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miyx-amour · 4 months

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whispers of rain

wc: 1.02k

non-idol!park jeongseong x fem!reader

(very cliché but we love jay)

the rain dances on the window panes, tracing intimate paths as the city below fades into a blurry mosaic of lights. the air carries the earthy aroma of petrichor, and the gentle caress of the wind through the open window adds a soft, tantalizing whisper to the symphony of raindrops. the city's heartbeat syncs with the rhythmic percussion of the downpour, creating an ambiance that embraces both solitude and passion.

across from you, your boyfriend was immersed in his work, fingers gliding over the keyboard with a sense of urgency. the room hung in a quiet tension, filled only with the rhythmic melody of typing. as you waited, each passing minute felt like an eternity, the anticipation building with a subtle intensity, creating an atmosphere charged with both patience and longing.

you longed for jay's presence, the memory of his touch lingering like an unfulfilled craving, days passing without the intimate connection you both shared. the weight of his workload cast a shadow, but the desire for the roles you embraced—his little slut, him cumdump, his doll—made every inch of your being ache with anticipation. the mere thought of his touch ignited a sensuous restlessness within you.

unable to resist any longer, your desire eclipsed patience, prompting you to approach jay with a subtle urgency. seating yourself beside him, your hand ventured onto his thigh, tenderly caressing. in the hushed room, jay's voice broke the silence, "yes, baby?" a quiet pause ensued before you whispered, "i miss you," your hand inching closer to his clothed dick, a subtle lick of your lips revealing the depth of your yearning.

"i know baby, i know" he reassures, his gentle caress tracing tender lines on your head. pouting, you draw his attention away from the demanding task at hand. "don’t you need a break? you’ve been working on this for hours," you express with a pout. he shifts his focus, meeting your gaze. "i'm nearly finished, baby, i promise," he assures, his words carrying a subtle promise of shared moments to come.

regardless of his nearing completion, an urgent need for him consumes you. your hand glides along his form, directing his head toward yours for a lingering kiss, reuniting with lips missed dearly. with deliberate slowness, you close his laptop, erasing thoughts of the pending file. the moment your lips meet, his focus shifts entirely to you. deepening the kiss, he pulls away momentarily, teasing, "what am i going to do with you, my needy slut?" before reclaiming your lips in a passionate collision.

breaking away from the kiss, he commands you to undress, a request met with immediate compliance. firmly, he guides you down onto the sofa, fingers teasing your core. his voice, a sensuous whisper, remarks, "you missed me, didn’t you? look how wet you are, poor baby." your response is a seductive squirm, the ache of missing him echoing far beyond mere understatement.

his slender finger delves into your pulsating core, and an impassioned moan, dripping with desire, escapes your lips. his touch wraps around your tight warmth, eliciting a carnal pleasure. "so pretty," jay praises, each deliberate stroke hitting your sweet spot, making containment an impossible feat.

his touch was intoxicating, a sensation that stirred a delightful knot in your stomach. the words slip from your lips in a breathy moan, "j-jay, i'm gonna... c-cum," as you surrender to the climax, his pace quickening in response. "fuck, baby, cum for me," jay pleads, the plea charged with an irresistible intensity.

"holy fuck," jay groans in sheer ecstasy as you release on his finger. his fingers explore your dripping, cum-coated core with a sensual touch. "such a pretty cunt," he praises, savoring every last drop of your intimate offering with a tantalizing lick.

craving more than just his fingers, you weakly reach for the zipper of his jeans, slowly revealing the anticipation within. with his assistance, he sheds his boxers, unveiling a throbbing cock that grazes his stomach. the sight reignites a longing you thought only he could fulfill.

teasing your dripping core with the tip, he enters you with deliberate slowness, prompting your eyes to roll back in ecstasy. his hands find their place on your petite waist, anchoring you down. moving to your tender tits, his mouth engulfs them, a fervent reminder of his longing for your enticing curves.

with each passing moment, his pace intensifies, a rhythm that quickens the pulse of desire. his lips explore the landscape of your neck, leaving a trail of passionate marks in their wake. the pleasure he elicits is overwhelming, and your heavenly moans, unrestrained, echo the symphony of your shared ecstasy.

tears pool in your mesmerizing eyes. "mhh, f-fuck, i missed you," escapes in a moan. He responds, "i missed you too, baby. i missed this pussy." the perfect fit of his cock within your delicate warmth sends waves of pleasure, turning you into a fervent devotee of his intoxicating touch.

the sensation of his arousal envelops you, igniting a blissful pleasure that prompts your hands to trace the contours of his abs. as your legs weaken, the impending climax draws near. unrestrained moans spill from your lips, a symphony of ecstasy escaping your sultry mouth.

surrendering to the climax, your eyes roll back in euphoria while jay maintains a rhythmic thrust into your dripping core. "f-fuck, jay, so good, mhh," escapes in a moan, the exquisite sensation overwhelming. "so close, baby," he reassures, his touch tenderly caressing your long, wavy hair.

sensations ripple as you sense his arousal intensify within your core. his pace quickens, signaling his approach to climax. "jay, fuck," you nearly scream with the force of his final thrusts. "such a good slut for my cock," he praises, reaching his climax and releasing within your pulsating warmth.

with a deliberate slowness, he withdraws from your core, a gentle cascade of cum following. catching your breath, jay showers tender kisses all over your forehead, soothing your body from the intense overstimulation with a caress that speaks of intimacy and care.

"let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?" he whispers in your ear, a soft kiss gracing the tip, the invitation laden with a sensual promise.

#🎸 - miyx-amour #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #jay hard hours

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ikarasu · 4 months

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🕊️Euphonious🕊️

Romeo x reader

Warnings: NSFW

Minors Scram

👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~

Disclaimer: Romeo and Carlo never get the petrification disease.

Euphonious - adj. - (of sound, especially speech) pleasing to the ear.

A solo is played out beautifully, only meant for my ears alone. The instrument I play is none like any other, but it is perfect in every way despite being made of flesh. My hand presses softly against their neck, earning me a soft gasp. A whimper follows after my lips press to their chest. The sounds of our hips meeting and the bed creaking sets a feverous tempo. Yet, their moans sing out for me and my love is the most addicting part. Each moan is different from the other as I play with their body, and I plan on memorizing each of them by heart. I never need to hear another orchestra or singer when I have my precious ‘cantante’.

*smack!*

“Ow! What the hell, Carlo?!” I say defensively

“Welcome back to reality, Prince Charming,” Carlo responds sarcastically.

I can practically feel him roll his eyes at me under his cat mask. Rolling my shoulders, I readjust my lion mask before elbowing him.

“Cut it out, you two.” A voice cuts in before they wrap their arms around our necks and pull us close.

“(Name).” we both respond before smiling and removing our masks.

The soft scent of petrichor can be barely masked by the smell of blood and grease. Yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. How I wish to pull them closer and mark their neck while rubbing their thigh. Moving my hand a little higher before-

“Romeo!” (Name) shouts this time while looking at me unamused.

“He’s been like this all day” Carlo responds also unamused.

“I’m fine, you two.”

They both look unconvinced but don’t push further.

“I’m going to scout ahead. (Stalker Name), get The King out of here until he gets his head together. I’ll regroup with you two later”

We watch Carlo slip on his cat mask back on. While me and (Name) slip our masks back on as well.

“Stay safe, Stray Cat. We’ll meet at the house on Elysion Boulevard.” (Name) says before hugging him and turning to me.

Carlo takes off quietly and I look back at (Name).

“Penny for your thoughts?” They ask with concern

“I’ll tell you if you beat me at a race to the rendezvous,” I say before taking off.

“No fair! You cheater! You got a head start!”

I can’t help the smirk forming under my mask as we run along the rooftops of Krat. Looking at them right behind me with a smile of their own. The adrenaline rushed through us and we began to reach our destination fast. I notice the lack of a second pair of footsteps and I look back. (Name) was nowhere to be seen and I halted for a second. Suddenly, (Name) jumps over me and runs ahead while laughing.

“You snooze, you lose, King!”

I immediately ran after them while shaking my head in false disappointment. Oh, when I get my hands on them… My long legs began to close the distance between us and they sped up their pace. The chase was thrilling and I was the lion about to pounce their reward. (Name) jumps down into the alleyway and finally leans against the door of our destination. With sharp eyes, I watch their chest heave as they pant.

“I- *pant*…. Won- *pant*… you cheater…”

I continue to walk towards them before suddenly pinning them to the door.

“O-oh!…”

I lean close and stare them down. Their stutter makes the smirk on my face grow.

“I saw your dirty little move back there. So since we both cheated I say it’s a draw.”

“W-wha- that’s not fair- ah!”

I open the door behind them suddenly, almost letting them fall. Before holding them by the waist and pulling them close.

“How about we both share the reward?” I whisper against their neck before nipping it teasingly.

“First, why don’t you tell me what’s been going on in that head of yours, Romeo,” they say as they slowly take off my mask.

Their hands tangle in my hair and can’t help but melt. I pull them to the old sofa and set them on my lap. With hazy eyes, I pull them into a kiss as my hands work to undress them.

“Romeo, talk to me, love.” They mumble against my lips.

I grind against them before tracing their bare chest. Taking a nipple into my mouth and sucking eagerly. A gasp escapes their throat and I smile. The song has begun.

“R-Romeo… don’t- ngh… ignore my question” they struggle to voice out as I continue to play with their chest.

I feel their hands tangle in my hair and I can't help but groan. Suddenly, they tug at my hair. Pulling me away from their chest like an unwanted leech.

“Romeo! Stop avoiding my question!” They huff out.

I sigh before suddenly pinning them down on the sofa.

“You want to know?” I growl into their ear while using one of my hands to pin their hands down.

“How I crave- no- need to hear your sweet sounds?”

I press my hip against theirs to make sure they feel my need. My other hand is working away on getting rid of their pants.

“Sing for me~ I want to hear every. Single. Noise.”

My lips find their way back to their chest and I continue to suck and nibble. Earning me a string of whimpers and moans. I pull away to take off my own clothes before going back to ravishing them. Every noise is nothing but pure euphonious to my ergo.

“R-Romeo… what if Carlo comes back?” They moan out.

“It’ll be fine. You know he likes taking his time”

I pull down their undergarments and lean down. Pressing soft kisses and bites along their inner thigh. Never going where they wanted it most.

“P-please… Romeo…. Don’t t-tease…” they whimper out deliciously.

“Beg.”

I watch them look at me before swallowing thickly.

“Please, Romeo,” they say quietly

I bite their inner thigh a little harder.

“You know how I want it. So beg.”

“Romeo! Please! Please use your mouth! I need it so badly! Please!” They finally cry out and I instantly use my mouth on them.

My tongue licks long slow strips along their most sensitive parts. Ripping out more noises from their throat as I continue to lick and suck at them. I feel their hand tangle in my hair and their back start to arch. Their toes curl and I pull away with a loud pop.

“No! Romeo! Please don’t stop!” They cry out as I deny them of their orgasm.

“Don’t be selfish, cantante~”

I press the tip of my cock to their tight entrance. Smearing my precum around it and taking my time to enjoy them squirming. Slowly I slide in and we both moan at the feeling. They claw at my back and I grip their hip tighter. Eventually, I bottomed out and our foreheads pressed together. We’re both panting and our hearts are racing. Slowly I begin to move and I feel them clench around me.

“Say my name, cantante~ I want to hear you sing for all of Krat”

I thrust a little faster before letting my mouth wander back to their chest.

“Romeo~! Oh god~! Romeo~! Don’t stop~!”

Their voice can’t even be compared to Adeline's. The way every noise slips past their throat like a siren call. Ensnaring my mind and causing my body to move more desperately. I grab their leg and push it against their body to reach deeper. Making them sing out louder for me. Our bodies are a beautiful sweaty tangled masterpiece. (Name)’s voice reached a crescendo and I knew our song was nearing an end. I leaned in and kissed them before burying myself as deep as I could. They cried out before we both collapsed on the sofa together. I laid my head on their torso while their hands mindlessly played with my hair. The sounds of their heartbeat thumping steadily help me calm down. I look up at their face adoringly before tracing them with my thumb.

“So… round two?” I ask mischievously

“Carlo is going to come back soon, we should clean up”

“A little too late for that, you two.” A voice came from the doorway.

We both immediately perk up and see Carlo taking off his mask. He closes the door before fiddling with his belt.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~🐈‍⬛~👑~

Stay tuned for a part two 😊

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the second part. Carlo gets to join in on the fun ;)

Part 2: 🕊️Songbird🕊️

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #p #lies of p romeo #lies of p pinocchio x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p carlo #lies of p romeo x reader #romeo x reader #ns to the fw #gn reader #lies of p headcanons #lies of p fanfic

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blueywrites · 1 year

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wildflowers: what if?

a turtle dove & the crow blurb

1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

I was inspired to write this in part because of this lovely Eddie drawing that was brought to my attention a couple of days ago. I'd describe this little blurb as dark chocolate - a teensy bit bitter, but mostly sweet. enjoy!🌻

this takes place at the very end of the wildflower scene in part two. minor spoilers below! cw: 18+. allusion to sex.

masterlist | playlist - I recommend Honeybee by Mountain Men for this blurb.

The sun has sunk past orange and blue to deep violet and pink, the oaks and hickories now nothing but shadows, signaling that it's time to return home.

Yet, what if it were not?

If there were no need to sneak and hide, you would not look up at the shifting sky and feel compelled to stir from the sea of wildflowers you've been wading in with your beloved. Instead, you would watch the fading light play on the planes of Eddie's face. You would see how the setting sun deepens the honeyed contentment in his umber eyes, how the violet shadows sharpen the angles of his pale features just as they soften the supple curves.

Eddie would cleanse your skin of the remnants of him, wiping away his spend from between your thighs. Now tended by his careful hand, you would settle on your back beside him, basking in your shared contentment. Your skirt and apron would billlow up from your legs, caught playfully by the breeze, dragging against the flowerheads and collecting pollen; the honeybees would dance around you, and you would regard them calmly, at peace with the universe that surrounds you.

If there was no Mama waiting up for you at home, Eddie would lift his arm and point toward the sky, guiding your gaze with his hand and your imaginings with the rasp of his brash voice, weaving patterns for you in the chaos of shadowy clouds. You would listen to his murmuring and nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, breathing in the tang of his sweat, the warm hush of tobacco, and beneath them, the precious musk of petrichor - that summer storm that brews in Eddie's blood and seeps from his pores as if only to tantalize you. You would splay yourself against him comfortably, and as your hair tickles his nose, he would huff and sputter dramatically until you push his face away with teasing, affectionate fingers.

Together, you would make up lives for the cloud creatures drifting across the sky. Miss Mouse dreams of being an actress, he'd propose. Mr. Elephant is running away to Panama to escape the draft, you'd offer. Mr. Hippopotamus needs to clean behind his ears, Eddie tells you. That's not Mr. Hippopotamus, you'd counter, that's Mr. Deer with a bad case of gout.

At that, Eddie would wrinkle his soft nose and laugh - a husky, goofy thing that squeaks brokenly at the height of his amusement, a vestige of his waning boyhood - and you would fall even more in love with him. You would think there is no way to love him more, to let him take up more space behind your ribs than he already does, but somehow, you would find room.

If there was no Pa to sneer at the wild boy next door, you would pluck stems of coneflower and ironweed, offerings of the earth that you select with care. You would lay them out carefully on Eddie's chest in lines of gold and red and indigo, looking at him giddily, and he'd read your girlish intentions in the curve of your lips. He'd huff and groan, protesting that boys don't wear flowers in their hair, but you'd know that secretly, he is pleased to have you adorn him. You'd straddle his waist again, though innocently now, and you would comb your fingers through the soft frizz of his curls, arranging his bangs against his forehead first before patiently working out the tangles in that length of ink spilled across the grass. You'd weave the flowers you'd plucked into the hair above his bangs, creating a line of lushness that blooms and floats on that dark, roiling sea.

If he were not a crow, and you not a turtle dove, Eddie would feel along the powder of those petals when you were done. They'd kiss his roughened fingers like the whisper of a mouse's whiskers, and he'd stroke them with the tip of each one, tentatively exploring what he cannot see. As a blush pinks the apples of his cheeks and spreads to warm his ears, he would look up at you almost shyly, as if perhaps your gaze might be a mirror he could see himself in. Eddie would look at you as if he hopes he truly is as pretty as your adoring eyes tell him he is - so heavy and soft and glassy as you regard him. And when he finds the truth there, he would abandon his blind exploration of the blooms to instead take your face in his broad palms and kiss your lips, dropping his gratefulness and adoration there so tenderly that you'd feel your heart might burst with the welling of sweet joy that floods there.

But Eddie is a crow, and you are a turtle dove. There is a Mama waiting up for you at home, and there is a Pa who sneers at the wild boy next door. There is a need to sneak and hide.

So you must rise from the wildflower field and part from Eddie Munson with lingering glances and yearnings for what could be if only things were different.

Yet, do not fuss, Turtle Dove. You will get these things in time. You need only to wait.

So you will wait. You will wait. You will wait.

And then, my love, by the time the buds awaken again, you will have what you wait for.

You will have it forever.

#blueywrites #td&tc #farmer!eddie #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff

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3d-wifey · 8 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 5

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (v) - Finnick

[17 & 18] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick sits at his desk, the end of his pencil tapping a song into the wood as he thinks. The two of you have been exchanging letters for almost a year now, but he still gets excited whenever you send a new one. Excited and nervous. Getting them mailed between districts is a slow progression involving lying to a few mayors and he's sure Snow reads each one. Still, Finnick thinks, it's worth it. In your latest letter, you explained to him how a bear snuck in from the woods, and the peacekeepers were forced to gun it down. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the mayor was "generous" enough to divide the meat among the citizens who were working. You finish with a closing of 'With love', your signature, and a shitty little drawing of a bear at the bottom with X's over its eyes. He traces it with his finger and pictures you hunched over your desk, nose scrunching in concentration as you draw it. "With love, huh?" He whispers to himself and smiles. Along with your letter, you sent a parcel full of bundled brown sticks tied together with yarn. Licorice root, you had said. Only available in the Capitol and District Eleven, best used in tea with berries. He brings it to his nose and it smells sweet, like caramelized sugar. It smells like you, but it's missing that undercurrent of earthly petrichor. He looks up when he sees Mags approaching with a knowing look in her eyes. She looks at the letter in his hands and he folds it before she can read the contents. Not that it matters. All she needed to see was the signature. It's not like she doesn't know who you are. She was so ecstatic to hear your stories, insisting he got more from you. And you gave them freely, even after Finnick ran out of ones to trade. It’s odd. You wanted nothing in return. Sometimes, he gets a little ahead of himself and wonders if it’s because you like him.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume that, right? Right. "What's that face for?" He laughs. She takes a loose piece of paper and a pencil to write: "When's the wedding?" He opens and closes his mouth, words escaping him. "It's not like that. We're just—” Just what? You are friends, right? Finnick has friends, but none that he likes as much as you. And the way he feels with you? He doesn't feel like that around them, not by a long shot. To just call you a friend feels like calling an ocean a pond. It's almost disrespectful to condense it into something so lacking. He can’t force you, and everything you make him feel—into such a small box, it would only overflow and drown him. You are much, much more than a pond.

Best friend, then? While true, it feels too juvenile. He considers it and he doesn't particularly like the idea of just being your friend anyway. He imagines you introducing him as such.

“Oh, and this is Finnick. My friend. Only my friend.”

No. No, he doesn’t like that at all.

If he can't be honest with you, he can at least be honest with Mags. "—I guess it is something like that." She hums excitedly and pinches his warm cheeks. "She says she hopes you're doing well." Mags perks up at that, gesturing between herself and the blank paper. He grins at her enthusiasm, "I'll tell her you said hi. Promise." She nods and pats his hand with a smile. As she walks to sit on the couch behind him, he thinks about what to send you. He can't just send a letter. Especially after you went out of your way to send licorice roots after he offhandedly mentioned he'd like to try some. He wracks his brain but comes up empty. Other than rope, hooks, and seashells, there's nothing else he can give you. His eyes drift around the room, landing on his bare wrist.

There is something he can make you.

Still. You want to be around him now more than ever.

Don't worry, there's more! For whatever reason, Tumblr refuses to let me post some chapters in their entirety, so if you want the rest, just click this link!

#hunger games catching fire #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #in a week #and they'd find us in a week

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yerion · 1 year

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jeon jungkook being perfect was a fact you could vouch for; up until he appeared to church without his dear fiancée and his chocolate coloured eyes that delineated so much kindness. the question is—why is it just you noticing his sinister differences?

pairing : jungkook x you (as jia). au(s) : vampire!jungkook, forced roommates!au, enemies to lovers!au. genres : dark romance, mutual pining, slowburn, angst, innuendos of suggestive themes.

content : you tear down jungkook’s fake front of being the most generous soul without knowing he’s an attractive yet menacing curse who lived for way too long. on days you want him to vanish, you sway at his sickly charms—and so does he.

your relationship with jungkook tied into a playlist.

next chapter. chapter directory. masterlist.

chapter one.

word count : 4,6k.

“do you know of the man that lived here?”

here, the woods surround trees that must have been long forgotten before this investigation. brutal winds destroyed all nature’s roots, and no single soul can underestimate the darkness that could be held within. it’s the obnoxious flashlights at this time of night that’s disrupting the normalcy of this forest, but apart from that, nothing would.

this place is so dark—to the point it’s terrifying when you observe closely, but why is it only now you realise this? how come you didn’t recognise the fear behind the cover earlier, especially when you’ve been here… countless times?

“let me change the question,” the policeman continues to interrogate sternly, “how did you find this place?”

with a shaky breath stuck on your throat, you squeeze your eyes shut to collect yourself. in this moment for you too, it’s dark—exactly like the outside world—the place jeon jungkook used to shield you from.

“please cooperate with our investigation.”

“i—” you suddenly stop the second you feel a harsh thrashing in your chest. as if your heart is struggling for survival, knocking against your ribcage without knowing how much damage and havoc it’s causing, it slowly burns you, and the pain starts to radiate from your chest to the bottom of your feet—like you’re rooted to a pool of lava.

“call the ambulance!” the policeman’s voice is faint now, like it’s further in the distance.

then, a deafening ringing finds your ear, suppressing all noise outside. the high pitched noise living in your ear draws nearer, and when it does, the sound becomes more unbearable as the decibel gradually climbs uncontrollably.

it hurts.

it hurts like crazy.

your ears are on the verge of bursting while there’s a burning pain blossoming in your chest that’s spreading all across your body like poison.

what is this?

what’s happening?

why now?

with eyes at rest, you hear an unexpected gift—fine rain dropping down silvery and small, pattering against the dirt as umbrellas snap shut in the background of nature. petrichor—the perfume made of rain and the earth flourishes in the air, so you inhale through your nose and relax the muscles in your hands.

“jia!”

you turn your head at the voice that bent your reality in half. the picture your eyes grasp is an old childhood friend of yours, waving frantically in front of the gated cathedral. much time hasn’t passed since you exited from today’s mass, but as for your friend, he just happened to walk out now—in which you assume that he’s the last one out this afternoon.

“hey!” jimin exclaims, brushing through his hair instinctively as he comes. his hair was blonde last week, but today, it’s dark as ever. he does tend to shine the most in his natural colour. “you tossed those crutches away pretty quickly.”

“i never wanted them to begin with.”

“at least tell me you’re not actually dismissing medical advice.”

“i’m not.”

“are you sure?”

“i’m sure!”

“how sure?”

“what am i, a problem child?” you shake your head as you wiggle your right ankle for a show. the bandage clinging against your ankle loosens once again, but you’ve dealt with it enough to possibly care for it immediately. “i want to live peacefully and kindly. to do that, i should take care of myself.”

“wait a minute,” jimin dramatically covers his mouth. “you’re actually capable of having such thoughts?”

“thanks to my beautiful mother and father, i’ve been taught many good things.” with your lips firmly pursed, you nod at least five times in fast forward.

“and pat your own shoulder for teaching yourself to hang tight.” jimin suddenly becomes serious, seeing his eyes soften as he inhales a slow breath. “i was worried to death when this all happened to you.”

“just a reminder for you, my friend—this is a minor injury.” you mumble, “i’m sure you know that as a dancer yourself—that this is totally normal.”

“this isn’t your first time, jia.” jimin articulates. “the problem is that it’s recurring.”

“if that was really a huge problem, i would be more worried than you right now.” you coo while leaning forward, arms behind your back. “think about it, jimin.”

“you’re not the reliable, trustworthy type.” jimin quips. “how unlucky for you.” he steals the chance to flick you on the forehead, in which you immediately wince, bouncing back at the pain. “that’s for you to pay extra attention to yourself!” he warns playfully.

before you can smile and reassure your beloved friend that it’s truly normal to break down sometimes, you suddenly feel a crisp wind harshly slice your bare skin, naturally causing you to swallow the words you had in mind.

soon, the sky snaps into a heavier torrent of rain. blue is nowhere to be seen, only dull greyness painted across the heavens. each drop crackles; smacking down onto soil and concrete. the outside looks like it’ll drench you within seconds, especially after seeing that the downpour has no pause.

“did you hear that jeon jungkook funded the church with a generous amount again today?” unbothered by god’s work as she seems, mrs. na gossips loudly to the crowd.

“that young man sure does give out a lot of money.”

“i heard that he owns properties!”

“i heard he’s born in a very rich family.” one woman gasps exaggeratedly, slapping the shoulder of the other lady in her forties who’s also invested in this effusive debate.

“with that young brain of his, he’s probably making good investments unlike my husband wasting all of his money!”

“his fiancée is also rich!” mrs. kim exclaims obliviously. “that explains why they’re considering marriage at such a young age!”

you and jimin eye each other telepathically. he raises an eyebrow of his and you simply shrug your shoulders wordlessly since there’s only room for one conversation. however, feeling randomly magnetised, you and jimin remain still in your places to listen in on details—because even to the younger audience, jeon jungkook is a bit of a paradox.

though not completely debunked, you’ve heard that jeon jungkook crazily wealthy at the pretty age of 25. it’s no doubt he owns a few properties, but no one dares to ask if all that’s inherited or if it’s from meticulous calculations manufactured inside his head.

“the marriage is purely driven by my affection towards her.” just by hearing his deep, breathy voice, you could tell with eyes closed and back turned that he’s chuckling at the rather stereotypical emphasis.

“oh, jungkook!” mrs. kim exclaims enthusiastically yet awkwardly. she’s been caught in the act, but by a person who still smiles at her despite all the talking she’s done. “how is everything going for you?”

you see jungkook nodding beside his fiancée—nakamura kazuha. “great.” he peers down, smiling warmly at the eyes shot towards his existence. “only a shame since there’s never enough time to thank each and one of you.”

“goodness!” mrs. kim blooms into a loud laughter as she slaps the woman beside her in excitement. “how did your parents raise you so well!” she exclaims, openly eyeing the lady who has her arm linked with hers.

“i wonder!” the lady next to mrs. kim—mrs. gu, also mimics her laughter as if commanded. “are your parents living in korea?”

“not at the moment.” jungkook says. “they live somewhere else since they dislike our winter.”

“is that so?” another lady—a name you totally forgot, casually chirps into the conversation.

“and… hm?” jungkook leans his ear closer to kazuha’s lips to listen to her closely. he’s trying to finish the sentence for her as it seemed to be relevant to his story about his parents. “right, they also did say they prefer food outside of korea.” he smiles differently at the detail she remembered—you could tell that smile is exclusive for his lover, judging by how corny it is.

“you two are like newlyweds.” mrs. gu chuckles heartily. “did you say that kazuha is a ballerina?”

at mrs. gu’s last word, you feel jimin’s gaze plastered onto you. it’s not like her words were particularly laced with honey and glaze, but to you—especially—is unfortunately a soft trigger.

“is she?” mrs. kim gasps loudly like a cog clicked in her head. “our lovely jia is also a ballerina!” she turns her head in hopes of searching for someone that definitely looks like… you. “jia, sweetheart, come over here!”

heat crawls up into your body the moment you feel gazes piercing into you like arrows. a breath of nervousness was at the tip of your tongue until jimin shoves you airily, encouraging you to take a leap out of your sustained introverted personality.

“mrs. kim,” you smile helplessly at the unwanted attention in your spot. honestly, you feel even worse about it because you know how eager everyone was to hear more about jeon jungkook and his prosperities under magnification.

“come introduce yourself!” mrs. kim gestures to you to approach.

“mrs. kim!” you answer joyously like you were summoned out of absolutely nowhere. in fact, you decide to forget that you were eavesdropping this entire time with your childhood best friend. “how can i help?” you act obliviously the second you join their open, incomplete circle of people. you stand tall while subconsciously tensing your weaker ankle—at least in here, you desperately didn’t want to stumble over yourself.

jungkook offers his hand out to you. “forgive my lateness, but it really is a pleasure to meet you.” he breathes out, “my name is jungkook.”

this guy is outrightly handsome, almost prince-like with his soft, wavy strands framing his face. it’s either he takes style as one of his valuable coins or he’s dressed fittingly for the environment because his hair is sculpted, which can only be created with meticulous effort. the middle of his forehead is visible unlike jimin’s, but his hair falls in a much more intentional way with obvious complexity. his masculinity is preserved, if not, it’s actually enhanced. aside from that, most of his features are round, which should naturally attract smiles, but he’s still inevitably intimidating—like every prince in a fairytale. his choice of a pale blue button up shirt interests you further, simply because the guys you’ve run into so far would prefer monochromatic pieces. park jimin, for instance, would refuse to stand near such a gentle and graceful colour.

“not late at all.” you smile coolly as you take his hand. however, momentarily, you pause—you’re aware that you should be shaking his hand as per etiquette, but it was almost impossible to dismiss his cold temperature. your poker face is a massive failure alone anyway.

“jia,” jungkook murmuring his thoughts loudly to himself hangs you off guard. not only did he ask for your name, but it’s the entracing way his voice suddenly dipped so low to roll your name off his tongue.

anyway.

“and kazuha,” you try your best to pronounce her name decently. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“me too.” kazuha replies concisely in an accent. then, she quickly retreats to whisper to jungkook in japanese. kazuha mentions ballet as she looks fixedly onto you.

“kazuha says she’s a fan.” jungkook says. “i hear your achievements in the world of ballet are extremely impressive, especially since it hasn’t been long since you started dancing. am i on the right track, miss prodigy?”

flustered, your hands are the first to act—you wave both hands frantically, dismissing all bluff about achievements and prodigies. “i didn’t think you could be this dramatic.” you shake your head like you’ve been fooled. “but really, you’re exaggerating! it’s not much, i’ve still got a journey ahead.”

“being a principal ballerina with a handful of wins is news.”

“and contributing to the church with such a generous amount of money isn’t?”

“well,” he clicks his tongue in revelation before breaking into a grin; his eyes squeeze shut in a rather cute way. “a skilled performer like yourself should know the spotlight isn’t something to share.”

“she’s a cheeky girl.” mrs. na divulges with the intent of being sentimental. from what you recall, mrs. na has been a close friend of your parents for countless years. your six-year-old memories tell you so.

“that’s definitely another name added to the list for her.” jungkook jests, and the friendly, middle-aged bystanders all chuckle at his wit. not to mention, you’re quite pleased with his demeanour as well—and it’s literally only been a few minutes.

“if i could choose, please keep in mind i’d much prefer the latter.” you backtrack with a series of unserious coughing.

jungkook reciprocates your limited humour with a handsome smile. “i’ll be sure to send my greetings when kazuha and i see you around next weekend.”

“same goes for me.” you return the profound smile, genuinely pleased with your interaction with the infamous couple. it almost makes you think the world is unfair since they really did happen to be quite perfect as imagined by others.

“are you two heading off now?” mrs. kim asks.

“only because we might crash into our booking if we leave any later.” jungkook replies politely. you can see that he doesn’t like to leave any room for misunderstandings.

“just be careful out there, the rain is still heavy.” mrs. na advises sweetly. “the road will be slippery.”

“i’ll keep an extra eye out.”

“that reminds me,” mrs. na looks at you whilst wearing a worried guise. her eyebrows are furrowed and both corners of her lips have sunk—you find her endearing because she never fails to be readable. “do you have a way home, jia?”

right.

about that.

you’re a fascinating human being for not thinking about your way back home after witnessing how fierce and deranged the weather is as of this moment. even right now, it’s still an uncanny flurry and battle of the wind and the rain. speak about dark, and today would be the finest example for the science and art of meteorology.

“isn’t your car still under repair?”

“until tomorrow!” you squeak optimistically; rather unfitting for this ambience. the adults all retain gazes brimmed with concern while the weather is insensibly loud. “jimin is waiting around somewhere, we’ll leave together when the rain settles.” you propose a lie constructed on the spot.

“jimin left not too long ago!” mrs. kim waves her finger to the car park. “you should’ve seen him accelerate out of this rain like a simpleton.”

gritting your teeth behind a forced smile, you sigh short and heavily to yourself. you know this guy busted out of here because he’s itching to dance for his next competition. lucky for him, since his house is nearby. you decide to think about how to repay your best friend with a taste of revenge maybe a bit after you deal with this old-fashioned situation everyone at least finds themselves entwined at least once or twice in their lives.

“did he?” you chuckle nervously. “i recently found this application on my phone and it finds a taxi for you in minutes—no, seconds!”

“where are you headed?” jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “the restaurant we’re headed to is further away, so i’d say there is a chance we’d pass by your suburb.”

“oh my, how good!” mrs. na exclaims, now clapping at ease. “would you do that—”

“i don’t know,” you widen your eyes at mrs. na, hoping she gets the message you’re desperately trying to send her. “how big of a chance would that be?” your question is for jungkook, but your dilated eyes are still openly aimed at mrs. na.

“potentially quite big, i think!” mrs. na clasps her hands against yours; her warmth consuming you as whole. “she lives in gangnam, somewhere next to station exit 9.”

“come with us,” jungkook suggests. “we’re going past gangnam.”

“if it’s too much trouble—”

“it’ll reassure us too.” jungkook insists determinedly. “shall we?” he cocks his chin towards the roofed car park and nods to comfort you once more for the long run.

without much going on in this car full of acquaintances, it’s predestined that the silence within provokes focus onto the thoughts clouding your mind. truth be told, it’s not the relapse jimin mentioned that’s submerging your head with negativity.

it’s all about your coach who reached out yesterday.

utter anticipation possessed her voice when she asked if you were recovering under the safest conditions. strangely, you felt desperate to enlighten her about your progress; your heart clenched a lie and called it a miracle when you spoke optimistically about your recovery rate. you delivered false hopes, simply because you discovered a new fear to not shatter the illusions for this person you look up to.

consequently, you agreed to compete in europe in a few months time—and you knew, deep within—that this would be your last time.

“is something bothering you?”

you get startled by the sweetness of his voice, “it’s nothing.”

“is that a habit?”

“what is?”

“nothing.” jungkook repeats softly after you. perhaps he finds it amusing he picked up on a detail so quickly, a grin naturally fixes his still lips. “you said it once earlier.”

“maybe.” a chuckle leaves your mouth after some thought.

“do you live alone?” he asks nonchalantly when he makes a smooth left turn with one hand of his. he becomes alert of his fiancée dozing off peacefully in the passenger’s seat when she sways faintly at his movement. “i have a feeling you do.” he guesses afterward.

“what makes you think that?” humming, you narrow your eyes into the front view mirror. jungkook has been peering up into the mirror whenever he exchanges words with you. “do i look too miserable heading back home?”

“it’s not that, but i was hoping someone at home would distract you from those thoughts of yours.”

you smile to yourself. “is that how i have to start thinking in order to be so successful?”

“you’re great as you are.”

“nowhere prince-like though, so i’m not too sure.”

“is that your attempt to tease?” as expected, jungkook flicks his eyes upward, causing both of your eyes to meet. like yours, hints of mischievousness hide behind his eyes too.

“it’s a misunderstanding,” you pronounce each word in a whisper, “your highness.”

“i beg to differ.”

you stifle a chuckle as you watch raindrops rolling down the window beside your visage. you absentmindedly let your fingertips chase each droplet running down the glass until your eyes accidentally make eye contact with jungkook in the front view mirror again, except in complete silence. when you roll your eyes over in hopes of escaping his eyes, jungkook triggers the blinker and makes another turn.

“so,” you clear your throat as if nothing ever happened. “how did you meet kazuha?” tapping your fingertip against your thigh instead of the window now, you slant forward, glancing over at the sleeping beauty in the passenger’s seat in envy.

one corner of jungkook’s lips curls upward. “on the day she came to visit korea for the first time all by herself, she was asking for directions when she was already there. she asked where this café was when she happened to walk past it twice.” taking his eyes off the road for a few seconds, he turns to kazuha next to him. “i knew she’d be on my mind for the rest of the day after that. i found myself wondering if she made it back home or if she found a place to eat dinner.”

“i knew you were the one to approach her first.” you murmur while rolling your eyes to the side with the clear intent of avoiding jungkook’s eyes.

jungkook elicits a breathy laughter. “please don’t forget that i’m the person steering this wheel.”

you bob your head amusedly. “of course.”

“how about you?” jungkook inquires when he begins to press on the brake gradually. the car drifts to a stop, and you only notice now that you’re in the vicinity of your neighbourhood. “do you have someone special to you?” by pressing his elbow against the armrest between the two seats in front, he’s able to turn his head to watch you out.

“not someone, but something.” you remark confidently. “thank you for the ride, i really appreciate it.” hands already hovering above the car handle, you lower your head to a considerable degree to express your gratitude towards him first.

“we’re glad to help.” jungkook smirks ambiguously. something about his grin this time makes your head tilt, but you have no idea why. “stay away from the cold and get home safe.”

the weekend, and now the weekday—monday. the world is back and running again. in the bustling city of seoul, there are adults scurrying to meet the standards of unsparing office hours, teenagers stopping by at the convenience store before taking the next bus to school, mothers accompanying their children to daycare for the sake of themselves making it to their workplace as well; whether it’s at a mundane office crowded with malicious or cordial co-workers, a repetitive hospital cascading with pessimism—and needless to say, other imaginable work environments.

you avert your eyes back onto the road, feeling as though you’ve been staring for longer than anticipated. the red light flickers off as your attention returns, and you swiftly make a turn into a campus you’re familiar with.

established in the backstreets of nowon-gu, there hides a compact yet modern university funded by prosperous graduates of the school. the newly revamped design of the building was developed by one of the aforementioned students. its exterior—seems to be highly inspired by ancient greek. a single glance, and there’s gigantic pillars in arrays, marble stones smelted in the ground and walls. however, its interior—is the definition of futurism. fitted with this era’s advanced technology and stylish furniture bestowing the lecture halls and libraries, it’s undoubtedly a desirable look anywhere.

the business you have here is simply for the dance studio, since you did sign up for your own downfall whilst blatantly ignoring the rehabilitation period of your ankle that acts as your lifeline in this career. but—behold, on the more colourful side, you think your ankle feels even better today; alleviated from tension, you’ve been stepping on the brake and accelerator marvellously today. pretty much most of its function is back.

(you’re not gaslighting yourself.)

“alright,” cheeks puffed, you blow out some air in nervousness. upon parking your car in the corner, you carefully exit the car by planting both feet simultaneously onto the ground. you almost hop out to ensure that your weight doesn’t collapse against one side. “see, see, see!”

(and this is you being overly dramatic.)

just like that, you follow your usual route to the dance studio. as your eyes capture nature kissed by the sun today, you realise the heavy rain completely subsided. it’s as if nothing ever happened and it was an abrupt outroar from the heavens—in which, you can totally relate to. god wasn’t the only person going through absurdity yesterday.

tossing your annoying long hair behind your shoulder, you take your time admiring the landscape of youth. if you witnessed busy and distressed adults working in black and white earlier in the morning—at this time, you see lively students marching to their first lecture of the day. some are alone, unbothered while mouthing to their favourite music; some are cracking up into shrieking laughter at one another’s jokes related to their incidents during the weekend; some are couples making a fuss about how cute they are in the second hour into their awakening.

and… there’s someone awfully distinct out in the distance.

a taller, broader and sturdier build—a man—of course, people like that do unfortunately captivate you occasionally but you could swear on everything you have—he’s someone you’ve seen.

who?

there’s something about him that screams at you—like the fact that he’s not passing off as a student… or a professor. he’s dressed too finely for a student, and he’s too young to be a professor.

in his teal silk shirt free of creases tucked under his black jeans, the man whips around to make one decisive turn to your right—and in that moment, too much starts to compute into your head. if your mind could make noises, it’d all be static.

to the right is a conference hall—one of the biggest, and is usually used by students studying anatomy. from what you remember, it has the projector updated with the latest resolution to help identify details in the human body.

and his side profile tells all—his appearance isn’t easy to forget, but also, it’s only been a day since you’ve seen him. your memory is fresh as ever.

how?

did he move here recently?

when did he start coming to church again?

it’s been less than two months, and to organise everything—does it take around two months to find a job? is he even working here? what if he’s just a visitor?

why does all of that matter to you?

shaking your head in denial, an anxious chuckle leaks out of your mouth. “come on,” you babble mindlessly to yourself. “he drove you home in the rain, so you can literally buy the guy a coffee to repay him.”

hold on.

where the hell did he go?

you don’t remember lifting your gaze. even if that was the case, you’re isolated—you’re in a position where you can discern all, only because the dance studio is on the polar opposite of all lecture halls.

you huff, “is he a vampire or what—”

“what a lovely morning, jia.”

what… in the world?

there it is—that feeling; it’s the exact feeling you felt when he dropped you off yesterday. his words sink into you like needles, and you’re completely aware of how peculiar this is. all you can think of is that grin existing with the complete switch up in his voice.

mystified, you slowly turn around to meet his eyes. you acquire a dim glimpse of a few piercings on his ear that you didn’t notice yesterday. it wouldn’t seem as suspicious to you if they were ordinary piercings the pretty celebrities get, but his are a little avant-garde; a visual heavy street wearers would be entertained by—you don’t know why such a thorough analysis feels necessary whenever you see him, but it comes so naturally.

interestingly, that’s the only change too—the piercings.

just that.

“jungkook,” you smile indifferently. “i’m really surprised to catch you here.”

“likewise.”

“i assume you work here?”

“today’s my first day.” jungkook says—and just that.

“as a… professor?” you guess the odds nonetheless, simply because nothing else connects the dots. you’re still certain he’s not here as a student.

“not exactly.” jungkook hasn’t smiled. “i’ve been assigned to opening anatomical lectures for those who were absent, missed out, or needed additional teaching.”

everything is out of place.

your suspicion starts to feel real because he’s unquestionably acting out of character as well. the jeon jungkook you—no, everyone else knows—wouldn’t be permitting silence to consume the air this easily, at least not without questions that make it seem like he’s genuinely amused. because, in reality, you thought he was a smart guy who’s aware of the value behind open-ended relationships.

“always trust your instinct.” the senior police officer advised softly. she was smiling in kindness like she always has—eyes crinkled into shapes of endearing crescent moons, soft wrinkles grooved into her cheeks with a short, cute smile made by her imperfectly painted red lip.

“you’re just full of surprises, jungkook.”

what a plot twist you are.

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