his backpack and took out a big stick—a bedpost it looked like. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus-Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants. He tried to smile, like he wasn’t about to die. It was more of a sick grimace.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

GROWWWLLLL!

"Good boy," Percy said weakly.

He waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on you four, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention.

"Fetch!" He threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. You heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at him, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

“Well done,” you muttered shakily, frozen.

“Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that...well…he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before anyone could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!”

Cerberus looked stunned. All three heads tilted.

“Sit!” Annabeth called again.

“You’re gonna be dog food,” you muttered weakly.

But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissi-pated, like the air let out of tires.

Annabeth said, "Good boy!" She threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snap-ping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" Annabeth ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a piece of stuck apple. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the spit all over it. You gagged.

She turned around, ball in hand. Spit dribbled off of it and hissed when it hit the ground. “Go. Now. The EZ DEATH line is quicker.”

You observed in quietness. Percy rejected the idea, but was firmly told in the Annabeth way to get on with it.

The three of you inched forward. Cerberus growled and prepared to jump.

“Stay!” Annabeth demanded. “You want the ball? Stay!”

You walked between his legs to pass, and rushed to get out before he could sit.

You’d thought you were all safe. Until Grover and Percy pushed through the detectors of the line, and they started going crazy.

“Unauthorised possessions! Unauthorised possessions!”

“If they start talking,” you rambled, hands up as you ran with the others. “No hablo English!”

Imagine a field a million times bigger than a football field, packed with people, and imagine the electricity has gone out, and there is no noise, no light, no beach ball bouncing around over the crowd. Something tragic has happened backstage. Whispering masses of people are just milling around in the shadows, waiting for a concert that will never start.

If you can picture that, you have a pretty good idea what the Fields of Asphodel looked like. The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees—Grover told you they were poplars-grew in clumps here and there. You felt maybe he was trying to distract you—you had been quiet after all—but nothing worked.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, it wasn’t long before things began to go wrong.

Grover was dragged by his magic shoes—yes, dragged—by an invisible force straight across the gigantic field. No amount of pulling on his hands helped—because he just pulled you along too. Determined not to let Grover die here, you held on as Annabeth and Percy yelled and ran after you both.

“Untie the shoes!” Annabeth called.

It was easier said than done when Grover couldn’t even lift his legs.

You ripped between the legs of spirits who muttered angrily at you, the feeling of ice running across your body with every touch. You shivered, arms growing tired, and body beginning to hurt from being pulled across the uneven landscape.

“I can’t hold on!” You yelled. “Kick them off!”

But they were laced up. And you wanted to scream in anger at the whole situation.

Up ahead, the gates to Hades’ palace loomed and you thought perhaps you’d go through there.

But no. You veered very sharply right, and your body hit the gate. You yelled as your bones hit it hard.

“Get hold of something!” Percy screamed from way behind.

“Like what?!” You screamed back. All around you was gravel and dirt and darkness, and you selfishly thought of letting Grover go.

Through a tunnel you went, growing darker and darker and colder and colder, and your thoughts changed so abruptly you felt sick. Maggots on a dead body. Butterflies with clipped wings. Blood on stones.

The tunnel widened into a huge, huge cavern, with a gaping hole in the middle of it the size of Manhattan’s centre. You couldn’t help the scream of terror that ripped from your lungs.

“Guys!” Annabeth screamed. “Hold on to something! Anything!”

Your hands began to slip on Grover’s, both of you sweaty and tired. “Grover—”

“Don’t let me go!” He cried, looking at you. “I—”

All of a sudden, you jolted. You watched as Grover’s foot hit a giant rock, and one shoe came flying off. His fake foot went with it, leaving his hoof. The other shoe slowed down drastically and pulled you at a much slower rate.

As you passed the rock Grover hit, you let go of one of his hands, and looped your arm over it as best you could.

You both came to a stop.

Breathing hard, front aching and stinging, you both gasped for breath.

Grover’s legs dangled over the edge of the chasm.

Annabeth and Percy took you one each, Grover first. Once he was up and out of the way, Percy helped you to your lead-like legs with a hand under your arm and your own around his shoulders as you gasped for breath. Your jacket sleeves were ripped to shreds, and Percy helped you pull it off. Fabric stuck to your cut arms, bleeding and itchy and stuck with stones. Your cheeks stung too, no doubt cut from the stones. Your shirt was all ripped down the front, pants the same, and the only thing in somewhat of a decent condition was your backpack.

Grover’s hands bled too, and his eyes were in slits the way there were when he got scared.

“I didn’t know—I didn’t—”

“Who gave them to you?” You asked breathlessly. Grover opened his mouth.

“Wait!” Percy held up a hand. You all fell silent. “Listen.”

A faint whispering was filling the air, and you frowned, looking around.

“Percy, this place—” Annabeth tried.

“Shh,” he stood.

The sound was getting louder, a muttering, evil voice from far, far below. Coming from the pit.

Grover sat up. "Wh-what's that noise?"

Annabeth heard it too, now. "Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus."

Percy’s bronze sword expanded, gleaming in the darkness in his hand, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant.

It almost sounded ancient, all ancient words, older even than Greek. As if…

"Magic.”

"We have to get out of here," Annabeth said.

Together, you all stood. Percy dragged Grover to his hooves and started back up the tunnel. Your legs wouldn't move fast enough. he voice got louder and angrier behind you, and you were the first to break into a run.

And not a moment too soon.

A blast of freezing air hit you, and you briefly slowed. Terrifyingly, Percy slipped, and you bent down to grab at his arms, pulling him up. Grover and Annabeth called to you both from further up, still moving slowly, waiting for you without without.

Any closer to the edge and you’d have been pulled in.

“What was that?” Grover panted as you kept going. “One of Hades’ pets?”

You didn’t dare look up from the ground, still trying to find your breath.

“Let’s keep going,” Percy settled for. “Can you two walk okay?”

You nodded. You’d have to. There wasn’t a choice down here.

Above, Furies circled the parapets.

Up close, the engravings on the gates of the palace were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago. A scene of a boy holding a girl across his knees, his face pressed into her hair. You wondered if they might have been prophecies that had come true.

Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden ever seen. Multicolored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers, and piles of rubies as big as your hands, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues—petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs—all smiling grotesquely.

In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark.

"The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking."

The smell of the fruits was so appetising it sent you into a daze. You blinked at a glowing blue fruit hanging off a tree as you passed it, and reached your hand out.

A hard slap came down on your skin, and you gasped at Percy, gawping at him. He looked almost ashamed.

“Just…don’t touch anything. In case.”

In case you’re stuck down here, you understood.

The four of you walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above.

Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered you, but their hollow eye sockets followed as you walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests.

"You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

In the quiet, your brief laughter was a shock to the air.

In front of the doors you all stood in a line. Percy raised his fist. “Well, I guess we should knock, right?”

A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess that means entrez-vous," Annabeth said.

The room was fully black and dark and the air was almost suffocating. The ceiling was high and bright without lights. You looked down—under your feet the floor was shiny like marble.

And on the golden throne, sat a man whose powerful aura you felt all the way across the room.

He was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and terrifyingly dangerous.

And he caught your eyes instantly. His face betrayed nothing.

And from the corner of your eye, a tiny tear slipped.

For no good reason. In here, in his presence for a few seconds, something just felt ominous and scary, and you had the suddenly inkling, the firm knowledge, that this would not be the last time you would be in Death’s presence.

For some reason, in here, the emotional atmosphere was strong. Impactful. Impressionable. It made you think of those who had gone before you. It made you wish for a kind death.

The Lord of the Dead resembled pictures I'd seen of Adolph Hitler, or Napoleon, or the terrorist leaders who direct suicide bombers. Hades had the same intense eyes, the same kind of mesmerizing, evil charisma. In there, nestled somewhere, you could feel a soft sort of something, as if the Lord of the Dead was not all and completely terrible. You’d never voice that, though.

"You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," he said in an confident, manly voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

“Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

“Lord Hades," Percy said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be…bad."

“Really bad," Grover added helpfully.

"Return Zeus's master bolt to me," he carried on. "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus."

Hades's eyes grew dangerously bright. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?"

You were so, utterly confused.

“Um ... Uncle," I said. "You keep saying 'after what you've done.' What exactly have I done?"

The throne room shook with a tremor so strong, they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

Hades bellowed, "Do you think I want war, godling?"

“You are the Lord of the Dead," Percy countered carefully. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?"

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of the Asphodel Fields?"

"Well..."

"Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?" He demanded, growing louder.

"More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all the pre-cious metals under the earth. But my expenses!"

"Charon wants a pay raise.”

“Don't get me started on Charon!" Hades yelled. For the first time since arriving, you found a grin tugging at your mouth at his words. “He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle all of them personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gates is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving. No, godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war."

"But you took Zeus's master bolt."

"Lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goalpost. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan."

"His plan?"

"You were the thief on the winter solstice," he said. "Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus, You took the master bolt and my helm. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my helm back!"

“But…” Annabeth trailed. “Your Helm of Darkness is missing too?” She asked.

“Do not play innocent with me, girl. You, that one and the satyr have been helping this hero—coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

“No!” Percy called. “Poseidon didn’t—I didn’t—”

“I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

"You didn't try to stop us? But—”

"Return my helm now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counterproposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson—your skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, making their weapons ready.

“You're as bad as Zeus. You think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

“Of course," Hades fumed.

"And the other monsters?"

Hades curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you—I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?"

"Easily?"

"Return my property!"

"But I don't have your helm. I came for the master bolt."

"Which you already possess!" Hades shouted. His anger echoed. “You came here with it, little fool, thinking you could you threaten me!"

"But I didn't!"

"Open your pack, then."

You turned around, facing the others. “Percy, what is he talking about?” Your voice was quiet in the instant silence after Hades’s words.

He slung it off his shoulder and to his feet, then unzipped it. Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "How-"

"I-I don't know. I don't understand."

“You heroes are always the same," Hades said. “Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now...my helm. Where is it?"

How could you defend Percy now?

“Lord Hades, wait," Percy asked.

"This is all a mistake." "A mistake?" Hades roared.

The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of their master's throne. The one with Mrs. Dodds's face grinned and flicked her whip.

“There is no mistake," Hades said. "I know why you have come—I know the real reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for her.”

Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of you, forcing you to take a step back, and there was Percy’s mom, frozen in a shower of gold, just as she was at the moment when the Minotaur began to squeeze her to death.

Percy stepped forward and reached out, but drew back his hand instantly.

“Yes,” Hades said with satisfaction. “I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change."

“Ah, the pearls," Hades said, and you stopped breathing. Yet another thing, you thought, Percy had not told you about. “Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson.”

You watched him dig in his pocket, before pulling out his fist and straightening his palm. Three pearls sat in the middle.

“Only four,” Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms.”

Percy’s eyes flitted from one of you to the other. You didn’t care what happened right now—more than anything, you were confused.

“We were tricked. Set up.”

“Yes, but why? And the voice in the pit—?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll ask.”

“When did this happen?” You interrupted. All three of them looked to you. You felt wildly out of place—disjointed. “The pearls and the voice and everything and the bolt. Why did nobody tell me?”

Most of all, you felt betrayed. If your friends hadn’t so much as told you the basics, what else were they keeping from you?

“DECIDE, BOY!”

“Percy, you can’t give him the bolt.”

Nobody answered you, and you felt even more humiliated.

“I know that—”

“Leave me here, first off. Use one for your mom.”

“No!"

"I'm a satyr," Grover said. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It's the best way."

"No." Annabeth drew her bronze knife. "You two go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

"No way," Grover said. "I'm staying behind." "Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said.

“Stop it, both of you!” Percy cut in, eyes glassy. You opened your mouth. “Don’t you start!” He interrupted with a thick voice. “I know what to do.”

He handed you each a pearl. You accepted it numbly.

“But—Percy—”

He turned to face his mom. “I’m sorry. I’ll find a way. I'll find your helm, Uncle," Percy told him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

"Do not defy me—”

"And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls."

"Percy Jackson, you will not—"

He shouted, "Now, guys!"

You smashed the pearls at your feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened. And you almost cursed Percy Jackson.

Hades yelled, "Destroy them!"

The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame.

Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at my feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. You were encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.

Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as they floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and you knew it wasn’t going to be a peaceful night in L.A.

"Look up.' Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"

"How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted.

Sure enough, everyone raced right toward the stalactites, which you figured would pop your bubbles and skewer everyone.

"I don't think you do!" Percy shouted back.

We screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and…Darkness.

You were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That was the power of the pearls.

For a few moments, nobody could see anything outside the smooth walls of the sphere, then your pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The three other milky spheres, Percy, Annabeth and Grover, kept pace as you soared upward through the water. And—bam!

Your head broke the surface of a a wave, and you gasped as the cool water covered you. A guy surfing was knocked off his board, knocking into you and sending you under with him. You tumbled in the darkness, frantically kicking to the surface again. Percy reached over and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you over to the others. Alarm was raised on his face until he looked you over. A shark swam in circles around you all and you really thought this was the end of your journey.

“Beat it,” Percy tipped his head in the other direction, and the shark swam off.

The peach skies told you the date: early morning, June 21, the day of the summer solstice.

In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades's fault.

I snuck in some hints in this chapter for events that will occur later on in the other books. Those, added with some songs on the playlist, will tell you everything you need to know ;)

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @hawkeye12 @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @luckydragontriumph @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @bugsys-bubble @twsssmlmaa

#capsize #percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #annabeth chase #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #hoo #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #Percy Jackson series #leo valdez x reader #Frank zhang #jason grace x reader

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hoshologies · 1 year ago

Text

10:14 pm, choi s.

genres &&. warnings — timestamp, fluff, established relationship &&. lapslock intended, crying, soobin being adorable.

word count — 1.8k

note — happy one week anniversary to me and txt san antonio d1. miss existing in the same room as txt so much. anyways i started writing this on saturday night after la d1 because i was just. so completely overwhelmed with emotions. i'm so proud of txt. i always will be.

the second your boyfriend and his friends have taken their bows, said their seemingly never-ending goodbyes to fans, and disappeared behind the divider that allows them to slip backstage unseen, you’re winding your way out of the crowd. fans are packing their things away, a cacophony of lightsticks powering down ringing out around you, and you smile at unsuspecting fans as you move past, making for the stairs as fast as possible without tripping.

you break out into the halls of the stadium and while you’ve made it out of the crowd in the stands, you’re met with the exiting mob. it’s like swimming against the current, just on land rather than water. and you’re trying desperately not to push anyone, sticking close to the outskirts so you’re not fighting against too many people, taking your time to pick your way through the throngs of concertgoers.

but the closer you get to the backstage entrance yeonjun showed you earlier, the more restless you become. you haven’t seen soobin in a month because of this tour, and facetime calls are a sad excuse of a compromise; you’ve missed seeing the real thing in person since he kissed you goodbye in the entrance to your apartment with a promise of calling you the second he touched down in america. more important than anything right now is to see him face to face, to hold him to your chest and not let go for minutes on end.

what transpired tonight feels like a fever dream: stadium show, sold out, every single seat filled. this is what soobin and the boys have been working towards their entire career, and they made it. and you were here for it. when you’d initially booked your flight to la, you hadn’t considered the milestone tonight and tomorrow night would be for the boys; you simply missed soobin and you’d wanted to see him. but halfway through the show, it hit you just how monumental all of this really is.

and that realization now is manifesting into an incessant need to see choi soobin right this second. you barely stop long enough to flash the security guards at the backstage entrance your badge, proving that you’re allowed to be back there, before you’re taking off again in the direction of the dressing rooms. away from the fans, your tears, happy as they may be, flow freely and you nearly get lost a couple of times before the green room finally comes into view, door wide open and laughter pouring out like audible warmth, steady and comforting and like home.

you dash towards the room, coming to a short stop in the threshold, a hand braced against the cool metal frame. the five boys are goofing off, wiping sweat from their faces and munching on snacks to tide them over until they get back to their hotel, laughing and shoving at one another as they joke around in a bid to burn off adrenaline. they’re so wrapped up in their own little world that not a single one notices you. something or other about taking matters into your own hands, you suppose.

“hey! choi soobin!” you call, out of breath and wild with anticipation and excitement. a month apart is coming to a very surprise close and when the boy in question whips around, eyes wide and round like a deer in headlights, it’s all you can do not to melt under his discerning gaze, watching as he blinks once, twice, three times while he registers that you stand before him, eyes just as wide and breathing just as heavy. but when he finally catches up to reality, the expression that crosses his face is priceless.

“oh my god!” he says, blindly setting down whatever he was eating on the table behind him before he rushes across the room to you. his embrace comes in hot and fast, arms wrapped tight around your waist in the blink of an eye, so much momentum that the two of you stumble into the hallway, still locked together. “oh my god, what are you doing here?”

he pulls his face away from your neck to really get a look at you. his eyes shine with tears and stardust, catching stray beams of light in the hallway. he looks like he can’t believe any of this is real and honestly, you don’t blame him because it doesn’t feel real at all to you either.

“i came to see you, silly,” you respond, smiling up at your precious boyfriend. you sink your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, wrap your arms a little tighter around him, shuffle a little closer. you’ve wished to be back in his embrace every night for weeks and now you’re here and it feels like the first time all over again: special and warm and one of a kind. “i missed you and i couldn’t wait anymore, so… here i am.”

soobin smiles brightly and who are you to not return it?

“here you are,” he repeats, untangling his arms from around your waist, only to cup your cheeks in his hands to leave a million and one kisses on your face. he giggles the whole time, nuzzling his nose along your skin and whispering sweet nothings between every one. “‘m glad you’re here. thank you for coming.”

when his mission of pressing kisses to every square inch of your face is complete, he winds his arms around you again, leaning his cheek against the top of your head. he rocks you back and forth in that hallway for so long, just holding you against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady under your cheek. you missed this, you missed him, but you’re glad that he went away to chase his dreams.

“‘m so proud of you, binnie. you did so well tonight,” you say quietly, voice trembling on the last few syllables. your fingers curl tight into the back of his shirt, not so much to wrinkle it but enough to anchor yourself against him as you feel the tears bubbling up.

soobin smiles, felt in the way his cheek rustles against your hair. one hand presses warm and comforting into the small of your back, the other soothing the space above. it’s a little ridiculous, the way you’re the one crying when he’s the one who just played a three hour concert to a sold out stadium of over twenty thousand people, but you are so overcome with pride that you can’t help it. he’s fought so hard to get here, he deserves this more than anyone you know (the other four boys excluded).

soobin shushes you softly when he feels the first few tears seep through his shirt. “shh, darling. you don’t need to cry. it’s okay.”

he coos at you over and over, breathy little chuckles wracking through him every once in a while, whispering about how cute and sweet and lovely you are. he reiterates time and time again that really, there’s no reason to cry, but through your attempts to catch your breath, you tell him that you can’t help it, that you’re so overwhelmed with pride and love that the only way your body knows how to release it is through tears, which makes him giggle even more and hold you even tighter.

“my baby, always so sweet to me.” his voice is soft and gentle, warm against the top of your head. “i made it this far because you always believed in me. i’m glad you were here to see it all.”

you sniffle and nod in assent, muttering a “me too,” voice still thick with tears. you’re gradually coming down off the adrenaline of the night, glad to have the sweetest boy in front of you holding your pieces together. when you finally do calm down enough, he leans back, arms still linked around you and a soft smile on his face.

“it’s about time for us to clear out of here for the night. wanna come back to the hotel and have dinner?” he asks, tilting his head to meet your gaze, eyes still shining with that silver stardust. you nod again and he smiles that pouty little smile of his. his hands take their rightful place on your cheeks, soft thumbs wiping away stray tears, and he kisses you slow and gentle. “so cute… c’mon. let’s get out of here.”

soobin moves away reluctantly, but links your hands together when he turns back towards the green room where yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and kai have been watching it all unfold. you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t look like all four of them are a little misty eyed themselves, but you won’t embarrass them like that.

: : bonus

soobin lays on his side facing you, his eyelashes fluttering against the soft skin of his cheeks as he sleeps. his breathing is slow and steady, comforting even when his exhales breeze across your face. he looks peaceful like this, a sight that you’ve missed since the moment he left you in korea.

as you study his features, you’re overcome with that pride again because it still hasn’t set in that tonight has been monumental. it feels like a dream you’re about to wake up from but don’t want to, but how could it be anything but real? he and the boys have worked so hard to get to this point. you saw the old tweets fans were bringing up. this has been the dream since day one and it’s come true. how special is that?

you can feel the tears welling again, pricking at the back of your eyes in the dark, and you sniffle as quietly as possible. but as though he has a radar for your emotions, soobin shifts, cracks an eye open and then the other when he realizes you’re about to cry again. he giggles breathily in the near-pitch black of the hotel room and scoots in closer, wrapping his arms tight around you.

“no more crying,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against your hairline. the amusement in his voice is nothing short of sincere and playful; it’s not chastizing or annoyed, just simply warm because you care about him so much that you feel affected the same way he does. he presses you soft to his chest, a hand rubbing soothingly at your back. “no more tears tonight. go to sleep.”

you nod against him, snuggling in close and melting into a warmth that is distinctly his. you can’t ever be apart from him again; you miss this when he’s away, never able to get good sleep because you’re always hyperfixated on the cool, empty space next to you. but now, you’re slipping away like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“missed you, soob,” you say quietly. “don’t leave me again.”

he laughs silently, just a little tremble of his shoulders to prove it ever happened, and scoots impossibly closer. “next time, you’re coming with me, i promise. but at least you’re here now.”

he’s right. at least you’re here now. and you don’t plan on leaving again for a while.

#soobin x reader #choi soobin x reader #txt x reader #soobin timestamp #txt timestamp #kpop x reader #kpop timestamp #txt.fic #soobin.fic #timestamp.fic #writing.fic

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simpingcowboy · 1 year ago

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Voulez-Vous//Do You Want To?

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN!Reader, reader has prior experience with hookups

Word Count: 900+

Warnings: allusions to alcohol, semi-public, touching over clothes, heavy kissing, strangers to lovers, hookups, very brief Spanish and even briefer French

Summary: A night out in Medellin leads you to Javier Peña. Attraction and lust run heavy. Now there's only one question...

A/N: The very totally not belated April edition of Year of ABBA as part of @yearofcreation2023 !!! Who else was there to pick for the horny hookup song than Peña???

Here we go again, you say to yourself as you cross the threshold into one of the biggest clubs in Medellin. Heavy music pounds in your ears. The vibrations of which rip through your body. Darkness consumes your vision. The world robbed of light, and replaced with a red illumination. People everywhere. Your body becoming just one of many in the crowd. A cloud of smoke lingers over the room. But even that is not as heavy as the sense of expectation hangin' in the air.

You’re quick to let the drink settle in and to let music take over. Shameless in the way you move. Losing yourself in the heat of the dance floor. Exchanging glances with the strangers surrounding you. An open invitation. No need for bashful wallflowering or overthinking. You came with an intent that you planned to see through.

Giving out a spark, a man catches your eye. Across the room, his eyes are glowing in the dark. Even in the low lighting you can tell he's just your type. Dark and handsome. With a very trendy mustache that suits his pouty lips. And from the look of that undone button up shirt barely clinging to his broad frame, the rest of him isn't so bad either. A master of the scene.

You can tell what he's thinking when he grabs the bartender's attention, "They mean business so I'll offer them a drink". The gesture makes you smile. The man looks mighty proud of himself as he balances the two drinks in hand. Leaving the table, and pushing through the crowd. With one destination in mind. You. Sure enough, within a minute, he's before you. And fuck- he's perfect. Tall and tan. His open shirt looks even more inviting than before. That tight little waist looks perfect for you to straddle. Even his face is prettier up close. Big brown eyes, and a beautiful aquiline nose. As your eyes fade down over his lips, he mouths something.

“¿Toma?” Drink? he asks, offering you the cup in his left hand.

You smile up at him as you accept the drink. “¡Gracias!” Thank you! you say, grateful for the cool drink. Though you weren’t partial to accepting drinks from strangers, the badge in his jean pocket and his non-colombian accent told you there was little to worry about from this man in that regard. “So-” you start, leaning in close to his ear. “DEA or CIA?”

The question catches him off guard. Earning you a small chuckle. A smirk grows across his face as his free hand wraps around your waist. “Aren’t you a smart one?”

“This-” his eyes follow as your hand traces up his thigh, tapping on the badge in his pocket, “is hard to miss.” You finish, taking a swig of the drink.

He lowers his head in understanding. Finally he answers “DEA.”

“Well Agent…” You whisper low in his ear, pressing your body against his. “I’m really glad you came.” You tease, hand still lingering over his thigh. Your lips barely hovering over his cheek.

Thick hands press into your hips, pulling you even tighter against him. “Me too.” He practically moans in your ear. Voice low and raspy.

Soon your drinks are long forgotten. Abandoned on the side tables of the dancefloor, where the DEA agent has you in his grasp. Calloused hands touching you with an incredible softness and an undeniable need. Fingers teasing at the edges of your outfit; desperate to get under it. His lips latched onto yours. Only pulling away to nibble on your neck or jaw. His tongue explores your mouth with a fiery passion.

You’re just as greedy. Though you still may not be able to see much…you can feel. Mapping his body with your fingers. Nails digging into his flesh. Marking that beautiful strong neck with your teeth and tongue. Letting your hand fall down to his front, enjoying the obvious effect you have on him.

A deep throaty moan escapes him as your cup his bulge. “Mierda- have you done this before, Beautiful?”

You smirk at his question, “Of course, I’ve done this before.”

“And now-” he gulps, trying to retain his composure “how are you feeling?”

“Feeling like I'd like to get some more.” You purr into his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth.

“Fuck-” He knows exactly what you mean. “Can I at least get your name first?”

You smile, offering your name to him.

The man repeats your name with a smile before introducing himself. “Javi.”

“Nice to meet you, Javi.” You say politely, grabbing his hand and slowly leading him off the dance floor. Pulling him into a quieter corner table to talk.

“Do you do this often?” Javi asks, not shaming but curiously. Obviously not a stranger to this himself.

To which you answer with a shrug, “Enough, and you?”

“More than enough.” He answers, a faint blush over his cheeks.

“I like it…” You affirm, letting your hand get lost in his messy curls. “Living in the moment. Now is all we get.” Your other hand is teasingly floating over his belt. “Nothing promised-”

“No regrets?” Javi finishes for you, letting his hips grind up into your hand.

“No regrets.” You repeat with a smile, meeting him in a soft kiss.

Javi moans into the kiss, mentally hyping himself. Ain’t no big decision. He knows what to do.

You pull yourself from his soft lips, taking his face in your hands. Admiring his big brown eyes and pouty lips. With a sweet smile you ask, “Then the question is…voulez-vous?”

#am writes #year of ABBA #year of themed creation #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x gn!reader #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #Spotify

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thedemonscrawler · 2 years ago

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Hello! I wanted to ask if you could share another snippet of the Shadow Realm from Paper Slips (if you want to) please? I honest to god love your writing, and would love to see some more of it. Also another question regarding writing, what inspired your style of writing? Or inspired in general.

Aaaah that's a tough question to answer because at this point I don't really know what inspired my 'style'. It's all pretty mashed together from a bunch of different sources.

Probably most of it comes from the fact I've roleplayed p much since I got on the internet, and the past 10 years pretty consistently. There's a lot I've learned and accumulated from my past partners as we've built off one another, and RP is a constant system of getting responses and feedback on what's working, how to take a narrative in a certain way, and how to get a specific response. Nothing really beats writing a reply that you know is going to have your partner going "AAAAAAAAAAAAA" at you.

I can still offer some authors, I think? Richard Adams (Watership Down) has some very, very good metaphorical and descriptive language, particularly in describing memory and senses other than sight. Terry Pratchett (the Discworld novels) has a good, opinionated narrator and a dry sense of humor. Douglas Adams (The Hitchhiker's Guide) kind of meets in the middle, with a strong narrator and vivid metaphor.

And sure, I'd love to share another snippet! This section was originally from Chapter 8 when Gregory went to the Security Office, but it ended up getting cut in favor of the arcade machine.

---

Considering for a moment, he leaves the security office (the door opens, this time), making a beeline for the worktable next to the gutted arcade machine.

The scuffed and dented metal toolbox is heavier than he thought, and it takes some effort to drag it to the edge of the shoulder-high table. Grabbing it by the corners as best he can, he starts easing it off the table and into his arms.

...make that easing it off of the table and directly onto the floor.

Dropping his hands from his ears, he stares at the scattering of tools and parts with resignation. Hopefully no one was close enough to have heard that. At least with most of its contents all over the floor the toolbox is a lot easier to pick up, and he carries it away from the carnage and over to the security door. Once the door opens Gregory sets the toolbox down on its end, right in the threshold. He squints up at the door, adjusting the position of the toolbox a little, then takes a few steps back.

The metal security door comes down on the toolbox with a loud clang! that has Gregory covering his ears again. Something up above the doorframe squeals, gears crunching, and the toolbox scrapes against the black and white tile of the office floor when it twists a little, but ultimately everything stays in place. Satisfied with his solution for a secure escape, Gregory finally enters the security office to start searching for something that can get him to the fire escape.

(gets the employee badge)

There's nothing else in the security office that he needs, so he heads out the door, dragging the toolbox with him and pretending he doesn't notice how the security door doesn't actually close all the way now. He'd had some vague idea of maybe cleaning up all the tools spilled on the floor, but after staring at the scattering of metal and plastic, he just leaves the toolbox sitting next to the workbench instead. That was a problem for someone else to handle.

#fanfic:permissionslip #WIP #The Shadow Realm #thank u for ask!#idk how helpful my answer was 8'D #just read and write a lot and absorb from other people

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unleadedfangs · 2 years ago

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YouTube VS Twitch: The Dilemma

So you're a streamer or content creator trying to decide what streaming site you should use, there are a lot of them, but really only two stand at the top fighting it out. YouTube and Twitch. TikTok maybe being a close third runner.

I want to compare the two in this post and give you the factual pro and cons of the two in comparison; and clarify things that are opinion.

I have streamed on both sites and now I stream exclusively on YouTube. So these are the facts and my overall thoughts. (This is a very long informational/educational thread)

For starters, lets get monetization out of the way since that is something a lot of people will worry about first.

YouTube definitely has a higher threshold for getting monetized in the first place; there are reasons for this. They are currently working on a new streamer specific monetization option that we don't know a lot about currently but, for normal monetization via videos you need 1,000 subscribers and 4,000 public watch hours in the last 12 months or 10 million shorts views in the last 90 days. It is expected that the streamer monetization option will be more similar to Twitch Affiliate.

In practical terms these seem like a lot, especially in comparison to Twitch affiliate but they aren't terrible, they are more in comparison to Twitch Partner.

YouTube offers a 70/30 split for all monetization options other than ads. So memberships, super chats, stickers, gifted memberships all will give the creator a 70/30 share. Ad revenue is shared at 55%, with shorts ad revenue share beginning in January 2023.

Twitch recently announced that the 70/30 share for Twitch Partners is gone forever and that all creators will be 50/50. This isn't really new news, as only the top 0.01% were actually getting the 70/30 share. However, until this update they were only sharing 45% of ad revenue. Now Twitch is sharing 55% of ad revenue from my understanding. So on Twitch, for Subscriptions and Bits you are getting 50/50 share. They recently also announced Elevates which are YouTube Super Chats, except a lot worse, because they are more expensive and stay for less time overall but, they will share 70% of this revenue specifically. (There is also the new Ad Incentives program but I do not feel that I am in a spot to really talk about it or share my thoughts on it; there are other people who could explain it way better)

Now in terms of YouTube memberships vs Twitch subscriptions (Oh man this terminology is confusing between the two sites) there are some interesting differences.

YouTube Memberships allow you to set up 6 tiers, that you decide the pricing on. You can price these tiers from $0.99 to $100.00 you control the pricing of them for what you feel is best for your community. You fully set up what each tier means for perks and rewards; you can set up custom discord roles, special videos, member only posts, member only streams/videos there is a lot you can do with them so I'll leave this a bit vague. Memberships also get access to custom emotes and badges. You get 4 emotes by default at 0 members and unlock more emotes for the more members you get. As for badges, you get new badges for 1, 2, 6, 12, 24, 36 and 48 month milestones. (After thought; Custom Emotes on YouTube are channel specific and not universal like Twitch)

Twitch's system is a little bit different and more confusing overall so I'm going to explain the basics of it. When you become an affiliate on Twitch you will receive 5 follower emotes, these can only be used on your channel specifically and will be available to followers. As an affiliate you get 5 emote slots by default, with another 4 able to be unlocked by gaining subscriptions. You also have 1 animated emote slot by default and can unlock 4 more animated emote slots. Affiliates also have 1 emote slot on their Tier 2 and Tier 3 subscriptions as well. There are also bit emote rewards that you can set up emotes for people to earn by spending bits exclusively. This system is really confusing and I get lost trying to explain it. Twitch Partners gain access to 50+ emote slots for the more subscriptions they get.

Twitch Subscriptions are also set in their pricing; $4.99, $9.99 and $24.99 and also limited to only 3 tiers. If you want exclusive perks for these Subscriptions as well you have to clarify them somewhere else.

Twitch forces you to run ads through out your stream whether you like it or not, or even opt into doing so; you will run ads regardless of what you do.

YouTube on the other hand runs pre-roll ads at the beginning of the stream; then fully leaves it up to you when ads are ran throughout the stream, so you can run them if you afk or etc. (YouTube may occasionally run an ad on a per user basis for some reason, but it will not run ads for EVERYONE like Twitch does). YouTube also focuses other ad types, banner ads, overlay ads, sidebar ads, card ads, they do every kind of ad to avoid showing an un-skippable ad; or even a 5 second skippable ad in streams.

I think that's everything in terms of monetization so lets talk about the sites and what they offer in quality.

In terms of stream quality; Twitch Affiliates and below have a "limit" of 720p60 @ 5-6k bitrate limit. The reason limit is quoted is because you can stream at 1080p60 @5-6k bitrate but, you will not have access to transcoding. Transcoding is the ability for a viewer to select the quality of the stream locally; so 144p, 240p etc. So by losing access to transcoding some viewers with bad internet quality or slow internet will not be able to watch your stream. You can get access to transcoding at 1080p as an affiliate if you're lucky because its a soft lock where; priority is given to all partners, so if you start and stop your streams enough times you might get a server that allows you to have it. The 6k bitrate limit of Twitch also can make streams look very compressed and meh quality in fast paced games like Apex Legends.

YouTube allows creators to stream at 4k/2160p60 with a limit of 51k bitrate. There is no limits between partners and non partners, this is a flat limit for the service. A max quality of 4k at 60 fps and a max limit of 51k. Transcoding is also guaranteed at all times for all creators. Generally I stream at 1080p60 @ 10k bitrate for fast paced games like Apex Legends and the quality is far better than Twitch.

YouTube recently updated their UI so now Livestreams, Shorts and Videos are all separated into their own specific categories on your channel page making it easier for people to find exactly what they want and removing the need for you to unlist vods on YouTube.

An argument I see a lot of the time is "Discoverability" this is a hard because there is some truth to it but a lot of it is opinions. Discoverability for certain topics on YouTube is at a disadvantage; an example being art streams. If you created a following on YouTube for speed paints or art videos, your art streams would do amazing on YouTube. If you start out day 1 streaming art with no uploads and no history as a creator, Twitch will do better overall. Its really circumstantial. Some things will do better on YouTube because of the search results and your stream being pushed like a normal video but some stuff will do objectively worse without being established.

YouTube is working on a streaming homepage similar to Twitch, which will really assist in this issue overall, as YouTube partially has it in the sense that you can go to each games category on YouTube like Twitch and find all the streams currently for it, but its a lot harder to do right now than Twitch. I've tested both and have my opinions; You can stream on Twitch and have 0 viewers and you can stream on YouTube and have 0 viewers. So in the end its whatever you are more comfortable with in my opinion. Either is fully viable regardless of opinions.

Random extras:

YouTube does require a thumbnail for every stream. Streams on YouTube also will not be archived if they are over 12 hours long. (Sometimes they will but usually not)

YouTube overall wants to encourage shorter streams, so that way creators have more time to work on videos and shorts. So YouTube's ideology is stream for a couple hours, maybe upload a video and a couple shorts instead of stream 15 hour straight.

This is a contrast vs Twitch where if you aren't streaming your channel is essentially dead. Twitch wants you to stream more and longer every day, which is reinforced by all of their Partner contracts and the Ad incentives program.

There is a difference in YouTube and Twitch chat function and culture. YouTube does not have channel points or redeems. (I personally like this) YouTube chat functions different than Twitch in how it loads messages; I personally prefer it again but there are extensions such as TruffleTV by Ludwig to make YT chat feel like Twitch. Extensions like BTTV and 7UP are adding or have added support for YouTube as well. Both sites have Polls and a few functions like so. On YouTube you can also pin an announcement to the top of the live chat.

I hope overall this has been informative and helpful to you and gave you a clearer cut comparison of the two sites side by side in just flat features. If you have any questions about the two sites, or something you feel should be added to this blog post please share it with me via reblog, message, ask or so on.

If you found it helpful, consider checking out my YouTube. Happy streaming and good luck on the content journey. :)

#unleadedfangs talk #unleadedfangs #vtubers #vtubers on tumblr #youtube vs twitch #vtubers en #envtubers #vtuber uprising #content creator #youtube #youtuber #twitch

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wickedlehane · 11 months ago

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Was Faith a little disappointed to hear the haunting wasn't deeply haunted? Maybe. But she tried to hide the visible thought process on her face, instead opting for a smile. The fact that Cordelia could even cope with having a ghost roommate was surprising and amusing in equal measure.

"Damn. Maybe the only good men are the dead ones," she mostly joked. "Sounds like you lucked out on the roomie sitch. I had some wild bunkmates in the slammer -- you'll need to start working on that box of wine before we get to that, though."

She waited politely outside while Cordy got things straightened out with the ghost, but the Slayer would be lying if she said she wasn't trying to listen in on the conversation. Faith smoothed her hands over her leather pants and dug a little vamp dust out from under her finger nails, perking back up when the other brunette returned.

"Sweet. Scout's honor I'll do the same. Well... not a scout, but ex-felon's honor doesn't sound as convincing. At least not without the merit badges," Faith rambled, swaggering her way inside Cordelia's abode.

Not two steps over the threshold, the Slayer craned her neck upwards towards nothing in particular and gave a little salute. "Sup, roomie?" She wondered if the ghost was watching, or how that even worked. Cordelia claimed he was respectful and all, but she had to wonder if this spirit had... like, free roam of the place. He wasn't gonna follow Faith into the bathroom or nothing, right?

"Alright, so what's the game plan? 'Fraid I didn't bring any pajamas, but don't let me cramp your style or nothin'."

"No, not anymore," Cordy shook her head, almost feeling guilty that it was long past the time since the haunting of her flat had become benign. "I mean, he'll scare off an intruder, but when it's just him and me, it's like...He's the perfect boyfriend: He does whatever I ask, gets me things before I do, doesn't take up space, and I don't need to fuck him."

Not that she was a prude or anything. Cordelia liked sex well enough, but sometimes it could be just such a chore. Maybe that was why she preferred casual dating over actual long term relationships. She wasn't as bad as she used to be, but she was still a very self-centered person. Cordy didn't so much forget about the feelings of other people, just that she was much more in tune with her own.

(Also, being cheated on by someone like Xander Harris with the goodiest two shoes that's ever been still kinda stung.)

She left Faith at the door and slipped inside. After she put her things away, turned on her cheap flat screen that was only HD because most tvs were these days and hand me down Roku she'd somehow scored at a swap meet last year. She left it on standby and hoped they could decide on something between the handful of streamers she had access too. In the mean time she chatted with Dennis. She did not tell him that Faith was a Slayer. She didn't know if ghosts counted among the supernatural being that just knew what a Slayer was. What did she know, really? Maybe there really was something to the collective conscious theory, only it only mattered when you were dead.

"Alright, we talked it out, and he's gonna be on his best behaviour," Cordy told Faith when she returned to the front door.

#existentialflirt #existentialflirt cordelia #existentialflirt cordelia 01

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morallygreyyn · 2 years ago

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Umm so here I am requesting for a Hisoka fanfic~

Could you, good ma'am, please write about Hisoka and reader's first meeting + first date~?

I feel like it could be even really funny to write about but I personally have no idea what to expect so yeahh.. Anyways.. I'm ready beg for something spicy 😭🛐💦

the dream team (hisoka x reader)

description: you hadn't expected to meet anyone at the hunter exam, and you definitely didn’t expect to be partnered up with number 44. let’s just say your first date was a little out of the ordinary but then again, so is Hisoka so what were you expecting...

authors note: here it is! the first fic featuring my fav clown hisoka! okay so i kinda got so excited about this request that i just popped off...please enjoy slogging through most of the hunter exam arc before you actually get to interact with hisoka pls i was so extra with this

warnings: hisoka

word count: 5.6k (this took me sO LONG AND FOR WHAT)

requests are open!

The elevator dinged, signalling your arrival. All eyes turned to you as you stepped into the damp threshold, assessing the newest competition. You quickly scanned the area, ignoring the uncomfortable atmosphere. Most of the applicants left you unimpressed, however you could sense some powerful players hidden within the crowd. Grinning, you walked forward, eager to begin the process of the legendary Hunter Exam.

“Hello, please take a number! Keep it on your chest at all times and be careful not to lose it!” A peculiar, green fellow approached you, a badge outstretched towards you. You took the circular item, the number 406 was etched into the front. Attaching the badge to your shirt, you continued to look around. The tense atmosphere was building, murmurs and whispers echoing off the concrete walls.

“Hey there!” A voice called from behind. Turning around, you watched as a man clad in a blue robe greeted you, the number 16 on his chest. He was rotund and short and gave you the impression that he wasn’t worth your time so you whipped back around again and continued walking, ignoring his attempts to get your attention.

Everyone for the most part ignored you, and you ignored them in kind. You didn’t know anyone here, and you didn’t expect to know anyone afterwards. Besides, making friends with people you considered weak wasn’t something you did. You found a somewhat empty area to stand in which allowed you to think about your next steps. There were strong people here, you could sense their Nen and you were sure that they could sense yours too. You weighed the options of either using In to conceal your presence, making you a hidden threat. Or you could do nothing and let them know that there was another Nen user among them. Deciding to try out the former for the time being, you activated In. The other Nen users had probably sensed you when you entered and sensed you disappearing, but you liked that. It was like a game of guess who.

Just as you concealed your presence, a wretched scream reverberated throughout the dark hall. Quietly heading to the source of the commotion, you watched as a man’s arms disintegrated before your very eyes. That’s when you noticed him, your first real competitor, number 44. A red haired man with pale skin, peculiar clothes and an overwhelming sense of Nen. You grinned, this was definitely going to be an interesting game.

“Number 44. The magician, Hisoka.” You overheard the plump man from before comment to the group who had arrived just before you, also mentioning how the magician killed an examiner he didn’t like and automatically failed. Number 16 also quickly warned the group that no one liked him and to stay away.

Hisoka, you thought. An interesting name for an interesting guy. You would be sure to keep an eye out for him.

A rattling sound brought you out of your thoughts. Ah, it seemed Hisoka wasn’t the only interesting Nen user here. Number 301 rattled past you, his body twitching violently. You could practically taste the danger of his aura and you grinned again, adding him to the list of people to watch. If you had to guess, you would say that 301 was a Manipulator as you could sense the needles buried in his body held a concentrated amount of power.

Some time had passed, leaving you to think about the promising few days ahead. Excited and ready to go, your mind raced as an alarm sounded, gathering the attention of all applicants. Suddenly, the wall lifted revealing what you could only guess to be an examiner behind it.

Once the ground had stopped shaking, he began his greetings. You half listened, not interested in paying attention to things you already knew. You knew about the dangers this exam posed, not that you cared. Everything held danger so it wasn’t that impressive.

“Those who accept the risks, please follow me.” Was all you needed to hear as the man turned around and began marching through the seemingly endless dark tunnel. The group started walking behind him and you made sure to keep yourself hidden in the pack. No one paid you any attention, just the way you wanted it. You hadn’t noticed the examiner pick up the pace until suddenly everyone around you had begun to jog.

Ah, it clicked in your mind, this was a test of stamina and endurance. You learned that Satotz was the Phase One examiner and you assumed that Phase Two would begin whenever this tunnel ended. The examiner quickly confirmed your suspicions.

Around the two hour mark, you spotted Hisoka again. He looked positively cheerful as he ran, eyes closed and a smile on his face. How interesting. You couldn’t help but be intrigued by the red haired magician.

It was a fairly boring course, the landscape never changing with no ending in sight. Many applicants had already dropped out. You weren’t completely bothered, letting your mind and imagination take over as you continued to run. Every now and then you would steal a glance at Hisoka but his pace or expression ever changed.

As more and more applicants dropped to the ground, you were quite close to the front of the pack now. Number 301 was now visible and ended up running beside Hisoka. You absently wondered if those two knew each other. Four hours had passed at this point and you had run through your list of fake scenarios, the daydreams now becoming boring. Luckily for you, your boredom didn’t last long. There was now an endless staircase before you. Ah, you must be near the end. Hang on, you thought, did the pace just increase?

It seemed the examiners this year were really out for blood. People had begun to drop like flies around you, not that you minded.

Another half hour had passed and cries of joy had started to ring out at the sight of the exit. The white light grew bigger and bigger until you finally reached it, stepping out into the open air. A heavy mist surrounded the area, the perfect place for a mystery such as the Hunter Exam. Everyone around you stopped to catch their breath, gasping and wheezing being the only sound.

When the mist cleared, it looked as if you were in an area of grassland. Trees and mountains being the only thing you could see for miles. Numere Wetlands the examiner called them, a fitting name you thought, and to reach Phase Two you had to cross them.

It was as the examiner was describing the formidable creatures that called this place home when a random man appeared out of nowhere and started shouting nonsense about the man leading your group being an imposter. What really interested you was the cards that sliced through the man’s chest like a hot knife through butter. There was only one magician in the group that you knew of and this display had you itching to approach him. Hisoka stood there, shuffling his cards, having determined the real examiner.

What an impressive first impression. Many failed to leave any kind of impression on you and yet Hisoka had impressed you in every small encounter you’ve had with him. Excitement built up as you wondered what you would see from him next.

The examiner started to move through the wetlands, the pack running behind him once more, determined not to lose the leader within the thick fog. Water splashed wherever feet hit the ground, the sound filling the silence. As the fog grew denser however, keeping sight of the examiner proved more and more difficult, until you had lost sight of him completely.

However it didn’t take you long to find the examiner again and you weren’t surprised with how few people had managed to follow him. The closer you got to the finish line, the faster the fog dissipated. After a few minutes, your vision was clear and the sun met your skin. Once you had reached your destination, you scanned the area, looking to see who had made it this far. The only one you recognised was 301. Finding a nice spot underneath a tree, you sat down and watched as more and more applicants found their way to the meetup point.

Phase Two of the exam worried you slightly. A cooking challenge? Absolutely not. Catching the pig was easy, but that was where your luck ended. You had absolutely no idea what you were supposed to do with this carnivorous pig that you had killed so you looked around at the other applicants, trying to gather inspiration. It proved to be a wasted effort as the Phase Two examiners, whose names you didn’t bother to remember, failed every applicant. That was until an old man, the Chairman of the Selection Committee and the one in charge of the whole exam, dropped from an airship that had arrived overhead.

Now you were onto Phase Two 2.0. The exam was relocated to Mt. Split-in-Half where you had to catch and boil a Spider Eagle egg. Now this was something you could do. Waiting for a young boy’s signal, whoever dared to jump down onto the webs was successfully lifted up by an updraft. As a reward, you got a delicious snack afterwards.

Night had fallen, signalling the end of the first day. You had the luxury of riding in the airship to the location of the Third Phase. The applicants had been told that dinner was waiting for them in the dining hall so that was the place you headed first. The buffet laid before you was nothing short of extraordinary. All kinds of dishes had your mouth watering and you happily ate your fill of anything you could fit on your plate.

Once you were fed, you found a seat by the window and took in the view. Cities passed below you, lights glittering against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

You froze, sensing powerful auras approaching you. Making sure to keep facing the window, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Hisoka and number 301 passed by. That’s odd, maybe they were first acquainted outside of the exam?

You only noticed that you were staring when Hisoka caught your gaze and held it as he walked. A slight grin appeared on his face when he broke eye contact, disappearing from sight with his potential friend.

He knew. You were absolutely positive that Hisoka knew you were hiding your Nen. Unable to help the wicked smile that stretched across your face, you went to find a room to sleep in.

The next morning, you had successfully landed at the site for Phase Three which happened to be at the very top of quite a tall structure. Trick Tower it was called, and you were told that to pass you had to make it to the base of the tower alive within the time limit of seventy-two hours. Every applicant stood around in confusion, trying to figure out a way to get down the tower. Jumping was suicide and climbing down proved impossible due to the various beasties that patrolled the area.

It turned out that secret trap doors seemed to be the only way down the tower, many applicants disappearing as the minutes passed.

Stumbling upon a trap door, you quickly jumped through before anyone else could take it. It led you to a small, brick room bare of any decoration aside from one white pillar next to the wall. The second thing you noticed was that you weren’t alone, and the one other person in there with you was someone you would recognise even if you were blindfolded.

Hisoka stood with his back to you, head turned to the side as you met his sidelong glance.

“So it’s you.” He drawled, turning to face you fully. His smile was positively wicked.

“So it is.” You returned, assessing whether you were in any danger or not.

“It seems you and I are partners for this phase.” He pointed to the screen behind him, confirming what he said. You stepped past the magician towards the white pillar. The screen above read: The two of you must work in unison to make it to the bottom of the tower.

Huh, well that was unexpected. Looking at the pedestal, two stopwatches were nestled into it. Underneath the timer, which was counting down from seventy-two hours, there was some kind of sensor.

“I wonder what this does.” You muttered to yourself as you picked one up, inspecting the object. Hisoka moved beside you and picked up the last remaining one.

“I presume it’s to track our movements.” He dangled the item between two long fingers, holding it up to the light of the screen.

“To make sure we work in unison.” You finished his sentence for him, snapping the watch onto your wrist. “Whatever that means.”

Hisoka hummed, copying your actions. Suddenly a voice rang out from a megaphone hanging from the ceiling.

“That’s correct!” It cried, and both you and the magician turned to face it. “I am a prison warden here and the Third Phase examiner. Multiple routes through this tower have been prepared. You have chosen the path of unison. Perfect teamwork is essential if you wish to clear this phase of the exam. One person’s impulsive behaviour can derail your duo. The two of you must work in harmony to avoid failing. Best of luck!”

You laughed once the megaphone had shut off, thinking the examiner was some kind of matchmaker. “How interesting!”

“Indeed.”

Just then, a part of the wall moved, revealing a door. Marching forward, you tried opening it but it wouldn’t budge.

“Hm?” You tried again and had the same results. You looked at your companion and gestured to the door. “You wanna have a go?”

“Okay.” He sauntered forwards and came to a stop beside you. Even when he put his entire strength behind it, the door still wouldn’t open. Then an idea clicked in your mind.

“If I’m right about this, the next seventy-two hours are going to be a challenge.”

“What is it?”

“I think we have to open the door at the same time.” You gestured him forward. “Now get over here and let’s try this.”

“Oh my, you’re bold aren’t you?” Hisoka brought his finger up to his lips and you found the goofy side of your partner quite endearing. “I’m quite shy.”

You snorted as Hisoka placed his hand directly beside yours on the door. “Not in that outfit you’re not.”

Pushing at the same time, lo and behold, the door swung wide open.

“Yep, this is gonna be a challenge.” You smiled as you peered through the doorway. What greeted you on the other side seemed to be an endless spiral staircase, descending into complete darkness. Now that you completely distrusted. Walking forward, you applied light pressure on the first step to test it and sure enough, the step crumbled away beneath your foot, falling into the darkness.

“Don’t tell me…” You trailed off and looked at your partner. “When they said complete unison, they really meant it.”

“Quite an engaging first date.” Hisoka hummed as you both jumped and hit the next step at the same time. The step held firm, confirming your suspicions.

“Usually a casual dinner works for me.” You timed your steps with the magician, slowly descending down and being plunged into the pitch black.

“Duly noted.” His musical voice came from beside you.

You had both set a rhythm to keep in time with each other. It was difficult to see each other with the only light coming from your stopwatches, the dim green face was barely enough to show you where you were stepping.

The stairs were never ending, the only sound in the darkness were your rhythmic steps. You didn’t really know what to say to your newfound partner, he was rather unpredictable and, if he was anything like you, small talk would bore him to death.

The hours ticked by and the time was just about sixty nine hours before anything promising happened. Very slowly coming into view, there seemed to be a light the closer you got to the bottom. You could make out a single candle sitting above another door.

“That’s promising.” You mumbled, noting the way Hisoka inched closer to you. If felt as if he wanted to say something and you could take a guess as to what was on his mind. It would turn out that he didn’t have to wait long to get his answer, as when you reached the bottom and pushed open the door, your first fight began.

The door opened to a suspended platform in the centre of a cavernous room. It would be quite the long fall if you were unfortunate to go over the edge. A narrow plank connected from the door to the platform, and you could see it was the same for the otherside. You figured the opposite door was your goal here. However it seemed as if it wouldn’t be that easy.

Two prisoners stood before you, looking for all the world as if they craved a good fight. You were lucky that both you and Hisoka seemed to be unhinged enough to rise to the challenge.

They were twins you realised, identical twins, and of course every movement of theirs was also identical. The prisoners opened their mouths to speak but you held up a hand to stop them.

“No, no. Let me guess.” You said, and gave Hisoka a look which he met with unbridled manic glee. “We have to kill you in perfect synchronisation?”

“Correct.” They spoke at the same time, their lifeless voices echoing around the hall.

“And how do you expect us to do that considering we’ve never fought together before?”

“We don’t.”

Hisoka grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. “My partner and I would like to request some time to come up with a plan?”

You nodded at the magician’s question, knowing that you would need to come up with something. As strong as you both were, it would be useless if you couldn’t pass the challenge.

“Go ahead.” They both pointed to the door you just came from. Whirling around, you and Hisoka sat at the foot of the door. Well, you sat and Hisoka crouched.

“How are we going to do this?” You whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. You were still using In so you doubted your opponents knew that you could use Nen. Realising that was a good starting point, you looked at your partner. “What type are you?”

He didn’t blink. “Gemini.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they were going to pop out. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Instead of answering your question, Hisoka leaned in, face inches away from yours.

“You’re a Transmuter.” He guessed and you couldn’t say you were shocked with his accuracy.

“How did you know?”

“I have a system. Transmuters tend to be fickle and hide their true personalities and intentions.” Hisoka grinned, leaning closer to your ear. “You and I are the same.”

Your answering laugh was high and insincere. “I suppose that makes us the best match.”

“Indeed it does.”

“I don’t need this anymore then.” You let go of your In, grinning as your aura flooded back.

“That’s more like it.” Hisoka mimicked your expression, eyes brightening.

“Back to the matter at hand, we have to kill them, but how are we supposed to kill them in sync?” Wracking your brain, you still couldn't come up with a possible solution. “I haven’t had any fun in ages, I feel like I’m losing my edge.”

“Well, well, we can’t allow that to happen, now can we?” Hisoka smirked and licked his lips. “The thought of killing this duo with you y/n is enough to get me on board with this nonexistent plan of yours.”

“Hey, I’m working on it!” You protested, staring at the dusty ground in concentration. “You could also come up with ideas, you know.”

“Hm? But it’s so much fun watching you struggle.”

“You’re going to be struggling if you don’t start helping.”

“Fine, fine.” He waved his hand and suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going?” You asked, watching him walk slightly closer to the centre platform.

Ignoring your question, Hisoka faced the twins and placed his hands on his hips. “You said we have to kill you in perfect synchronisation, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“What about fighting?”

They stayed silent, giving Hisoka the answer he was looking for.

“They were hoping we would waste time by trying to fight them.” Slamming your fist against the ground, bricks shattered from the force. Of course, it was so simple. How could you have missed it?

Suddenly, the challenge got that much easier. You couldn’t hold back your manic grin as you stood, facing your opponents. Hisoka and the twins could sense the shift in your aura, all three pairs of eyes turning to you.

“Hey, Hisoka?”

“What is it?”

“Thanks.” You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I feel like I can have some fun now.”

Hisoka’s mania matched yours as you both turned to the twins. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

The next few minutes were a blur. Unfortunately, the twin you launched at didn’t see you coming until you were already on him.

“Gotcha.” You said gleefully, watching Hisoka catch the other twin. “That was far too easy. Were you supposed to be a challenge?”

“You’re insane!” The man below you tried to fight you off to no avail.

You tutted, shaking your head. “You broke your synchronisation.”

Looking at Hisoka, you nodded and you both killed your opponents with not even a nanosecond between. You heard a click and you lifted your head, watching the next door swing open. You stood, wiping the blood off of your face with your sleeve.

“How dull.” You moved your victim’s head with your foot, staring into his lifeless eyes. “I thought they would at least put up a fight.”

“It was barely worth the time.” Hisoka agreed, moving to stand beside you.

“Oh well.” You stepped over the body, moving to the door. “Maybe there will be better challenges further down the tower.”

“Hm.” Hisoka hummed, tapping his chin. “I did enjoy killing with you though.”

“Nothing like a good murder to bring people together.”

“What an ideal first date.”

You laughed, really enjoying Hisoka’s company. He didn’t speak much and you figured that, true to his words, he was in fact shy. However you noticed that the longer you spent with him, the more he conversed and joked around with you.

You stepped through the doorway, never once breaking your perfect synchronisation. It felt weird to have to be so in time with someone else that even your footsteps matched but you weren’t complaining, happy that the magician was you you ended up with.

Another door faced you, however this one didn’t need your unison to open it. The door rose as you approached, leading you into a dark, circular room. Candles on the stairwell flared to life, green flames illuminating the room. There was a man sitting at the base of the stairs, looking positively smug. You looked at Hisoka but his eyes were trained on the person before you.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Hisoka.” The man said, also explaining that he wasn’t an examiner but he was here for revenge.

“I suppose that means our challenge doesn’t apply to this.” You sauntered to the stairs, taking a seat beside a candle. “I’ll sit this one out then. Make it quick, Hisoka.”

You were only half paying attention when the two men began to have a conversation, the ex examiner pulling out knives in between sentences. It seemed to shock Hisoka when four knives were withdrawn, the man spinning them as if they were nothing but a baton. He charged at Hisoka, the intent to kill the magician was so strong you could almost smell it. You weren’t worried however, you had the utmost faith in your partner.

You watched as Hisoka dodged the knives, spinning mid air to avoid them. The way he moved was almost beautiful to you and, oh, he was flexible. Now that was much too attractive.

“I’ll have you writhe in pain until you die, Hisoka!” The man stopped once Hisoka had caught two of his knives, effectively turning the tables. Hisoka licked the blade and you watched every movement.

It didn’t take long for the man’s head to part with his body, both hitting the floor with the thump.

“Well, well, I imagine that didn’t quite go the same way that he had pictured it.” You stood, looking around for the exit. It seemed the only way to go was up which you found odd. Surely your objective was to go down the tower, not up. Nonetheless, you and the magician fell into the same rhythm climbing the stairs.

It was odd that you felt quite a bit closer to Hisoka and the silence between you was no longer awkward.

“Who was he?” You asked after a while, eyeing the injuries Hisoka sustained during the fight.

“Someone who didn’t qualify to be an examiner.” He answered simply with a disinterested tone. Then he grinned and brought a hand to his heart. “Asking about other men on our date, y/n? How rude.”

“My dearest Hisoka, you know I only have eyes for you!”

“Keep it that way.”

“As you wish, my one and only.” You quipped, loving this running joke between you two. You could tell that he was loving it too as his mood matched yours.

Eventually you reached the top of the stairs and entered into what only could be described as a mineshaft. A few candles were lit where you just entered from, allowing you very limited visibility but what you could see sent your excitement soaring.

“Is that a cart?” You were dumbfounded, looking at the rails that dived down into complete darkness.

“It would appear so.”

It was obvious what you had to do. Being careful to keep in sync, both you and Hisoka climbed into the cart. It was incredibly cramped, so much so that Hisoka was practically sitting in your lap.

“Enjoying our date at the carnival, sweetheart?”

He could only chuckle as the cart rolled forward, gathering speed as it plunged into the darkness. You involuntarily held onto the magician’s thin waist, trying to avoid his injury but desperate for something to hold onto as your new method of transportation moved with all the speed of a rocket. You don’t know how long the ride took you and you didn’t dare move your arm to look at your watch.

Eventually the cart slowed and rolled to a stop at the start of a seemingly never ending tunnel.

“Well that was the most fun I’ve had in this entire exam.” You inhaled, able to breathe properly again. You both exited the cart and you were curious at the feeling of missing Hisoka in close proximity to you.

“What is it?” He picked up on your mood change as you began the trek through the tunnel.

You waved a hand. “Just confused, I thought Trick Tower was supposed to be difficult.”

“Maybe we took the easy route.”

Laughing, you looked ahead, unable to see anything but the tunnel. “Maybe.”

The candles lining the walls flickered, sending your shadows in all directions. An eerie atmosphere hung in the air, the only sounds in the dark tunnel were your footsteps. It took roughly an hour before you could see the next door.

Once you reached the end of the tunnel, the door rose to reveal a circular room lit by candles.

“Number 406 and number 44, y/n and Hisoka, are the first applicants to pass the Third Phase. Total time, six hours and seventeen minutes.” A speaker announced as the door shut behind you.

“That’s it?” You grumbled, looking around at the empty room. “Surely that can’t be it.”

“It seems my dear y/n, that is, in fact, it.”

“What are we supposed to do now for the remaining sixty six hours?” You slumped against the wall, not looking when Hisoka sat beside you.

“Suffer with boredom I presume.”

“Say,” You turned your head to him, and he met your gaze. “Have you got a pack of cards?”

“Of course~” He sang, pulling out a deck. He began to shuffle, looking at you with his familiar smiling expression. “I take it you know how to play?”

“Of course~” You mimicked his tone, picking up the hand he dealt you.

You lost count of the hours you spent playing against your partner, him winning every single time.

“You’re cheating.”

“Maybe, or you’re just bad.”

Suddenly, a door lifted and in walked the other applicant you had your eye on since the beginning.

“Gittarackur, applicant 301, is the second to pass. Total time, twelve hours and two minutes.”

A rattling laugh emitted from the newest arrival as he spotted the magician. “I figured you already crossed the finish line.”

The ninja Hanzo then finished, the small room feeling ever so slightly more crowded. The two newest applicants eventually slumped down, realising that there was absolutely nothing to do in this small room. Perhaps this was the hardest challenge, waiting.

You weren’t a patient person and cards could only keep you entertained for so many hours.

“I don’t even know how many times you won.” You said as you stood up to stretch.

“Two hundred and nineteen, but who’s counting?”

“Smug bastard.” You grumbled as you sat back down beside him, ignoring his laugh. “Challenge me to a game of Snap. I dare you, you’ll stand no chance.”

“Let’s see about that.”

True to your word, you actually did manage to win quite a few games against Hisoka. You would never admit that it shocked you somewhat, but it did.

“It appears you weren’t lying.”

“Told you~” You sang, ignoring the fact that more applicants had arrived.

After a day had passed, a large metal shelving unit emerged from one of the many doors, holding multiple trays of food and drinks. Thanking everything you could that you could finally eat, you picked up two trays and sat back down next to your partner.

“Here.” You put his tray in front of him, too busy digging into your food to notice his response or expression.

The only good thing about having new applicants walk through the doors was that you knew how much time had passed and, more importantly, the time remaining.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you fell asleep. All you knew was that one minute you were leaning against the wall wondering what to do next, and the next minute your head was on Hisoka’s shoulder.

You blinked, your bleary eyes trying to focus.

“You’re finally awake.” A familiar voice came from beside you.

“I don’t remember falling asleep.” You lifted your head. “I’m surprised my head is still intact.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“You know exactly what.”

“As if I would kill the light of my life.” He teased, leaning in. “And on our date too. Shame on you for thinking such hurtful things.”

“My apologies. I have no idea what about you would give me the impression that you’re a murderer.”

“Tsk tsk.” He wagged his finger. “I’m a respectable man.”

You laughed at that. “Yes, about as respectable as me.”

At around the sixty two hour mark, Hisoka had taken to building card towers and you watched with bored fascination at how he placed them.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Hm, this?” He asked, pointing to his creation. When you nodded, he knocked his complete tower down and began showing you where to place the cards to get them to stand upright. It took you a couple of hours but you eventually got the hang of it.

Having successfully completed your first tower, you were about to celebrate when Hisoka looked you dead in the eye and knocked all your hard work down.

He laughed sadistically at the face you made. “Mmhh, I love that expression.”

“You’re gonna love it even more when I knock your next tower down.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

A new applicant had finished, telling you that you had two hours remaining.

“Finally.” You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “What I wouldn’t give for another cart ride right now.”

“That was fun.” Hisoka hummed in agreement, turning to face you with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Especially when you grabbed onto my waist.”

“Where else was I supposed to hold?” You argued. “Your waist was ready and available.”

“I know another part of me that’s ready and available.”

You threw your head back in laughter, the sound echoing around the quiet room. “Good to know.”

Your banter with Hisoka continued on until the final five applicants had passed. You would never say it, but you had an inkling you were going to miss the magician when this was all over.

The speaker sounded for the final time.

“The Third Phase of this exam is over. Twenty six applicants have passed. One has died.” One final door rose, letting daylight flood into the dark room. Applicants were asked to leave one by one and you wasted no time in making sure that you were one of the first to leave.

Fresh air had never felt so good. You tilted your head back, loving the feeling of the sunlight on your skin.

“I suppose our date is over.” Hisoka’s voice came from beside you, as he stepped out into the breeze. “I very much enjoyed it.”

“Perhaps we can have another soon?”

Hisoka grinned, giving you a dramatic bow. “My dear y/n, I expect this is only the beginning of a wonderful relationship.”

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