#it counts for every artist you reblog too by the way

[navybrat817]

Bucky needs to be smothered in kisses. No sex has to follow, just him allowing you to pepper kisses all over his cute face simply for being him and for looking so pretty and cute. Like, "Shut up, Bucky and take it" - proceeded by dozens of kisses 💋💋💋

Bucky deserves all the kisses! How about a little something for our tattoo artist?

What Dreams Are Made Of

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You're on Bucky's mind before your date. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Ki-ssing, Fluff, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: My second Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 1) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Sin on Skin AU, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky flopped down on the break room couch with a tired smile. He had a hard time sleeping the night before and wanted a little rest before his first client of the day arrived. It didn't surprise him when he struggled to sleep. He could sometimes be a night owl when he wasn't dealing with the occasional nightmare, but last night was different. You consumed his thoughts after he went home.

Every single one of them.

You thinking of me, Sugar? I hope you are.

Hell, you hadn’t left his mind since he first walked into your shop. His beautiful, sweet baker with the warm smile and humor to brighten his day. You looked too pure to be with someone who looked like him. He wasn't blind to the stares he received whenever he went out. With his physique and exposed skin littered with ink, many wrote him off as dangerous without a second thought. They would’ve been shocked to learn he was a bit of a science nerd who loved to read in his spare time or that he served his country alongside his best friend.

Something told him you’d appreciate all those little details about him, especially since you asked him out.

"Wish I was taking you out now, Sugar," he whispered to himself as he shut his eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to admit to himself that he was a little nervous. From his chats with you, he gathered enough of an idea on where it would be good to take you for your first date. He didn’t want it to be generic though. If he couldn’t make it unique, it at least had to be special. Something you’d remember. You deserve the best.

And he wanted to show you he was nothing like your prick of an ex.

"Hey."

The sound of your voice beside him made his eyes open, his heart racing as you smiled. He hadn’t even heard your footsteps. When he tried to sit up, you pushed him to lay back down. The sugary scent that lingered on your skin from the shop had him licking his lips as you moved on top of him. But instead of your normal work clothes and apron, you wore a sundress.

One that was dangerously riding up your hips as you straddled him.

And he was too in awe to stop you.

“How did you get back here?” he whispered, not at all upset that you managed to sneak into the room.

“Steve let me in,” you whispered back, framing his face. He couldn’t decide where to place his hands. He wanted them all over you. “I had a break and couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You saw me last night,” he smirked as you leaned down, your lips dangerously close to his. “Not that I’m complaining.”

While the guys heard all about you and expected to meet you at some point, no one thought you would rush into the shop the way you had. You didn’t know it yet, but they all had a soft spot for you because of Bucky. Even if they didn’t, not a single one of them would’ve put up with how your dick of an ex spoke to you. Respect meant everything in their establishment and any man who talked down to someone the way he had with you had no right to be there.

The fucker made you cry, but I wiped that smug look off his face just for you.

“Too long to wait,” you smiled, your breath skimming his mouth. It paralyzed him as he waited to see what you would do next. “And I know our date isn’t until Friday, but I want to kiss you now.”

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he smiled because yours was contagious.

“Because I want to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” he promised. He’d stick up for you no matter what the situation called for. Call him smitten or a decent guy, that was just how he was.

“I want to. I also want to kiss you because you’re pretty. And, yes, you are pretty because I say so,” you teased, which earned an almost bashful smile from him. He was far from pretty, but any sort of compliment from you meant the world. “But mainly because you’re a good man and deserve a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” he asked as he did his best to keep his hips still. You didn’t just deserve the best date, but you deserve a gentleman as well. Fuck, did he want you though and the things he wanted to do to you were far from innocent. He wondered if you felt through his jeans just how much he did.

“Just a kiss. For now,” you said, closing the gap between the two of you.

There was no hunger or desperation when your tongue slipped past his lips. Even when he deepend the kiss, you didn’t rush. It was soft and tender, but held the promise of something more just like your first kiss had. He wasn’t just a moth drawn to your flame. He carried the fuel and wanted to douse you in it.

Bucky craved to be the one who brought your fire to the surface until it consumed you both.

“Am I dreaming?” he exhaled, finally gripping your hips when you dragged your lips along his face. The featherlight motions were enough to drive him mad, tempting him to flip you over so he could explore your body properly. No, he needed to let you stay in control for now. “Sugar, you’re killing me.”

“And what a way to go, Hottie. So, shut up and take my kisses,” you giggled.

He chuckled as you smothered him with your lips and he took the opportunity to hold you closer. It felt right to have you in his arms. He couldn’t recall the last time he fell for someone so quickly, if ever. What if that scared you?

What if he scared you?

“It’s time to wake up, Bucky,” you whispered in his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as you faded from his arms. “Sugar?” he asked. Where did you go?

“Buck, you need to get up!”

Steve’s shout startled Bucky awake and it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the couch. His heart pounded before he realized he had been dreaming. You weren’t in the back room with him. You hadn’t smothered him with gentle kisses.

He was all alone.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, tossling his hair as he sat up.

Figures. It was just a dream, but I’m glad I had it.

“You okay?” Steve asked as he carefully approached his friend. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to scare you. Called your name a couple of times and that didn’t do the trick. Didn’t think I should touch you either.”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Bucky huffed a little. Both of them had their share of nightmares after being overseas. Steve wouldn’t have yelled his name if he thought something was wrong, so he must’ve appeared peaceful enough. Peace. That was what you gave him, even if his jeans felt a little tighther and uncomfortable.

“You need a minute?” the blonde smirked when Bucky adjusted a bit.

“Why did you wake me?” he replied, avoiding his question. The guys knew well enough how crazy he was about you and didn’t need to know he was dreaming about you in the shop. “I’m sure it was extremely important.”

“Because your client should be here in a few minutes and I wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through the appointment. So, yeah, extremely important.”

With a nod, Bucky slowly got to his feet. “Space is already cleaned and disinfected. Stencil’s done, too,” he said. He liked to prepare as much as he could and they prided themselves on having a clean and safe workspace. “Um, Sugar hasn’t stopped by, has she?”

Steve shook his head. “No, she hasn’t,” he answered, giving Bucky a small smile when he frowned. He knew all about the date. “But Friday is just around the corner if you don’t see her before then.”

He tried not to feel disappointment and swore he could still smell the sugary scent of you in the air. It must’ve lingered on the couch from when you were there the night before. He wished he could have that smell on his pillows and sheets. “I like her.”

“I know you do. We all do,” Steve said, leaning against the wall. “We even told Hal he wasn’t allowed to go into the bakery out of fear that she’d fall for his charm,” he added with a wink.

I’m charming, too.

“No, punk,” he said, not wanting to be more vulnerable than he already had. “I really like her.”

The playful look on Steve’s face fell, replaced with something softer. “I know, jerk. And I think she really likes you, too. So be the good guy we know you are and sweep her off her feet.”

That’s exactly what Bucky planned to do.

Bucky, our hearts are yours! Check out more of Hottie and Sugar wiht Sweet and Strong. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #connect4au #tattoo!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x baker!reader #hottie and sugar #bucky barnes #tattoo!bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #tattoo artist au #sin on skin au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

[taegularities]

colour me in: blurred | jjk (m)

Summary: Funny how things never stay the way they were. You navigate through a life without Jungkook while wading through buried memories – and realise that every path leads back to him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating, partly college!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: artist jkkkkk, still a birthday, a present, exhibition and artwork reveal!!, memories, flashbacks, talk about exes, talk about guilt, ...frat party reveal i mean whut, jung hoseok lol, flirting, sexual tension, “how i, jk, met your mother” lmao i’m kidding, alcohol, insecurities, mean people, an absolute mess, yearning, we love tae, deep convos, overthinking; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, stripping, fondling, tiddie sucking, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, they’re dorks ??, lmao the dialogues :’’), they play a game, protected sex, drunk (consensual) sex, dirty talk, biting, sl*t mention, teasing, jk moaninnnng, partly rough sex, big dick jk, dom jk, aftercare, weird ass bets lol, i was blushing real hard writing the smut; “the ending” warning has become a constant too so :’) ➳ word count: 31.7k 🥲  ➳ a/n: what a big damn sigh i left out after finishing this one !! ugh, guys, thank you so much for sticking with me and waiting for this one. i truly hope it’s worth the wait… and their story shall only get better. thank you for betaing my love @missgeniality​​​​​ <3 as always, do lemme know what you guys think !! 🎨🤍  ➳ a/n2: keep in mind that every past tense scene is a flashback !! 😁  ➳ listen to: the only exception by paramore | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The very first day of September begins with a letter between your fingertips.

Or, perhaps not quite a letter — more a memory.

The pages of the diary aren’t older than two years, but they feel ancient when you skim them. A little dirty.

Maybe because the remembrances feel eons away, beginning in the middle of the second last year of college and ending sometime this spring. Mere months ago when cherry blossoms bloomed, along with a dozen other emotions.

You didn’t need to remember those days anymore, because you were gradually losing yourself in something and someone else. Not in love, not infatuated. Just distracted.

That is, until distraction became warmth.

Somewhere in the middle of this diary, you find words of a lost night. You don’t think of it too often; for a while, you felt too embarrassed and timid to reminisce.

Today, you can’t scan the memory, because it hurts.

This very entry is the worst of them all.

Contains all those damn hours in the gentle drizzle, followed by absolute heat, finishing off with glimmering lights in the sky and cold surfaces beneath you.

You don’t know all of it anymore.

But you know who tip-toed around you that night.

The frat party was never quite a frat party at all.

More a private thing hosted by some popular frat boy. It didn’t make much of a difference — half the campus was there, and the vibes were as fraternity as they could get.

You didn’t spend tonight under your fake starry ceiling as you usually would. This time, you sought an escape.

Honestly, everything was a get away these days, because you preferred running from reality rather than facing it; yet, you never quite landed where you wanted to be.

The hot party air was suffocating at first.

Cheap booze spilled into standard red cups, screeches accompanying the music. Despite the mind-numbing ambiance, you thought that’s where you belonged tonight.

With Eun’s concerned eyes on you round the clock, you kept the smile firmly plastered to your face. At times, you’d squint your eyes shut when the lack of lights tired you too much, but the unwavering noises kept you awake.

It was supposed to be a night you wouldn’t just flee your daily responsibilities and studies you weren’t sure you wanted, but from something else, too.

Someone else.

And that someone had dodged tonight’s party because of you. He hadn’t admitted it explicitly, but you knew he wasn’t one to miss such an event. And in some sense, you were relieved.

It was selfish of you. You felt awful, because he’d never proven to be anything but kind to you. But his absence forced at least an attempt to enjoy tonight. Knowing not too many faces around felt nice.

You weren’t particularly familiar with the frat boy community; you knew barely a handful of names in general. Like Eun’s. Jimin was supposed to be somewhere, too, because he told you he’d come. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

Then, there was this Choi Yeonjun dude; the host. Very young, but already known around college. Also, senior year hottie Cha Eunwoo.

And ah.

There was another guy you could match a name to.

Anyone who hadn’t heard of him before probably didn’t do much else other than head straight to class and then straight back home.

But you’d seen him in serene libraries before, hiding behind thick art books. And in departments that he had nothing to do with in order to meet his friends; to converse with girls.

You remember that he hadn’t been as popular or noticeable a couple months ago — he shot up like fireworks.

And right now…

He was leaning against the white wall on the other side of the room. Calm and collected, confidently talking to some girl; letting her brush his cheek; closing his eyes with crinkles around them and a tilted smile.

As she reached up to his temples, her intentions seemed genuine. The smile she flashed and the way she spoke — perhaps she was still sober, locked in the illusion that she could actually capture whatever beat behind his chest.

You didn’t want to seem judgemental — but you knew the reputation he fostered.

And even now, he seemed to be enjoying this. Like a puppy being spoiled. 

You would’ve watched a bit longer to find out how things would play out. It was an interesting scene; so transparent and clear. These two seemed to strive towards the same goal; it was written all over their faces.

But then, the sound of absolute crap infiltrated your ears; all of a sudden, shaking your world view.

“Hey!” you reflexively shouted.

The self-proclaimed DJ had spoken into the mic prior — apparently, he was replacing the originally invited song mixer. And he didn’t notice you until you waved. 

You’d probably seen him before, but you couldn’t really name him.

Full pink lips, a full dark mane.

He grabbed the mic with long fingers — where had they gotten a mic from anyway? — and holy, his voice was deep. A little unfitting to his gentle, handsome features.

But god, was his choice terrible.

You lifted your hand a little higher, and he pointed at you, ready to speak some DJ-esque motivational words to you before you yelled, “Go back to the good stuff!”

A couple nods around you affirmed your suggestion, but the guy only granted you one slapdash shrug before he went back to vibing to atrocities. The people who had murmured approval a moment ago resumed to whatever they were doing with a sigh or a headshake.

But there was one voice who didn’t quiet back down — its rise in volume was stark and clear, and your eyes immediately ripped open when you heard Jungkook howl, “Tae, I told you to not play shit!”

When you looked at him, he was cupping his mouth. The girl next to him giggled, but one of Jungkook’s eyebrows was cocked, hands raised as if to say, “Am I always just talking to a wall?”

He disregarded the girl’s laughter and shot you a stare instead; matched the light smile you didn’t know had crept upon your face; raised one shoulder in what you assumed was an apology.

Amused, you lifted the corners of your lips a little further. The warning hadn’t moved Tae at all, but the scene had been, admittedly, fun to initiate and witness. Even though it lasted a mere thirty seconds.

Because a moment later, the girl caught Jungkook’s attention again; her finger moved his head by his chin, her face closer to his — you took a few steps back and walked away.

This wasn’t your territory; you were an uninvited observer who happened to temporarily catch the target’s attention. And the target was in the wild, in a beloved habitat, so all you could do was leave him basking in his joys.

There had to be an activity you could dote on, or a familiar face you could approach. Eun had left with an excuse you hadn’t heard, and now, she was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long for you to realise that your search for her would remain fruitless.

And just when you were cottoning to the idea of roaming the party alone, an unexpected form materialised next to you. Like a hallucination, sneakily.

His hand coolly sat inside his jeans pocket; yours lamely stuffing snacks into your mouth — the dichotomy was all too present. Your big eyes ogled at a friendly smile and a tiny nod. You covered your mouth, looking a little longer, and then dropped your gaze again.

Jeon Jungkook was probably just fetching a drink for his gorgeous date. You wouldn’t have to grant him much attention.

But when a minute passed and he still lingered around, possibly unable to choose a delicacy, you looked at him again — as if on cue, just the moment he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry for the music.”

He shook his hair to the side, leaning in with a radiant smile; you didn’t know why he felt guilty enough to approach you for such a thing, but you were ready to forgive him anyway. Admittedly, it was hard to deny his charms.

Your pupils moved in confusion; with raised shoulders and a cocked eyebrow, you asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook started, a thumb pointing behind him without breaking eye contact, “he’s my best friend.”

You’d forget Taehyung’s name the next morning again; the apology wasn’t necessary and you bet he knew. But your mouth still formed an ‘Ah’, head nodding just a little as you confirmed, “Well. That is a reason to apologise, I guess.”

Registering another nod and light chuckle, you averted your eyes politely and shifted them to the table.

You filled your palm with trail mix before your stare drifted across the room — Eun was still not in your periphery, but you guessed she’d find you soon enough.

Perhaps she was testing you. Getting you out of the shell you’d retorted into in the past days, fearing everything and nothing at once.

Tonight was the first breath of air you got; something about all happenings this summer suffocated you.

The man next to you, albeit still a stranger, seemed to want to provide further distraction.

Because when you whipped your head back into his direction, you found him munching on snacks — still here, smiling at you once more. Was he waiting for something?

“So,” you started; the moment you spoke, big eyes focused on you curiously. Wow. “Where did you leave your girl?”

His face fell. Not in the melancholic way, but you thought you still found insecurity and something not too pleasant in it. He puffed out air, looking over his shoulder and then back to you.

“Should still be where you saw us last. But the room got smaller by the minute,” he said. You understood — even a rich frat boy’s house fills up at some point. “And I’m not in the mood to go back.”

“Oh. Why?”

“She was uhm… saying things I didn’t agree with.”

“Like what?”

You bit your tongue the moment he laughed. Playfully, as though he knew you inside out, he nudged your shoulder, teasing, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You blinked slowly. “Nothing, really. You wouldn’t care about it.”

He was probably right.

So you digressed.

Hummed, though you were sure he couldn’t hear it; even in this big ass kitchen, the sound of the music reverberated.

You shuffled your feet a little, ready to move on and find your friend. Maybe learn a thing or two about her pals to integrate yourself. You still couldn’t quite say how a law student like Eun knew so many people at all.

Extroverts have it easy.

You reached to the back pocket of your jeans, fishing out your phone and unlocking the screen to give her a call. 

Jungkook, still unmoving, had to be peeking, because he exclaimed an excited vocal, questioning, “What was that?”

A tattooed, lean finger pointed to your device, and you looked down, voicing a timid, “…My phone?”

“No,” he shook his head, suddenly shy for snooping. “Uhm. Your wallpaper.”

“Oh,” you looked down, eyes frozen on the dimming screen before they landed back on him. “Well, just… the night sky with some lyrics. Very basic stuff.”

“What lyrics?”

He seemed genuinely curious. It was sweet — but judging from how he’d left another girl in the other room just a moment ago, you couldn’t quite figure out what his intentions were.

So you pulled up your guard just a little, straightening your stance and covering your mind in some ice to cool it down.

And then, you answered, “You wouldn’t know them.”

But he shrugged, tilting his head, and challenged, “Try me.”

For a moment, you stared.

Then, you cleared your throat, exhaling a breath and lit up your phone again. As you held it into his face for him to read, you saw the sparkle in his eyes for the very first time — the beam of your phone allowed it for just a second as he read.

“You and I were bright, shooting through the sky daily.”

And then, he started nodding, sporting an impressed expression. His body movements were open — eager to engage in conversation, sincerity clear.

He simply said, “Good one.”

To which you squinted your eyes, stuffing your phone back. What did you take it out for again? Didn’t matter — it was locked again.

“Do you really know it or are you just acting like you do?” you asked.

Jungkook’s sudden laugh took you off guard — he wasn’t irritated but amused. His snicker was accompanied by tiny dimples and wrinkles around his huge eyes; the sound was lovely and pure.

And you nearly expected a delightful compliment before he clicked his tongue and said, “Damn. Stuck up, aren’t we?”

Well, fuck.

The way he eyed you, still enjoying your company with those rude words of his — was he the distraction you needed tonight?

He was amusing.

“Damn,” you said back.

“I do know The Neighbourhood,” he argued. He sounded calmer again; his voice dropped deeper. “I may look stupid, but I’m not.”

Internally, it made you laugh. Externally, you kept yourself at bay.

He didn’t look stupid at all, and his humour was on point. You bet that’s how he wrapped all the girls around his inked fingers.

Literally.

“I mean,” you said, unintentionally moving closer to him when someone approached the table. He smelled like soap and lotion. Looked at the vanishing distance in surprise. You moved to the side. “One doesn’t need to be stupid or smart to know a song.”

And suddenly, he chuckled again.

“What?” you asked.

“Goddamnit.”

“...What?”

“Nothing, just. You’re funny. Witty.”

You couldn’t say why he found it funny, but you felt charmed. Ugh… no. That’s how things started, you were sure.

So you were quick to state, “And you’re not my ty—”

Which was a blatant lie.

Jeon Jungkook was everybody’s type. A wandering deity with a Greek God’s body and a face carved in heaven. Splendid rizz game.

“I’m not hitting on you,” he quickly interrupted, right at your tail when you approached the door, “spare me the I have a boyfriend talk.”

You knew where this was going — you weren’t stupid either. Those subtle statements demanded a response, and idiotic enough and two red cups down, you said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“What what?”

“No, like,” he started. As you halted in your steps, right next to the couch and looking at him, he took a seat on the couch’s arm. “I fully expected you to give me the boyfriend lecture.”

You took a deep breath. No matter where you went, this… reality followed you.

Half frustrated, half tired of it, you shook your head again, looking into the depths of the cup you’d grabbed, and said, “I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Right.”

“Not quite at least.”

You kept adding things. Why?

The stored up misery escaped so easily now — but why with him?

He stared at you with actual attention in his eyes; God, he could feign it well. Even worse when he spoke and you heard the interest in his mild voice, “Quite?”

“I just do not, okay?”

The words didn’t come out rude. Hastily maybe, but not vexed.

But Jungkook’s expressions still changed. The curiosity from before faded bit by bit; realisation dawned on him that you were here for something else tonight and not… whatever you were fleeing from.

Maybe, you thought, he’d been sincere before. Actually socialising and expanding your casual exchanges.

But now that you’d closed the topic once and for all, he dropped the puppy gaze and transformed back into what you thought he was. A beloved presence on campus, always relaxed and always popular.

You saw his peer change in slow motion — baffled when he opened the path to his cocky self again.

And confident and with the tiniest of winks, he said, “Cool. So then… not to hit on you, but,” he lifted a hand, big and masculine, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

Jeon Jungkook and the liquor made the house look and feel twice its size.

After wandering around for over half an hour, you thought the hallways and rooms were expanding exponentially — until you passed the same plant you’d definitely seen a while ago. Some by now familiar faces were still roaming around the same place.

But the conversations you began kept shifting; time became relative. Subtle teases and little laughs kept you busy.

“By the way,” you asked. The lights were starting to burn into your eyes. Too neon and painful. “Are you gonna follow me all night?”

Jungkook tsk-ed, comical sass in his expression as he clarified, “I’m not following you, I’m literally walking next to you.” He tilted his head once, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “So rude.”

“Sorry.”

“Besides, you’re not necessarily doing what you were supposed to, either.”

Tired eyes blinked at him, an eyebrow cocking. For a moment, you found yourself lost, but the realisation that you were going to look for Eun dawned on you a mere second later.

In all honesty, you had walked past by her once.

She’d raised both eyebrows when she’d detected him, wearing a mirthful look, and you nodded as a fleeting greeting, but let him blabber on. Kept walking.

You didn’t tell him any of this, though.

“Yeah, well,” you crafted a careful excuse, vaguely gesturing across the badly lit, crowded living room, “easy to get lost here.”

He squinted, eyes flitting across the chattering bodies. You barely heard the hum, but you saw the shrug as he asked, “Is it really?”

“I mean… It might be easier for you since you know almost everyone here.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?”

Another shrug; softer this time. Blooming lips curved into a pretty smile, and he nodded towards you. Let his eyes scan you head to toe before he finally said, “I don’t know you.”

Hm… True.

Seemed like he didn’t want to keep it that way.

You nodded with tightly pressed lips, averting your gaze and shifting it to the back of the room, out to the backyard. It was one of those semi-rich houses with French windows; you could see the cleanly cut grass and part of the treehouse from here.

“Anything you’d like to know, then?” you finally asked.

“Keep going.”

Jungkook gestured to the staircase in the hallway. You looked around; you guess you’d been blocking the entryway to it. Partygoers gave you a weird look.

You stirred, clearing the traffic jam, and navigated towards the staircase. Jungkook, hot on your trail, answered, “Uhm. Yeah, actually — be honest. Do you know The Neighbourhood from social media? TikTok and shit?”

“God, no,” you immediately defended, secretly outraged, “I’ve known and supported them since high school.”

“Oh.” Now that you were steering towards the first floor and away from the music, you could gradually register his words clearer. “Okay. What else?”

“What else? Like what other music? Uhm… Avatar: The Last Airbender soundtrack.”

He rolled his eyes, rocking a little as you approached the end of the staircase. People floated by you quickly, roaming the entire place.

“Come on,” he replied.

“What? It legitimately counts!”

You still felt the vibrations of the beat. It wasn’t so bad from here; kind of pleasant, fitting the rhythm of your conversation.

Or his laugh when he puffed out air, leading you down the hallway; a couple steps from here, you detected a small balcony. But as you neared the exit, you found it busy; two friends drinking, chatting the night away.

Jungkook halted, pressing against the wall with a glimpse to the ground. He rubbed his eyes; you understood. The hallway was lit a million times better than any room downstairs. Balm for your eyes.

“Alright,” he asked, looking up to you with an inhale, “another trivial question as we wait,” he tilted his head towards the door. “What’s a superpower you’d choose?”

You contemplated on suggesting a walk outside the house, but you knew why he’d possibly led you here — it was quieter. The crowd not as tense.

So instead of muttering the question, you relaxed your spinning head; your heavy eyelids fell a little as you said, “Oh, uh… let me think.” You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the ceiling; and eventually, you challenged, “Tell me yours first. And make it as useless as you can.”

For some odd reason, you were eager to hear his question.

You found yourself wondering about him and his little habits a lot.

Jungkook took a moment to ponder, and then declared with a miniscule hint of sarcasm, “Ah. Never spilling my drink. Knowing every dance move to every song.”

Maybe the alcohol was truly showing its effect, because you burst into simultaneous laughter that forced the strangers’ eyes upon you. From the balcony, they looked at you, chuckling just a little before they turned back.

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, hearing him ask, “Alright, your turn. What’s your superpower choice? Uselessness is the key.”

“Okay, easy,” you said, shifting up the wall you’d slid down a bit, “I’d choose the superpower of persuasion. Would use it for the greater good, like––”

“That’s not a useless power—”

“––To convince everyone that The Last Airbender soundtrack deserved more recognition.”

“Okay. Way to make it as useless as possible.”

“Soundtrack of the century.”

“Okay. Sure, why not?”

Short pause, but never awkward.

In truth, you found a moment of respite from the chaos underneath your feet. The wall you leaned against was cold against your bare arms and calves, and for the first time tonight, you thought you could think.

Nevermind your foggy brain, and the way his company made reality blur.

You were enjoying yourself.

That is, until Jungkook spoke up again.

“Okay… one more thing, and you can fully tell me to fuck off if you don’t wanna tell.”

You turned to face him, eyes filled with intrigue, mustering a sole, “Hm?”

“You’re… escaping something tonight. Aren’t you?” He took a deep breath, words dangling between you. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, brief surprise flickering in them. “Do you want to vent?”

His probing was delicate, not overly curious. He was being careful, ready for rejection, and you appreciated it, no matter how caught off guard by his perceptive observation.

“What?” you still voiced.

“I don’t think that’s your type of environment, right? Nothing seems to catch your attention for long enough.” He paused again, meeting your gaze intently. He tumbled to the other side, pressing his back against the wall. “Except me. You’re still talking to me.”

There it was — you were sure it was.

That fleeting moment of vulnerability that passed over your face. Not just due to the circumstances but to everything that they evoked, too.

Jungkook wasn’t wrong, and his keen understanding of your inner life surprised you.

Slowly, you let out a soft laugh, just a little fragile as you admitted, “You’re right. I’m escaping the responsibilities of adult life and the upcoming doom of my last college year.”

Yeah… but beneath the surface, there was more.

You didn’t know whether he saw it; you knew you weren’t too drunk yet to decode expressions.

But he only nodded, offering a gentle smile. Told you, “Sometimes that shit does weigh us down. But isn’t it worth it? Don’t you like college?”

“I do like college,” you argued, “I just don’t like the thought of finishing it. Because then you’re deep in that… life thing. You probably understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, no doubt. I just don’t think of it yet, because I want to like what I do.”

Want to like what I do.

Was that what you were doing to yourself? Making something miserable for yourself that could or could not have ended half as bad as you thought?

Hmm…

“That’s good,” you said.

“I mean,” Jungkook started again. “You’re still young. If you can’t be passionate about what you’re doing, you can look around for something better, you know? Like—”

His shoulder rose, and he clicked his tongue, “You don’t have to go with whatever’s forced upon you, no matter who you are.”

Your eyebrows kissed; you felt a sense of relief the moment the breeze blew through the open door. Two fresh inhales at once.

You were in for surprises all night, it seemed.

“Do you… know who I am?” you wondered; your voice was cautious, intent on not spilling too much.

Which wasn’t necessary after all.

“I told you I’m not stupid.”

Yet, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t care for it, either. It was kind of nice.

A corner of your lips tugged into a little smile, hands folding behind your back as you digressed, “Is there anything else you’d like to know, Jungkook?”

He huffed, shaking his head for a moment; folded his arms as he teased, “You didn’t even answer my question.” He bit the inside of his cheek; seemed amused. A little fascinated. “But okay. Something else then. Do you like games?”

Huh.

“Like what?”

“Mmmh. There’s spin the bottle,” he suggested, albeit immediately taking it back upon taking in your grimace. “Okay, no, but there’s also like… two truths, one lie?”

“Oh, uh—”

“We don’t have to play—”

“No, I…” You sighed, delivering a reassuring smile. He was truly so polite. “I was just thinking, but…”

He was waiting with those big eyes. Shaking the hair off his face with slightly parted lips. Those things — they felt like tiny habits; you wished you’d been sober enough to pinpoint all of them.

You gathered three ideas in your head, and after careful contemplation, you said, “Okay. I have shotgunned a beer in under ten seconds.” He looked impressed. Fun. “I snuck into a music festival without a ticket. And… I prank called an ex once.”

“Shotgunned a beer,” his answer came immediately, no trace of doubt, “I tried that once and it took me over fifteen seconds.”

“Well. You’re wrong, noob,” you answered, delighted by his mock annoyance, “I never called an ex to prank them. That’s disrespectful.”

For a second, he looked embarrassed — and then, he nodded, accompanied by, “And I respect that.”

He shifted against the wall, inhaling a breath with a hiss as he thought. His eyes travelled to the ceiling, and then to the people wandering about. No one was approaching the balcony, because you’d already patiently reserved your spot.

Jungkook squinted his eyes shut, and then released the lips he’d pressed together with a plop. Finally uttered as his fingers counted, “‘Kay uh, I have pulled an all-nighter for a major exam and still aced it. I have performed a belly flop off a diving board—”

“Those are so specific.”

“And, I’ve been part of a flash mob before.”

No clue, and no point in thinking about it. So you guessed, “I’ll say the flash mob one isn’t true. We’ve all pulled an all-nighter before, and the other one was too distinct.”

“Well damn,” Jungkook said, stretching the last word as though you’d solved a century-old riddle. “You’re right. You already know me so well.”

“I could do a quiz show on you, I’m sure.”

He laughed. Whenever he expected you to roll his eyes at him or to dismiss his foolish jokes, you joined his bullshit instead. Sweet.

The boys relaxing outside interrupted your game, finally flooding out. Apparently, there was a third you couldn’t see, and he flinched when you made your way out, almost bumping against you.

You didn’t know who it was, but he seemed to know Jungkook.

Flashed a gummy smile when his eyes moved back and forth between your conversation partner and you. His cheeks were red, but his stance and walk were still stable; high-tolerance drinker.

But a little, teasing “Enjoy yourself,” was still in the interaction as he passed you by.

Walking out into the summer night immediately evoked a sense of serenity. The warm breeze caressed your skin, wafting the scent of blooming flowers towards you. Under the moonlit sky, the world was alive — or at least, the one you were visiting right now.

It was a little louder here again, though the noises came from chatter and conversations rather than music. 

From here, you had a better view at the neighbourhood; and tragically, at the people making out in that children’s treehouse. You laughed.

Leaning over the railing, you inhaled the wind, watching Jungkook follow suit before you said, “Okay, moving on — I’ve never sat on the roof of these… detached houses. I am not a procrastinator… And I’d really like some more of that cheap booze right now.”

He looked at you in disbelief, though charmed enough to chuckle and wonder, “You actually do?”

“That’s on you to find out.”

“I mean, maybe you are sick of wine and champagne.” Well… true. But when he saw bits of your expression fall, his laughter subsided a little, and he added without hesitation, “No, but you might actually mean that. I feel like those are all truths, but… I’ll go with the procrastination one.”

You stomped your feet in light excitement when he guessed wrong, glimmering eyes staring into starry ones. “Nope.”

“No?” His forehead wrinkled; and then, his eyes ripped open. “What, the roof bit?”

You nodded. He asked, “Oh? Wait, what?”

More than two decades, and you’d only seen these things in movies and TV shows. People sharing lunches and thoughts on roof tiles, soaking in the sun, building up to a big, character-developing moment.

No real life occurrence for you.

“Why does it surprise you?” you asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I…” He leaned back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m a country boy.” Interesting. The more you knew. He pointed to the sky. “More stars down there, so we used to do it a lot in the summer. And a friend of mine… she and I, we liked spending nights like this.”

You ignored the pause after the mention of his friend — you wouldn’t have noticed anyway if he hadn’t dropped his gaze to his hands.

“Oh… that sounds nice.”

A nod confirmed your statement, short-lived when he said, “Alright. One more.”

He turned towards you, placing his lower arm onto the railing. His smile was genuine; he looked beautiful like this. Messy hair blowing into his face, covering his eyes until it didn’t and you finally saw—

That.

This man had an entire night sky in his eyes, diamonds sprinkled all over.

So sincere. Maybe that’s what lured them all in; not just his charm.

“Okay,” you more mouthed than said.

“So,” he drew in a breath, licking his lips, “I’m a cat person. I’d rather drive than shotgun. And…”

Once more, he hesitated, bringing back his thinking face, and you used the moment to declare, “These are tough.”

He stalled. You waited; looking at him in anticipation until he smirked, leaning in to nudge your shoulder and utter the most outrageously riveting confession of the night.

Your heart stood still before he’d spoken the last syllable.

“I kinda wanna kiss you right now.”

A fever dream, wasn’t it?

You blanked. You would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t think about it tonight.

Obviously not a top priority, but it’d crossed your swaying mind, undoubtedly. Not that you knew too much about him — but he drew you in, like a hook-up with chemistry.

Because that’s what that night seemed to develop into.

All that your throat spit out was a little, “Damn—”

He held up a hand, and then pointed to his chest, innocently stating, “But that’s me. I won’t even touch you without consent.”

The balcony was rotating a little. Either the ground or you.

Probably you.

Because your mind was blurred, too; the air charged with tension. The witty banter and lighthearted remarks weren’t supposed to shift like this; where had all this appetite come from?

“So you’re… confessing one of your truths now?” you asked.

A playful smile tugged at your lips; you angled your head, waiting for a response.

His chest moved inwards, holding the breath before he choked it out in a laugh. Embarrassed with himself, he lifted a shoulder, saying no more than, “Well, shit.”

Ugh, the playful tone.

The thirst pooling in your stomach subsided a little when you saw his eyes sparkle like this. Images of his lips on yours faded just slowly as you found enough courage to tell him, “Not that easy to just snatch a kiss from me.”

A frisky challenge appeared in your eyes and he took it all in patiently as he inquired, “Okay… what would I need to do then?”

If he truly meant his little admission, were you going to let him dive into it? Allow the little adventure, swaying from your original plans for tonight?

Did you have any at all?

Your voice daring and just a teeny tiny bit mischievous, you proposed, “I’ll kiss you if I fail at guessing the lie. If not, then I won’t.”

A smirk danced on Jungkook’s lips as he leaned closer, a surge of excitement mingling with a touch of nerves. Quietly, he mused, “Fifty-fifty chance.”

“Right.”

“You could just…” His voice dropped the moment his eyes did, following the fingers that reached out to your arm but never touched you. “Walk away if it’s too weird.”

“Nah. I’m too invested now.” A grin spread across your voice, hiding the fog his expression elicited. “Kiss me when I lose. And I’m saying that, because I do feel like I’ll win.”

Stupid, usual, drunk blabber.

Too courageous. Too daring.

“I choose,” you tried to focus on your sentences, only mildly distracted by the bite of his lip, “drive rather than shotgun. You probably do like cats.”

And the moment you voiced your option, victorious crinkles formed around his eyes. Doom became crystal clear to you, though you couldn’t help but embrace it with open arms.

And the thought stirred something in you.

“Wrong. I like cats, but I have a dog and I love him to bits,” he remarked, triumphant and teasing.

Holy fuck, he was good at this.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

He was too exhilarating, his effect too undeniable. And each of his words strengthened that desire in you, luring you in like a seductive melody, enticing you to surrender to its rhythm.

“It’s okay,” was what it entailed, “I know you don’t want to kiss me,” he backed away, and you released the breath, “so I won’t.”

The smirk stayed glued to his face. Unspoken words remained just that, and you let the night evolve, aware yet oblivious to how it’d unfold.

And as he leaned back again, his expression promising, you allowed the spark to keep dancing between you. Patient and curious when you let him know—

“Jeon Jungkook… that’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”

The letters on the paper barely make any sense.

You read through and over them, putting them together to syllables and relating them to the other words in the sentences.

You still remember rushing through your narrative. Half excited and half indignant, you jotted down all you could remember before you wouldn’t. The lines and curves of the alphabet are messy and nowhere near constant.

Exhausted and still feeling remnants of the inebriation, you didn’t have it in you to indulge in poetry or eloquent prose.

You remember it got worse as you proceeded. You remember your words became blurrier, incoherent, your thoughts jumping from one idea of the night to another.

To sentences he said, to things he did.

Only now, it has all escaped your memory — and it seems that your past self didn’t have any particular intention to let your older being recall it all.

Because in the middle of the page, your thoughts finish in a cliffhanger.

I think at the very end, it wasn’t the time we spent in the bedroom that messed me up. It was the goddamn roof.

And that’s it.

When you flip the page, another day has started. Several dates skipped, you talk about a cosy study session in a coffee shop and the faces you saw. About the waitress who praised your hair style and ended up chatting for half an hour.

Little things. You didn’t mention Jungkook again anymore until he joined your class and crept under your skin. Evoked all emotions you barely knew before — a pain in the ass but an introduction to… whatever has developed now.

An alternative to the reality you lived. Never out to fix you but to pull you out of your shell.

Maybe that’s why you ripped out all the pages. Behind the lost memories, you still know the humiliation you faced — but you don’t know about the little dialogues anymore. The things he said and how you perceived them.

Where are those words you scribbled down? 

You look around your room. Your bed and desk are a mess; numerous objects scattered enough to make you uncomfortable. The sun is still high in the sky, but you know it’ll set eventually.

And by then, it’ll be too late.

Maybe you should stuff the diary back to the place you pulled it from. Maybe you should leave this smothering room; that spot on the bed where you sit, sunlight burning up your skin.

You hold your breath when your phone vibrates against your thigh, and let it out when your heart has calmed from the sudden intrusion.

The lit screen is unreadable against the sun; but when you lift it to your face, the message jumps into your face and attacks you like a wild animal. 

Hoseok [6:23PM]: Work was slow today, but I’m not doing the night shift this time!! Hoseok [6:23PM]: So we could grab dinner if you’d like?😁

A kind, genuine question shouldn’t grip your chest like this. The way your heart is leaking and your lungs emptying — when someone really cares for you, that shouldn’t happen.

But when you don’t care back just as much, it still does.

You remember feeling just like this a year ago; at the stupid party with its stupid music and then on the dumb, stupid roof.

An active dodging of one presence and a silent yearning for another.

It makes you sick.

The twisted feeling in your stomach lingers; and when you look at your diary again, you feel it everywhere. In your guts, in your chest, in your throat.

Something burns behind your eyes; tears are missing in action, but you think it’s your melting brain. On fire as you keep overthinking, fingers curling in, legs restless and urging you to stand.

Hoseok’s dinner dates aren’t what you crave, and you know it. Everyone knows it.

He, the cause of all misery, must, too.

And when the ache becomes too poignant, nearly unbearable, you lift yourself off the mattress. You flatten your shirt, pull up your jeans and grab a thin bolero just in case.

If you hurried, you could make it, right?

Rushing down the stairs, you shoot a message back to Hoseok; simple and quick. Hints of regret penetrate the back of your mind, but you shove them away to focus on the situation on hand.

You [6:25PM]: Ahhh I’m at an event today but… tomorrow? x

Your eyes dart to the top of the screen. Numbers sting more than they should; the date looks unreal today.

September 1st.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

But… That's for you to worry about later.

Ripped pages and a fervent night still floating in your mind, you step into your car. It’s hot inside, considering you left it standing on the road after work instead of parking it in the garage.

It’s baffling how lazy heartbreak makes you. How tiny tasks leave a body immobile, forcing it to stick to the bare minimum.

You grip the wheel hard, only now realising how breathless the short way down rendered you. The prospect of seeing him again stirs your insides and your mind. Doesn’t let you start the engine just yet.

In the moments that you use to relax, you imagine how things might go.

You’d enter a climatised, sophisticated building. Walk past art that people worked hard on, admiring every stroke and colour. Would approach the place he invited you to with a wobbly body; ready for whatever pain he’d inflict on you.

But.

Pain.

Isn’t that what has kept you away for all those endless days since you escaped the dark alley?

Pressed against the cold wall, flush against him, hot lips parted and a hotter breath mingling with yours. Only to crush all you’d hoped for. He did this to you.

You begged. And he kept doing it to you.

Do you have the capacity to hurt again?

Your head moves to the side. Slowly peeking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the squared object, wrapped in silver; you don’t have the heart to look at it for too long.

No.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

Perhaps it’s better to not allow such a later at all.

So you remove your trembling hands from the steering wheel. Look down to them; feel your body fall again. Whatever hope you’d gathered evaporates at the idea of the same, damn ache.

And it feels awful. So fucking awful.

The bare minimum. That’s what all of you wants you to do. With the energy gone, you want to become weightless. Want to press against the pain in your chest.

So you walk back in; lay down without attending dinner.

One last glance at your phone before you put it away. Still the damn first of September.

An hour later, notifications light up your phone, but you, pulled in by the same uneasy slumber, won’t see them anymore before the morning breaks in.

Those darn treacherous lips of his had lied to you.

He’d said he wasn’t hitting on you; wanted you to spare him all talk of boyfriends and affection.

Instead he kept talking — kept drinking with you.

Rendering you breathless when he pushed you against the wall of an empty room, shoving his tongue down your throat like it was all he ever knew how to do.

You remember giggles — an ongoing, addictive streak of childish laughter. Coming from his touches and silly words and from how it tickled when he kissed that sensitive spot on your neck.

With a sigh, you put a hand half on his jaw, half on his cheek. His features were sharp; in your drunken state, you wondered if you’d cut yourself if you ran your fingers across them fast enough.

But everything was foggy and insane; it was surprising enough that your legs weren’t giving in under his actions. And when your brain enabled a coherent conversation, you felt even prouder.

“Are we gonna stay here?” you asked.

It must have been the first time tonight that you could hear your own voice properly. The music sounding from downstairs was a lot dimmer here, muffled through the door.

Your head felt a sense of relief that he took very soon again; the tiny but sharp bite on your neck made you gasp in anticipation. He was doing whatever the fuck he wanted to, and you let him.

“I mean,” he whispered; his voice was low and raspy, and its effect shot straight under your skirt, “I can totally take you against the door.”

Which was menacing enough as it was. But the promise to take you at all left you wanting so much fucking more.

You rubbed your legs together as a heavy hand pushed against the small of your back. He lifted his head to look at you, teeth digging into his pink, lower lip. His eyes looked so damn thirsty that you felt your own tongue dry up.

As he stared at you in question, fingers digging into your back, you said, “Nah… door too cold and uncomfortable.”

“‘Kay,” his fingers snuck to the hem of your skirt, only pushing under the material for a brief moment before they retreated, “get to the bed then.”

Your body felt like a feather when he let you go.

As you obliged, taking languid steps to the mattress, your voice was still enthusiastic and you were still bubbly, “It’s so much calmer here.”

You sighed when you dropped onto the bed, not quite noticing that he didn’t deliver an answer. You didn’t have it in you to focus on much at all when you looked at him again — because he was locking the damn door.

And something about this little, harmless gesture was so devilishly sexy.

You looked at the ceiling; then closed your eyes. He was too much to bear; so you continued your zany ramble, “I usually get a headache at such dark and loud places.”

No answer. But you heard steps inching closer.

You had to shoot a glance.

And when you did, he was undoing a few buttons of his shirt, including the ones of his sleeves. Then whipped out his belt and threw it to the side haphazardly, grinning down at your awaiting body.

He was so hot.

“But not today,” you continued, “I was too distracted to get a headache today.”

“Mhmmm.”

The tired glimpses of him walking to you had your heart beating at an unreal rate. You knew he was just as drunk as you, but he was oddly calm for now, as opposed to you. Or maybe, he just acted that way.

When he suddenly dropped onto the bed, knees digging in and a torso and lips hovering above you, your breath hitched.

Fuck.

“Keep talking,” he ordered.

His smile was inviting and on purpose. Big eyes were half-lidded now, wanting and hankering. You were putty in his hands.

“What?” you mumbled.

“You said you were distracted.”

“I… I still am.”

“Yeah,” a smirk lifted his lips; his fingers freed your forehead off a few hair strands. In return, his bangs hung into your face. “Tell me about it.”

You gulped.

Your hands itched to grab him by his collar, but you felt so powerless that your digits didn’t move. A sole kiss wasn’t supposed to fuck you up like this, but you were already a hot mess.

And when you finally gathered a full thought, you said, “I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, letting his face drop a little more. “Why?”

“We’ve talked enough.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, laughing, closing his eyes as his breath fell against your shoulder.

The tip of his nose ran a trail along your neck and then down to your clavicles. You didn’t have much to say; mostly because you couldn’t grant language much attention anymore.

Not when he took the strap of your top between his teeth and started pulling it off your shoulder. Baring your skin as his soft voice questioned, “What do you wanna do, then?”

“Mmmmh,” you said, finally managing to sneak your palms onto his broad shoulders. “What can you do?”

Bit by bit, your exhaustion faded. The more he touched you, the more he lit your veins. You felt electrified; sleep was vanishing fast.

“I can do,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the newly naked skin of your shoulder, “a lot.”

“Like what?”

“You know… I can just show you?” His voice sounded so pretty. So alluring and pleasant to listen to; you wanted it to talk you to sleep. “I dunno what you like, though.”

You could barely remember when exactly he’d bewitched you like this; but you didn’t have it in you to care. Only admitted, “I think I’ll like anything you do.”

He smiled. He had a confident laugh — probably knew how gorgeous he looked.

“We can find out. No worries.” His eyes shifted to your top, and then down to your skirt. “Just need to get all of this off first.”

“Mhmmm. The best part.”

The intimate atmosphere settled in the bedroom; strange to think that just a while ago you were standing on a balcony, playing a game. Seemingly harmless in theory, leading to a locked room in reality.

Which reminded you.

He was so eager to take off your clothes so quickly, but you didn’t consider him the type to rush things. Why the hell would you give in so fast then? Allow him that bit when you were sure that man liked to tease?

So your expressions changed when an idea formed in your mind. A mischievous glimmer flickered in your eyes when you proposed, “What if we played another game?”

And this seemed to grab his attention. 

“I’m all ears.”

Your voice dropped to a husky whisper as you pushed yourself off the bed, waiting for him to sit up before you began outlining the rules, “Strip according to correct guesses. We take turns asking questions, and whenever one guesses correctly, the other removes a piece of clothing.”

The idea ignited a sense of thrill in you; perhaps he felt the same. He sat back against the headboard, curiosity lacing his adjective features, and you went ahead and kneeled next to him, hearing an intrigued, “Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Right. We can set boundaries, if you’d like, but—”

“I do trust you. It sounds… kinda fun.”

You exhaled relieved; more keen by the second. “Yeah. I wanted to say it sounds fun.”

Jungkook thought about it for another moment; then, he straightened his stance, exchanging a knowing glance, crossing his arms as he said, “Let the games begin, then.”

You jubilated.

With the air thick with beguilement, you crawled an inch closer until your knees hit his waist. He immediately put a hand on your bare knee, charging the atmosphere.

For a minute, time stood still, his touch warm and inviting. You’d delivered boldness, acting as a catalyst. Further tension brewed between you, simmering at the surface, ready to be acknowledged and explored some more.

“You were going to hook up with someone tonight,” you said. A statement, not a question.

He paused for a second, staring, slowly blinking at you. Hesitation lingered for a good while before he finally mumbled, “Maybe.”

You cocked an eyebrow. 

Despite the fact that Jeon Jungkook was still a stranger, you’d clicked somehow — you liked to think that he’d had his focus fixated on you tonight. That you weren’t just any fling, at least not before the night ended.

So it was oddly relieving when he noticed your questioning gaze, clicking his tongue before he said, “Well, I thought it could happen… but I wasn’t really planning on it. Because anything’s possible at this place.”

You couldn’t bite back your curiosity, and spat immediately, “Are you hooking up with me, because you considered it possible? Were you gonna do it with just anyone? The girl downstairs—”

“Nah,” he was quick to counter, “not her.”

Right.

You believed him with a shrug, licking your lip; watched his gaze follow. He moved closer just a little; as his hazy doe eyes moved back to yours, you knew he was struggling as much as you.

So you fuelled the fire, suggesting, “So I’m special tonight, is my guess. You want me a little more than anyone else.”

He pushed forward — the sudden movement transported his lips so unbearably close to yours, and you flinched. He fumbled with something, and only when you peeked to the left, did you see him taking off a damn sock.

Then, he leaned back again, relaxed when he repeated the statement from earlier, “You’re escaping something tonight.”

Well damn. He didn’t need to go so hard right from the start.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his body further back. Putting a gap between him and you, you crossed your arms over your torso, gripping the hem of your top to slip it off swiftly.

Which seemed to baffle him. The dark red Fenty bra caught his attention — and his breath.

And all he could mutter was a weak, little, “Wow. Going all in.”

“Not yet,” you argued, shaking your head. “But I’m also just trying to encourage you to do the same.”

“Right…”

You cleared your throat, rubbing his dark grey, black shirt between your fingertips. “Your favourite colour is black.”

“Hmmm.” He thought for a moment. And then imitated his action from before, once more eliciting a gasp out of you when he took off the other sock. “One of my favourite colours, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re a coward for this.”

Fucking socks.

Laughing in mock, you ran a finger down his leg. To his knee and then up to his hip again. Only barely missing the bulge very slowly forming under the dark pants.

Breath escaped through his teeth; it seemed that he was a fan of such teasing, because his eyes sparkled.

And then, your brave mind formed this brilliant, easy yet effective idea.

You were already so far gone — taking it a step further wouldn’t be awkward at this point. So you shook your head in disbelief, looking at his feet and then at the fully clothed body.

And the moment after, you lifted your body and straddled him.

Hah.

There it was.

The restrained breath and the clenched fists. The suddenly open mouth and wide eyes; you could play his game, too.

Before he could speak, you sighed at the palpable beauty growing underneath you, remarking a sweet, “What now? Still gonna take it slow?”

“I… dunno,” he said, “make me do it differently.”

You moved your hips over his dick just a little. The movement was subtle but did what it needed to; the tiny moan he voiced was too fucking beautiful to regret and the bulge, while faint, was definitely there.

You loved this a little too much.

With a strained, nearly hoarse voice, he spoke, “You’re a 2000s hit girl. You uh— you don’t like the shit that comes out today.”

His speech kept breaking, and you felt beyond proud of it. If you managed to make Jeon Jungkook stutter even once today, you’d bestow a badass title upon yourself—

“Wrong,” you said with a confident smile; for now, he wasn’t getting what he needed. “I’m a Frankie Valli girl.”

“That’s so hot of you,” Jungkook said. He lifted a finger to your bra, hooking it into the space that connected both cups. Pulled a little. “But. Just fucking take something off, please?”

You grabbed his wrist, removing it from your body. “That’d be cheating.”

“I’ll take off my jeans if you do the same with your skirt…?”

Fuck.

If Jungkook hadn’t been so stubborn with his control, you knew you could’ve made him falter beneath you. Something about him suggested that he was very well able to become a begging mess.

But not today.

Today, you were giving in.

You wetted your lips, clenching your jaw, and then finally said, “...Alright.”

The process of pulling down your skirt was a hassle. You basically pushed your tits into his face as he attempted to kick off his jeans, constantly distracted and letting you know that he was.

He missed your touch as you threw your skirt aside and only breathed out in relief when you found your way back onto his lap.

It felt good, feeling his bare legs against your ass. To diminish the hurdle that his jeans were. To feel his erection pressing into your dampening panties, hard and firm and ego-boosting under you.

You bit back how amazing it felt, because you knew you’d be spilling praises shamelessly all too soon. Somehow, you were sure he’d make you do it — so for now, you kept the craze to yourself.

He, however, didn’t.

“My God,” he whispered. A warm palm brushed along your sides and across your back. Toyed with the hook of your wine red panties before it dropped to the curve of your ass. “You look so good. How did you know I liked this colour?”

Lifting the shoulder he pulled the strap down from, you joked, “I asked around campus.”

To which the roaming hand dug underneath your panties, pulling out a tiny moan as he left crescent moons in your flesh. Soon, his hand was gone again, and he nodded towards you, saying, “Look at you…”

“…What?”

“You’re a goddamn tease, and you don’t even need to think about it.” His hips lifted, pressing against your cunt. “You’re so fucking sexy… you know?”

You didn’t; but it wasn’t bad hearing it out loud. Feigning all poise, you answered, “Business student confidence.”

“Uh-huh. Some of y’all are so stuck up, but… you’re cool. Gotta be good to you tonight.”

You scoffed, affected by his length — were you truly ready to have him ram it into you? Because he felt… huge.

“You…” you began, choking on that word before swallowing the clump and starting anew. “You could just fuck me and leave.”

But he, adamant and eager to stick to his plan, shook his head immediately. Hair flew into his face as he answered, “Nah. I need to leave a good impression.”

What a statement.

Was there a doubt about it anyway? If he’d fucked you and left, you might’ve remembered, too.

But you weren’t going to decline the offer, so you simply challenged, “Do it.”

“Right. Fuck the stripping then.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a beast ready to devour you. He showed early signs of his insatiability when he kissed you first — and now, he still kept proving his point when a harsh hand cupped one of your tits.

He didn’t unhook the lingerie just yet; instead, he tugged the material over your breasts, letting it settle it under them. The change in temperature made your nipples perk, and judging from how he looked at them, he noticed, too.

Because a second later, his mouth hung open; his breathing was stagnant and infuriatingly hot. Lustful and insane, he kept staring at the pebbles, rounding the tip of his finger around a nipple as he said, “You’re full of surprises.”

Your eyebrows furrowed — as far as you were aware, your desires lay in front of him like an open book. 

“How so?” you asked.

“Just. Whenever I think you can’t get prettier—”

Slowly drawn to you, his eyelids dropped. Your hands grazed his naked torso until they reached his jaw, and you cupped his face the moment plush lips wrapped around your nub.

Sensitive.

A wet, burning hot tongue snuck its way through, the tip of it rounding your nipple. When you cracked your eyes open and looked down, inhaling the scent of his hair, his eyes were shut comfortably.

The arched upper lip looked pretty from here; his mouth wrapped around your tit so gorgeously. No matter what he was going to do with and to you tonight, you already knew he’d look stunning doing it.

And you, while driven by the sound he voiced against your breast and the thrown-back head, couldn’t help but feel self-aware. This was the first time you were seeing Jungkook naked; and the first time vice versa.

For a man who’d bared enough pretty women before, were you good enough? Or did he not care, drowning in desire and led by the hardness of his length?

Why were you always like this?

“I’m…” you breathed, tilting your head. “I’m a little insecure.”

Jungkook’s teeth captured your nipple ever-so-lightly, pulling just a bit — then, he sucked one more time before he let go with a plop. He shook the hair off his face, and then asked, “You? You don’t seem insecure at all.”

“That’s what you see,” you said, ignoring the way his breath hit the wetness on your tits. “I have weaknesses, too.”

“Oh… well. Like what?”

“Like. I’m insecure about my boobs.”

He shot a stare down. Analysed them, taking them in — probably the first time properly since he’d pulled that damn bra down. It worried you; was he still seeing something he liked?

Maybe.

Because confused, he wondered, “Why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. And his interest piqued, his voice changed, a little more inquisitive and sober now when he asked, “Has anyone ever said anything bad about them?”

“Well,” you took in the genuinity in his eyes. Starry and sincerely curious; his touch around your waist was gentle. “No.”

Your response didn’t seem to surprise him. Much like he didn’t expect any other answer; at least, that’s what the slow nod, accompanied by a stretched hum, suggested.

“Good,” he said, putting a hand under one of your tits, flush against your ribs, “because… you’re beautiful head to toe.”

This was a fling, you told yourself, but you moved farther and farther from that belief — especially with those praises he showered you in. And the click you’d previously felt, the budding connection…

It was a fling, but boosting your ego, you hoped he was affected by it, too.

What was superior to a hook-up you would remember? One where the other person exuded and demanded respect and trust?

“Thank you,” you told him. A daring finger travelled to his jaw, tracing the sharp line; you’d wanted to touch it all night, and now you couldn’t stop. “You’re pretty, too.”

Slowly, he pulled you closer, wet nipples touching his toned pecs until you were flush against him. Warm… he was so warm.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You smelled the alcohol in his breath, only half as hypnotising and intoxicating as him. Breathing in sharply, your body shivered as you choked out a weak, “Yeah…”

And a moment later, he was kissing you.

Deeper this time, eating you whole. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your own rising; you didn’t need to see the goosebumps to know they were very much present.

This… he… felt too good.

He put his palm on the back of your head, messing up and knotting your hair and angled your face to dive in harder. You could barely breathe with him so close to you.

His torso pressed against you; it felt as though he was squishing your lungs. And this tongue of his — rolling around yours. Lips enclosed yours and made oxygen a foreign concept.

And he only pulled back when you whimpered unintentionally, nails deeper in his skin. As he looked at you, you were long out of it — and it amused him. Made him laugh as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. You didn’t think anything of it felt even remotely wrong.

You answered, “You’re just… such a good kisser.”

“Oh,” he voiced, suddenly all confident when you nodded hastily, still drunk and horny. “Oh?”

“I’m serious. How much practice have you had?”

Jungkook halted for a while. Not to think, you assumed — but his expressions changed. Like he hadn’t planned on gaining practice, and now your question was catching him off guard.

And after a while, he finally said, “Some.”

Not that you could dissect this odd behaviour of his. All you knew was that you wanted those lips back on you — so you led your hand to the nape of his neck, tugging him in as you plead, “I… wanna keep going.”

Spinning just a little, his eyes slid down from your gaze, already parting his mouth. But when the softness of your lips barely touched his, he reclined a little yet enough to dodge your kiss.

“Now wait,” he mumbled, changing back to a smirk. At this point you wondered whether he did it on full purpose. “If you really like it so much, I… can’t just give it to you so easily.”

What.

“Why?”

“Because you’re amazing to look at.” One of his tattooed fingers drifted to your chin and flicked it. “So hungry for more.”

“Jungkook—”

“And you’re an amazing kisser, too,” he said as smugly as an inebriated man could, delighted by your sudden pout, “so it’s not just hard for you.”

“Jungkook,” you emphasised, hissing in impatience, grinding against his erection, “take off that damn underwear.”

“Then guess something correctly about me.”

“Right.” You groaned in frustration, lifting the hand from the nape of his neck to his hair, pulling in slight irritation. With gritted teeth, you spat, “You want me. You want to fucking flip me around like some damn pancake. You want to fold me in half, don’t you?”

In truth, things you wanted. In theory, things you hoped he desired just as much.

“Want to pin my wrists to the bed and pound and fuck me into another universe until you’ve left a dent under me. To bruise my skin and leave scratches deep enough for me to feel tomorrow and… I fucking promise I can give you even more than that.”

Silence.

He stared at you, holding a breath. The sheer disbelief in his eyes satisfied you; the lack of words was soon made up by the twitching package underneath your folds. 

Gulping and unblinking, he ogled at you like you’d handed Area51’s secrets to him; and then, half a minute later, he finally said, “Fucking hell.”

“Wha—”

“That was fucking unfair.”

This made you smile. For once, you were certain you had the same power over him as he did over you.

“C’mon,” you said, once more rolling your hips over his length. A delicious grunt left his lips. “Wanna know what you’re hiding in there.”

He puffed out a breath, kissing his teeth. “Something interesting. You might like it.”

“You’re…” You rolled your eyes, but immediately stopped. It made you dizzy. “So full of yourself.”

“I mean…”

“Underwear. Please.”

It took some begging and a throw of puppy eyes, but this time, he obliged. Chuckled a bit and then patted your thigh, signalling you to get off of him to ease the process.

And once you did, you waited. For ages, it seemed.

Because those veiny hands were as teasing as they were skilled. Pulled down the Calvins torturously slowly.

But when he did… oh, boy…

He was big. Incredibly so.

You felt your heart in your pussy.

“I’m not full of myself, by the way,” he said. “I’ll ask you again in fifteen-ish minutes. Tell me I was wrong.”

You can’t remember anymore, but you’re sure you sat there with your tongue out. Eyes big, drooling, leaning forwards with tits pressed between your arms. Your body was a mess, and he hadn’t done anything much to it yet.

You wanted him to. ASAP.

“Ah,” you voiced, only reluctantly ripping your gaze off that glorious cock to fixate it on his eyes. “So you do want to fuck me for real.”

“Baby,” he paused. Gave his dick a stroke as he pushed towards you, sneaking a hand to your waist. “I won’t leave a piece of your body intact.”

Chills everywhere. The current shot straight down to your dribbling cunt.

You breathed a singular, “Okay.”

And a moment later, you were in his grip.

The fingers previously wrapped around his shaft pressed against your back, throwing you onto the bed in one swift motion. He positioned himself immediately, dropping low to pull your legs apart and lick above your panties just once.

He was ruining them. Fuck.

And… were tongues always so wet? Or was that just you?

Because the panties stuck to your poor pussy like they were fusing with it. And the pad of his thumb suddenly dipping between your clothed folds didn’t help.

“Take them off!” you commanded, so breathy that it was high-key embarrassing.

Your frustration didn’t deter him in the slightest; if anything at all, you thought you saw that dangerous glimmer brighten in his eyes.

He nodded towards the garment, chin so close that it grazed your covered clit. You flinched, though distracted by the absolutely ruthless demand he uttered, “You do it.”

“Why?!”

His tone and expression were cheesy; you were so done with him. “Wanna see you struggle.”

What an ass.

Intentionally, you rolled your hip, shoving your damp pussy into his face before he backed away with a laugh. He allowed you a moment to pull back your legs and stretch them to the ceiling, stripping off the thin barrier once and for all.

It rolled along your legs, and you already knew you’d be having a gloriously horrible time fixing it and putting it on again.

Whatever.

You stored this thoughts for after Jeon Jungkook had railed you to the moon. All good.

He waited for you with his head propped up, fists digging into his cheeks playfully. The Joker–esque smile made you want to wipe it off his face, ideas clear in your head.

Or maybe it wasn’t the smile. Maybe you just wanted to sit on his face.

“Okay,” he said once your legs dropped again, sniffling once before he crawled closer. You wished you could’ve seen how his cock twitched, but he had it sandwiched between his body and the mattress. He gripped your thighs, and then said, “You’re already shaking.”

Your face warmed. You pushed your head into the pillow, shifting comfortably as you positioned your legs on each side of his head. Closing your eyes, you shrugged, shoving all visible timidity away.

“Felt good,” you said.

“I licked you just once. Over those pretty, little panties, too.”

Did he ever shut up?

“So what.” You moved further down the bed, breathing in when his fingers touched your waist, and ordered, “Give me more. Please.”

You heard a chuckle, again.

“Make a mess for me, ‘kay?”

You felt his presence closing in, his hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. Nimble fingers pushed his hair back, but it fell back into his face, teasing your clit along with his nose.

With a tantalising roll of his hips, he matched your desire, grinding into the bed. His perfect ass, a tapered waist and strong shoulders filled your view. Hands pushed your legs apart, driven by a clear purpose.

Your brain was functioning on its last cell — you couldn’t say much more than a hazy, “Not messy enough yet?”

“Far from it.”

Slowly, he kissed your inner thigh, travelling close to your knee and then up again. The pecks were soft, accompanied by the gentlest bites; never too rough. He blew wherever he nibbled; and then repeated the process.

His lips felt like the flutter of butterfly wings against your skin; so tender and sweet. Though you were sure the delicate manner wouldn’t last too long.

You sighed constantly.

“So far from it,” he repeated close to your pussy, brushing along the junction that connected your leg with the rest of your body. “You’ll be twisting soon, I promise you that.”

“Ah… huh—”

Senseless sounds escaped you as he kept his pace slow. Kitten licks soon circled your pussy before the tip of his tongue tasted the dripping arousal between your folds. He used the gesture to part them — that was all.

Because he soon moved to the bottom of your cunt, exhaling against the dampness. You attempted to force your eyes open, but never quite succeeded — you wanted to see him, but you wanted to feel him just a little more.

“All of you is so pretty to look at,” he praised, and you blinked slowly. “Like, genitals are whatever, right? But you’re so pretty.”

What the fuck was he even saying?

No matter.

You’d take the compliment.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, and he chuckled at your vulnerable voice.

You felt the snicker against you when he dropped his wide tongue and flattened it. Started at the bottom where he’d settled, collecting extra saliva that soon flowed down your pussy when he finally moved up.

The touch was expected, but you held your breath. He was soft yet firm against you, and so, so wet. 

You pressed your lips into a line, muffling a moan when he stopped right below your clit. The base of his tongue kept applying pressure, and you literally felt your pussy clench.

He removed his mouth for a moment, patting your sides as he said, “Good. Stay like that for me.” You assumed he meant your lack of defiance; but you were on the edge, nearly closing your legs around his head. “Will make you see heaven, alright?”

“Or hell, really.”

His laughter was constant. You didn’t think you were that hilarious, but his humour aligned with yours. Perhaps, however, you were just still too inebriated and your humour cracked.

But Jungkook, you’d decided, was cool for now.

Especially when he repeated his action. He didn’t curl up or flick his tongue; just licked, never applied more pressure than necessary, because this fucking man knew it didn’t equal more intensity.

He looked up at some point, gauging your reaction, only letting his eyelids flutter shut when you delivered the sound he’d awaited. Jungkook was sure you felt the smile that emerged — it was hard to hide his pride. 

To realise how your fast breathing, clutching of sheets and heavy rise and fall of tits was his doing.

You were too sweet, too awesome, too pretty to not feel proud.

And you were so responsive — he liked listening to your body.

Which you noticed immediately; he was taking in every movement and sound. Actually did. Responded to them, got faster when you reacted, slowed down when you whispered little Nos.

And then, reaching the peak of consent mountain, he asked, “Does this work for you?”

Your nod was immediate, words tumbling out, “Keep going.”

Only, he didn’t quite keep going as you expected — just as your orgasm built up, your exclamations intensifying, he stopped. Rendering you hyper-sensitive.

Nice tactic. Guess that’s what he wanted — to flood you with more craze until he was ready to give you what you needed.

Instead of continuation, his mouth formed a small ‘O’, just enough to enclose your clit. Wet, shiny lips wrapped around the nub and started sucking gently, the rhythm pleasant and constant.

Then, he held his mouth there, tongue licking your clit, like a massage. He was never harsh like you were used to — men had, to your discomfort, even used teeth on your clit before.

Not Jungkook, though.

He was as vocal as you, sending vibrations to your pussy, groaning and moaning expletives as he sweetly confirmed your comfort. All accompanied by dangerous gestures — a pinch of your folds, raising your clit, licking from side to side.

And a minute or two later, he pushed two fingers into you; so effortlessly, so smoothly as he said, “Holy fuck. No friction at all.”

Between the mess he’d predicted, you tittered.

“Are you… this hard, too?”

“God,” he breathed; you felt the shake of his head against your leaking sex, “I’m the hardest I’ve ever been.”

“As if.”

“What?”

The surprise in his voice was funny; filled you with confidence, because he seemed to mean it.

You answered, “You’re good at this. This talk thing and… everything.”

“Thanks. But I’m actually the hardest—” His fingers fucked into you once, interrupting his words to hear you moan, “I’ve ever been. Fuck.” More pumps, not hard or long, but pressing against your walnutty spot diligently. “Shit… come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

Your legs trembled, your lower body drowning in chaos. Your movements were unsteady, but he held you down, aiding you through the progress until—

The snapped coil vanished and the earth-shaking, mind blowing orgasm subsided.

The stars you saw were real — he’d actually caused his very own Big Bang behind your eyes and created a new universe.

Holy fuck.

“Oh, holy fuck,” you repeated, sensitive as hell, brushing quivering fingers along wet thighs.

Jungkook’s cheek was pressed against your leg, and he kept moving to kiss your flesh, rubbing your outer thighs, massaging them gently. He was taking care of you thoroughly — he didn’t come to play for three minutes and then leave.

“Good?” you heard his voice ask.

“Good,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. You were still in your post-frenzy haze, and it truly felt like it would never leave. “Very. What now?”

“Gonna wait a couple seconds until you’re ready to move on. In the meantime,” he moved his body up along yours, leaving a kiss here and there, “wanna know what I had the pleasure to taste?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you wrapped weak arms around his neck, pulling him in almost aggressively as his lips crashed against yours.

Half his body weight fell onto yours, but you didn’t care. Not with this strange, unfamiliar taste against your tongue, sucking it up eagerly. Or the cock, still rock hard, pressing against your stomach.

You wanted him so bad, it hurt. Everywhere.

As he parted, the touch of his hand contradicted the wild kiss — soft on your cheek, feeling your heat, his voice intriguing as he asked, “Ready then?”

“Mhm,” you voiced, “yes, please.”

One more butterfly kiss and an intrigued smile, and he moved away. The missing warmth left your body shivering, and you wrapped your arms around your body, pushing your tits together.

In comfort, your hand settled over your mounds, and you watched as he drew back the jeans half hanging off the bed. He fished out his wallet — from where you lay, you could make out a small murmur. Something about how he was lucky he didn���t lose it.

It made you smile.

And a moment later, he was sneaking back to you again, waving a condom between his fore and middle finger to show it to you. You couldn’t see the size description on it, but… you could imagine.

With his teeth, he ripped it open, moving towards you to replace your touch on your tits. A finger moved around the pebble, hardening it until it stood tall and perky enough for him to swoon.

But… that was also the very moment your drunk insanity hit the hardest.

Whatever triggered it, you still can barely think about it today.

Because a miniscule moment later, you complained, “One of my tits is bigger than the other.”

Which didn’t deter Jungkook; today, you wonder about it — back then, you barely registered his lack of care, his admiration for both sides as he said, “Oh yeah? Let’s see.”

“Promise you won’t find it weird once you notice.”

“I bet I barely will.”

He dropped low to kiss your flesh, fiddling with the nipples, but you pushed his shoulders away again. A confused expression danced across his features, and you shot back a timid stare as you worried, “No, I’m serious. It is strange.”

“No, it’s not. They’re perfectly gorgeous.”

“You… think?”

What a thing to be concerned about. You reached peak awkwardness that night, you’re sure — but he still stuck around.

“Mhmmm,” he voiced.

“Okay, but touch them lik—”

You screeched when he bit into your nub, planting you firmer against the bed. A final, oddly sexy order fell off his tongue, his teeth gritted when he said, “Enough. Shut up.”

And what better way to eliminate all your unspoken words than to start with a delicate brush of his mouth against the expanse of your neck?

There was something about the way his lips felt — taken care of, hydrated, pillowy soft and plush. Did every girl he touched feel that strange tingling sensation, the shiver down her spine?

As he explored the contours of your neck, pressing in, his hands wandered down. You closed your arms around him, pulling him closer, breathing a hushed, “Jungkook?”

No answer yet.

Instead, his fingers purposely grazed down your body before he wrapped them around the length poking your belly button. Distracted eyes met yours for a moment, as if in question, half-lidded when he started stroking the thick shaft.

The swollen lips parted, and you saw his tongue curling in briefly before it peeked out, wetting the dry, rosy pout. His head descended back to your neck, the kisses harder this time. Accompanied by damp smooches and a hot breath.

The tender nips sent waves of sensation through your body.

“Jungkook,” you murmured again.

He groaned against your skin, but looked up properly this time, still pumping himself harder than he already was as he hummed, “Hm?”

“Let me suck your dick,” you finally voiced. “I’ll fucking show you bits of your own medici—”

An innermost wish, lingering in the back of your mind the entire night. You wanted to return what he’d provided. A world-shattering, limb-numbing orgasm; all of him in your throat, thick and salty.

But when you attempted to sit up, he pushed you back again, dick-hand between your clavicles as he said, “Stay like this. You can use that sweet mouth of yours later.”

God. He made those cringey sex talks hot, too.

Your pulse quickened; intensifying a thousandfold when he lifted himself to his knees, looking down with shallow breaths to roll the rubber over his cock.

It twitched gorgeously. So curved, smooth; the colour of its tip mouthwatering.

You wanted him. You wanted him. You wanted him.

When he covered his palm in spit, spreading the saliva over his dick, you reached out. A silent offer to help, but it seemed he was finally done.

Because he grabbed your wrist momentarily, returning to his position over you and pushed one of your legs back. Angling it until your pussy spread for him.

Eyes closed, he came back for another messy kiss, and then said, “I’ll start slow… you tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Did it usually? You could imagine. With the package he carried around, you could truly imagine.

You nodded slowly, grabbing onto his shoulders, already breathless in anticipation.

“I will,” you promised.

“Okay.” He inhaled. Looked down between your bodies again, leading his cock to your entrance to poke it a couple times. Rubbing the tip between your folds. Then again, “Okay…”

The curve slid up to your clit and back down one more time, and a second later, finally—

The head slipped in slowly. Split you and turned the feeling of emptiness into something entirely else within a second.

You hissed, overwhelmed by the change in your body, and he immediately asked, “All good?”

“This is gonna be… you are so—”

A proud smile danced around his lips; they twitched in amusement, but he cleared his throat. Looked at you with a nod and assured again, “We’ll start slow. Don’t forget to speak up… yeah? Lemme know.”

“Mhmmm…”

Your mewls grew in pitch when he pushed further in, taking in your gasps until he was nearly sheathed inside you. And only when you realised he still had a bit to go, did you say, “Wait—”

“Hm? Why?”

He looked concerned and out of it, but listened immediately. The kissing eyebrows indicated genuine care; though the expression changed the moment you said, “I can’t breathe.”

Of all the reasons you’d told him to stop, that’s the last he expected. A laugh tumbled out, breathy and broken.

“See?” he said. “That’s why I didn’t want you to suck me off just yet. You look so done.”

“Shut up.”

He moved — shoved the dick in more. Fuck, you felt every ridge, despite the skin-thin condom. Felt him so deep, you could faint.

Your eyes rolled back, closing slowly as you heard him command, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You did.

“And breathe out.”

You did.

He closed the gap between your lips some more, bottoming out, and wiped the stray hair out of your heated face. His member jerked inside you, shifting, and it made your eyebrows twitch.

The whimper jumped out unintentionally; you felt self-conscious about it.

Not that he minded. 

Quite the opposite.

In the heat of the moment, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, moving down to your tits as he muttered a single, “Fuuuck.”

“What happened?”

“That sound you just made,” he whispered. His breaths against your chest were tempting; the blood-filled cock inside you too still. “My God. So sweet… but so hot. Wanna ruin you so bad.”

“Can’t more than you already did, but… please still do—”

“Are you okay now?”

You gulped. You were. You were longing — he couldn’t see that in your eyes? In the tremble of your hands, laying on his back?

“I am,” you promised, “won’t be more prepared than I am now… Please.”

You held onto the broad back; he was so freaking warm. And so naked.

“So I can move?” he asked.

“Please. Fuck, please do.”

And when he did…

You thought you felt him poking your guts. You knew that anatomically, that was a thing of impossibility.

But he was huge. Heavy. A big fat cock pushing into you in missionary, a hand parting your legs more and pressing them into the mattress.

With your eyes rolled towards the back of your head, you dug your nails into his torso; a little more insane with each rhythmic, punctuated thrust.

He reached so far inside you, fucking seriously—

And those words he uttered. The little praises. The tiny, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Hell…

The alcohol and his body heightened your senses — you couldn’t remember a single affair from your past as rapturous as this one.

The way he provided reprieve, sliding in and out of the slippery smooth entrance. The way his pelvis brushed along your engorged clit. The way he moved swiftly, controlled, applying pressure at the perfect spots…

For someone who could barely think, you registered so many bodily sensations, the little details, how he felt and made you feel. Lighting up your nerves.

Your elevated breathing made your words more incomprehensible when you asked, “Can you go a bit faster? Ple—”

“Wait.” Reaching up, he grabbed one of the two pillows, a hand sneaking under your ass. “Lift.” You did, allowing him to place the cushion under your butt with a grunt. “Hold onto me, baby.”

The new nickname triggered another rush of blood through your body; your muscles tensed when he dug in deeper. Propelled into you harder. Still rhythmic, not jackhammering into you yet, but clearly faster.

And it was enough for you to call out his name.

Which set off another cascade of pleasurable phenomena; gentle tingling to waves of desire. Breathing a foreign concept when he pulled your mouth apart with a thumb, settling his lips between yours.

Tongues played a new game, lips moving to your jaw, back to your mouth; kissing you hard before they dropped to your tits. Suckling at your nipples, toying with oversensitivity.

Pushing you close to the edge as he separated your pussy folds more, dragging every protruding vein of his cock along your aching, lubricated walls.

Jungkook, you had concluded, was a Monster with a capital M. When you moaned for the thousandth time, he glanced at you — and you swore he looked like he wanted to bury his claws into your flesh. To rip you apart.

And you let him.

As your bodies’ movements synchronised, endorphins eliciting unmatched euphoria, half his weight dropped onto yours. His scent engulfed you, and you wrapped your legs around him, up his waist until you whimpered and whined.

“I’m…” he started; he was so hot against you. Bodies covered in sweat. “I love that so much. Those… fucking sounds.”

“Kook,” you murmured — no clue where the nickname had emerged from. But he seemed to like it; buried his fingers in your hair. “Are you getting tired?”

“I’m okay.”

“Can I—”

“You’re okay — you don’t… I mean, you don’t need t— fuck—”

Broken words and a steady rhythm. He felt so fucking good. Sounded even better. Deep sometimes, desperate and high other times.

“I want to,” you said, vocalisation increasing. “Let me do something.”

“What do you wanna do?” he asked.

Okay, another attempt.

“Wanna suck your dick.” His pounding calmed down. You’d struck a nerve. “And… want to come. And—”

“And?”

“Wanna be your slut until you come, too.”

Wait. What?

Where did that come from?

Your face heated up, cheeks and neck burning. Oh, he was gonna laugh at you; after all the bickering tonight, you could imagine that he would—

“Oh, babe…” is what he, however, babbled; dizzy beyond measure.

You had a similar hurricane whirling in your head.

“What?” you wondered.

“Didn’t think I’d find you calling yourself that so hot.” He pushed into you once more. Dragged his cock out and then in again languidly. “My slut, huh?” And then, he was gone. Your pussy pulsated. “Get the fuck up.”

You tried.

Your limbs were wobbly, struggling on the soft surface. And he kneeled over you, heaving his golden chest in exhaustion. His dick hung off his body, the condom drenched; thighs muscular and firm as he watched you fight your own feeble legs.

“C’mon,” he then said, growing impatient.

He grabbed you by your elbow, wrapping his fingers around your arm and gently tugged you up to your knees until you were facing him. Your nipples skimmed his sculpted pecs, one of his palms suddenly under your jaw, even if only for a second.

The touch affected you. Like he wasn’t done or bored yet; like he wanted more.

But—

“You don’t happen to have another condom on you?” he whispered, freeing your shoulders off your hair. He did it a lot, playing with your tresses.

Now that you were sitting up, not wrecked by him inside out, your head cleared a little. But it spun, too — you noticed for the first time in a while how slowly you were sobering up, and how blurred the world still was.

He held you; but you were swaying.

So his words felt like a fever dream to you — a strange question amidst all the mess.

“What?” you said, placing your hands on his stomach for support. “I don’t… I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone.”

Unlike him.

“Well…”

“But I’m on the pill.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Looked at you, hands wandering to your back. He moved closer, the inches fading between you; and incredibly close to your face, he said, “Then we could just go ahead raw. Actually feel each other, right…?”

He pecked the apple of your cheek, gently but menacingly. Danger hiding in plain sight, yet disguised as innocence.

You didn’t answer. Kept staring until he kissed your jaw. Closed your eyes.

“Hm?” he voiced in question, but you didn’t quite know what to say — agreeing would’ve been stupid, but you didn’t want to stop. Plus, you were drunk and stupid.

In hindsight, you would’ve declined anyway; but when he chuckled, shaking his head, you were still relieved. Happy when he said, “I’m kidding.” He moved away, searching his jeans again. They were on the floor now. “I wouldn’t do this to a first-time-fling.”

First time?

Not like you were going to meet again. You were almost fully certain tonight was an exception. Odds bringing you together and saving you from this temporary misery.

In a while, you’d start your new semester and drown in new worries. This party would mean nothing anymore.

“Yeah,” you said.

“I should have another.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet and yet another condom. How many did he store there? “Last one. We’re lucky.” Oh. Okay.

He ripped off the soaked rubber, crumpling it up and stuffing it in the other pocket of his jeans. You cringed in disgust and disbelief, but then you remembered that he was nearly as gone as you; he’d regret it tomorrow, but not yet.

As he placed the condom next to his body, you inched towards him, close to the edge of the bed and ready to devour him.

If you’d known him a little longer, indulging in those shenanigans for some time, the thought of him bringing not one but two condoms to this party would’ve stung.

Because Jungkook had obviously thought this through. Or, as he’d said, at least considered it a possibility.

But you were too drunk, and he too much of a stranger — all you knew was that you wanted, needed to suck his dick.

“But not for too long, okay?” Jungkook pleaded, stroking his length just once. Looking down where you moved like hunting your prey. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

“But I’d love that.”

“Do not. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, and then smiled, straight-forwardly admitting, “Because I’m not coming before you do.”

Jungkook, you’d noticed, didn’t care that you’d already experienced the high of your young life. You were sure you’d never feel such bombastic destruction anymore — but he still seemed to be opting for something far greater.

He truly did prioritise a partner’s pleasure. Left you envious of every one of his encounters before.

You pushed your hair to one side, positioning yourself and dropping low; his cock was way heavier in your palm when you touched it, only weightless when it jumped.

Your fingers grazed along a vein on the base of his shaft, your palm tickling his balls — he reacted.

“Alright,” you finally said before—

The low hum was melodious to your ears when you delivered a momentary kitten lick over his tip. And then, slowly, patiently, your tongue drifted up his shaft, just the sharp tip until you flattened it.

Your fingers gently snuck to his balls, barely touching as you kissed down his member and then repeated your actions; slow licks from bottom to top. 

“That’s good,” Jungkook praised, stroking your ego, “really good, babe.”

Tingles down your spine. Beads of sweat on your forehead.

Jungkook’s hands pushed through your hair, collecting it at the nape of your neck to form a spontaneous ponytail. As the view became clearer to him, the volume of his voice grew — his groans and exclaims sounded beautiful.

And you kept focusing on him. On his reactions, on his body.

Opened your eyes and sought his gaze — pulling the ultimate trick out of your sleeve before you wrapped your mouth around the cock’s head.

And he liked it. He liked it very fucking much.

Enjoyed the slow pace, the way his dick disappeared in your mouth bit by bit until the gag reflex kicked in. You knew what you were doing; with that tongue swirling around, tracing his veins… hands teasing his balls, edging him to the max.

Eyes still on him, breathing through the nose, the tip of it touching his flimsy, trimmed hair.

Your tactic was doing wonders on him. Your enthusiasm was addictive.

And how could you not enjoy it? He was deliciously thick, big, promising. You wanted to swallow around him all night.

But just when he started choking, balls tightening impossibly, he pulled your head away.

His cock was shiny and drenched, much like your lips, drool spilling past them and to your chin.

“Gonna finish this,” he declared with a heavily falling chest, thumb wiping at the spit on your face, “so fucking done with you. Get on all fours for me?”

The contrast between his kind demands or actions and ruthless warnings was messing with you. Like he wanted to fuck you up, but never without consent.

Delightful. So damn delightful.

You listened immediately, turning until you faced the bed’s slat. Whoever this room belonged to, you were truly hoping they weren’t missing their bed. And you’d definitely need to take off the sheets later.

In this tiny moment, you felt bad.

But only until you heard him open the second foil, taking a couple moments to do whatever needed to proceed. You dropped half your body — partly, to allow a better view to your ass, and partly, because you were tired.

“‘Kay,” you then heard, soon feeling a touch along your spine. Tracing it down to the curve of your ass, moving closer and settling around your legs, pushing them together automatically. “So pretty.”

And this very position, just like that, allowed a hell of a lot more friction.

Because when he entered you again and resumed his strokes… your breathing stopped.

You bit your lip, balling up the sheets. Your jaw dropped, your body on fire; the way he gripped your hips, slowly pulling back before slapping his pelvis against your butt was…

Not bad, to say the least.

“Can you still think?” he asked; you weren’t quite sure he’d actually said it, though.

“Huh?”

Jungkook laughed; he sounded so sweet, so pure. So different from what he was doing, a lot more tender than his words, “Thought so.”

And definitely not as alluring as when he leaned in, wrapping an arm around your tits and another around your neck and pulled you up without a warning.

He pressed your back flush against his chest, and your arm flung back instinctively, around his head to draw him close. You didn’t know how he could muster so much strength, pounding into you in a position like this.

Upwards, constantly, consistently, keeping a hand on your neck as the other fell to your clit. You threw your head back; an open invitation to your shoulder and neck.

Like this, he didn’t reach as far inside you — but it was an utmost compliment to him that he was still large enough to affect you thoroughly. A Monster indeed.

His jabs were sharp, moving in and out unhindered; effortlessly. Only stopping a single time when his cock dropped out, and he immediately fell onto the mattress, stretching his legs in front of him and pulling you with him.

“Wait,” he breathed, helping you adjust and sit back on your throne. And this time, as you straddled him, shoving him inside you all the way, you felt him in your guts again. “Move. Come for me.”

Which wasn’t hard to do when he glued your body to his. Traced your cheek, nibbling at the earlobe, down to your jaw, down to your neck and shoulders.

His breath was hot against your flaming skin as you bounced up and down, uncontrolled moans mingling as he drew circles over your clit. Not too fast, not too slow, steady and skilled.

The peak of your pleasure was arriving when his sounds reached maximum intensity; he was close, too, endlessly moaning, chanting your name. Right into your ear, eyes shut tight, muffling his exclaims when he kissed under your ear or bit your shoulder.

“Fuck… fuckkk,” you cried out, muscles of your body contracting. “Close, Jungko—”

The build up was torture — it happened slow and fast at once, and you felt it clearly. It crept from your lower stomach to your pussy, and your walls clenched, your back arching and your body winding in his hold.

And then…

“My fucking god, you—” Jungkook began, irregularly breathing. He was losing it; so were you. “That’s it. That’s it… good. That’s a good girl, you—”

He spoke whatever. Talked you through the orgasm as it washed over.

Violently, hard.

Way worse — or better? — than the first one. Jeon Jungkook was unmatched; no one was going to fuck you this good again.

And a minute later, he followed up.

Let you fuck him, and then pistoned up into you when your body started giving up. And when his release finally occurred, you thought you were dreaming.

He sounded heavenly. His thighs were shaking; you wished you could've felt his hot seed, not separated by the thin condom. 

But his voice… his breaths… the way he moved and held you.

They were worth it anyway.

A minute passed as you winded down; and after the mutual climax subsided, your bodies entered a state of deep relaxation and contentment. You felt it in the way his arms became limp, hands dropping to your legs.

Kisses lazy on your cheek. Strangely intimate.

You felt pleasantly fatigued, satisfaction flooding through your body. The internal rush of warmth radiated outwards; you could’ve stayed like this forever. So tired.

And a tiny bit later, he pulled out as he started softening inside you, pushing you forwards just a little to take off the condom, tie it up and throw it to the ground next to his jeans. Then, he pulled you back in.

For whatever reason.

Seeking warmth? Maybe.

You calmed down in his hold, and then said, “That was amazing.”

You felt the smile against your skin. He had let his face drop to your shoulder, and now spoke quietly and softly, “Because you were amazing. I reacted according to you all the time.”

“And I reacted according to you.”

Jungkook snickered. “We’re a good match, it seems, huh?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand on the arms around you. Slowly and carefully, you opened them, gently falling onto the mattress to get dressed. All of this was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

But you reminded yourself that he wasn’t more to you than a stranger temporarily turned party-friend. That’s what Jeon Jungkook would part from you as, too.

Why the fuck were you cuddling?

You looked back at him, eyes widening; and once you’d taken him in the near darkness, you laughed. Pointing at him with an amused, “You have lipstick all over your face.”

“Really?” He reached to his cheeks, wiping on the wrong side; you cackled a bit more. He nodded towards you. “Yours is very smeared, too.” Pause. An unblinking stare. “You look gorgeous.”

What? No.

Stranger, temporarily turned party-friend.

“Shit,” you cursed, “I have some in my bag, though. I guess we’ll need to take a look at a bathroom mirror anyway before we go downstairs.”

“Or upstairs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook sighed. Shrugged his shoulders, lifting his arms to brush back his hair. The bicep flexed, and you forcefully averted your gaze from it. “Want me to do your make up?”

So lovely.

“Want me to do yours?” you said, legs flinging over the edge of the bed. You still felt a little weak. “You’d look very pretty in pink.”

He laughed; the way his head tilted was still so gorgeous. Movie-like.

“Maybe one day,” he said.

“Right. One day, yes?”

No.

You weren’t doing this to anyone like him. He was carefree, nice and enjoyed the little things in life. You weren’t going to be a burden to someone like him.

You didn’t speak on as you finally stood, trudging towards the bathroom belonging to this bedroom. As you collected your clothes, inspecting your ruined panties, he got up with a grunt, stating, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

And the next minute happened quietly.

He helped you clean yourself, helped you get dressed. Caught you when you oscillated, holding your hair when you drank the water from the tap, sobering up just barely.

After all he’d done to you, the moment was incredibly serene.

And you couldn’t help but think that the connection was certainly there; blissful if you could truly continue it. Clicking with someone wasn’t easy these days, but Jungkook made it seem easy.

Like he’d known you for long, knew you inside out. Like he’d been part of you in a previous life.

You saw his messages the moment you woke up.

Hours later, and you’re still staring at them.

Jungkook [7:43PM]: I’m sorry. I’ll always care about you… and i never wanted to cause you any pain Jungkook [7:43PM]: just wanted to protect you from it

What a way he has to forgo heartache. Funny how it’s insanely present right now.

It doesn’t ease as you hear the desperation in his words. The regret and wish for an alternative reality. If last time wasn’t tattooed into your mind, you’d assume he wants you back.

Truly sucks to know a person well enough to hear their voice through typed text. It sucks, because when they’re not around anymore, their timbre is all that resonates in your head. All that’s left, really.

“Hey.”

The familiar baritone makes you flinch. He went to the tiny balcony a moment ago, inspecting the place, and you didn’t think he’d return already.

You were supposed to look around, too. The landlord left for a brief call, entrusted you with the empty rooms and unpolished parquet. You shouldn’t have wasted your time, you guess.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asks.

You dip your eyes in innocence when you look at him. With the shrug of a shoulder and a slight pout of your lips, you say, “Nothing.”

“Right.”

His side-eye feels like a warning; fleeting, however, as he turns away.

Relieved, your expressions drop again, shoulders falling limp with a sigh. But you don’t quite expect him to move his attention back to you a moment later, a hand on his hip as he catches your descending mood.

The silent stare takes you in thoroughly, studying your face until your eyes drop to the floor. And then, he dares a single step forwards and asks, “Hey. Are you okay?”

Stupidly enough, you retort with another lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You look disheartened. Do you not like the place?”

The place?

It’s still the same space that you approved the moment you stepped in. The same walls you can imagine a life between, away from pain, towards independence.

The ceiling is still at the same height, and when you look out of the sealed windows, you still see the same main street, a building on the other side of it.

The world around you is perfectly fine. Earth still spins at the same pace.

You do still like the place.

It’s just your heart that’s fickle.

“I do,” you say, “no, I can totally imagine being here.” You shift to the other leg, pushing half your fingers into your back pockets. “Anywhere but home, I think.”

“Okay. Do you want to look around more?”

You shrug. “I mean. It’s mostly empty. Except for the kitchen.”

“Which is great!” Taehyung says; his voice echoes off the walls. His smile is contagious, and his enthusiasm about your move flatters you. “Kitchens are expensive as hell.”

“Yeah.”

“I like it here, too. I love Yoongi, but moving here was the best decision of this year.”

Right. You almost forgot that they used to be roommates just a couple months ago.

Back when you made the pact with Jungkook, wasn’t it?

He’d tell you about their bickering at their small dorm again and again. Refreshing, little stories. You wonder how Yoongi feels now, alone at his place — did he ever mention settling somewhere else?

Maybe Jungkook did. Maybe Yoongi will once he’s fully recovered.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with Eun, does it?” you ask, a tiny glimmer in your eyes that must be the trigger for his blushing cheeks.

“Listen,” he says; the back of his hand rubs his face, as if he could rid it of the rosy dust like that. “At least one of you needs to be able to talk to either of us without mentioning… this.”

You laugh.

He isn’t wrong. It has become a running joke in your group; every couple teases the other. Of course you haven’t heard much of it lately — you’re more a victim to silence and moral lectures.

Which you appreciate.

But the recurring thought of this little group splitting… isn’t too nice.

“In any case, I’m happy for you,” you let him know.

“Thanks. It's been nice.” Odd expression; creased eyebrows and guilt in his big eyes. “But anyways—”

“You can talk to me about it, you know?” you assure immediately. Taehyung can’t help but notice the change in your voice. You sound different than a few weeks ago. “It won’t hurt me to know that you guys are doing okay.”

Maturity? Or maybe calmness. No.

What is it that your voice is dipped in?

“I know,” Taehyung promises, “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m bragging. And it makes me uncomfortable that two of my friends are…”

Unable to bask in joy.

Jungkook taught you things that life couldn’t — you could say that calling that influence temporary makes you uncomfortable, too.

“I don’t think you’re bragging, Tae.” You sigh. You hate talking about these things; which is dumb, because you were never one to close off. “Things work out for some and don't for others. That’s fine.”

But he isn’t done. They’re never done.

For a while, you weren’t, either. And right now, you’re caught in the middle — not on the ground, not in the ether.

Just confused. Blank.

“But…” he argues, “they can work out for you, too, you know.”

“Tae—”

“Did you go to the exhibit yesterday?”

You knew he’d ask.

Someone was supposed to — obviously not your parents, still upset deep within. Your house has always been a constant source of obscurity; the white walls don’t deceive you anymore.

The darkness always changes, though steady in gloom, and as you escape the current one, you seek comfort in a friend and the outside world. Questions like these, however, are seemingly still going to haunt you wherever you go.

“I didn’t,” you admit.

He must know, because he doesn’t look surprised.

But the emotion that this very truth evokes in you, a toss-up between feeling relieved and regretting your choice — he does see that goddamn pain.

“Maybe you should?”

It’s a careful suggestion. You don’t know what to do with it, except to ask, “Why?”

“Because he’s still waiting for you.”

It’s cruel. How such words still knock all air out of your lungs.

How those images hunt you down, circling your mind until you overthink them to death, or until they lose their meaning. You hate the ruthlessness of this bitter feeling, and of the sting in your chest, and the longing that it consequently triggers.

The clump in your throat blocks your ability of speech; laces up your tongue. You feel the imminent burst of sentiments in your chest, but then immediately hold it back the way you’ve done the last few days.

You work past the clogged throat, and then say, “He was the one who let me go.”

Holding shit back can be learned; you know how to keep yourself at bay in front of Taehyung.

But.

It still hurts.

“Mistakes happen,” he defends, ever the loyal friend, “he just… makes a bit more of them every now and then.”

You throw a mocking smirk, looking away with a slow blink. Your feet are aching; they want to carry you away.

To him. Home. Wherever you find solace.

How fucking tragic.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, hastening towards you, a grip around your wrist to turn you back to him. “Jungkook, he… has his reasons. Twisted ones but yet. Talking about everything might make it all easier for you.”

Communication is key, blah blah blah.

Once upon a time, you used to believe the same thing. Soft spoken and naive; filled with fears but hoping for the best.

You wondered, “What’s it, really?”

“Trust and stuff.”

Trust.

Thinking about it, you’d always put some of it in Jungkook’s palms.

Like a month ago. Or when you asked him to play pretend. When you stormed into his dorm room every time, and when you met him first, locked in that empty room.

You don’t know how the warmth of that night changed into the playful hostility once the semester started. Maybe because his competent side was a lot more infuriating than his drunk, frat party persona.

Maybe because he annoyed you on purpose, throwing away all pleasantries and sweet, tender words you’d exchanged on the roof. Or maybe because of the embarrassment near the end of the night, embroidered in your brain.

But you’ve always trusted him, you think.

“When I met him,” you say, “I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in such a situation.”

“What situation?”

“…Feeling all that shit for him. Mourning that loss. Just,” your breathing falls in rhythm, and you blink away the dampness. “Craving him, you know?”

Taehyung silences.

He looks at you with empathy and reassurance; a little bit of relief, happy you’re talking to him at all after the numbness you drowned in. Or like he’s caught you feeling something that he knows Jungkook feels, too.

He smiles, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Reminiscing, amused by the memories he never quite found as bad; and then, he asks, “Really, though?”

“What?”

“You never thought you’d ever be trapped in this moment, yeah?”

“Why…?”

“Because—”

His laugh is soft; for a second, he reminds you of the man you transiently saw that very night. Operating the music, careless of every single occurrence around him.

“I could already tell, you know?” Taehyung says. A tiny, nostalgic smile tugs at his plump lips. You lower your head to the dusty floor again. “Back at the frat party.”

Could he?

Not even you could detect a permanent feeling. A connection yes, but you were so sure you’d stick to that one night — you didn’t let yourself think further than that. Did you?

Because you were intoxicated by the booze and the summer air. The conversations and the touches. Jungkook’s scent.

Exclaiming his name while today, you can barely vocalise it.

“I was thinking about the frat party today, too,” you tell him.

He nods, glancing past you. Probably looking for the landlord who’s still not back.

And then, he continues, “When I saw you guys talking on the roof, I knew. I could just tell.”

“We weren’t in love or anything, Tae.”

“I know you weren’t. I mean, you didn’t look like you were, either. But you did look like you bonded… and that’s rare, you know? For people to still share that link after so long.”

“…Don’t know.”

Your stoic ignorance is frustrating. And new.

You’re not one to hide your emotions. Usually open with your happiness and open with your grief. 

“Go today,” Taehyung suggests again, puffing out air, “to the exhibition, I mean. Play around with your choices, okay?” Silence. A press of your lips. You don’t answer, and he can’t read your mind; so he doesn’t prod, and asks instead, “Why were you thinking about the party?”

Easy: because, distraction.

“I was cleaning,” you answer, “clearing my head. Found an old diary while dusting.”

Which was a pure coincidence. It wasn’t supposed to fall into your hands, and you weren’t supposed to open it. Seek out the pages you subconsciously still knew were there.

Why were you cleaning your desk anyway? It was flawlessly organised, dusted by a trusted staff.

It’s crazy.

Insane how even in the tidiest corners of your room, he’s left a mess.

“Okay,” Taehyung simply says, “anyway. Please think about going tonight. And on another note… do think about this place, too. I think it could do you good. And it’ll be nice to have a friend nearby.”

And that’s it. You leave the building with a thankful nod and a genuine smile.

Only to fall into deep contemplation when you arrive home.

Could tonight change something? The way the party did last year?

What exactly did the two of you say to each other? Does Taehyung know it all? Does Jungkook? Perhaps you do, too — maybe you need to dig far enough.

Brooding on the corner of your bed, you shake your head. Get to your feet, scouring your desk, reaching to the very back of every drawer and scanning through every file. Notebook. Diary.

And you don’t stop until minutes have passed, ripped pages falling out of a second semester course book. Its edges are worn out, carried in your bags a hundred times.

But the pages are intact. As slightly yellow as the other ones. You knew you didn’t throw them away.

There it all is; less descriptions, more dialogue — you were tired out, yet kept going.

There, the narrative continues.

Because on that goddamn roof, I think… that Jeon Jungkook truly saw me. You know, it’s been so long since someone did.

The light air brought relief from the day’s heat.

You couldn’t remember how he’d persuaded you to climb up to the attic and then out of its window, leading to a platform to sit on. But as you revelled in the ambient sounds of chatter and distant laughter, you couldn’t complain.

And Jungkook’s conversations kept lulling you into a state of tranquillity. You had no clue how he did it.

“I can do a handstand, and I can show you,” he said; why you’d slipped into talks about athletics, you can’t recall.

“No. You’ll die.”

He laughed, his smirk ever-present. “Would you care?”

You eye-rolled at him, instantly regretting it when the world started spinning again. The effects of the booze were dwindling, but you weren’t quite there yet. Your head and eyes still felt heavy, your tongue still loose.

Maybe he registered your drowsiness, because he soon suggested, “You should go home.”

“I’m okay,” you, however, argued. The night was too serene. “I’m sobering up a little.”

“You look tired, though.”

His words triggered a reflex, and you yawned on cue — unable to hide your fatigue, you admitted, “I am.”

Jungkook drifted closer, arms touching; his voice was light as the wind, and his suggestion as teasing as it was soft, “Wanna sleep on my shoulder?”

“Nah,” you declined, playfully pushing at him, “we’re not that close.”

“We did fuck each other’s brains out just now, though.”

A pleasant reminder, but wholly unnecessary. You doubted you’d ever forget the insanity that transpired downstairs — and once again, you felt incredibly sorry to Yeonjun for ruining one of his bedrooms.

You shuddered.

“We… hooked up,” you argued, muffling a laugh when he scoffed.

“Alright. Whatever.”

His syllables carried a chuckle; contagious and captivating. Mixed with your own, it dragged into the next seconds, lingering as you enjoyed the breeze. Rocking back and forth, gazing up into the vast darkness.

You barely saw the stars in the city and on campus. That’s why you liked those outskirt houses; the sky was clearer here, not disturbed by city lights and their reflection.

And for as long as you were going to remain here, you decided to keep your eyes glued to the glimmer above. Watched it with a melodious hum. They twinkled one after another, like winking, whispering confessions to you from the cloudless, infinite expanse.

Pretty and soft; painting a full picture along with the sliver of the moon you saw. A celestial, silver beacon.

You smiled.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Jungkook said.

Your instrumental died, though one last sound indicated a question, “Hm?”

“You’re liking it here.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Your eyes narrowed in wonder, head on your shoulder. “Why would I not?”

“No, I just mean…” He moved his feet on the platform, shoving them forwards. “You looked different when you got here. Not too happy about tonight.”

“Oh. Right… I’m sorry if it dampened the mood.”

But he shuffled on his spot, wrapping an arm around one angled leg, dropping the other and fully turned towards you. Guaranteed, “No, it’s okay. You were perfectly fine throughout the entire night.”

With him.

“I did have fun,” you said.

“Did seem like it.”

You delivered a hazy nod, blinking your tired eyes.

Even today, you remember the silence that descended, and remember how comfortable you deemed it.

Despite the haven that the roof had become in record time, the retreat couldn’t keep your mind off the bustling world anymore. Thinking about it, even the existence you’d bolted from resided at a suburbian, quiet place like this.

He swam in money, just like you, and you’d seen a similar greenery and heard a similar quietude as you were here. Yet, being with him didn’t compare to being with Jungkook.

Why?

Maybe because that friend understood your lifestyle too well, but not your emotions.

You clicked your tongue, peeking at Jungkook. He lifted his head at the sound, big eyes questioning; and after a moment of contemplation, you finally said, “There’s this guy.”

His ears perked up.

He sat straight, never questioning where it came from; instead, he listened as you spoke, “He and I hooked up during freshman year and then not too long ago. We met through friends, and he’s just… you know, an amazing person and all. Takes care of me and texts me and… keeps asking how I’m doing.”

Fingers of your hands locked, arms firmly enclosing your bare legs.

“He takes my ideas and thoughts and tries to make them more optimistic. Or attempts to actively talk about my flaws. To fix them.” You met Jungkook’s eyes, tender and attentive. “He gives me advice all the time.”

“But?” Jungkook asked. “I think there is a but.”

“Well…” You sucked air through your teeth. “He said he wants to be with me. And I told him that I don’t.”

“Oof…” He grimaced before he hissed, voicing deep empathy for a man he didn’t know. “But why?”

Jungkook was a stranger, but you talked like a soft, hushed waterfall. He emanated a sense of trust; some magic that permeated the air.

You felt comfortable.

“I tried, it’s just. I might sound ungrateful, but I think I’d… rather like someone who wants to love and appreciate me instead of trying to fix me all the time,” you confessed.

There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and you hated yourself for it. The man in question was heavenly — just not ideal for you.

“He is a sweetheart. Keeps buying me gifts and all, but… I think I’m a construction site to him. And that,” you snickered, sporting what you were sure was a sombre expression, “keeps reminding me that I actually am.”

Jungkook paused. You didn’t blame him — it was a sudden revelation, and his possibly still tipsy brain couldn’t quite fathom his thoughts into a response just yet.

He smacked his lips; you’d seen him do it a couple times today. Bangs flew into his face, his eyes suddenly sentimental.

And then he told you, “I understand.” He thought again, looking past you. “I wouldn’t call it ungrateful. I mean, you are thankful for him as a person, yeah? Your personalities and ideologies don’t have to align, y’know? That shouldn’t be an expectation.”

“…Yeah.”

Time ran differently now. The movements you saw in the garden were in slow-motion, but in this dreamscape that the roof was, where you laid out every damn word haunting your mind, the world suspended in time.

It was solacing in some way. Your heart was still clouded, but… you didn’t feel horrible anymore.

“So that’s what you were escaping tonight. Still are,” Jungkook then concluded.

Your mind suddenly raced.

Back to the first words you exchanged with Jungkook; back to the reason for you coming here tonight; back to how delighted your parents seemed when you first mentioned Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok had stepped over your threshold for the first and only time, back during freshman year, they’d enjoyed the sole glimpse of him. Had adored that he’d brought you a silver bracelet, because it showcased wealth.

If you’d let them, they'd have interviewed him — nevermind that he was just a rare hook up and you barely even knew what his parents did.

Lawyers, weren’t they? He’d mentioned lawyers at some point, you thought.

You’d kept it lowkey; away from the campus. You hadn’t imagined he’d come back this year, whirling your thoughts, lost in freshman nostalgia.

To you of all people; and he knew so many. Which is why you didn’t mention his name to Jungkook — judging his and Hoseok’s popularity, they probably knew each other.

“I just feel… terrible,” you eventually said, “because I know he likes me, and I can’t quite say why. We just kept meeting over the years, so—”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Jungkook interrupted. “Like, I’d feel bad, too, but… if the reciprocation isn’t there, it’s not there. And it sucks but that happens sometimes. Things don’t always work out.”

“Yeah. It’s worse when they could, but don’t.”

Jungkook’s demeanour changed. A fog of melancholy settled in his gaze, brief but impactful. If you’d been fully clear-headed, you might’ve registered the slight flinch.

For a second, he didn’t expand on his thoughts, voicing a simple, “Mhm.”

But as the air thinned, affecting his chest and his mind, he couldn’t help but think back to how life had developed for him. From when he was a child and had spotted broken relationships to shattering his own.

Under easier circumstances, love could work. Why had he always been a witness to it crumbling?

“Jungkook.”

Your voice broke his trance. You watched him drift more and more into it, and now that he was awake again, his muscles relaxed. He smiled a little, and then asked, “I can vent if you did, right?”

Eyebrows flashing up, you stared in silence; you didn’t expect this.

“Yeah. Of course,” you said, legs unconsciously lowering towards his. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. Pressed his lips into a thin line; your eyes fell to his mole, and then back to his starry pupils.

Half distraught, half calm — much like you — he began, “One reason why I left that girl downstairs standing was because… she was looking for the first best thing tonight.”

“…What do you mean?”

God, for someone who’d been cheerful all night, he looked incredibly downbeat right now. You felt sorry without knowledge of the context.

He shifted.

“I separated from my ex a while ago. That girl,” he nodded towards the window you’d climbed through, into her general direction, “she knew. And she wanted to use my,” he made air quotes, “loneliness to have fun.”

“That’s… terrible. I’m sorry about your ex.”

Jungkook kissed his teeth, shaking his head, “Nah… we parted on good terms. I just regret that we let the end of it all drag for so long.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. “Do you miss her?”

Prolonged silence later, you darted your head in his direction; he was squinting his eyes in thought. And then, he inhaled the summer air, and said, “Sometimes.” Pause. Then, “Sometimes I miss feeling like I’m… enough for someone.”

Enough for someone. Right for someone.

Jungkook wasn’t missing her. He was missing being loved.

“Time heals all wounds,” you said, nudging his chest, “etcetera.”

With a rub over his pecs, he tugged his lips to a crooked smile, promising you sincerely, “That goes for you, too.”

The exchanged beams introduced another break in conversation.

There’d been a dozen of those pauses today, but none of them had felt out of place. In fact, you felt at peace. Tonight was a respite from the demands of everyday life, because pain faded away.

The still bubble of comfort around you felt like a sanctuary; you appreciated the simplicity of the present.

You thought, there was something about the air. And the stars. And all those scents.

Fitting to the softness of his voice when he eventually spoke, “Hey… You were humming a song just now. When you were looking up?”

“Oh, uh…” You thought about it, rewinding time; he was right. You remembered the melody. “Maroon 5, was it?”

“I think so. How does it go again?”

“Uhm…” Putting you on the spot like this, you forgot every word of the song. You mumbled the melody, du-du-du-ing your way to the first verse, and then sang, “Beauty queen of only eighteen, she—”

His face lit up.

“Had some trouble with herse— yeah!” His finger conducted the two of you through the song before he wiggled it. “Yes, but there’s that part. The ugh— bridge? It’s my favourite part.”

“Uhm, wait.” Fast forwarding, you sang your way through the chorus, close to the bridge until it dawned on you. “Out in the corner in the… broken smile— ah, yeah. I know where you hide, alone in your car.”

Jungkook got into gear, sitting up properly, nearly shifting off the platform. Instinctively, you grabbed his wrist, but he was too into his narrative to acknowledge it, “Yes! Ah, I love that part so much. My mom used to sing it with me when I was in elementary school.”

He was so fucking sweet.

Contrary to every touch he’d delivered today, he was like a puppy. Forlorn and pure and kind.

“That’s so nice,” you said, nodding when he did, watching as he prepared his vocal cords.

“Know all of the things that make you who are— that’s what it was, yeah? I know that goodbyes—”

And then you broke into a duet, falling into a rhythm… catching strangers’ attention wandering around the house’s garden. You weren’t loud enough to disturb the party, but you did see a flash of smile here and there towards you.

Your singing and laughter grew in pitch; you started the last line but never finished it. Instead, you quieted down, hearing his timbre indulge in the song; his eyes were closed and his head tilted. An incomparable spell in his voice.

“—Catch her everytime she… falls.”

Omitting Adam Levine’s soft Yeahs, Jungkook replaced them with hums, and for the teeny tiniest of moments, your heart jumped.

Radiant warmth spread in your lungs. It surrounded your beating organ and tied your throat, and against all you’d expected today, you wondered—

Did temporary, fleeting party-hook-up crushes exist?

As he finished, leaving out the rest of the song, you told him, “You sing well.”

An understatement, but he took it anyway. Blushed a bit as he said, “Thank you.” And then, “Why this song of all you might know?”

Why this song?

You didn’t know. Because you’d grown up with it. Because every second of it, every beat, every melancholic word about hopeful love resonated with you.

“Because,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. A weak smile took over your features. “She shall be loved? Everyone shall be loved.”

Jungkook deadpanned at you. Glassy-eyed. For a couple heartbeats, he blinked at you, and then he broke into a chuckle.

You puffed out a breath; the desire to end the night vanished bit by bit.

That was, until another doom crawled around the corner.

Whenever a day passes flawlessly, misery is close, and this time, it arrived in the form of an older, equally drunk male friend of Jungkook’s.

It was the guy who’d DJ’d prior that night; the one with the deep velvety voice, ogling up at you with a hand in his pocket and a cup in his hand. He made you wonder where your friend was. 

Had Eun left any messages? Perhaps it was you standing her up now; you hadn’t checked the device in a while.

From the garden, the dude — Taehyung, was it? — squinted up into the sky, yelling over the sounds, “Aren’t you the girl from before?” He pointed between Jungkook and you. “What are you two doing up there?”

You felt enthusiasm in your veins. Rapture, leaving your nerves alight. Despite all the sentimental talk, you remembered again that your filter was long abandoned, and with a dazy mind, you leaned forwards.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gotten more of that liquid bullshit after your hook-up. Jungkook had insisted on it — perhaps you should’ve gone for water and sobered up properly.

But as sloshed as you were, you brought out your funny bones, half your body dangerously pressing against the platform as you exclaimed, “I was having the time of my life with this one.”

A thumb pointed back to Jungkook — if you’d seen the man’s expression, you might not have risked your well being like that. Because his hands floated over you, finally gripping your sides with knitted eyebrows when you moved further forwards.

“Hey,” he called quietly, but you were already immersed in the conversation with Taehyung.

“He wanted me to suc—”

“—ceed in every aspect of life!” Jungkook wrongfully finished, leaning in to whisper to you, “I don’t think you should be saying this.”

Okay. Maybe he was a little more conscious about the situation; but you felt too ecstatic to lay down your jokes.

Grave mistake.

People started turning to you. Heard you clearly.

Taehyung, in his own world, still understood, ignoring Jungkook and asking with a laugh, “Really? Lucky son of a bitch.” He halted, and then pointed a finger at you, “Are you the Charmante girl?”

“Uh-uh,” you rejected, “not tonight.”

Fuck.

Even today, you’re adamant on keeping this part of your memories locked.

Because in a few moments, a mess would occur, followed by Jungkook’s kindness, and it would mentally make you push him away.

You just never expected to see him again in the fall.

During senior year, you concluded that he didn’t deserve the chaos of your world, fearing that your connection might destroy the both of you. But throughout all these months, your heart only held back until it couldn’t.

And today, he has wreaked havoc in it anyway.

“How so?” Taehyung asked.

“Because,” you asked. Stress and hangover incoming. Words a rich, popular future heir like you definitely wasn’t supposed to utter. “Fuck that imperium for tonight, okay!”

“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice again. “Lean back. Don’t do this.”

Taehyung shook his head, slowly caught in the awkwardness you called forth. Your deep-rooted trauma was doing a number on you, and you didn’t seem to realise just yet.

“You should go home,” Taehyung suggested; the second tonight.

Why did they want you to leave so bad?

Cocking an eyebrow, you looked at him weird, stoically staying at your place as you bantered, “I don’t want to.”

“I… I think you should, though?”

“You try going home to misery,” you said, laughing through the ache creeping up. Shit, shit. “I’m fine riding his di—”

“Stop it!”

The firm warning pumped sudden intimidation through your body.

Jungkook said it through gritted teeth, hissing it, a sliver of a grunt in his voice. His hands tightened around you and pushed you back up, catching you when you swayed over the edge.

He was irritated; and you were baffled. Puzzled by his concern.

You creased your eyebrows and gulped. Jungkook knew who you were; had confirmed that he did — but he hadn’t spoken about it a single time tonight.

Was he trying to protect you? Why was he trying to protect you?

“What the hell was that?” he asked, lifting his hands off your body.

You didn’t answer.

In fact, you didn’t quite understand the worries anyway. Yes, you had a reputation, but it wasn’t like anyone on campus cared. Right?

Wrong.

Because when you looked down, registering a faint chatter, you froze. Understood why Jungkook had constantly held you back. And why loosening your tongue had been a bad idea tonight.

You wished you could’ve gone back to singing with him. Not live through… whatever crap you’d caused. Nothing you would’ve done on any other day.

But Taehyung had been talking to you — you weren’t thinking anything of it.

The others, however, were. In fact, they were still laughing and recording when they looked down, some of them shamelessly filming with the flashlight on, pointing in your direction.

And there were quite a few of them…

“Wait,” you muttered, eyes flitting from one stranger to another.

Eun had to be inside, because you couldn’t find her face among them. It took a moment — but then, it started sinking in.

“Oh,” you said, and Jungkook, helpless, kept looking at you. “Oh fuck, no.”

“They won’t do any—”

“No.”

Your body felt immobile and it took more exclaims from downstairs that certainly weren’t Taehyung’s to finally move.

As your limbs came alive, you rushed your way back into the attic; humiliated, fire in your cheeks.

Your legs felt wobbly, but adrenaline kept you on your feet. Your mind awoke, your eyes burning. It took a moment to realise you had Jungkook in tow, storming downstairs with you; he was saying something, a soft hand on your elbow that you shook off in panic.

You’d done this to yourself. Stupidly, idiotically. 

Never, never in a million years could you’ve opened your mouth like this in a sober state. You’d trained for this, for fuck’s sake. Knew media attention and how to behave.

The descent to the ground floor took ages; or so it felt.

You traced the faces of the people you’d seen from the roof. Nonstop thoughts of regret flooded you — in the contentment Jungkook’s presence had wrapped you in, you’d lost track of reality.

And now you were rushing from person to person, vehemently warning them and begging them to not put that shit online.

Only to meet a worse fate.

One that, within a moment and without a warning, arrived in the form of a plastered party-goer. Shoulders clashed until you stumbled and fell against a neck-high object. Synthetic plastic bounced against your body, the inflatable pool filled with water and people.

Had they been swimming all night?

Had this thing always been here?

Did it matter anyway when a wave of water broke out of the pool, splashing onto you and half your torso? Probably not.

What mattered was that you were drenched immediately. That Jungkook was still calling your name, albeit further away from you now. Or that a random guy was whistling, mumbling something about your white, soaked top.

Fuck…

Your head darted around; you pushed wet strands out of your face. You weren’t entirely dripping, but enough for people to remember for a while. That was, if they could recall tonight the next day at all.

And if they couldn’t, they’d have it on their damn phones…

Seeking the light crowd, you found Jungkook near the entrance to the house.

He was throwing an empathetic smile, eyebrows scrunched; nibbled at his lower lip and then—

Walked away.

One blink and gone.

You were disappointed. A little hurt. The connection you’d shared felt trivial now; had you enjoyed tonight just to be abandoned by every friend you’d come with or met?

Tears burned in your eyes, there without a notice. In your helplessness, you stood in the middle of the garden. A few people felt sorry for you — you knew. 

And other, selected, a handful ones were too drunk to remain respectful.

The attempt to ignore them remained futile; they kept going.

You tried to search for the elusive people who’d recorded you; another handful who had now vanished into thin air again. Hiding their phones to evade you.

And when your search turned out fruitless, you redirected your attention to instead. She had to be nearby. Or Jimin; you hadn’t seen him tonight at all.

Just as you opted to enter the house, a stranger touched your bicep; reacting swiftly, you instinctively dodged his touch. Disgusted and weirded out.

He didn’t attempt to reach out again, but his persistence to struck your nerves was overwhelming; awkward as he tried to compliment, “That was kinda hot of you to say up there.”

To say what?

That you were a victim to your own imperium — that you were seeking company in others?

What was?

Twisted people, you didn’t understand — as much as you didn’t comprehend your own stupidity.

Your fucking fault.

Feeling a wave of chagrin wash over you, you hurriedly made your way to the door, hoping for another escape; hearing another dumb, “Listen, I’m not trying to offend you, but you—”

The sentence dangled in the air; broken by a sudden interruption. Raw cotton grazed your arm as Jungkook stepped next to you, a white towel thrown over his hand as he intervened, “Enough, man. Don’t.”

His tone was gentle, but held a fragment of a warning. Like he was annoyed, frustrated; tired of the people here.

Surprise was an understatement of a word to you.

There he truly was…

He handed the towel to you wordlessly, a hand on your back. Looked at you with a nod and concern in his eyes. You sighed in light relief, though cringing internally as the water trickled down your spine.

Jungkook sensed your unease immediately; said your name as if to take you away the moment you heard Eun’s voice.

In that moment of gratitude, you felt a renewed sense of a link to him — oddly calm as you said, “Thank you.”

The room you stand in is dark.

You’ve walked through several bright and vibrant halls, passing modern pieces. The ceiling was high so far, so this very room, containing art of the stars and nebulas, hit pleasantly with change.

The dimmed lights match the mood of the paintings; and you’ve noticed that visitors are way quieter in here than they were before.

Probably inhaling the silence of space and time. Diving into a world unknown with a curious fascination.

You glance at your watch, squinting to make out the tiny hands — half an hour left until closing time.

Drawing the millionth breath of this evening, you let your arm drop, curling and uncurling your fingers with a sickening feeling in your stomach. Lightly, you rub the spot, head darting left and right.

For some reason, you expect him in this room.

You can’t quite guess what he might’ve come up with after all; the exhibition showcases various genres and styles, and you haven’t found the room exhibiting his creativity yet.

Seems this isn’t the right place to look either. And you’re getting more nervous with each step.

You scold yourself. This better have been the right decision, because you don’t think you’ll be able to opt out anymore. 

Your soul is still fractured and afraid; but Taehyung’s words float in your mind. Perhaps this will do something. Make clear that you should stay away. Or make clear that you shouldn’t.

Wrapping your arms around your body, you pass more art, more fresh artists, moving to the next room; irritated by how far he seems and of how cold it is here. Museums and their exaggerated air conditioning.

But the shiver the cool air elicits doesn’t compare to the white, blinding, bustling hall. This must be where the main attractions are displayed. Namjoon’s pride, you imagine.

Because people are still talking to the artists. Fingers on their chin, nodding; fancy tote bags and interested hand gestures prove that they’re fat greater art connoisseurs than you.

You don’t need to comprehend techniques and art jargon, though.

All you need to understand is that in the middle of the room, many feet away from you, stands who you seek. Suit-clad, though he has discarded the black jacket, he’s nodding towards other guests, smiling softly to send them away.

They point to his work one last time, and the next moment, they’re chatting among themselves, walking on.

He’s deep in the moment, tracing their steps, frozen in place.

And you, looking at him from afar, are frozen in time. Like everyone around you is barely moving.

Only your blinking eyes. Only his legs as they shift the balance. And then, only his head when he finally averts his gaze and lets it drift over the room. Stops when he sees you, and… 

Remains there.

Your heart jumps; the twisting guts melt and dissipate. Fingers start shaking.

The knot in your throat won’t let you breathe properly; and you think he must be struggling much like you, because even from here, you see him gulp hard.

His longing, sorrowful gaze is killing you. Are you looking at him the same way?

Unsure, you close the gap between your bodies. Slowly, you near him until you’ve become his official guest, taming a wild heart with tense eyebrows.

He’s looking at you like he’s scared to blink. Like you might vanish if he does.

And eventually, you muster the tiniest of smiles, not letting those big, stellar eyes drop you to your knees. But they’re relentless. And…

Red. A little swollen.

“Hey,” you say.

He doesn’t bother for a greeting aside from a little nod. His pink lips are slightly parted, his expression so innocent; so achingly pure. And his voice so weak when he says, “You came.”

“I… almost didn’t.”

He nods lightly, much in understanding. “…I’m glad you did. I’m sorry if my message put you under pressure, I ju—”

“No, no, I thought that— Taehyung told me you’d like it if I dropped by,” you say. Your words are dipped in courage; if he wasn’t looking at you like a yearning puppy, you might not have muttered them. “And also…”

You drop your head, clutching the straps of your purse.

Try not to think of who the both of you used to be.

You clear your throat, gaze flickering up. “I want you to know that I still support you.”

Those puffy cheeks and the younger face, lacking a smile — you’ve only seen that expression before as he slept. When you woke up next to him, observing his dozing form. How helpless he looked. So faultless.

You now know that Jeon Jungkook isn’t perfect, either. But despite all that — or perhaps because of all that — you crave him more.

Because he’s always known he makes mistakes; yet, he’s always been your steadfast anchor.

And maybe that’s all that love ever requires.

No.

Don’t fall back into a spiral.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says. “This means a lot coming from you.”

The first button of his shirt is open; you see the chest rising. The mole on his neck. Last week, in that dark alley, your palm was still covering it. And now, you’re standing at a safe distance.

“So…”

You move, looking past him. The first thing your eyes settle on is a smaller painting.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up, and his tangled fingers let go of each other, open palms gesturing you closer. He steps aside and says, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, please take a look.”

He’s nervous. You hear it in his voice.

Why, though?

There’s no need, considering how gorgeous the sunset is. Perhaps a little standard for such exhibitions, but it still carries his touch. The preciseness and soft details.

You lean in, taking in the colours he worked with. There’s no skyscraper or traffic light in sight — the scenery differs a lot from the city you know.

“Is that your hometown?” you ask.

There are white fences and wide fields. Trees afar, a cottage at the right of the canvas. In the right bottom corner, you see a fluffy little cloud, white and serene.

“It is. Not exactly where I live but… a little outside of it,” Jungkook explains, shifting close enough for his shirt to brush against your elbow. You shiver. “I used to ride my bike to this place and watch the sunset. Took me twenty minutes to get there, so my parents weren’t always too happy about it.”

You laugh quietly, straightening your stance again. Pointing to the tiny cloud, you guess, “And this? Gureum, was it?”

He keeps looking at you. You don’t notice until you register his silence; eventually meeting his gaze that screams affection and tenderness.

Whispers, You still remember.

He catches himself within a second, and then says, “Yeah. Gureum. I’d sneak him into the bike basket and take him with me. He’d enjoy the wind. Jump around there,” he nods to the place in the painting, “and enjoy dusk with me.”

“So sweet.”

You hum in pleasure, ready to move to his other piece.

Most of the artists here are boasting two pieces; some one big object, some several smaller ones. Jungkook settled on the choice in the middle; and you immediately realise that his second work is far more elaborate, in details and in size.

And you’d voice fascination, gasp in admiration — you swear you would.

But what awaits you instead is a masterpiece that renders you mute; baffled, and maybe a little heartbroken.

Because you immediately know what it is.

You remember it from a foggy memory; not too long ago but eternities away.

That day, you brought him and his new boss Namjoon lunch. You chose to barge in as a surprise, sitting on Namjoon’s couch, eyes flitting from artistic canvases to dirty brushes.

Back then, you properly talked about Gureum for the first time. Jungkook was working on drawings, carrying around his sketchbook. You swore you saw a glimpse of something familiar flashing that day, but Jungkook closed the book too quickly for you to decipher it.

And now, it’s here. A damn painting on a museum wall.

A pretty artwork for anyone else, a young, incredibly skilled artist’s talent. But to you…

To you, it’s a peek into what you used to be. And proof of what you’ve become.

You’re hurting. You’re fucking hurting.

“Jungkook…” you choke. You keep staring at it; blink twice; shake your head in disbelief and then voice, ”Wait, what?”

He doesn’t respond. Facing the ground, he’s wading through the pain silently; his bangs are covering his eyes. But your emotions are swimming at the surface of your pupils, an absolute mess.

“Jungko—”

“I had a full speech prepared yesterday, you know?” he says, looking to the side. His jutting lower lip makes your chest burn. “But you didn’t come, and… now you’re here and—” He brings an inked hand to his eyes, rubbing them for a moment. “Now I can’t fucking think.”

You can’t either.

“I didn’t know how to come,” you admit.

You gulp down the tears, looking back to the painting.

The background is blurry, like a rainy window. In focus, you see two hands reaching out to each other. One’s palm facing up, the other’s towards the ground.

Fingertips are inches apart, delivering the illusion that they’re touching without ever doing so. His must be the hand hovering over the softer one. And the latter… It's you. Isn’t it?

Digits reaching out to him, never quite grasping him — the same bracelet around your wrist that he brought you from his vacation among so many other things. Blue and sparkly, no actual gemstones but gorgeous nevertheless.

And in your hand—

Forget-me-nots, slowly drying.

Your memory might not be serving you right, but you think that the brief peep you caught back in Namjoon’s studio was fully blue. Have the flowers withered in his mind?

“What does that mean…” you whisper.

You think you know. But you still wait.

Yet, the only hint Jungkook gives you is, “I had this idea in my head… and the night we drove to that small town and I gave you those forget-me-nots? The way you held them got stuck in my mind and—” He shakes his head. “I knew I wanted to paint them like this.”

“But… you didn’t.”

“Because…” He shrugs his shoulders, but the gesture is anything but nonchalant. The melancholy in his eyes betrays him. “Things changed.”

Right…

That’s why the flowers wilted.

Don’t those blue wonders signify remembrance? True love and devotion?

Does Jungkook think you’re forgetting him? Or that your devotion is fading? That whatever tied you two together is diminishing…?

Whatever used to be a symbol of blooming endearment is now a metaphor for broken hearts. 

But you bite back the sentimental talk, the questions and statements infiltrating your mind. Keep them in, for your and his sake. Hearts need to stay glued together for as long as possible.

No scene in front of a crowd.

So you say, “In any case… It's beyond impressive. You painted it beautifully.”

Jungkook sighs; recovering from the tension of the moment, and then answers, “Thank you. Since I had you in mind, I’m… honestly glad you came.”

“…Of course. Thank you, too.”

The moment you gulp, more people approach Jungkook’s spot. They’re talking to each other before they greet the artist, flashing tender smiles.

When they immerse themselves in his paintings, murmuring something not directed to either of you, you ask, “Should I go?”

But Jungkook’s reluctance emerges immediately. His eyebrows skyrocket, chest tensing; his words are rushed when he tells you, “Oh, you don’t…! You can stay.”

You look around. The hall is emptying; security is leading people out, probably informing them of closing time. And suddenly, you remember that Jungkook doesn’t possess a car.

“Did you take the bus here?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“…I could bring you home.”

Why are you suggesting this? Are your lungs not failing you enough? You’re on edge as it is.

And even when he assures, “You don’t have to,” you shake your head, softly promising that, “Yeah, but it’s no problem. If you want.”

With his turn to glance around, Jungkook licks between his lips. Then, he sneaks a look at his watch, contemplating before he says, “The museum closes in ten minutes, and then I’ll need to find Namjoon. Wrap it all up and stuff. Are you uh… okay waiting for half an hour?”

Are you?

Despite all the pain? You shouldn’t be. But for him… achingly and stupidly, you are.

“Yeah,” you voice, keeping your tone stable. You’re dying of nervousness. “I am. If that’s okay.”

Jungkook nods, stepping to the guests; seems they have a question, waiting for their turn. So he redirects his focus again, giving you a little, “Alright. Thank you again.”

But without ever letting his attention fall from you fully. Not even when you finally step away.

The noises of the streets and vehicles keep the silence away.

Music quietly sounds from the radio, and your finger taps the steering wheel slightly to its beat. Jungkook is staring ahead, sometimes looking out of the window; probably as unsure as you about what to say.

The car comes to another halt in front of a red traffic light, and the silence increases your discomfort. From the side, you watch for a tiny moment as he cards his fingers through the soft, long hair.

And involuntarily, you think back to when you’d bury your fingers in them, too. Would pull him to your lips like that; hear him hold his breath.

Your body trembles, goosebumps on your arms.

You immediately rub at them, focusing on the green light, and once the car comes back into motion, you tell him, “You should save up some money and get a car, too.”

He nods, barely looking at you as he responds clipped, “On it.”

“It’s just late.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. And it’s not that late at a—”

“Just,” you interrupt. He’s right — it’s not too late in the evening. But fall is approaching, and the sky is grey; the sun hides these days. “I’d feel better if you had a car.”

You’re aware that it doesn’t matter what you think or feel anymore, but your concerns still seem to resonate with him; maybe he’d feel the same towards you, too. Because he assures softly, “I’m working on it. Don’t worry.”

Another pause in conversation. Another five minutes pass in silence.

Half of the distance to his place conquered, you grow more nervous by the second. This isn’t a casual get-together or you calmly bringing him home.

Right here, next to you, is literally the man you fell for.

Who confessed his feelings in the pouring rain. Who kissed you through the afternoon the very next day. And who forced you to leave the moment his dam broke.

The one who hasn’t allowed you solace in a while; who touched your lips just once since then, only to shatter every piece of you again.

This is him. Still no one but him.

Equally as nervy on your damn passenger seat as you, going back to an exhibition tomorrow that presents the very hand he used to hold.

This hurts like a bitch.

“Jungkook,” you spit.

“Hm?”

“How long…” You draw a deep breath that comes out shakier than anticipated. You calm your chest. “How long had you been working on this?”

Surprised by your question, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he bites his full lip, toying with its skin before he admits, “Not long. As I said… had the idea for a while, but the day I saw you holding them, I… I kinda cemented that picture into my brain.”

The night of your trip is a firm part of your memory, too.

Piling up bravery, you press your tongue to the palate, clearing your head before you ask, “Why did you make it your main painting?”

Jungkook’s laugh is quiet and insincere. Pained when he answers, “What do you think?”

“I just mean… doesn’t it hurt?”

No response.

You sit up straight, clutching the wheel until your knuckles pale, and try again, “I guess I just didn’t expect you to—”

“What about you?” he questions instead, dodging your inquiry. “Did it hurt you? Seeing it?”

“…Why are you asking?”

“Because I still can’t really decode your reaction.”

Yes… because you’re fighting transparency. The last time you made your vulnerability visible to him, you crumbled. 

But does it matter anymore? You thought tonight would give you a clear answer to what to do; but so far, nothing has changed.

Might as well be exposed.

“Those things don't stop hurting so easily, you know?” you say. Talking proves hard. "But. At some point, you get tired of fighting the pain, and instead, let it happen until it gets better."

“Has it gotten better for you?”

His questions are sudden. Different from his determination to leave last week. He feels vulnerable to you, too, as if he’s fighting himself.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you tell him.

You make a right turn and miss the absolute grief in his eyes. After all the moments you spent together, he didn’t reckon his care for you would escape your mind. But in hindsight, thinking of all the despair he’s put you through, he understands, too.

“Seeing the exhibition today… seeing my piece,” he begins, eyes drifting to his lap, “you still think I don’t care?”

God, your chest feels heavy.

You lift a hand from the wheel, rubbing between your clavicles, but the strange feeling won’t pass. Utter discomfort spreads through your veins, dizzying your head; but you need to concentrate on driving.

You should be almost there.

So you say, “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

To which he dares to ask, “…Why?”

Another stupid traffic light. No excuse to keep looking away, but you still evade his gape.

“Because.” Unblinking, you stare at the tail lights ahead until the red becomes an unpleasant afterimage. "You'll hurt me." Resolutely, "Again."

No answer.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? His reluctance to say something.

Goddamn, you’re frustrated. Uneasy.

“I think the best way to fight more uncomfortable situations is to not talk about them anymore,” you then say, firmly and certain. “At all.”

“Okay.”

You crane your neck to busy yourself, looking for a parking spot when you finally turn into his street. Frustrated when none is empty, you click your tongue, driving around the block in vain before finding a spot near the tiny park close by.

“There goes,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t get off immediately. Much as though he still has something to say, something to plead for. His eyes are staring ahead, his breathing deep.

In your lovesick illusion, you imagine him gritting your teeth and then reaching out, pulling you into a kiss.

But the version of you that wades through reality doesn’t want him to; wants to swerve the pain you’re already combating every damn day.

All he says, however, is a timid, “Thank you for coming today. I really was hoping you would.”

You think back to yesterday, picture a lonely Jeon Jungkook, awaiting your arrival without the desired result. You think of his messages last night, and of the desperation in them.

But you don’t mention any of this. Not his apology, not his yearning.

What you do instead is recall the date, taking off the belt; and when he reacts with surprise, you clarify, “I forgot something.”

You open the door of the vehicle carefully, shooting a glance to the empty road. That’s a cool thing about this area — it’s quiet. You think a lot of families and old couples live around here, because it’s usually serene around this hour.

You get out the moment he does, rushing the one step to the backseat. In a corner, right behind the passenger seat and out of Jungkook’s gaze, you find the same silver object from yesterday.

The silky, shiny paper is soft under your touch as you take it out, and you round the car to a positively confused Jungkook. He doesn’t know what’s awaiting him, but he doesn’t ask; only hums in question.

You brush the non-existent dust off the white ribbon, and then stretch the gift towards him.

Which is when he finally speaks.

“What’s that…?”

Suddenly aware of the gesture, your eyes flit to the object. You try not to stutter but fail, “Your birthday present. I… I had it made a little after you came back.”

He keeps staring at it, like it’s an unidentified item, dangerous to touch. But once he’s caught himself, his muscles relax. He closes his mouth, cautiously taking it from you; the brush of his fingers against yours is warm.

As always.

“You can open it now,” you suggest, “and if you don’t want it, I can just uhm… return it or something.”

It’s hard to return such a present. But you know this might be your only chance to take it back, should he not like it.

It’d be a shame, though.

You watch with bated breath as he nods. Pulling at the ribbon, stuffing it into his jeans pocket before he’s unwrapping the present. He’s so gentle with the paper, as if it means anything.

But if your roles were reversed, you’d cherish every bit that carried him, too.

A moment later, the little, squared thing comes into view.

A new sketchbook, matt black.

His name is golden on it, elegantly and swiftly engraved in the middle of the cover.

“You…”

He utters this sole word. And then looks down again.

His fingertips barely touch the cover for another moment, and then, he ever-so-carefully opens to the first page. It’s an index — has a black and white print of a tiger lily behind a box that says—

To fill these pages with every curve and contour you desire, and to colour them in. Like you do with me. Happy Birthday, Kookie.

His breath visibly hitches. He opens his mouth again, audibly exhaling, eyes glued to the words and reading. Rereading. Internalising them.

The shake of his head is barely there, and you think you imagined it. But when he bites his lip again, an old tiny habit, you start worrying.

Maybe it pains him too much after all. You know that’s what it did to you every time you looked at the wrapped package.

Hurriedly, you explain, “I thought it could be something to remember me by. But I understand if you don’t want i—”

“No, I—” He lifts his gaze, your breathing suspended. His waterline glistens. “It’s an honest present. And you had it made just for me, so I… I’d be an ass to not accept.” He pulls it to his body. “Thank you so much. It’s… incredibly thoughtful.”

“So… You like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I’m glad. Happy Birthday, Kook.”

The peace in your voices is briefly interrupted when Jungkook suddenly raises the hand with the notebook again, speaking louder as he assures, “You didn’t have to.”

You think back to all his little gestures; the stuff he brought you from his vacation. The freaking tattoo on his arm; the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and you see a fragment of the orange and blue.

Even now, he carries around his sentiments for you. You’re not accepting his humility this time.

“I’ve never given you a present,” you say, “there was no way to not do that for your birthday.”

Only tonight, he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve; you can see the heaviness of it, tell yourself you’re hearing its beat. Matching yours. Falling like yours.

But you brush it all away, landing back in reality; once more taking in that you’re actually standing here and actually looking at him but reminding yourself that he and you aren’t what you used to be.

It takes enough strength to believe that he’s here, breathing in the same air as you. You won’t dive into delusions that might crack anyway.

You watch as he nods, putting the notebook into his bag in soft, watchful motions. Careful to keep each corner intact.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are glassier than before. Aching to utter something, preparing for something with an open mouth; words fail him, though.

They have been all evening.

What is he waiting to say?

You halt. Keep standing there. Smiling a little, biting the inside of your cheek. And when nothing comes, you finally conclude, “I should go.”

And that’s it.

That’s when his entire being finally breaks.

Because the moment you walk around your car again, he follows immediately; the rushed steps you hear behind you increase the pace of your heartbeat. Hammering against your throat, loud and clear; your head spins.

Worse and worse when you open the car’s door and he appears behind you, shutting it again with a flat hand.

You don’t know what he wants, but you know you’re not ready for it.

But…

You did come here for answers.

So one inhale. One exhale. You calm your head and unflex your muscles. Let your shoulders fall, shut your eyelids, and when ready, open them again.

Your fingers are still gripping the handle, but your gaze is fixated on your window. It’s darker now, and his reflection in it is clearer, albeit still a bit fuzzy. Doesn’t do justice to his incomparable beauty.

Better for your heart, maybe.

Or not?

Because you still catch his sombre stare, meeting your eyes. His nearing body doesn’t contribute to your health. You promised yourself to not spiral, but you are.

And he’s so close.

Because you feel his breath, hear him so near when he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

Another breath in. You can’t do this.

You stand at your spot with drooping eyes, only half scared that an approaching car might run you over; your other half is dizzy and whispers, “What are you sorry for?”

“That… I hurt you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and— if you want me to shut up… I’ll do it right now.”

You do. You don’t.

He’s tangling up your thoughts; he always has. Does it matter whether he speaks or not? It won’t change anything about your wretched heart… about the sting it suffers.

If he keeps talking now, you’ll dismantle each of his words for the rest of the night. And if he doesn’t, you’ll keep wondering what he would have said.

You wait. Let him decide what he wants to do.

And when he takes your silence as permission to go on, he says, “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I… I wasn’t being completely honest with you.”

Nightlife starts chirping already. It’s getting darker by the minute.

“When I said things have gotten easier for me without you. I lied.”

You swallow, torso nearing the car. You watch as his hand slowly lifts to the vehicle’s roof, close to your face. If you were in such a position to do so, you’d step back, fall into his arms.

Instead, you merely say, “It sounded true.”

“It was true that people are off my back… but. Nothing’s fucking easier without you.”

You gulp; there’s urgency in his voice, and it’s ruining you thoroughly.

You tell him, “It should be a reward. You’ve won more than you’ve lost.”

A chuckle moves a strand of your hair; it’s still not as sincere as you’re used to, but rather sad. Troubled as his words as he asks, “Let me guess… Because it’s just you?”

You only shrug one shoulder, listen as he adds, “You’re a lot more to live without than you think.”

Are you dreaming? Are his words real?

And the subtle, sudden touch, fingers against yours. Real? A fantasy?

You let out a tiny gasp and then hold your breath, seeking his warmth as he grazes your digits. His question is breathy and hushed when it falls, “Can you look at me?”

You don’t know if you can — yet, you oblige. Somewhere in your head, subconsciously, all of you would still do anything for him, no matter how small or harmless of a command.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, looking at his chest. At its rise and fall. At the buttons. You can’t meet his eyes yet. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why…”

“I want to say that I’m sorry. And—” His next words are daring. Incredibly ruthless, uncaring of your heart. And you can’t believe he lets them slip. “I know it’s far too late, but… if there’s a way, any solution to stick here with you after all…”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you raise your head a little, looking at his shoulders with a feeling akin to irritation. Confusion?

“…What could it be?” he finishes.

“I can’t tell you.” You close your eyes when he moves in; once again hearing the pounding of that treacherous organ in your ears. This is driving you insane. “I knew some solutions. They came easy to me, because you… you felt comforting to me, you know?”

You rub your teeth together; your throat feels dry when you comment, “But now I’m caught up in life and—”

You drop your head lower again, unable to finish the remark.

You’re caught up in emotions and craze, you think. They’re creeping in slowly but surely, and consuming all of you. The way he was supposed to.

His touch stops toying with your hand, allowing a moment of relaxation. Only to come back worse.

The back of his fingers rise high, brushing against your cheeks, down to your jaw. You stand in front of him frozen, unable to defend yourself — or maybe, unwilling to refuse him.

You shudder again; it rolls up and down your spine, tickles your brain. Drains your lungs.

You blink your eyes fully open, and then let him lift your chin with a finger.

Two specific syllables of his sentence render you broken to the core, all of you in agony when he asks—

“Did I make a mistake, angel?”

The question echoes through your mind. What happened for him to reflect on his actions and reevaluate his choices?

How did he come to such a drastically opposite conclusion than he did last week?

Has he realised it takes two to move on? To break off things? That none of you is as free as you could be without each other?

That separation and distance fuel pain instead of destroying it?

Your lower lip quivers. Pulling yourself together, you manage, “Yes. You did.”

“Because of the comfort…?”

“Not only. You know why.”

“…Tell me.”

He’s reckless.

Perhaps he’s milking it to lead the two of you to a common understanding. One where it’s clear to either of you that you need each other’s presence around, navigating towards a final verdict.

So, so different from the words that cut you last week.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because,” he begins immediately, “I’m an idiot who chose for us both. I should’ve heard you out, because… this isn’t benefiting us, right?”

“You couldn’t see that before? When I told you tha—”

“I’m an idiot,” he repeats, “who thought he knew what he was doing. And I didn’t. I want to steer towards a decision we can both agree on. So tell me,” he tries again; you sigh. The whiplash is too much. “Why was it a mistake?”

The cool evening breeze rustles through the trees and your hair. The faint glow of the streetlights starts settling in, casting a soft illumination on the surroundings. Helps you see his face clearer.

His words weigh on your heart; you could ramble down a list as to why it was a mistake.

But you settle on the obvious, “Because… I’m working on getting out of my house.” Your voice is tinged with resolution; and the statement seems to surprise him. Eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve found an apartment and… started planning out every detail of how I want it to look and feel. But…”

His eyes fill with curiosity and concern; his voice, despite all the mess, is a soothing presence amidst the uncertainty, “But?”

“But it still doesn’t feel like home… It's strange.”

“Did I feel that way to you?”

“Being with you was the first time in my life that someone or something truly did.” Your words start breaking; your voice a dwindling sound. This requires as much strength as you expected. You take a deep breath. “So yes, you… you made a mistake.”

You wait, working on your tone, steadying it with conviction. And then, you say, “I’ve never needed anyone to survive, you know? I trained myself to be as independent as I can be. Just—”

Your lungs seem to shrink; they feel tight and knotted. Maybe you’re saying too much and not hoping enough. Perhaps that’s the perfect formula for further heartbreak.

But you communicate these thoughts. You will go insane in this little head of yours if you keep them in any longer.

“I crave your comfort,” you mumble. “Whenever I feel like shit or empty, I think— if he was here, he’d know what to say or do. He’d listen. And I hate that. The only warmth I’ve ever known shouldn’t come from you, and I– I shouldn’t be missing you like that.”

You huff out a breath, accompanied by a frustrated and exhausted sound. Your fingers rub your tired eyelids, your head moving to the side. The tips of your digits keep the dampness in, and you focus on proper respiration.

Say, “I hate that I’ve grown to crave you.”

You should’ve known, back in someone else’s bedroom; pressed against him; on the damn roof.

This thing you started with him wasn’t going to end any other way, and you should’ve known.

Wasn’t it the biggest reason you opted for distaste instead? For playful loathing, showcasing it in every class and whenever you met him once the semester started.

It was easier than being fond of him — like when he pulled you to your feet again; back when you were drenched in pool water, staring at the towel he handed you.

“It was much easier,” you echo, “when you weren’t part of my life. I pushed you away with some stupid academic excuse, because I knew we… this would hurt. So much fucking easier to keep you at a distance.”

And when you marched into dorm room 7, asking him for that dumb deal, what were you thinking?

Diving into risks head-first, despite all the knowledge you possessed of your miserable little world.

But the worst confession you might admit to yourself today is that — you’d do it all just the same again.

When you open your eyes once more, you see stars. Might be the rubbing you provided them, or the pupils you’re staring into. They are drenched in enough pain to fracture every teeny tiny bit of your soul.

Desolation swims in your waterline, but you don’t dare to blink; wait until it’s gone back. It proves hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

Almost impossible when he asks, “What do I do to make it right?”

The answer has always been the same, and he has never liked it. What else can you do but to repeat it over and over again, hoping for it to sink in one day and trigger change?

“You open up,” you say, “you tell me how you feel. What you feel.” Your chin trembles; you pull the evening air through your nose. “You stop keeping secrets from me and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I have never opened up with anyone as much as with you.”

And the worst truth is that he means that. No hint of hesitation and deception in his eyes.

It breaks you that this is the most he’s ever been able to disclose. What happened to him that forced him to bury every revelation in his ruptured heart?

His fingers slither to your cheek. He keeps the balmy palm under your ear, as he’s always liked to do. So many habits you caught; all of them pricking your skin now.

“Why have you never before?” you question, hoping for answers. Any of them. “To anyone else?”

His expressions change, much as you expected — feared.

The hand on your face moves a tiny inch, somewhat restless and uneasy. His exhale is desperate. And you, still clueless and suddenly anxious, prod, “Can you tell me?”

Hope trickles through your skin and into his — because for a moment, he looks like he can. There’s hesitation in his stare, but his veiled thoughts seem to sneak to the forefront of his mind.

You’re close, you think.

Unimaginably close to figuring him out.

But then, all the sparkle withdraws again. Like a lightbulb shutting off, his eyelids droop again, and he utters, “I can’t.”

God.

“Why not?”

“Because it hurts.”

“I want to help you, Jungko—”

“You can,” he hastily promises, fretful, as if you’re slipping away again — and maybe, you think, you are. “Just not now. Please just.” He downs the clump in his throat. “Let’s fight through this, because I want you to be able to help me, too.”

Fuck.

Why is this worse?

Wanting the aid, wanting the support; wishing for relief but not being able to accept it.

His lips draw closer, pillowy when they graze yours. Stalling the kiss as he mumbles against your mouth, “Can we fight through it?”

You don’t answer; drop your head to the side. A flicker of your old stars returns, but then it dies again; much like a candle in the wind.

He steps back slowly. Carefully. His chest deflates as he asks, “Is it… because of Hoseok?”

Hoseok?

That foolish conversation you had at the movies; his insecurity and the hints of jealousy. Has he been thinking about it?

Hoseok.

Unbelievable.

Of all things plaguing your mind, Hoseok is the last to keep you away from Jungkook. No. Fucking no.

“What?” you voice louder now, slightly piqued.

But he immediately retreats, kissing his teeth as he assures, “Nothing.”

You’re not done, though.

“No,” you tell him, “no, it’s not him. If it was, I’d chosen him years ago. And last year, I wouldn’t have come to the party but rethought his offer. But— Jungkook, fuck, I’m standing here with fucking you, because you never tried to fix me. Just… you just accepted me. Lived through every fucking day with me.”

He’s surprised. Expected the burst as much as you.

“I—”

A single pronoun escapes him before you interject again.

“It’s not because of Hoseok. It’s because of me. And because of you.” Your breaths are irregular when he caresses your jaw. Your thoughts are jumbled. “It’s because the hurt sits too deep to think about this now.”

“I… I know.”

“I can’t think about it, or anything. Or about you.”

Your forefinger presses against his chest, but his touch doesn’t falter. He keeps his palm planted on your face, another one joining on the other side as he repeats, “I know. I know.”

You’re agitated.

Want him away but closer. Silent but confessing his innermost wishes.

So bewildered, unable to make sense of this. Because what’s happening? Where are the two of you going?

Since that very frat party, what road were you on?

You don’t know. And maybe you shouldn’t think about your timeline. How you developed and how you got here.

But you can’t help it when his thumb comes back to your lips, parting it, preparing for another bittersweet kiss.

Like he always does. Like he did months and weeks ago.

Or…

That very night after the unspeakable humiliation, when he parted from you.

No matter how much you’ve forgotten, you still remember that time’s farewell.

The towel didn’t dry your clothes faster, but you were thankful for the gesture.

Jungkook rubbed your half-damp hair, insisting on helping, and the summer and its heat did the rest. Your back faced the wide bathroom mirror; you didn’t want to look at your miserable reflection anymore.

Eun was standing outside — her folded arms and the tapping finger spoke volumes, and her squinting eyes sought the assholes who’d ruin your night for you.

According to her, she’d already seen you with Jungkook; and not one to spoil your first good night in ages, she’d stayed away, instead looking for a certain blacked out Park Jimin. He was already home again, she said.

Now that you were leaning against the sink, she was seething on the other side of the door. Ready to bring you home; ready to thrash a couple people’s heads, only resisting because you’d told her to.

“Are you done?” you heard her from outside.

You looked up at Jungkook. You didn’t quite understand his willingness to stay with you, but you appreciated it. Stared at him with big, questioning eyes as he said, “Almost.”

“Eun,” you mumbled through the door, surprised when she heard you; hummed. “Could you get my stuff? Just my purse and cardigan.”

No hesitation.

“Where is it?”

“Attic. I forgot it there.”

She didn’t say much; grumbled something and then stormed away, once again leaving you with the kind presence in front of you.

In some way, you hoped you weren’t going to see him again. He was popular on campus, and you were a joke. The rich, little girl who made an idiot of herself at a private frat party.

If he wanted to keep his reputation, he wasn’t going to cross ways with you again either.

Right?

“People are so dumb,” he said, vexed as he put the towel away. “That was an absolutely inhumane thing to do. Thought we’re outta high school.”

You scoffed. “Are we ever?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. Maybe he felt the need to reassure you a little more, because he said, “They’ll forget about this in a day or two. Fuck them and keep living.”

Huh.

It was such a harmless statement, wasn’t it?

But… you weren’t used to it.

What you knew were strategies to help your image; to drown the rumours and delete online humiliation, which would undoubtedly happen again this time. You knew of staff that spoke to journalists or pacified magazine publishers.

But not of encouragements to forget about it and live on.

“Thank you,” you said, timid and quiet.

The way he stood there, leaning back, looking at you. Waiting for you to finger-comb all knots out of your hair… you had to say something. So you did.

“I think I told you so much today, because I needed it out. And you said all the things I needed to hear, so… I truly do feel thankful. For everything.”

More of the dialogue is broken. Your diary didn’t delve into details of the bathroom scene; all leftover pictures your written words evoked today are fragments now.

Like how he looked at you.

A bit of surprise, mixed with endearment. A smile that followed and a nod; one step closer and then another.

Or the tilted head and the tired doe eyes. The thumb that lifted to your lips, parting them — you didn’t know back then that he liked this tiny detail, and that you’d grow to love it, too.

And you recall the way he moved closer.

Leaving a gap between his own lips and then settling them between yours. Unprovoked, unannounced.

Softly, slowly. No craze, no insanity.

Just a touch. Fingers on your jaw, mouth moving just a little.

And then, him backing away again, bringing the night-long conversation to an end until you met again that fall.

“Go home and be well,” he said.  “Fuck everyone else, okay? If they can’t treat you right or love you the way you wish, then just fuck it all.”

You felt hazy and warm. More sober than before, but drunk on confusion.

Something told you that he wasn’t just talking about the immature public down in the garden, but everything you’d confessed on the roof, too.

Hoseok.

You simply voiced, “Huh?”

“She will be loved, right?” he asked one last time. You smiled; the giddy feeling was unmistakably present. “For sure one day.”

Nostalgia is a bitch.

It’s supposed to be a sepia feeling. Comforting and sweet. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

The memory is poignant; you want it back, but you don’t want to trudge through the pain again. You want this to be over. Want to dive through the agony and surface to a better time.

If fate and the world let you, with him by your side.

Is it too much to ask for? You don’t know.

“Can you ju—”

You look at him immediately.

The same doe eyes you know — soft, tender, dry but despondent. There’s not a single tear in sight, but his words and voice still break. The fear in his pause smashes your heart into smithereens.

“Just… once,” he begins, “could you look at me like that again?”

“…Like what?”

“Like you didn’t stop falling for me.”

Still. Everything stays still.

You don’t think you could ever look at him like you stopped. You can’t imagine you’re staring at him right now like you ever did. How do you make clear to him that you orbit around him?

You keep standing still. Not an inch moves; your heart might give out.

Words fail you when his hope collapses and his shoulders drop. A deflating chest, a sigh of dispiritedness; and then, his touch is gone.

He nods slowly, a hand sinking back into his pockets. Clutching the strap of his bag, he steps away, keeping your gaze for a moment before he turns around.

His falling head makes you sick to the stomach; the way he’s walking away, no other word uttered, is gut-wrenching. You know he’ll text you again; thank you for the present at least.

You are so certain he will.

But you hate how this played out. Hate that nothing is resolved.

And maybe it’s that loathing towards this very outcome why you don’t want to leave just yet. No matter how this might end — whether you part or find your way back to each other again.

There’s just one thing you somehow want to remind him of again.

“That night at the frat party… last year,” you start. He halts in his steps, moving to face you. “We were dumb to treat it like nothing.”

He blinks at you.

“It’s where it started, don’t you think? And it’s where we should’ve been truthful with what we wanted already.”

“Why are you saying that now?” he asks.

“Because I just remembered that… you kissed me back then, too. You kissed me like you didn’t want me to leave.”

It’s when your tale already started. Pointing at one outcome: no matter what hurdles, you were meant to end here together, but without the pain, as one unit.

It was clear back then. It should’ve always been clear; break ups were redundant. You know — does he, too?

His gaze feels heavy on you. The silence lingers, tension mounting as he takes in your answer. Doesn’t say a single word until your face is hot and your heart is bursting.

Maybe you’ve pushed him away, wounded his heart. He looks… disoriented. Have you said too much? Or not enough? Did you utter something not true at all?

False.

Because a moment later, his features change; endless longing as clear as the sky when he speaks again—

“Angel…”

Your breath catches; every damn piece of you implodes.

“Stay the night.”

alllllright :’) worth the wait? :’’’) i’m sorry if not but YAY if yes !! tbh, more things were supposed to come to light, but the chapter was already too long, so i had to split it. you shall find out more and get some relief in ‘cmi9: blue’ !! another reason i focused on the flashbacks more was bc… i need us to process the big reveal >:) how was it? what do you think?

as always, thank you so much for supporting this series. it means a shit ton to me that you guys are still here and loving these two as much as i do. as per usual, this one required all my brainpower and my free time, too; so if you liked it or want to say literally anything, please keep interacting with the series – motivation to work on this is always boosted by you guys tremendously !! so please like, reblog (on desktop since the post’s so big!!), comment aaaand send an ask !!! i shall answer them all this time >:O

thank you and i love you. here’s to more <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook series

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Best Kind of Blush

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Spencer helps you pick the best kind of blush for you.

Square Filled: roommate's best friend (2021) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Spencer doesn’t understand the hype around makeup or why women love it so much, but he sees the smile on your face whenever you can paint your face. When you both have the day of, he likes to sit on the bed and watch you expertly blend makeup products to create something flawless. You’re already flawless but he likes seeing how much time and effort you spend on one look. It helps that you’re a makeup artist for low-budget films and TV shows. You’re making your way up the chain to bigger and better projects, but it’s a slow climb.

Your roommate, JJ, doesn’t mind Spencer being over all the time since they work together. She likes seeing him happy, and if you make him happy, then she supports your relationship.

You’re running out of makeup for your job as well as a few products for your everyday use, so you drag Spencer along to the store so he can help you pick out the best ones. The first section you go to is the special effects makeup products to get a new supply of items. Your job comes first, and when you see you have money left over for personal use, you drag Spencer to the eyeshadows.

“Hold your hand out.”

Spencer does, and you grab the sparkly palette you had your eye on for a while. The color glides on smoothly on his skin, and it’s fantastically glittery. You use his hand for multiple palettes and decide on two of them. You’d use your hands but they are covered with tattoos and the color wouldn’t show right. The next product you move onto is the blushes, and you grab the one you use almost every day. However, you want to try different ones you think might compliment your skin tone.

“Help me decide what blush I should get next.”

Spencer smirks and looks around the store to see if anyone is around. He wants to make sure people aren’t staring at him when he does what he’s gonna do.

“If you want a blush, I can give you a blush. For free, I might add.”

“What place do you know that has free blushes?”

Spencer isn’t big on PDA but he will do it if he knows no one is watching. He gives you a childish grin as he hooks his fingers in your belt loops. He pulls you closer and plants his lips on yours. He kisses you slowly and passionately like he would in the bedroom. He slides his tongue on your bottom lip and you’re inclined to give him what he wants. His tongue massages your own gently and leaves no inch untouched by him. When you feel butterflies go straight to your pussy, you pull back from him. Your cheeks are hot and you can only imagine they’re dark, too. You turn away from him to calm yourself down and he chuckles lowly.

“There it is,” Spencer chuckles. “Anytime you want a blush, you come to me.”

“Okay, Fabio, calm down,” you smile. “Go wait in the car.”

Spencer laughs and allows you to calm down without him next to you. You’re almost done shopping, and then you’re going to take him home and show him he can get a blush, too.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fanfiction #cm fic #cm fanfic #cm fluff

[mooniania]

HARDLY EVER SMILE (without you)

༺☆༻ :-‘๑’-✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༺☆༻ :-‘๑’-ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ✩

Pairing: Soobin x gn!Reader

Sypnosis: You are typically the quiet girl that no one talks to and who has a hard time showcasing any emotion, so what happens when a very good-looking guy starts to pay attention to her?

Word Count: 1,274

Genre: Not sure if this a drabble or oneshot but either way 😞 Angst (never thought i’d see me write angst tbh), slight fluff, one sided love

❀ Warnings: ANGST, kissing and that’s it but if you find anything else please let me know 😋☝️

❀ A/n: This is again inspired by a song i will link it down below so listen to the song while reading if you want 🙏 and i might write a part 2 but i’m not sure so if you want one let me know in my asks or in the comments. Feedback is very much appreciated please make sure to like and reblog.

Inspired by:

༺☆༻ :-‘๑’-✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༺☆༻ :-‘๑’-ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ✩

Typical you, you never went out, you didn’t have friends, and you were always blasting music; that was just the way you did things. That was until you met him. He just had this beautiful smile, laugh, and lips. The day you laid eyes on him, you knew he was the one.

You met him on the first day of your senior year in high school; he was in your history class. You never cared too much about school; you just went and left. When you saw him as he walked into the class, you instantly fell for him. Something about his aura was different than the other guys', and lucky for you, he sat right next to you. You found out his name was Soobin. And as much as you tried, you just couldn’t stop looking over at him, and he seemed to catch on because he had flashed you a smile and slightly bowed his head. You did the same, catching yourself also flashing him a smile, which was unusual of you; you hardly ever smiled. You felt strange. You knew you felt some way towards him, but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling; it was something you’d never felt before.

He continued to sit beside you every day. He hardly ever said a word to you until he tapped you on the shoulder and asked, "Hey, may I borrow a pencil?" I forgot mine." He looked nervous as he said it. What was he nervous about? "Sure, here you go," you say as you hand it to him. His and your fingers slightly brush against each other, and you swear you felt an instant connection. "Thanks," he said, flashing a smile before you could say, "Your welcome." teacher started talking, which meant class had started, so you didn’t even bother.

Ever since that day, you guys have had small talk. Every time you guys did talk, you heard girls whispering about you: "What is that freak doing talking to a good-looking guy like him?" "Look at how she’s all over him; she never smiles unless she’s with him." "She obviously wants him." You would be lying if you said they didn’t get to your head. I mean, as you were walking out of your history class, you even heard his friend ask the same thing: "Why do you talk to her?" "She's so freaky." Soobin stayed quiet, which hurt your feelings just a tad bit, but what could he have said?

He still continued to talk to you, probably even more than he did before. He was a sweet and caring person; anyone could tell that even before having a conversation with him. You and him started getting closer as you guys continued to talk to each other; he even offered to tutor you when he overheard the history teacher saying that you might fail the class. You were not only grateful but also happy that now you would get to spend even more time with him outside of school.

You guys met at the library to study, but that study session didn’t even involve that much studying; you spent most of your time chatting. You both found out that you both had a huge thing for music, and you spent most of your time chatting about your favorite songs and artists. As time went by, you both realized how much you two had in common, and you began to fall even more for him, imagining his beautiful lips against yours and his soft voice soothing you after a long, hard day. You really liked him at this point; you could say you loved him, and you felt that he might feel the same way about you.

—

Months have passed, and your friendship with Soobin has grown into what you think is more than a friendship; you just had to know for sure if he liked you back. I mean, he has invited you to places like the carnival, where you both went on rides together having the time of your lives, and that one time when you both went to the coffee shop and got mistaken for a couple by an old lady, how you both started to blush intensely while telling the lady that you are "just friends." You were just friends, but you wanted to be more than that. He made you feel happy and free; he has helped you experience and feel things you hadn’t felt before. Before you met him, you were described as cold and rude, but now you couldn’t help but smile every time you were with him; there was just something about him.

You guys both continued to do "study sessions," where you guys would both study for like 30 minutes and then after that talk and hang out. This time, Soobin had invited you to his house at 6 p.m. for the study session. This was the first time you would ever go to his house, so you were nervous. You took the bus to his house. His parents were wealthy of some sort, so he lived pretty far from where you lived, so it wasn’t like you could walk. But you didn't mind taking the bus; you found it comforting.

As you arrived a tad bit early, you felt as if your heart was about to burst from your chest. You had never felt this nervous in your life. You were near the gates when you spotted Soobin standing in the driveway. You thought he was waiting for you until you quickly realized he was with someone else—a girl. You watched as he hugged this girl, holding her by her waist, and you also watched as she stood on her tiptoes and placed a peck on his lips, and how he reciprocated her peck by pulling her into a very long kiss. You immediately started to tear up. You stood there, watching them giggle and continue to kiss. You knew he wasn’t yours, so why did you feel this way? Why did you feel as if your whole world just came crashing down?

You walked away before they could see you. I mean, if they had seen you like that, it would be completely embarrassing. How would you even begin to explain the fact that you were crying because, this entire time, you had feelings for a guy who had a girlfriend? You walked to the nearest bus stop, and you immediately burst into tears again when you saw a message notification from Soobin pop up on your phone.

Soobin 💗 6:10

"Hey, are you almost here?"

You had accidentally clicked on the notification, and now he knows that you’ve seen the message. You wanted to scream. You had never let someone into your life, let alone a guy in your entire life, and the one time you finally let someone in, he broke your heart. It wasn’t like he meant to break your heart; you were the only one to blame for letting yourself believe that someone could ever like you. You decide to leave him on seen. You don’t have any idea what to say to him, so leaving him on seen was the best option.

When you arrived home, you went to your room and reminisced about the memories you two had together. Looking back, he never showed any signs of liking you; it was only your illusion. As you remember the way you saw him kiss his girlfriend, seeing how much passion he was putting into that kiss, you can’t help but think how you would give up all your life for just his kiss.

#txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #soobin imagines #soobin x y/n #soobin x you #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #soobin smut #soobin smau #soobin oneshot #soobin angst #txt post #choi soobin #soobin works ᐢ ̥ ̮ ̥ᐢ₎ *:･。

[sebuckyverse]

for a good time, call [2]

modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson is a burnt out rockstar, touring the country. When he finds a phone number written on a bathroom wall, he strikes an unusual friendship with a coffee shop barista who has no idea who he is.

warnings: 18+ cussing, m!masturbation, eddie jerks off, smoking, flirting, pining kinda, a cliffhanger, strangers to friends to lovers word count: 3,3k

an: part 2 guys! i hope you like it. don't forget to reblog or leave a comment :p don't come at me for the ending x_x ps! some of you couldn't be tagged :( say hi to Robin's lover @ceriseheaven

chapter one ♫ masterlist

chapter two ♫♪♩·..·

Eddie woke up to his phone buzzing continuously on his nightstand. Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, he reaches over to grab the device, the blue light far too bright for how early it still was, the digits on his homescreen reading 6.14am. He had three missed calls from his manager and two from his drummer. Eddie sat up on the bed and begrudgingly called his manager back.

''Where the hell are you, Munson?'' his manager, James, heckled.

''Good morning to you too,'' Eddie yawned.

''We had agreed to a meeting 15 minutes ago.''

Oh, Eddie remembered. It would be a lie to say he accidentally forgot to set an alarm. Who holds meetings this early anyway. ''Look man, I overslept. I'm tired and I don't want to meet. You can say whatever you want, right here.''

James huffed and puffed on the other side, before relenting. ''Ed, we need to discuss the future. Tour's about to end and we need to announce something sooner or later.''

Eddie could feel his nostrils flare. ''There is nothing to announce. Every normal artist takes a break after a big tour.''

''Well, you're not exactly normal, Eddie.'' Ouch, Eddie has a quick flashback to his high school days. ''Besides, you signed a contract with management for 60 shows this year. We're only half way there. That means, you need to do more shows later in the year.''

''I'm not doing shit. I'm burnt the fuck out, I need a break.'' Eddie bit back, his other fist clenched on his side.

''That sucks, but this is the business. You can take a break after you fulfill your contract, that was the deal and you know that. I'll have the team send out an announcement that the tour is extended.''

Eddie felt helpless, driven to a corner. He knew the contract he signed and the penalties that come with it if he broke it. That's not something he thought about when he put his signature on the paper - this was his dream, what he was born to do. The more time passed, the more bits and pieces of him went missing. Everybody wanted something, needed something from him. No one thought about what Eddie might need. If he was tired, he was being offered drugs to vamp up his system, get him going again. If he was lonely, there was a line of girls (and guys) outside his dressing room. He indulged in it for a while, but soon that wasn't enough either.

''Whatever, man.'' Eddie hung up the phone and stared at the screen, the light illuminating his sunken eyes, the heavy bags under his eyes. Almost in a haze, Eddie found himself searching up Wayne's number from his contacts and clicking call. The line rang a few times until it clicked. It was silent at first, until Eddie heard the distinctly gruff voice of his uncle, instantly filling him with warmth and the obvious guilt.

''Ed? That you?'' Wayne's voice was low, like he had just woken up which might have been the case, Eddie didn't even think about what time it was in Indiana.

''Y-yeah. Shit, I'm sorry, I-I didn't think about the time difference. Fuck you were probably sleeping, shit, we can talk later, I can-'' Eddie was rambling, embarrassed. It was awkward, he hadn't spoken to his uncle in months.

''Stop, stop. It's fine. Are you all right?'' Wayne interrupted before his nephew ended the call, losing him again.

''Yeah, of course.'' Eddie lied, and Wayne knew that but he didn't want to push too much. ''J-just wanted to check in, I guess.''

''Have you been getting my messages?''

''I have, yeah. Been busy, you know...'' Eddie replied quietly, his voice shaking. He wanted to explode, tell Wayne everything, he would know what to do. He always did. But Eddie wasn't ready to hear the truth yet.

''Are you sure you're alright, son? You don't sound like yourself.''

Eddie panicked. ''Yeah, definitely. Living the dream, eh? Look I, um, have to go. It was good to hear your voice though.''

''Ed, don't hang up-''

''Talk to you soon, bye!'' Eddie hung up the call and let the phone drop from his hands like it had burnt him. He walked over to the minibar and fetched a mini size tequila, downing it in one go, hoping the burn in his throat would distract him from the ache in his heart.

.•♫•♬•

It had been a fairly quiet day at work so far. Robin was currently attending to customers, taking their orders while you were sweeping tables and cleaning up the empty coffee cups, bringing them to the back and loading them into the dishwasher. It was only the two of you at the café today.

Robin joined you in the back, keeping an eye out for the front as well. ''Hey, I have a favor to ask.''

''Shoot,'' you shot back where you were arranging the cups in the machine.

''I was wondering if you could close by yourself today. Cherry's taking me to a concert today. It's a few hours away and we might be late if we don't leave sooner.'' Robin looked at you with pleading eyes. Normally, you wouldn't agree so easily, but considering the lack of business today, you figured it wouldn't be too much hassle. Cherry was Robin's... friend. They've really hit it off since meeting at the bar four days ago and to her credit, she did drag both of your asses home that night, so bonus points for that. It probably won't be too long until one of them gets on with it to make it official. From what you've heard from Robin, Cherry is super fun, adventurous, funny and can't keep her hands to herself, which you could've lived without knowing to be honest.

''Ooh, is this your first proper date?'' you smirk, getting up and leaning against the machine.

Robin's cheeks flush pink. ''Yes. I'm really excited!''

''Hmm. Of course you can go, I can finish up here myself. Next time you have to introduce us though, I mean properly. When I'm not wasted.''

''Thank you! I will!'' Robin pulls you into a crushing hug, smacking a kiss to your forehead.

''What concert are you going to, anyway?'' you ask when she pulls away to gather her things, ripping her apron off.

''I actually don't know, it's some rock or metal concert. Not my style, you know that.''

''Well, have fun!'' you shout after her, watching her leave through the back door. Thankfully it was only an hour 'til closing time, so you made your way back to the front and kept yourself busy until then. At one point, your phone vibrated with a new message in your pocket. You were surprised to see it was from your new friend with a fake name, Kirk.

06.37pm - Kirk ''Hi. How are you?''

06.38pm - Kiwi ''I'm good, thanks. What about you?''

06.38pm - Kirk ''I'm fine. Sorry I've been MIA, it's work.''

06.38pm - Kiwi ''That's okay :) What do you do anyway?''

It takes a couple of minutes for him to reply, making you wonder if you didn't scare him off somehow. That didn't seem like too personal of a question, you thought.

06.42pm - Kirk ''I work in entertainment.''

Well that was vague, that could mean anything.

06.42pm - Kiwi ''Are you a porn star? I've always wanted to meet one, I have so many questions.''

06.43pm - Kirk ''Not that kind of entertainment, sorry. What kind of questions though?''

06.44pm - Kiwi ''I'd rather not say. Do you enjoy what you do, though?''

06.46pm - Kirk ''I used to.''

06.47pm - Kiwi ''What changed?''

06.48pm - Kirk ''A lot of things, some that I wasn't prepared for.''

06.49pm - Kirk ''Listen, I have to go. It's work. I'll text you again in a few hours?''

06.50pm - Kiwi ''Sure.''

.•♫•♬•

Eddie was sitting in a car after the show, going back to the hotel. His hands were still clammy for playing guitar for 1,5 hours and his hair was sticking to his face. His eyes were closed as he focused on the motion of the vehicle moving. It didn't take long until he reached the hotel where he would be staying for tonight and climbed out, dragging his duffel bag over his tense shoulder and sauntered to the front desk.

Filling in his contact info, the brunette behind the counter batting his eyelashes when handing him his room card. ''Room 412, mr. Munson. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.''

Eddie gave the girl a tight lipped smile and grabbed his key card. ''Thank you.''

As he was standing in the elevator, he thought about how the girl at the front desk was basically offering herself to him yet it made him feel nothing. It was a scary thought. Was he this far gone? He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, or jacked off. The exact same time the elevator dinged when reaching his floor, like a lightbulb going off, Eddie realized that the only positive feelings or thoughts he's had in months, have come from interacting with you.

Reaching his room, Eddie threw his bag next to the door and kicked off his boots. He shrugged off his clothes, a trail of fabrics leading from he door to the bathroom. He took a quick shower and strolled to his bed, plopping onto the fresh sheets butt naked and dug through his jeans for a pack of cigarettes, fumbling around until the found the singular joint he had stuffed in with the regular smokes. He lit the joint and took a slow drag, humming to the familiar tangy taste, letting the effects of the drug engulf his overused brain.

Eddie sat on the bed in complete silence, eyes closed. He could only hear the water dripping from his shower. Opening his eyes, he didn’t have to cast a look down to see that he was hard, stiff cock nestled against the tiny pudge of his stomach. Which was to be expected, getting high always made him horny. It’s why he’s cut back recently too, horny or not, he just wasn’t interested in fucking random people anymore and his fist wasn’t doing it for him either.

Right now, however, he couldn’t ignore the ache in his groin. With a sigh, Eddie dropped on his back, feet anchored to the carpeted floor. Wrapping a tentative fist around himself, he gave a couple tugs to test the waters. It sent shivers down his spine, so he continued. Letting go for a moment to spit into his palm, Eddie pumped himself harder, squeezing at the base then running his thumb over the slit, rubbing his pre-cum over the head. His chest was heaving, eyes shut as sparks of pleasure washed over him. He moaned into the silence as the pressure in his belly became too much too quick and sparks soared into a flame as he came all over his fist and abdomen, thick thighs shaking in the process.

.•♫•♬•

You were now back at your apartment, scanning the cupboards for the forgotten pack of Oreos you know you had somewhere. Cursing under your breath, you settled on a glass of white wine and made your way back to your bathroom where the steaming bubblebath was waiting for you to jump in. You set your glass on the closed toilet seat where you could reach it and dropped your towel to climb in the water. You relaxed your head against the edge, your hair held up high and hummed along to the music you set up from your speaker.

It took about ten minutes before your phone dinged with a new message. At this hour, there was only one person who would be texting you - unless it was Robin with an emergency. But it wasn’t her.

01.12am - Kirk “Hey, you still up?”

01.12am - Kiwi “Yep, I’m taking a bath.”

01.13am - Kirk “This late?”

01.14am - Kiwi “I do it all the time when I don’t work the next day. It’s a routine.”

01.14am - Kirk “That’s cool. How was your day?”

01.14am - Kiwi “Slow, you?”

“01.15am - Kirk “Hectic. What do you do for work, by the way?”

01.15am - Kiwi “I’m a barista at a coffee shop.”

01.15am - Kirk “Make a mean espresso then?”

01.15am - Kiwi “Oh yeah, you should try it.”

The wine was making you a bit more forward than usual. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

01.16am - Kirk “Would love to. Tell me something about yourself.”

01.16am - Kiwi “Like what?”

01.17am - Kirk “Anything.”

You thought about it for a moment, almost dropping your phone in the water as the steamy air made your hands clammy.

01.19am - Kiwi “I’m an Aquarius, my favorite fruit is kiwi (surprising I’m sure) and my chosen past time is readying smutty books. Your turn!”

01.20am - Kirk “I was raised by my uncle and I love reading too, but I’m too scared to ask what smutty means.”

01.20am - Kiwi “Don’t even worry about it. Raised by your uncle, he sounds like a great man.”

01.21am - Kirk “He is. Where do you live?”

01.22am - Kiwi “Not sure I should be telling a stranger.”

01.22am - Kirk “I thought we were friends? :(“

01.23am - Kiwi “Fine, but don’t come kidnapping me. I live in New York.”

01.24am - Kirk “Despite my kidnapper look, I’m more of a wine and dine guy.”

01.25am - Kiwi “I might be into the kidnapper look.”

Oh shit, was that too forward?

01.27am - Kirk “Really? People used to call me horrible names because of my look.”

01.28am - Kiwi “I’m sorry, what did they call you? No pressure.”

01.28am - Kirk “Mostly just freak.”

01.29am - Kiwi “Well, I like freaky, so..”

01.30am - Kirk “I might have to test that.”

You were surprised how easily you fell into flirting with a complete stranger to be honest. You kept switching between talking about random stuff and flirting. You learned that he was kind of a nerd in high school, he used to play some board game you didn’t know and he confessed that his favorite band is Metallica (didn’t take a genius to figure that out). You told him about your childhood cat that went missing one night, how you started your job as a barista and what your favorite cocktail is. You thought about asking him about calling instead, as texting was pretty tiring but decided to leave that for another time.

You came out of your bubble when you noticed the water had gone cold, your wine glass sitting empty on the tile next to the tub. You wished Eddie a good night and promised to text him tomorrow. You quickly dried off, chuckling at your wrinkly fingers and toes and put on a pair of comfortable panties, jumping under the covers. Your eyes were at half mast but the sleep didn’t come yet. You were still thinking about Kirk, rubbing your thighs together simply at the memory of him. This hole thing was so unusual, you knew some things about him now, but had no idea what he looked like or what his real name was. You had a picture in your head, but it was vague. You didn’t imagine his face or his body, but more his aura, his energy. It might sound extremely naïve, but he gave off good vibes and he made you feel nice. As you finally drifted off to sleep, it was to the thoughts of him only.

When you woke up the next morning, the skies were gray and rain was tapping against your windows. That turned your original plans of taking a walk later today upside down. You checked the time on your phone, where it read nearly 11am with a good morning text.

09.16am - Kirk ''Good morning, I hope you have a good day. Let me know what you get up to :)''

You'd text him back later, as the grumbling of your stomach was a more pressing issue at the moment.

Once you were stuffed full of eggs, bacon and a glass of apple juice, you decided to do some fall shopping. You visited your go-to stores and ended your day in your favorite bookstore, sitting in the small café area sipping chamomile tea and taking a bite out of a chocolate croissant. Then you remembered you had an unanswered text.

2.14pm - Kiwi ''Hey, sorry for the late reply. Promise I didn't forget you!''

2.18pm - Kirk ''Good, I was starting to get worried.''

2.19pm - Kiwi ''Why, you miss me already? 😉''

2.20pm - Kirk ''Yes.''

You swallowed thickly at his admission. It was weird that he missed you, you didn't even know each other's names. It was weird that you were unashamedly flirted with him. It was weird, because you didn't mind it all. And it was definitely weird, that your tummy fluttered. You blamed it on the tea.

2.22pm - Kirk ''I'm sorry if that freaked you out. I like talking to you, a lot.''

2.23pm - Kiwi ''Don't apologize, I like talking to you, too. What would you think about calling?''

.•♫•♬•

Eddie knew this would come eventually, he had even thought about it himself. He was prepared for it, yet when the question came, he froze. He was rigid, like he was standing on cracked ice and he might fall in any second. He'd just come back from a radio interview, where he was grilled about any updates he might have. With a sour taste in his mouth and the fakest smile he could muster, he announced more tour dates and listed the name of cities they were going to play.

He'd grown more comfortable with you, texting you took his mind off everything else, it was something he was looking forward to more and more every day. He'd also be a liar if he said that you in a bathtub didn't spawn some inappropriate thoughts in his head. You seemed to enjoy his online company too. But what if you recognized him as soon as you heard his voice? Not that he was so presumptuous to assume everybody knew him or his music. What if you'd go googling his name? There are definitely things on there that he regrets doing, most of them even, and things that weren't true.

He was tempted to hear your voice, though. He chose to be honest.

2.30pm - Kirk ''I'm scared.''

2.30pm - Kiwi ''Of what? We don't have to, if you don't want.''

2.31pm - Kirk ''I do want to, really. I'm just kind of.. known.''

Eddie despised the word 'famous' or any other form of that.

2.32pm - Kiwi ''Are you famous?''

Cringe.

2.33pm - Kirk ''Kind of.''

2.35pm - Kiwi ''Are you scared that I might recognize you?''

2.36pm - Kirk ''Yes, I've done some things I'm not proud of.''

2.37pm - Kiwi ''I don't care about that. I know nothing about the celebrity world, so I probably wouldn't recognize you anyway (no offence).''

Eddie chuckled, he felt a bit better about this now.

2.38pm - Kirk ''None taken.''

2.40pm - Kirk ''Can I call you tonight?''

.•♫•♬•

You were lounging on your bed, legs crossed at the ankles with a new book you'd bought earlier sitting on your lap. You had been reading the same page for the last 15 minutes, your eyes sneaking looks at your phone, face down on the bed, taunting you. Thank God you didn't have to go to work tomorrow either, it was almost 2am.

You were waiting for his call. You figured you still had a few minutes to spare, putting your book down and swinging your legs over the side of your bed. Then the phone rang, your heart almost bursting out of your chest. You turned back and flipped your phone, seeing his fake name across the screen. You picked it up, the device vibrating violently.

''Hello?''

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie #for a good time call

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place. 

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal. 

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #mcu #marvel #captain america #sam wilson #natasha romanov #au #tattoo au

[homesweetgoodneighbor]

As the holidays speed towards us like a bullet train, here are more ways to support/survive the fiber artist in your life. (You might as well print and save these, because we fiber artists will never learn our lesson.):

DO:

Make them stop each day before they hurt themselves. @gootspatrol made mention of this in a comment and I added it to a reblog, but I want to say it again because it is fucking IMPORTANT. All fiber arts are pretty much repetitive stress injuries waiting to happen. People think our crafts are easy peasy and have no clue that even "easy" things can also injure a body if done too much for too long. Do not work through the pain, folks. It absolutely will come back to haunt you.

Tell them to step back and work on another project if they are getting frustrated with the one they are currently working. I promise you we ALL have multiple projects going. Sometimes a project is just being fucking argumentative, and the situation devolves into such cussing and threats that anyone overhearing will be sure you live with a serial killer. Putting it down and doing another for a while, or at least until that one also becomes the bane of our existence, always helps.

Remind them their bladder exists and isn't meant to be ignored. Yes, I know that sounds silly, but many fiber artists already have ADHD, and we are notorious for ignoring bodily processes. Forgettingto eat is one thing, but much as we'd love to, we can't will our bladders to go away.

From time to time gush at how amazing their project is looking. Your fiber artist will always invariably say "It sucks sweaty donkey balls. I want to set fire to it, but I spent too much damn money on it." Ignore that. They say that because none of us can take compliments. Inside we are squeeing that you noticed. (Note: Be genuine or say nothing at all. We can sense false praise faster than a cat can hear the canned food being opened.)

Be a buffer towards those who do not understand. Tell those who dismiss your loved one's work as anything other than "hard work filled with love" to fuck all the way off. Do feel free to be creative when doing so. You will immediately be a super hero and probably prevent that other person from having their brains ripped out through their nostril by a crochet hook.

DON'T:

Laugh when we say "Next year I will start earlier/make less/buy gift cards instead." Yes, we know we are just kidding ourselves and living in denial. It's a design flaw in a fiber artist's nature. Just hug us and move on.

Have a calendar counting down the days to the holiday they are working towards. Do not even mention time. Doing so will send them spiraling into an almost barbaric berserker frenzy. They will become the whirling dervish of the cartoon Tasmanian devil with fiber and notions being flung about. There is high probability you will be sucked into it and put to work. Unless you feel up to being conscripted into detangling a ramen noodle pile of yarn, sorting thread, or being used as a dress form dummy every ten minutes, just keep your mouth shut.

Play the "Let's mess up their counting by nonchalantly telling a story of our ancestor in 1583 who had 5 goats and worked 50 hours a week and made 100 clocks that told 20 different times..." Look, fiber artists are willing to do something that is so repetitive as to be injurous. Do you think a few more of such actions to turn you into a tasteful decoration will discourage them? Remember: we work with fiber, and a noose is nothing but a bunch of fibers twisted together and tied into a neat knot. Don't fuck with us.

Love y'all! Please take care of yourselves! Be safe and I hope to see lots of pics of finished projects!

#fiber arts #fiber crafts #crochet #knitting #embroidery #sewing #hand sewing #weaving

[mazeinthemiroh]

heyyy! can i request a stray kids reaction to their s/o asking for their fashion advice :((( i want their style so bad. thanks in advance!

stray kids reactions to their s/o asking for fashion advice

genre: general

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

pls like and reblog if you enjoy! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

well chan's fashion is literally "wear anything black and you're all set." his whole wardrobe is pitch black like there's no colour in there. because of this, he thinks his opinion of fashion to be quite limited. but in reality, it isn't all that bad. he does have a bias towards comfier clothes on himself, but he observes what looks better on others. so he will get you to try on a couple of different styles or colours of clothes for him and tell you what he thinks looks better on you.

lee know

like chan, minho prefers comfier clothes on himself. so he will set you up with some really nice casual clothes really easily. as for the nicer, more formal clothing, he can help there too! obviously, because he is an idol, he has to work with a lot of different styles. he will get you to try on styles you might not even have considered before. will make you do a whole catwalk for him and everything. takes helping you seriously but also has to have his fun!

changbin

now he would probably laugh if you asked him for fashion advice. not because he's not fashionable! only he feels that his expertise lies in other areas. nevertheless, if you want his help, who is he to deny his services? changbin ends up just spoiling you and buying you tons of clothes to try on no matter how much you object. "the only fashion advice i have is take all the clothes you possibly can!" man focuses on quality and quantity.

hyunjin

he knows which colours go with what. he just knows when something looks off; it's the artist in him. so, with that being said, he will make you try on every shade of colour until he figures out what matches your skin tone. your favourite colour is purple? he's getting you to try on lilac, indigo, lavender, magenta, everything under the sun. if you ask for his fashion advice, he's not gonna give you halfhearted comments. oh no, he's committed to that role.

han

hannie slays in every outfit. he is blessed with a perfect face, so whether he is wearing a simple fit or a stylish suit, he's looking fly af either way. consequently, he doesn't give fashion too much thought. so when you ask him for fashion advice, he pretty much says to experiment! there's no harm in thinking outside the box and adding things to your outfit to make certain aspects stand out. he encourages all that creativity.

felix

felix is so excited that you want his advice. he loves helping people in any way he can and he appreciates that you care about his opinion. he will list clothes off the top of his head that he thinks look good and flattering on your unique figure. he will offer to go shopping and get you to try on clothes for him so you can both see what suits you. will always compliment you as well as point you in the right direction.

seungmin

seungmin encourages you to be comfortable with everything else. he usually dresses in cute and comfy clothes himself. he's very boyfriend material, isn't he? he doesn't believe that you should be uncomfortable just because an outfit is stylish and trendy. he wants you to be happy and comfortable in the choices you make in your clothes, and he would never pressure you to wear anything you don't want to wear just because it looks fancy.

jeongin

this fashion king? he has all the tips. you know he dresses very well, so going to him for advice doesn't come as a surprise to him. but what he mainly focuses on is helping you find your own unique sense of style. he's not just going to dress you up in his style and call it a day. he appreciates that people have different types of looks that they're going for, and he wants to help you figure out how you can express yourself through your clothing!

#skz #stray kids #kpop #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #jeongin #yang jeongin #i.n #seungmin #kim seungmin #felix #lee felix #han #han jisung #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin #changbin #lee minho #lee know #bangchan #bang chan

[e-dubbc11]

The Sweetest Pain

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo AU x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, couple of swear words, mentions of oral sex F! Receiving, mention of fingering (18+ please, no minors or I’m telling)

Word Count: 4.7k-ish

Summary: You have a crush on your tattoo artist. As it turns out, he may have a crush on you too.

A/N: Part One of I’m not sure how many yet. This one is all the way self indulgent right down to some of the tattoo photos in the moodboard. Bottom center are all mine and the octopus is the reference photo my tattoo artist is working from for my latest one which isn’t finished yet. Based off of the lovely conversation my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass and I had while I was being tattooed this last time. I hope you like it! ❤️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Casually thumbing through all the receipts in your wallet, you were looking for a specific one. You knew the appointment was coming up soon and you just wanted to make sure you had the right date…actually that was a lie, you knew exactly what day your appointment was on but you wanted to look at it again. Just looking at the receipt caused a smile to stretch across your face…every time.

At the top of the receipt had the date of your appointment, April 21, 2023, the line underneath the date had your name and phone number, the time of your appointment, and the name of your tattoo artist, Billy Russo.

Billy Russo. Just his name prompted the butterflies in your stomach and sent shivers down your spine. He was handsome, sweet, and had a very gentle touch when it came to tattooing whereas some artists you had previously gone to, did not. Looking at him, you swear he could have been a model with his good looks and perfect smile but he was an amazing artist and the perfect artist for what you wanted permanently inked on your body.

Some people preferred colored tattoos but you were in love with black and gray and they loved you. Billy always loved to tell you how well your skin took black ink and how anytime he tattooed you, your skin healed to perfection.

“Look at that. That healed up nicely, your skin really loves black ink doesn’t it.” He’d say with a warm smile.

Not only was Billy your tattoo artist, he was also your friend, texting back and forth, sending each other funny videos or memes, talking shit about some of his clients that didn’t sit well or that they were “flinchers.” It was just easy with him, you laughed a lot, shared stories, and Billy had many stories being a combat veteran. You felt like you could share anything with him and he was surprisingly comfortable with you, because he didn’t just openly share his life stories with a lot of people.

Billy was a very popular artist, everyone wanted an appointment with him so sometimes it was difficult to get into the shop. It took longer to do the sleeve you had been wanting than it should have because he was busy. Last time you had been at the studio, Billy put the finishing touches on it so this appointment coming up he would be tattooing your thigh, although he didn’t know it yet.

It was a sunny early spring afternoon walking to the studio in downtown Brooklyn. The breeze coming off of the water was cool but the sunlight directly hitting your skin felt exceedingly warm.

Billy had tattooed you countless times, but this would be the first time he’ll be tattooing you in a relatively intimate place, it was all you could think about, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Better to get it out of your system now than start to blush while you’re in the chair.

You were close and could see the shop window up ahead: Anvil Tattoo Studio. Goosebumps peppered across your skin as you fumbled for the door handle, you swallowed hard, and the butterflies in your stomach began to stir. You took a deep breath before walking through the door.

It was just another appointment, relax.

The scents of green soap, shaving cream, and something else that you never could quite put your finger on but the only way to describe it was…sterile, wafted through the air as you walked inside. The buzzing of the tattoo machines altogether sounded like a cluster of cicadas as they scratched and scraped across the skin. Closing the door behind you, Billy looked up from the client he was working on and smiled his perfect smile at you, and your stomach dropped.

So much for not blushing.

Billy’s best friend Frank sat in the chair across from him, watching closely as Billy placed red ink into a woman’s arm.

“I’m just finishing up, y/n. I’m so sorry I’m running late.” He said apologetically.

As you took a seat on the couch, Frank whispered something to Billy that made him look in your direction and smile. All of a sudden Frank was sitting next to you on the couch.

“How ya doin’, kid? What are ya gettin’ today?” Frank asked with a smirk on his face.

You smiled back. “I’m good, Frank! And today I’m getting an octopus.”

He looked at your arm with the sleeve, pointed and said “Well, I know you’re not putting it on that arm. You gonna start work on your other arm?”

You bit down on your lower lip, shook your head and gently touched your leg. “Actually, I want this one…on my thigh.”

Frank raised his eyebrows and sounded surprised when he replied “Really?” A sly smile spread across his face.

“What’s that look for?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Frank glanced at Billy, then back at you. “Bill know that you want your tattoo there?”

“Well, no…not yet. You saw me, I just got here.” You said nervously.

Frank continued to smirk at you.

“Ok, well I gotta get goin’. You have fun, kid. I wanna see a picture when it’s done and if know Bill like I think I do, it’s not getting finished tonight.” He said.

Looking a little confused, you replied. “I dunno, Frank. Billy works pretty fast.”

Frank reached out and grabbed the door handle. And only loud enough for you to hear, he whispered “When he wants to. Why do you think it took him so long to do that sleeve of yours?” He gave you a wink and walked out.

You sat back against the couch with Frank’s words played again in your head. “When he wants to.” What was that supposed to mean? Did Billy purposely work slower on your sleeve so he could see you more often?

Billy could have any woman he wanted. Sometimes they would come into the studio in droves wanting to make an appointment with him. He’d always tell them he’s booked solid for the next six months, which wasn’t a lie. You witnessed it firsthand one night while you were in the chair.

They all came in batting their eyelashes and twirling their hair asking for something small that ANY tattoo artist could do. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at every sound that came out of their mouths because you had to admit, it did make you a little jealous even though you had no right to be.

Billy tattooed a lot of people, it was how he made his living. He wasn’t just yours, but maybe you wanted him to be. Maybe you wanted him to tenderly touch your skin in other ways, not just in a professional setting, and because he wants to and not because you’re paying him to.

As he finished up with his client, it was hard not to steal glances at him. He really was the most handsome man you had ever seen but you knew he couldn’t have the same feelings for you that you had for him. Yes, you were friends, but that’s it.

But what if Frank was right? What if he wasn’t joking around and Billy did work slower on purpose so he could see you more often. Could Billy Russo have on crush on you too?

This could turn out to be a long night.

After Billy’s client paid for her tattoo, she said goodbye and walked toward the entrance of the shop. On her way out the door, she glared at you and walked out. What possesses people to be nasty to someone they don’t even know?

Maybe she, like all the women that stop into the shop, had a crush on Billy too. Still, there was no excuse for behavior like that so you returned the gesture and narrowed your eyes back at her before she walked out of the shop.

Walking out from behind the front desk, you finally got a good look at Billy today. He was wearing a green waffle knit shirt, black jeans, and black boots whereas most of the time he would be wearing a shirt with his shop logo on it.

With his arms stretched out, you moved in close for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was the standard greeting you usually got from Billy with an extra squeeze at the end of the hug followed by the biggest smile. This really was one of your favorite places to be.

“Come on over, have a seat at the desk while I clean up and then we can get started.” He said.

Billy only had one other artist working today and he was just about done with his client.

“I’m almost done for the day, Bill. I’ll clean up and take off in a few.” He said.

Warmth spread to your chest as you asked Billy. “Is anyone else working today, Billy?”

The scent of 409 cleaner hung in the air while he was wiping down his tattoo chair. He smiled again and answered. “Nope, it’s just you and me tonight y/n.”

Oh no.

You quickly changed the subject. “Frank didn’t want to stick around tonight?” Frank always liked visiting with Billy while he worked, they were best friends and he always seemed to like visiting with you too when you came in.

“Ah Frankie said he had to get the kids off the school bus and make dinner tonight so he couldn’t hang out. He always likes it when you come in though.” Said Billy.

Was he the only one that likes it when you come into the shop?

“Why do you think it took him so long to do that sleeve of yours?”

Those words sounded like a broken record playing over and over in your mind and you remembered the first time he touched that tattoo needle to your skin. You placed your arm on the stand alone armrest and he started in on the outline but quickly paused.

“You’re gonna have to move a little closer to me, darlin’. It’s ok, I don’t bite.” He had said with a wink and a slightly wicked smile, as he pulled you closer to him.

The little flirtations progressed from there.

Starting out with a ¼ sleeve, he tattooed from your collar bone to just past your shoulder. You had to move your tank top and bra strap out of the way so he could work on that area, resting his hands on your chest, his long agile fingers wrapped tightly around the pen as he meticulously shaded the poppy flowers and lace. Every time he exhaled, his breath came in contact with you, goosebumps would scatter across your skin and he’d always ask if you were cold.

“Oh! No, no…Billy I’m fine.” You said.

When he tattooed the skull on your triceps, you had to lay face down on the tattoo chair, fingers grazing his pant leg, rubbing the fabric in between your fingertips took your mind off of the pain from the shading, that spot is surprisingly tender.

He pulled you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” You asked.

He smirked. “I said what are we doing today?”

“Oh! Right! I’d like an octopus.” You answered.

His deep brown eyes lit up as he asked excitedly. “Oh are we starting in on your other arm?” He took a sip of his water.

He wasn’t prepared for your answer.

“I’d actually like it on my thigh.” You said.

Billy coughed up a little water and swallowed hard as he finished cleaning up from his previous client and he seemed a little nervous. But he usually doesn’t get nervous and seeing him this way made you feel like maybe he DOES have a little crush on you.

He cleared his throat. “Oh! On your thigh? Ok, well do you have any, um, reference pictures for me?”

You pulled out your phone and navigated to the photo gallery, where you had a whole folder full of tattoo ideas and opened the photo of the one you liked. “I really like this little guy.” You said.

“Oh yeah, he’s great…this one is gonna be fun. Text that to me and I’ll start work on the stencil. You want this big, right? Take up most of the top of your thigh, right here?” He said as he placed both hands on your jeans, showing you the size he was thinking of.

“Yes, that’s a good size.” You answered.

“Come back and sit with me while I draw this up. You can tell me what’s new with you.” He said, rolling up his sleeves, revealing his patriotic tattoo sleeve underneath which you found incredibly sexy.

Billy asked about how work was going and life in general. You, in turn, asked how the business was doing, how his mom was even though he hated to talk about it. He had told you awhile ago he visits his dying mother once a week.

You think he mentioned that to you because subconsciously he wanted someone else to know, he didn’t want to keep that so close to the chest. It was a deep dark secret that hardly anyone knew about but you were privy to because he felt like he could trust you.

“She didn’t want me, she never wanted me.” He had said in a low voice, barely audible. “Shit, I really can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

“You were a child, Billy. It’s ok to be angry.” You told him. “It’s just not good to keep that stuff inside, I’m glad you told me.”

Hovering over the light board, Billy continued to trace the outline of the octopus. “I’m almost done if you wanna change into your shorts.”

As you were changing in the restroom, you violently shook your hands and kicked your legs around to try and get out all of your nerves. The energy inside your body was shooting around like a pinball in a pinball machine, bouncing from one corner to the other and the butterflies in your stomach were turning in circles.

Stepping out from the restroom, suddenly you were a little self-conscious and felt exposed. Billy had never seen your bare legs before and the bike shorts you had on didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“All set?” He asked, his stare lingering longer than maybe he wanted it to.

You nodded and walked over toward his chair where he knelt down in front of you to shave the top of your thigh and just like that, your nerves were back with reinforcements. He was eye level with your core and your mind started to wander. You wondered what it would be like to have Billy’s face in between your legs, to have his beard tickle the inside of your thighs, placing kisses on the inside of your knees, and leaving love bites all over your stomach before devouring you.

It made you wet just thinking about it.

You pictured him pulling sinful sounds of pleasure from you using just his fingers. The same talented fingers he used to create beautiful works of art, now being used to draw circles on your clit. Parting your folds with one finger, then stretching you further with another, hitting that spot that makes your vision go white and your head spin.

“What do you think of the placement?” Billy asked, snapping you back to reality. “Go check it out in the mirror.”

You tried not to fall flat on your face as you slowly walked over to the full length mirror to look at the stencil, it took up most of the space on the top of your thigh and some of the tentacles wrapped slightly onto the side of your leg. He hadn’t even started yet and it already looked awesome.

“I love it!” You exclaimed.

Billy told you to stand around and wait for it to dry while he set up his machine, ink wells and other supplies. It was going to be mostly black and gray but the suction cups, you wanted them to be blue.

While you were waiting for the stencil to dry, you passed the time by checking out the other artist’s portfolios when Billy’s voice boomed from across the room. “ANDY! Stop checkin’ out y/n’s ass or you’re fired!”

No one could see, but you cracked a smile before you turned around to look at Andy who looked like a deer in headlights. He apologized profusely and you continued to look at everyone’s artwork while the stencil finished drying.

“Should be dry, y/n. Come have a seat.” He said.

The stack of paper towels was piled high on his side table, along with the box of black nitrile gloves. Everything was ready to go.

As you tried to get comfortable, Billy was figuring out how he wanted your leg to rest. You told him just to manipulate your leg to how he wanted it and because you have a dirty mind, you bit down on your lower lip to keep from laughing, realizing how that sounded when it came out. A slight smile spread across his face too.

He placed the copied photo you sent in front of him so he had a reference to work off of and got to work. The pen moved smoothly across your skin, drawing a solid black line for the outline of the head. The black ink pooling at the starting point as he wiped the excess away, concentrating on drawing a perfect line.

His gentle exhale grazed your thigh and left you wanting to clench but you couldn’t do that without risking him messing up, so you just held your breath in silence.

“Relax, darlin’. Ya know I tell you that every time you’re here. Relax your leg and turn it toward me…that’s it.” He whispered.

He had no idea what this was doing to you.

With both of his hands resting on your thigh, you closed your eyes and began to daydream again. You wondered if Billy had ever used his tattoo chair for play, thinking about his hands on the tops of your thighs and your hands making a mess of his ink like hair, as his tongue explores the part of your body emanating the most heat. The low moans he pulls from your lips fetch a wicked smile from him against your entrance that leaves your release glistening in his beard.

The long drag of the single needle against your leg jerked you out of your dream.

As he moved closer toward your inner thigh to draw one of the tentacles, the vibration of the needle hit a special spot that had you clenching your teeth. He stopped and looked at you, his eyes as black as the ink he was using, and the concern in his voice made you smile. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”

“No, Billy I’m fine…really.” You whispered which was followed by a slight chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. His tone was silvery and sweet like candy.

“Oh it’s nothing.” You said.

“Come on, y/n. Tell me.” He begged.

You paused for a second and finally got the courage to say it out loud.

“I was just thinking that after all these years of you tattooing me, you finally got my pants off.” And you burst out laughing.

Billy’s smile extended from ear to ear. He placed his pen on the table, took off his gloves, and said he had to go outside for a minute.

He stepped out onto the back deck, and left you inside alone. Andy took off a little while ago so it was just you and Billy at the shop.

A few minutes had passed when he came back inside, you were sitting sideways on the chair with your legs dangling off of the side. He walked right to you and stopped, the gap between your bodies was small and he gazed down at you. His onyx colored eyes had you frozen in place, almost forgetting to even breathe.

He had never looked more gorgeous.

As he bent at the waist, still staring at you, he raised one finger and said. “No one…has ever made me blush like that, y/n.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You asked, looking up at him through your dark lashes.

Billy started to close the gap between your bodies even more like he was going to kiss you but pulled away just as fast.

“Lemme ask you something, y/n. Why do you think I took so long to finish your sleeve?” He asked.

Oh shit…Frank was right. But you decided to play dumb.

“Well, I don’t know Billy…I just figured since we spend a lot of time just talking before we actually start tattooing, we run out of time and you just book me another session. No big deal.” You said.

He starting shaking his head and put his hands on his hips. “No, that’s bullshit. You’ve seen how fast I can work, I coulda had that sleeve done in half the sessions it actually took.”

“Then tell me, Billy. Tell me why it took you so long.” You said with your voice slightly raised.

He ran his fingers through his raven colored hair and brushed his beard with his fingers. His slightly agitated state told you that he wasn’t used to saying how he felt.

“I did it on purpose so I could see you more often, ok?!”

You thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest. The feeling WAS mutual.

“And look, I know you’re probably mad that I made you come in—“

You interrupted him.

“I like you too, Billy.” You weren’t sure that he heard you over his ranting.

“What?” He asked and took a few steps closer again.

“I.Like.You.Too.”

You barely got that last word out before his lips crashed onto yours, his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue touched your teeth begging to twist and knot with yours. His kisses were hungry, all tongue and teeth as his nipped up and down your neck. Your body felt like it was on fire and you didn’t want him to stop but you were in the middle of getting a tattoo, so you pulled away.

“Billy? My leg.” You said, shyly.

“Fuck…I forgot.” He said as the two of you started to chuckle as he cupped your cheeks and leaned in to kiss you one more time.

After you cooled down at little, you and Billy resumed your session. He finished the outline and did a little shading before calling it a night, although it was difficult to concentrate on anything except remembering Billy’s lips all over you.

“I don’t wanna keep you here too late, beautiful.” Billy said with a warm smile as he started to clean off your skin, prepping it for the tegaderm dressing he was going to put on. The clear plastic film was thin, sterile and it kept out water and germs but it was also breathable which made the healing process a lot faster.

On his knees in front of you, he carefully placed large strips of the flexible plastic on your leg, making sure to cover the entire tattoo. Every time his calloused fingers grazed your leg, he felt the goosebumps rise up to touch his fingertips. You couldn’t help it.

“Is it cold in here, y/n?” Billy’s voice sounded very concerned.

You shook your head slowly back and forth, biting down on your lower lip and gazed down into his intense brown eyes. The skin on the top of your thigh was red and hot to the touch. It matched the skin on your cheeks. Billy inched closer to you, his warm exhale brushed against the inner part of your knee which made your vision hazy.

You could tell he was having a hard time concentrating too.

“Ok, you’re all set.” Billy said taking off his gloves. “That’s gonna look badass when it’s all done. When do you wanna come back?”

He asked nervously.

“Billy?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t make me wait.” You said with a slight hitch in your voice.

Throwing his gloves away, he started to walk over to his desk calendar.

“I don’t want you to wait, so just tell me when you want—“

You cut him off.

“I’m not talking about that, Billy.” You said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Then what—“

You interrupted him again.

“I want you to kiss me again, Billy. Don’t make me wait.”

He delicately moved a stray hair away from your eyes as you clasped your hands around his neck and pushed yourself up onto your toes to kiss him again. The taste of peppermint on his soft lips still lingered from the gum he was chewing earlier as you allowed his tongue access to your mouth.

You clung to him almost desperately, not wanting to let him go but he was like a magnet that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull away from him.

“I want you back here in two weeks.” He said.

With your eyes wide, he kind of caught you off guard. “Oh…well ok. Just let me know which—“

It was his turn to interrupt you.

“But I wanna see you tomorrow…for dinner.”

A shy smile played across your face.

“Really?” You asked.

Billy’s entire body smiled at you.

“Y/n, I’ve wanted this since the very first day you walked into my shop. I feel…” He paused, grazed his beard with his thumb and forefinger, and sat down on his tattoo chair.

“Billy?”

“Every time I tattoo you, I always end up telling you something about myself that I thought I would end up taking to the grave whether it’s about my shitty childhood or how I listen to 80’s hair metal when no one’s around. Remember what I told you, don’t you DARE repeat that!” He cracked a smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his idle threat but you were just as comfortable around Billy as he was with you.

“The point is, I like this…being comfortable enough where it’s easy for me to share this stuff and it’s easy with you.”

“That’s what friends are for, Billy.” You said.

“Well, what if I wanna be more than friends?” He asked.

Billy looked nervous after saying that, almost scared as to how you would reply.

“Like friends that see each other naked?” You said with a little laugh.

“How many times are you gonna make me blush today?” He asked trying to hold in his laughter.

Walking over to where he was seated, you straddled him so your knees were on either side of his hips and adjusted yourself so you were firmly pressing down on his crotch.

“At least one more time, handsome.” You whispered against his mouth before your lips collided with his. “I like making you blush.”

As you gently nibbled on his ear lobe, he let out a low moan before saying “Oh I’m gonna have my hands full with you, huh sweet girl.”

Unexpectedly, he thrusted his hips up against your core and you expressed a tremor of pleasure. The thin fabric of the bike shorts didn’t shield you from feeling the outline of his hard cock against you, teasing you, and you wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, soaking him and the chair underneath him so much that he would need more than just a paper towel to clean it up.

You’d save that for another night though.

“Mmmm hmmmm...but I’ll let you take me out to dinner first, baby.” You said.

Billy leaned forward to kiss you again as you raked your fingers through his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp. He kissed you with a passion like his kiss was always meant to be yours, tasting you, and binding his body to yours so he would never forget all of the curves and hollows of you that haven’t yet been touched with his tattoo pen.

“Ok, well let me finish cleaning up and I’ll take you home.” Billy said.

A mischievous grin stretched across your lips.

“Take your time, handsome because god damn, I love to watch you work.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo au #billy russo fluff #billy russo smut

[woojungz]

their love languages! 💭🎀

❝ xikers x gn!reader

𓂃𓈒 finally wrote something for all 10 members(⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^)

word count: 1.5k

( likes and reblogs appreciated!♡ )

✧𓂃𓈒MINJAE.

i'm a firm believer that minjae is so huge on words of affirmation. he's already written roadys long messages before, like i’m saying 'essay long' messages, thanking us for keeping up with them and having fun last tour. he loves pouring his all through heartfelt words he tells you at random times of the day, whether it be through text or if you're hanging out together. tells you he loves you everytime he can, the members even cringing whenever he does that in front of everyone else. they don't let him catch a break😭 the other way around, i think he also likes receiving words of affirmation. remember that one fancall where he asked a roady why they love him? as his s/o, let him know how well he's doing as a leader please. he also incredibly cherishes quality time with you because as the group leader, he doesn't get all the time in the world to be with you even if he wanna :(

✧𓂃𓈒JUNMIN.

i'm not sure if this counts as words of affirmation, but i'll just say it is. junmin really loves updating you throughout the day, like i'm saying tons of messages consisting of his selfies, food he's eaten, and places he's been too. dude is gonna blow up your phone at this point😭 but you don't really mind. even though you're not right there beside him, you feel like you are, because it's like he tells you updates of every single move he makes for the day. you literally have a collection of his photos he sent you, in your gallery. you're actually suprised it's a lot more than the pictures you've taken yourself?! he also really loves to do acts of service for you, he's actually one of the members that keeps their dorm mess free. so if there were times you're stressed or too occupied with work that you weren't able to pay attention to other things around you, junmin will do his best to help ease your workload!

✧𓂃𓈒SUMIN.

i like to think sumin is really into gift giving, and the things he gives you are really personal which makes it a lot more special. he really enjoys having you as his subject in his paintings of drawings, and would love to gift it to you once he's finished. also, you can't miss the sweet messages he leaves you behind the paper of the drawings! everyone knows sumin owns a lot of keychains right, literally his keychains weigh more than the bag it's attached to😭 he'd let you take anything from his collection, and would sometimes even buy you new ones! aside from that, even though we see him sometimes reject physical touch with the members, he'd initiate it himself with you. if you guys are living together, you'd maybe wanna marry him already because this guy knows how to maintain a home. this paragraph is gonna get longer if i explain, so i'll have it at just that.

✧𓂃𓈒JINSIK.

he's kinda on the same level of sumin when it comes to gift giving. our jinsik is an artist right? so he'd spent most of his time making drawings for you so you can turn it into your phone wallpaper! or even does short animations for you, like that stuff takes such a long time and jinsik would just spend his whole day making it for you. sometimes you'd catch him drawing something, but he suddenly hides it from you because he says he wants it to be a surprise!! also this guy is a real enjoyer of quality time too. whenever his family would be going somewhere, he'd want you to tag along with them. it makes him so happy to see all his favorite people in one place together :(

✧𓂃𓈒HYUNWOO.

i don't know if this is kinda unexpected but if you look closely, hyunwoo really likes physical touch. this boy always needs to hug you everytime you meet. and those times where you thought he was making kissy faces to you as a joke so you never reciprocate it, yeah... he was being fr that he wants a kiss. you just realize it when he suddenly sulks beside you as if there was a random rain cloud that manifested on top of his head, that suddenly his mood got sad. but once you do kiss him then he's already back to happy! also, he really likes to backhug you. at first he might be kind of cautious with physical touch if the other members could see, because he's often the center of their teasing. but as time went on, he actually didn't care anymore, he's gonna hug you whenever he wanna!!

✧𓂃𓈒JUNGHOON.

our hoonie really loves quality time with you! everytime he's free from schedule, all he really wants to do is spend the time to explore food spots with you (he really enjoys eating). he'd drag you along to places you've never been to before so you guys could try the randomest food ever. oftentimes he doesn't really show much expression right, so you also love it when you get to eat with him because he gets very extra while eating. especially when the food is good, you'll get to witness a bunch of reactions from him! just like hyunwoo, he's suprisingly into physical touch with you. no one of the members expected that at all! he'd like to have his hand somewhere on you, just making sure that there's no one else around to see this side of him. it's like he doesn't even expect himself to act like that, it's just because he's so in love with you he unconsciously wants to touch you all the time😭

✧𓂃𓈒SEEUN.

he's just some guy that has a lot of love to give😔 i like to think he enjoys giving all the love languages to his s/o, he's really sweet overall as a boyfriend. he would wanna devote himself to you. he's really heavily leaning on physical touch though, like randomly kisses you in moments you don't expect (i mean, this dude kisses his members randomly and even kisses the camera itself when it's on him😭). he can't sit still without having his hand on you all the time. also this guy doesn't like being locked up in their dorms whenever they don't have any schedules, so he's quickly ringing your phone up to ask you to spend time with him, hence another quality time enjoyer.

✧𓂃𓈒YUJUN.

physical touch on top when it comes to him!! sometimes the members have expressed that yujun gets so touchy, and he gives the best hugs. such a cute cuddler you know. everywhere you guys are spotted together, yujun always has a hand around your shoulder, waist, or his favorite: entangled with your hand too. if he's standing near you, he's not gonna let a gap between you too happen, your shoulders need to be touching😭 sometimes how question if he can even exist without being beside you all the time. goodluck dealing with him because it seems like yujun has a never ending amount of energy. also!! quality time with him in the form of playing video games together.

✧𓂃𓈒HUNTER.

he actually said it himself when another roady asked him!! hunter really enjoys quality time. even before then, this guy really loves to travel to different countries. he tells you he'd love to take you there some time, doesn't really care if he's been there for the hundredth time, as long as he sees the smile on your face that you're happy to spend time with him. even locally, he enjoys hanging out at parks and aquariums so expect a lot of your dates to be at those places. another is that hunter loves to give you gifts. it's not just ordinary gifts, he loves to give you ones that he could always see you using. mostly it'll be clothes or accessories, and it makes him really happy to see you show up for dates wearing his gifts :(

✧𓂃𓈒YECHAN.

he's kinda new to this relationship thing, very awkward at first. a stark contrast to how you met him, he's really extroverted right. it's honestly kinda cute to see him try his hardest in doing all the couple things he thought he has to do, so let him know that he can breath sometimes and just be himself!! he tries to ask for relationship advice from his hyungs, sometimes it backfires on him because he accidentally understands it a different way. so then he resorted to asking his older sisters instead. he may struggle a bit with words (in the relationship), even though he's normally so talkative. so he likes to express his love through actions. he remembers your favorite things, would love to buy you gifts even though there's no really occasion. and mostly tries to help you any way he could!! please notice how hard he tries to show acts of service!

#xikers x reader #xikers imagines #minjae #junmin #sumin #jinsik #hyunwoo #junghoon #seeun #yujun #hunter #yechan #xikers

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 16

All right my lovelies we have a proper count for how long this going to be. 17 parts with a epilogue. So by Tuesday this story will be done. I am so grateful for everyone who has commented and reblogged this story every time a new part has come out. You know who you are. I love each of you!!

This is it, the part everyone has been waiting for. The boys finally get their heads out of their asses. Yay!!! (Insert Kermit the frog arm waving gif here). A little Buckingham, too. ;) The next part is a little spicy (no actual sex is shown but Steve and Eddie do get naked). And then a super soft epilogue.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15

*

Gareth was on the phone with their agent when Eddie arrived for practice. Jeff was pacing and Brian was in the corner with his head in his hands.

Eddie skidded to a stop and opened his mouth to ask when Gareth said, “Yeah, yeah, they’re all here. Yeah one second.” And he hit a button on his phone.

“Can everybody here me?” the agent asked.

All of them chorused the affirmative.

“Great,” the agent said, his voice dripping on the edge of too excited. “I got a call from Upside Down Records, they’re based out of Chicago. And they want you come and record a full album with them in August.”

“I’m going to need you to repeat that,” Jeff said.

“Upside Down Records wants Corroded Coffin to record an album in August.”

“Holy shit!” Gareth breathed. “That’s so awesome.”

Brian coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Did they say why August?”

The agent chuckled. “It’s when their studio will be available. They have a band in there right now. But they have to present their album by the end of June. So August was the earliest they could get you in. But they’re super happy to have you.”

“Thanks, Murray,” Eddie breathed.

“I’ll get started trying to find you guys a place to stay while you’re recording,” Murray said. “It will most likely to be a loft where you all would be staying together.”

“That’s fine...” Jeff stuttered. “That’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Gareth said. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks again,” Eddie said.

“Of course, boys,” Murray said. “Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

Brian let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Congrats, I mean it,” Murray said. “I couldn’t believe those asshats at the Queen’s Crown both passed on you. And when you guys go platinum I intend to send them black roses.”

That got them laughing.

“There we are,” Murray said. “Now I’ve gotta go. I’ll keep in contact with everyone to let you know how the living arrangement search is going, okay?”

Everyone voiced their agreement and then the call ended.

There was silence for about a minute and then they were jumping and running to give each other hugs.

“We did it!” Eddie screamed.

“I’ve got to call my girlfriend,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” Gareth said. “I’ve got my own phone calls to make. I think we all do.”

Brian giggled. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re not practicing tonight.”

“No,” Eddie agreed. “But after we make our calls, we are going out to celebrate.”

The other three whooped and cheered.

Eddie called Wayne and Chrissy. If he wiped away a tear after his conversation with his uncle, no he didn’t. He wiped away several. Chrissy on the other hand screamed so loud that the other members stopped and stared at him.

“I love you too,” Eddie said. “But I’m already destined to lose my hearing as a metal artist, can you not, you know, speed up the process?”

She laughed.

After he was done with her he stared at the phone.

Gareth noticed and ended the call he was on with. He walked over to Eddie and put his hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be happy for you and you know it,” he told Eddie fiercely. “He’s been your biggest cheerleader since the two of you got your heads out of each other’s asses.”

“I know,” Eddie whispered. “I just wish there was a way he could come with us.”

Gareth gave his shoulder a squeeze and went back to the others.

Jeff cleared his throat. “All right, it’s time to party.”

*

Eddie knew he didn’t have to wear something nice to the gala, but he wanted to anyway. He dressed in a nice black button up with a red vest, the shirt only buttoned from the start of the vest, down. He paired it with tight black jeans and his white sneakers. His hair was pulled back with a black, skull-themed bandanna.

He checked in the mirror again, fiddling with his hair for the billionth time. Chrissy had to drag him from his apartment to get him to stop.

Chrissy herself had dressed up, wearing a pink sheath dress with a white cardigan.

When they got the gallery, they were pleased to see that most of the people had dressed up as well and that set Eddie at ease.

He wandered around the gallery drinking punch and eating the refreshments. In the crowd he spotted Chrissy and Robin with their heads together, giggling at something written in the little program they had passed out. Eddie paused for a moment.

Chrissy threw her head back and Robin looked at her with stars in her eyes.

Well that was certainly interesting. He only hoped that Diamond wasn’t against inter-employee relations, because both of those girls were well on their way to being completely smitten with each other.

He spotted the Karen before he spotted the 18+ area. She was screaming that her little crouch goblin had slipped into the adult area and seen the most awful licentious things imaginable. The guard was pointing out that if she hadn’t let him run around unsupervised he wouldn’t have seen those things. The area was clearly marked and behind a purple satin curtain.

And that’s when Eddie spotted it. Yup. Great, big, fucking purple curtain. With banners stating adults only, 18+, enter at your own risk. He slipped in and was pleased to note that inside they also had partitions up separating, nudity, violence, and social commentary (things that didn’t quite fit in the other two, but were sensitive nonetheless. Scenes after an earthquake, children starving, that sort of thing.)

Eddie started there. Most of these were photos from the photography majors. There were a few paintings and one very notable charcoal drawing. He stopped in front of that one for a while. It was of the 1969 Stonewall Riot. It had a ribbon next to it for best depiction of a historical event.

He moved on to the violence section. The pictures of war. The murder of Caesar. And one particularly hilarious scene of the Bible story of Judith slitting the throat of Holofernes with Eddie as the dude getting murdered. He laughed. He supposed the pose could be interpreted that way. Even if it was a bit over the top. He looked closer at the name and then he really started laughing. Michelle Gardener. The bitch that tried to make Steve move from his spot.

His very first rescue of Steve. Before they talked, before they became friends, before they became essential to each other.

And then finally he got to the nudity section. This is where most of Joyce’s classes were located.

Here was Eddie as Morpheus, as Lucifer, as Lysander. But then he got the center piece. It had won best in show. And it was magnificent. The come hither stare, the sheer white drapes opened to reveal his prone form, the gracefulness of the lines. He was enraptured. None of the other artists had painted him like this. This was a declaration of love if there ever was one.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, appearing suddenly at his elbow.

Eddie’s head whipped around to face him. “Holy shit, Steve, it’s beautiful.”

Steve smiled. “I had to keep taking it home so you wouldn’t see it before now. I wanted it to be surprise. I was so tempted to keep it to myself to only let a handful of people to see it. Mrs Byers. Robin. You. But Robin was right, art is meant to be seen. So here it is for everyone to see.”

“She’s always right,” Eddie said with a soft smile.

“I know,” Steve said with a grin. “It’s so annoying.”

They stared at the painting for awhile just admiring Steve’s work, when he spoke.

“Most of these will be auctioned off at a silent auction later tonight, the proceeds will go toward helping disadvantaged youth to get into art,” he murmured.

Eddie looked up at him panicked, point up at their painting. “Is–”

Steve shook his head. “I couldn’t bare the thought of it going to some random stranger. So I dug into my savings at bought it outright. It’s yours, actually. I’m giving it to you.”

Eddie closed his eyes. “Steve...”

Steve took his hand. “Robin kept begging me to tell you. But I was enjoying our time together so much. But I’m not staying in Indiana. I’m leaving for Chicago at the end of July. I’ll be doing my student teaching and getting my teaching certificate for the state of Illinois. So it’s yours. To have something to remember me by. I just hope you’ll come visit me sometime.”

“Oh.” Eddie opened his eyes to see that Steve was on the verge of tears. “Sweetheart, I think it will go nicely in our apartment in Chicago. Unless you already have a place?”

Steve stared at him in shock. “No, no. You can’t follow me to Chicago. You’ve got a life ahead of you here. You guys are on the verge of making it big. I refuse to be the reason you gave up on your dreams.”

Eddie gently took Steve’s face in his hands. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you for about a week now, but I couldn’t because I didn’t want to face the fact that I would be leaving you here in Indy.”

Steve blinked, unable to cock his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Our manager, Murray Bauman,” he said softly, “called last week. There’s a record label in Chicago that wants us to come and record an album for them in August.”

“You’re moving to Chicago for a record deal?” Steve asked, needing to be sure.

“That’s right, beautiful,” Eddie murmured. “We’re moving on to the same place.”

“Eddie I love you so much,” Steve cried, tears starting to roll down his face.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s. They both melted into the kiss and Steve clung to the back of Eddie’s vest.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered when he pulled away from Steve’s lips.

“Are you sure you want to move in with me?” Steve asked, breathless. “I–”

Eddie cooed gently. “I know it’s fast. I know we had a rough start. But baby, there is no one else I would rather be with then you.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle. “Okay. Yeah.” He looked up into Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“We have plenty of time,” Eddie said with a soft smile. “We have two and half months to find something that fits both our needs.”

Steve kissed him again. Hard and deep. Like he was trying to let Eddie know every thought and feeling that he kept inside.

When they pulled apart Eddie whispered, “Do you have to stay?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not participating in the auction so I can leave at any time.”

“Great!” Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and hauled him through the gallery as he looked for Chrissy and Robin.

When he spotted them, he made a beeline straight for them, Steve struggling to keep up.

“Hello, ladies!” Eddie greeted with a wide grin on his face. He dropped his keys into Chrissy’s hand. “I’m taking my boyfriend home and locking ourselves in my apartment.”

“Eddie!” Steve admonished, but couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face.

“About damn time!” Robin crowed. She gave Steve a big kiss on the cheek.

“Would you make sure to grab my painting before the auction starts?” he asked as he wiped his cheek.

“Absolutely!” she said and then pushed the two of them. “Now shoo!”

Eddie and Steve laughed.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Chrissy called.

“Back at you, bitch!” Eddie said over his shoulder.

Robin turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Now why would you need to use protection?”

Chrissy batted her eyelashes prettily at her. “Because it’s cleaner, and more fun with a ribbed action.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Oh. So is that on offer then?”

Chrissy pulled her in for a gut searing kiss.

“That would be a yes,” Robin said dumbly and then kissed her again.

Part 17 Epilogue

@artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy @messrs-weasley @sharingisntkaren @nohomoyesbi

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

[navybrat817]

Somewhere I Belong

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Female Reader Summary: When your insecurities get the best of you, Bucky tells you what you need to hear. Word Count: Almost 1.9k Warnings: Angst, angst with a happy ending, feels, insecurities, crying, established relationship, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) A/N: Hey, lovelies! This fic is very personal to me as some of the things discussed are things that I have felt. If you read this and you have as well, I hope you feel seen and know that you matter. Beta read by the beautiful @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @maysdigitalarts Moodboard by the incredible @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Focus on the good.

Setting the paintbrush down, a frown crossed your face as you began to do the exact opposite. It wasn’t that you didn’t paint the ocean well. It was beautiful because you created it. Therefore, there was nothing wrong with it in your eyes. It still didn’t stop you from trying to pick it apart.  Especially since you ended up painting dark, crashing waves instead of the peaceful ocean you intended.

Gotta go where the muse takes me. Maybe one day I won’t be my worst critic.

You forced yourself to take one step back and then another as you worked your way toward your phone. The nagging voice in your mind whispered, “Don’t do it!” as you picked it up and opened one of your social apps. Like an addict trying to satisfy a craving, your finger swiped mindlessly along the screen. And the longer you kept at it, the more empty you began to feel with each passing image and text.

It wasn’t that you meant to be insecure. You were merely human. Naturally, there would be days where you felt out of sorts. Lately, it was more than that each time you looked at a photo or post. It was as if every word out of your mouth went unheard when you decided to share. Where you used to be a shining light, you were now a shadow that people scrolled by to look at others. A forgotten outline that would fade once the sun went down.

Shut it off.

You sniffled as you tucked your phone in your purse. You supposed you should have been used to the irrational insecurities by now. Of couse, there were going to be times when you went days or weeks without talking to a few loved ones. And it wasn’t a slight against you if they talked to others during that time. If only that negative voice would stop nagging you.

Do I not have a place here anymore?

Looking at your painting one last time, you knew you had to get out of your apartment. If only to breathe in the fresh air and get a change of scenery. It wasn’t just that. There was someone you needed to see. Someone who could cut through your mind when it got too loud.

The love of your life.

Bucky.

He planned to work some more on his boat at the marina today. He enjoyed working with his hands and the water brought him a sense of calm when his own mind felt clouded. Your boyfriend had been through hell and back. Not only had he fought in wars, he had his very head scrambled and erased. Monsters turned him into a weapon but, after many trials and tribulations, he was free.

Now he has me.

Each time you soothed him after a nightmare was like a wake-up call that he had it worse and you should be thankful for what you had. It wasn’t fair for him to shoulder the burden of your insecurities, especially when yours were so small in comparison. He didn’t like you thinking that way. The ups and downs of life weren’t meant to be a competition. The feelings you experienced were valid, no matter how small.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at the marina, your footsteps soft as you walked across the deck. There was a good chance Bucky heard you anyway, the closer you got to his boat. The experiments forced upon him during the war and his captivity enchanced some of his senses and reflexes, which included his hearing. That meant he could also hear your pounding heart as you did your best not to have a complete breakdown. 

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder as you stopped to admire him. Your boyfriend, to put it simply, was built like a brickhouse. Over 6 feet tall, his biceps strained against the fabric of his blue henley. The shirt matched both his eyes and some of the calm water nearby. His brows pinched in concentration as he used the pliers against one of the pipes, a sense of pride filled you as you watched him at work. The sun beat down on him, but there wasn’t a drop of sweat in sight as he set the tool down. You longed to run your fingers through his short, dark hair to ground you.

Stop gawking.

Tears swam in your eyes the moment Bucky flashed a smile your way. The moment he noticed, his smile slipped away. In the blink of an eye, he hoisted himself over the side of the boat and landed silently on the deck. The man had the agility of a cat and the very thought of how amazing he was had you blubbering as he rushed over.

“Who am I killing, Beauty?” Bucky asked as he ran his hands along your arms. For as strong as he was, his touch was featherlight against your skin. And the nickname almost made your lips curl in a smile. “Give me a name.”

The question was so ridiculous that you began to laugh a little through the tears, your chest shaking as it bubbled up. The truth was, he probably would kill someone if they hurt you. You would never force more blood to stain his hands. “No one. It’s just me. It’s nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing if you’re crying.”

How could you tell the man who had his mind messed with that you didn’t want him to forget about you, like you felt so many others had? “I just wanted a reminder that I matter to someone.”

The corners of his mouth shifted downward as he slipped his arms around you, your lower lip quivering as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. That always centered you. “Oh, doll. You matter. You matter to so many people.”

“So why do I feel like I don’t belong anymore? Why do I feel like I don’t matter? Should I even bother doing what I do?”

“You want to know what I think or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

“What you think, please,” you begged. He didn’t need to placate you or your feelings.

“Okay, but I know you don’t want to hear this,” he began, taking a slow, deep breath as his hands glided along your back. “I think, lately, you’ve been basing your sense of self-worth on the approval of others.”

You flinched in his hold like he struck you. “I-I don’t. I haven’t,” you argued, but your words held no substance. 

“You haven’t? How many times have I told you to put your phone down after you’ve shared one of your paintings and you didn’t get the feedback you expected? And how many times have you asked me what’s ‘wrong’ with what you created because of that?”

Examining your feelings as he pulled you closer, he brought up a good point. When you didn’t receive the feedback you wanted on your art, it hurt. If your friends or “cheerleaders” in life faded, you felt as if you did something wrong. But Bucky was your constant, the opposite of the hurt you let fester inside.

“God, I’m pathetic,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. You were too embarrassed to look at him.

“Hey, look at me,” he urged, bringing his hands to your face. It took a second for you to open your eyes, searching his face for a look of pity. It wasn’t there. “You are not pathetic. It isn’t pathetic to want validation. But if you’re doing something at the expense of your happiness and wellbeing, you need to ask yourself why you’re doing it in the first place.”

“I love art. I love what I do. That matters to me.”

Your voice was thick with emotion, but the weight on your chest began to slowly lift away. You loved creating and expressing yourself. That was why you began to do it in the first place. Did you lose yourself along the way or was the void in your life different now?

“And that’s what matters to me. That you’re doing something you love,” he swore, his thumbs wiping the salty tears from your cheeks. “I just don’t want it to make you feel this way.”

You nodded in understanding. “Neither do I,” you said. Maybe re-evaluating your priorities could be part of the key. And, of course, remembering the roots of your passion. “And the sense of belonging?” 

“It’s your mind convincing you that you don’t when it’s the furthest thing from the truth,” he said, swallowing as he brushed away another tear. “You’d be amazed how many people you care about feel the same way.”

“Like you?” 

He shook his head, as if he sensed that you were deflecting. “This isn’t about me.”

“Bucky, do you have any idea how much you matter? The impact you’ve made on people around you? You’re a hero. You have no idea. And no matter what, you’ll always have a place with me.”

He smiled as your eyes widened. You certainly weren’t a hero, but you had a place because you belonged with him. “Did I just see the lightbulb go off in your head?”

“Shut up,” you broke into a grin as you playfully shoved at his chest. He didn’t even budge. 

“It’s true though. Those days when my thoughts are too much? I look to you and the beauty you’ve put out there. It has done more for me than you can imagine,” he explained as your eyes welled up again. You gave him a gift without even knowing. “Maybe I need to do a better job expressing that.”

“You don’t,” you assured him, rubbing his arms this time. “I need to stop overthinking.”

“I like it when you think. And I like that you trust a crazy old man like me to give you advice,” he winked, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“Not completely okay, but better than I felt before I got here.”

“Let’s make a deal,” he suggested.

“Shoot.”

“You shut your phone off for the rest of the afternoon and I’ll take you for a ride. Just let this be for now. If you want to talk more about it, we can. If not, we’ll just enjoy the view and each other’s company. Can you do that?” 

You nodded, letting him pluck your phone from your purse to turn it off. 

“And if you’re really good, I’ll let you take an extra ride,” he winked.

“Smooth, Bucky, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He snuck in another chaste kiss as he took your hand in his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, allowing him to pull you toward the boat.

Some people passed so swiftly through your life that you wondered if you ever made any kind of impact. You weren’t a perfect person. Everyone was bound to make mistakes. The people who were meant to stick around would. Even the ones who didn’t were still in a chapter of your life for a reason.

Today, you didn’t need validation. Because you mattered to the man who stole your heart. You found somewhere to belong. And that was more than enough to finally quiet the voice in your head. 

*****

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x artist!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

[euphroseia]

Forever and always

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k words

Genre: idol!au, fluff with a bit of angst

Warnings: Mention(s) of god, being agnostic, LDR, some kissing scenes but not explicit just wholesome, honestly. I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed some!

If you liked my writing, please give me a reblog. I’d appreciate it and it will help me a lot! You can also let me know your thoughts about the story here. Thank youuuu! 💗

It all started by subscribing to the bubble for JYPnation; and honestly, you were very reluctant at first. Is this even worth my money? Will I really be communicating with my bias here? Oh my god, this ain’t some kind of scam right? You asked yourself these questions before actually paying. And here comes the exciting part: choosing the artist to receive. This wasn’t a hard decision to make, after all, you installed the app for him—for Hyunjin. 

After receiving the first message of greeting, the one where he thanks you for being bubble’s friend, you were already ecstatic at this moment. Oh, god, Hwang Hyunjin, I cannot wait for you to actually message me. And so, the magic begins.

“Hello, Y/N” 

“Y/N, Good morning”

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N!!!”

“Look, I painted your profile although I know that’s not you.”

At first, you were sure he is just like this because he was supposed to do this, and most importantly, he might be doing this to everyone, and you shouldn’t be paying too much attention and affection to all his actions towards you; however, messages like these started with everyday texts, and the days turned to weeks, and weeks soon arrived to almost a month, which means you’re approaching the end for this subscription. When you subscribed to bubble, you planned on changing a member every month that passed by, not until Hyunjin messaged you something you could never decline. 

“Y/N~, I know you’re reaching a month from being with me, please don’t choose another member :(( I’ll be good please don’t leave me.” First of all, how did he know I’m planning on switching to another member? Second, why did he have to be this cute? And MOST of all, why is he doing and saying this to me??? This were the things you asked yourself after what he had said

You don’t know how things went to this miracle but the only thing you can do is thank god for allowing you to subscribe to bubble, you’re an agnostic by the way, because if you didn’t, then maybe you won’t be laying in this fluffy bed with a long haired blonde beautiful man beside you. 

Now, this might sound like a dream come true, it is, of course; but dating an idol has its fair share of pros and cons. Greatest of all pros is that you don’t need to collect all his photo cards anymore because he sends you his selfies everyday. Also, the fact that he updates you of his schedule every time? A heavenly feeling of assurance. You can honestly state a list of pros covering a whole yellow pad paper back-to-back, but you’re not going to dwell with that too much. For cons, first and most exhausting of all for you, your relationship has to be hidden. Not that it’s a secret for both your family and his, and stray kids, but having to be extra careful around everyone is the hardest. You want to tell the world that you’re dating the one and only Hwang Hyunjin and that he loves you and you love him more than anything else; but that’s just how you can imagine things for now. Next, you are in a long distance relationship. He’s in South Korea and you’re in New Jersey, USA. Oh, what a nice 12-hour time difference. 

Having to be beside him right now is a rare moment, first time even, for the both of you. He can’t go to you since it will be a dead giveaway to everyone that he is indeed seeing someone in New Jersey. So, since your anniversary is nearing, a few months back, you started saving money so that you can be with him, which leads you to this situation—hugged by the most beautiful person on earth you could ever lay your eyes on. He looks even wonderful now that he’s sound asleep, you feel peaceful with his presence. You wish for this moment to last forever, you’d give up everything just to have him stay by your side; but you know this isn’t something you can really hope for. 

Being an idol has its pros and cons. Doing a job they truly love and enjoy, but having eyes around them any time of the day, anywhere they go. Making their fans happy makes them happy as well, but also being robbed off of their freedom. People expect them to be perfect while also prying on their private lives. 

Dating ban wasn’t on his contract, at first you thought there would be no problem because of that, but why would JYP allow his artist to date someone like you? An average person who isn’t even a top student in the least. How can he allow Hyunjin to date someone who isn’t the prettiest and popular in some ways? This is why your relationship is hidden, because if people find out about this, their boss would not even protect him about your relationship, and you don’t want to be a burden to him and the group. 

You hate that you’re thinking like this despite all the constant reassurances Hyunjin has given you. He’s the sweetest person you know and you’ll ever have. You didn’t notice the tears welling up in your eyes not until a drop had rolled down the side of your eyes, to the bridge of your nose and to the pillow you were lying on. You also wouldn’t notice that Hyunjin was already awake if he didn’t suddenly sit up and hold your right cheek with his palm.

“Why are you crying, darling?” You softened with the pet name. You have always adored him calling you that.

“Nothing, love, just thinking about how lucky I am with you,” you said and smiled softly at him.

He’s lying down again and pulling you closer into him. Your head is now pressed against his chest, you can even hear the beating of his heart. In moments like this, you’re in the most fragile state; you want to be protected more than you want to protect him.

Although muffled, you heard clearly what he said after a short comforting silence. “I’m the lucky one here. I got to date my crush and now we’re celebrating our one year together.” 

“I love you, Hyunjin.” At this point, you don’t even understand why you were crying.

He pulled away and cupped your face. “I love you too, Y/N. Don’t cry, my love, please.” He cooed and kissed your forehead. Down to the tip of your nose. Then your philtrum, and finally, your lips. It was a comforting one. The most wholesome kiss he ever gave you. You’ve always felt amazing in his arms and his kisses, but this one made you feel very safe with his touches, you’d never want to break the kiss. 

As he pulled away from the kiss, he reached for the drawer of his bedside table. It took him a little while before he got what he was looking for. He sat down and pulled you with him, making you two now sitting up on the bed. He held your hand and pulled it up so that it was on eye level for the both of you. On his right hand, there you saw what he was rummaging for in the drawer, it was a ring—a promise ring to be exact.

“Happy anniversary, my darling. I’m sorry that we’ve reached a total year together having our relationship in this situation. I may not be able to tell the whole world how much I love you, but I hope you know that I genuinely do,” now, you’re both a crying mess.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel insecure and small for keeping our relationship a secret, but please know that my heart holds you dearly and that I am really proud of you. My gift for you is this ring, this will hold all my promises for you that soon we’ll get to be a normal couple just like everyone. Soon, I’ll be able to hold your hand in public and we won’t have to be scared of getting caught. Until then, please let me hold onto you for as long as you’d allow me.” You wiped his tears, while yours are pouring heavily all the way to your neck.

“May I put this on you?” He asked. He didn’t really have to ask but you nodded. Smiling as he slid the ring on your left hand’s ring finger. It fits heavenly, like it was specially made for you.

“Happy anniversary, my lovely Y/N. I love you forever and always.” He kissed you again, the same loving kiss a while ago, and then proceeded to pull you into his arms, snuggling his head on the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Hyunjin. Always in all ways.” You said as you allowed yourself to melt into his arms.

Who would have thought that, what was a reluctant decision at first, will bring you to this—to him.

This might not be the perfect love story you expected, but you’re grateful you get to spend and write every chapter of it with him, and you don’t plan on asking for more than to be with him for the rest of it.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids ff #hwang hyunjin ff #hyunjin ff #stray kids oneshot #hwang hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin oneshot #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #stray kids angst #hwang hyunjin angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x you

[lostheretics]

PLOT TWIST (5)

▸ chapter 5: the rise of the new boss

pt. 1 || pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5

✵ cast : jung wooyoung x fem!reader, kim hongjoong, lee juyeon, kim younghoon, ateez, mentioned oc and many kpop artists name or group

✵ genre : romance, marriage life, eventual angst, smut, mafia!au, non idol!au

✵ summary : there was a saying that learning is a lifelong process. what will you learn about the underworld, the first time you stepped into it? you might have what they call a beginner’s luck, but will that be enough for the things you’ll be facing soon?

✵ notes : stopped counting on how many words but i try to make it lengthy as possible. thanks for waiting, to those whoever awaits i guess. i was thinking of making a taglist for this fic. taglist will be used for updates; ANY updates regarding PT. just drop ur @ in my askbox. also, PLS REBLOG.

WARNINGS BELOW CUT

☒ warnings: none for now but do remind me if there’s one. a lil bit of discrimination from wooyoung but not in a bad way (kinda, but not that bad)

☒ i do not condone mafia acts nor any acts that goes against the law at all. everything mentioned are just purely fiction, made to entertain myself and fellow readers in this particular platforms.

☒ do not repost this on any other platform without my permission!

✓ reblogging, liking, and commenting this post in tumblr (through comment or askbox) are very much appreciated.

you believe in destiny, fate, universe, whatever they’re called. you put your whole faith in it. you trusted them and their work, putting one and one together to make to or even ten. after all, it's also the one reason you and wooyoung beat all odds and be together.

but not to this extent. you refused to believe it.

to believe the pair of arms that caught you just days before became the arms that lead you in a dance session. to believe the same pair of brown eyes to look at you once more. to believe that the stranger who helped you when you almost faint, in work, embarrassingly, is to be the one you work with. your new goal.

cue the famous line from that one song, what kind of fuckery is this?

“you seemed so quiet for someone who’s looking for an ally.”

uhm, because i’m fucking flabbergasted? too stunned to speak?

“i hope you don’t plan on running away, again.” he added, “i just wanna get to know you.”

you laughed nervously, “of course not, sir- uh, mr. kim,” you stuttered, “i don’t know how to properly address you.”

he twirled you before catching you in his arms again. “mr. kim would suffice for now. though i hope we’ll get close enough in the future to be on first name basis.” younghoon said. “and how should i address you? miss y/n? mrs. jung?”

“anything’s fine mr. kim.”

the dance continued.

it was a moment where you could finally savor, or, to put it less romantically and more professionally, it was a moment where you could finally take a good look on the man.

kim younghoon's name has been there for some time, but little was known about his private life. typical of the seoul kims. his business life, however, is the talk of the town.

he never failed in pursuing his business endeavors, alongside his brother. not a single dirt on his name was found despite him still being young in the field. the kim brothers; kim younghoon himself and his younger brother kim seokhun were every parents dream on a child, especially one with a family business.

his soft brown eyes were ones you'll never forget. they were so soft, unlike the ones you saw all your life; dull, full of hatred, and all that bad stuff. and the way his eyes smiled along when he smiled... you thought, a man this soft and pure-looking shouldn't be working in this part of the world.

"juyeon sent you to work with me, but i know he wanted more than just that." younghoon muttered. his hard gaze was evident despite him not looking at you, opting to scan the room.

"he wanted something regarding my family."

"mr. lee sent me to work with you, yes. we're grateful that he even mentioned our name and recommending us to you. however, he did so because he believed my group's main business is in the same field as yours, and that it'll make more sense." you said, ever so carefully while studying his face. you took a bold move, putting your body closer to his while strengthening your hold on his shoulder.

"but, regardless of that, i would truly like to work with you, mr. kim. my group wishes to. i'd like to try it with you, and i hope you can make good use of ateez in the future, as well as lending a hand for us to step further, higher, and better in the business." you declared. "i'm not blind. i know what's happening between your family and the lees, and i don't have a say in it at all. but i would like for you to consider work between ateez and the kims, unrelated to any of the lees." you reassured.

and lastly, for the cherry on top, you stared straight on his eyes, pleading.

"give us the chance to prove ourself, mr. kim."

younghoon just stared at you, while his brain processed everything you just said. you were right, the kims main business in the medicine field were compatible with kang industries that yeosang ran with his sister. that alone could be a reason for the both of you to actually talk business with each other.

he was a businessman after all, any chance is worth something if you pursue it first.

the music stopped, meaning the dance session ended. clapping sounds were heard all over the hall. you took your hands off of younghoon's, bowing at the said man.

you thought it just ended like that, but it took you by surprise when younghoon took your hand in his, raising your knuckles to his lips before landing a gentlemanly kiss ok the back of your hand. his eyes never left you when he sent you a soft smile.

"i'll have my secretary invite ateez for a business talk. as soon as the gala ends" he stated, before continuing, "it was a nice dance, mrs. jung."

"party's done. everyone retreating in ten."

wooyoung chugged down his champagne while scanning around the room, giving nods to every member in his sight as a sign. he greeted the rest of his acquaintance, before leaving the scene.

just as he was about to exit the hall, a hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him in his track. a once scowl on his face turned into a friendly smile when he turned around and was greeted by seo changbin.

"my man, binnie!" he gave the buff man a hug, not to mention a tap on his back. "what's up?"

"not much. are you guys leaving already?" he asked while looking around, noting some ateez members already heading out of the hall. he clicked his tongue in an unapproved manner. "it's still early, though. how am i gonna catch up with my best friend?" he lightly pouted.

"the only thing you'll catch is these hands if you ever do that thing again." wooyoung jested, and changbin only laughed.

once the laugh died down, he took a step closer to wooyoung, lowering his voice as he watched around.

"got some words from chan. mind sparing me some time?"

wooyoung lifted his wrist to watch the time. he still got eight minutes left. he nodded at changbin before leading the man away from the crowd, opting for a quieter side of the hall just by its door.

"what's up? business doing okay?" he asked.

changbin only shrugged, "it's fine. work here and there, cusses, blood, what's new?" then he raised his hand to rest on wooyoung's shoulder. "congrats to ateez, by the way." he complimented.

he then stated, "it's the talk of the town right now, you know? the fact that ateez, a gang took down a royal family, by a new member no less. i'm talking about your wife, mrs. jung y/n." changbin chuckled lightly when he saw a change in wooyoung's expression, a cocky smirk along with a subtle red tint on his cheeks. a sense of pride rose within wooyoung.

"a good catch they say."

wooyoung almost giggled. "damn right. thanks for the words though,"

done with the chitchat, changbin cleared his throat as he turned to wooyoung.

"chan said he met your wife at some casual networking party just a couple months ago, hongjoong did the introduction. safe to say he was intrigued." wooyoung turned his head to changbin upon his choice of words.

lifting a brow, he chuckled. "same thing happened to me before i married her."

changbin clicked his tongue, "not in that way, of course." he objected, slightly cringing over the thoughts of his boss creating a drama worthy act like that. "you know chan, you've heard about it, right? that he rarely missed when it comes to judging someone, especially the businessmen or women."

"i've heard some of it. and what about it?"

"the other day he sort of said something about y/n and talents, that she could be a big thing soon. and surprise, surprise, not long after that the news came like a fucking thunder, a shock to everyone and especially chan. ateez was about to lose but she just casually lifted you up and took down the whole family."

checking at his watch, he quickly pointed out. "so, what does he want exactly?"

"chan's got an info. an inside job. new weapon supplies and exchanges, i'm talking new types and big money. the job's too big to take for us alone and he already thought of making a collaboration between our team since ateez got a good capo, and you got mingi and yunho on weaponries. your reputations preceded you," he exhaled, before continuing. "but ever since he met y/n and heard of the news, he wanted to go even further. chan wants y/n in the job. with your captain's permission, of course, but he wants her to directly sit on the table where he and hongjoong will be. chan wanted me to tell you that, and he hopes to hear good answers from hongjoong."

by the time changbin was done with his explanations, wooyoung was already stunned. he was taken aback at the fact that you rose so quick to be able to catch other's attention. he was slightly agape, eyes widened. to be able to stand beside hongjoong, to sit right next to him is to be next to the captain by rank. though unofficial, the conversation itself could be a proof that you're an equal to seonghwa and yeosang.

you had him floored, truly.

"could you please try to put some words to hongjoong? chan really wants this." changbin's plead broke wooyoung's train of thoughts.

he nodded lightly. "i'll see what i can do," he promised the man.

he lifted his wrist once more. seeing the time had passed, he took a step back. "i have to go now. i'll let you know of the outcome soon."

"wait!" changbin almost yelled, stopping wooyoung on his track.

"what?" he asked. changbin hurriedly walk to wooyoung as his hands dug around his suit pocket. upon finding the item, he quickly put the piece of paper in wooyoung's pocket.

"i almost forgot." changbin moved closer towards wooyoung and whispered, "come to the show. capos business. yeonjun found a new spot, some rough diamonds ready to be trained if you're recruiting new members."

he stepped back, tapping on wooyoung's pocket before retreating.

"thank me later."

“they’re leaving the premises, sir.”


the minion retreated, leaving juyeon and his champagne on the balcony. his eyes watched as a couple of cars left his mansion, particularly the last car that carried you and your husband.

it was something that he used to love to do with his father; watching people come and go. the only difference were his father is no longer around, and that it has become his job.

upon watching the way you sway in the dress he gave, hand in hand with your husband as you got in the car, he gripped on his glass harder as he tried to breathe, not even realizing he was holding his breath the entire time. there was this uneasiness, a storm brewing in the pit of his stomach. he didn’t believe in anything unworldly or superstitious, but he believed in himself. of what he sees, what he feels, what he understands.

it didn’t take long for him to saw power in ateez.

one that could endanger his, though he didn’t know the source nor the reason for it. for that, he’ll have to dig deeper.

“something’s coming.” he murmured, enough to be heard by another party standing behind him. he whispered again, “i can feel it in my bones.”

park jipsa, the one who stood behind him sighed, “are you afraid?”

“never.”

“then you’ll know what to do.”

if there ever was something brighter than the sun, it must’ve been hongjoong’s grin, pulled all the way back showing his pearly smiles you thought his skin would soon tear apart.

the man was practically beaming.

and you silently took pride in being one of the reason so.

“business looking good.”

“damn right it is.”

it was just you, hongjoong, seonghwa, and yeosang in the room. breakfast was done and group meeting ended, yet the ambitious man kept you around to discuss everything further. there were papers scattered, calls made, and coffees on the table.

“i’ve checked around,” yeosang chipped in, while rearranging the documents discussed for the meeting, “if we’re actually working with the kims, emphasize on if, if everything works, we’ll have easier access to some of our stuff, both importing and exporting. the drug development is looking good right now, and we’ll have much exposure with their help. we’re gonna make more money soon.”

“that sounds good, yeosang. great, actually.” hongjoong beamed, smiling at yeosang. the man stood near his desk, phone still in his hand, just finishing a deal went well.

seonghwa chuckled, “you feel good?”

“fuck yeah, hwa. yeah i feel good.” he almost screamed. “of course i feel good, everything’s looking good like this. and if it actually works i might do a somersault myself.”

“you look like you’re gonna do that now.”

you laughed along with the guys.

after pacing back and forth, energetically, and with happy thoughts one would assume the mafia leader might be a child trapped in a man’s body, hongjoong finally sat down. he tapped his fingers on the table, before finally making up his mind, pointing at each party around him.

“okay, here’s what. we have so much in our hands right now, but i’d like for everything to work out and i put my trust in you guys,” hongjoong stared at each of you, “i’m all in for you.”

he pointed at seonghwa. “i’m sending seonghwa to japan to settle down. you’ll be our representation there hwa, until i finish things in here. the most important thing is to make a powerful link to that family.” he said, moving to yeosang as soon as seonghwa nodded his head.

“yeosang, as usual with kang industries, but i want you to bring y/n around as a representative too. she’s gonna be the link between us to the kims and drug business, so it’s good for the both of you.”

you and yeosang couldn’t help but to stole glances, surprised by the mission but acknowledging each other still.

hongjoong raised his phone, tapping it several times before speaking again, “wooyoung got words from chan last night, and chan just made a call this morning. he wants a collaboration between our group for a job. there are new weapons coming in, big job. chan’s got his hand on it but figured it’d be too big to handle alone, but dangerous if handled by too many. so we’re in, and i’m also taking y/n in this, per chan’s request.”

he turned to you. “you’re gonna have so much in your hands this time, you know this right?”

you nodded.

“but with stray kids, you’ll just be a spectator on the table. i’ll handle the big game with chan. i want you to focus more on the kims and kang industries. your main job right now is the kims. do you understand?”

“yes.”

“good.”

birds fly fast.

but the rumors flew faster in this house.

it didn’t take long for everyone in this house to find out about you. and your new… job. or perhaps rank. a housewife turned… consigliere? underboss? hongjoong hasn’t give you an official rank within the group yet. however it didn’t take a genius to see how high up your position were.

you’re working straight with yeosang, second in command in ateez next to seonghwa, ateez’s face and representative in the outside world. your job was as important as seonghwa’s, hongjoong’s righthand man, the underboss of ateez. each of every job you’ve done you’d report back straight to hongjoong, and hongjoong took you almost everywhere he goes.

on top of that, you’ve been giving counsels to hongjoong even before you had your debut in the underworld.

you’re as good as a consigliere, just not officially, yet.

there was contentment, of course, yet it also comes with burdens. one that you fear you wouldn’t be able to bear. but you will do your best, for your family. for wooyoung. to make him proud.

and he couldn’t be more proud of you.

wherever ateez goes, wherever he goes, he wouldn’t stop gushing about you every time someone brought your name up. lowkey, of course. just to make sure everyone knows you’re his wife. that you’re great, yes, but you’re definitely off limits.

exactly like tonight.

he eyed the piece of paper in his hand, before eyeing the traditional restaurant in front of him. it was a small, dimly-lit building. an old woman walked around, delivering orders though not much, as they didn’t have much customers for the night.

he fished out his phone out from his pocket, typing a name before pressing the call button.

“hello?” changbin’s voice rang through his speaker.

“i’m outside. are you sure this is the place?” wooyoung asked, throwing glances with yunho, jongho, and san behind him.

“it’s a small restaurant, right? did you see the old lady?”

“yeah? and?”

changbin chuckled, “just get in. take a seat, and when she asked for your order, just ask her if mr. kim’s soju is on the menu today. come fast, the match’s about to start.” and with that, changbin hanged up.

putting his phone back on his pocket, he whisked his head, signaling the boys to enter the place with him. they took a table, and before long, the old lady came to their table, asking for their orders. wooyoung looked around, making sure no one’s hearing them, before getting closer to the lady.

“is mr. kim’s soju on the menu today?”

the old lady just smiled and nodded. “it’s stored just right there. come along and pick for yourself, young man.”

that’s how they got into the hidden basement deep under the ground, by an elevator just behind the fridge in the kitchen.

when the elevator stopped, changbin was standing in the hallway. he greeted them with a smile, shaking wooyoung’s hand firmly.

“cool place, right?” he quipped, then shook hands with jongho, yunho, and san.

changbin led them further into the basement. even from the hallway, rough noises were already heard, and it got louder as they got closer.

illegal fights weren’t a secret anymore. but as they got deeper, more secluded, the more blood got spilled, the more animalistic the fighters get, the bigger the prize. this is where the mafias recruit new members, new associates.

the rings were surrounded by rough looking men, some older, some younger. the fighter on the ring looked all bloody and bruised, but still standing on their feet fighting for their life. hollers here and there, nothing new.

they all took a table not far from the ring. yeonjun and beomgyu were seen, along with jisung and jeongin. they greeted each other.

“the consigliere’s husband!” yeonjun quipped with a playful tap on wooyoung’s back. wooyoung chuckled. with pride, of course.

“so what’s the hype?” wooyoung asked, half yelling to catch yeonjun’s attention. the lad pointed his finger to each rings, getting himself close to wooyoung and the others.

“gems. lots of them,” he yelled, pointing at one of the ring, “see that guy over there?” he asked, pointing at a tall man, not buff, but muscular and calculative enough to look not so affected while his opponent looked like he’s about to faint.

yeonjun spoke again, “he’s an ex NIS agent. i think he got ousted, betrayed, whatever. and that’s just one of the few. there are other fighters, former gang members, ex police, ex NIS, ex professionals— whatever we’re looking for. so take a pick!” he said, before continuing.

“but be careful, they also might be onto something if they go this deep. either all in or all out.”

the pungent smell of blood was nothing new, combined with the smell of sweat of all people, burnt cigarettes, liquors of all kinds. in fact, none of them seemed to be distracted by any of the smell, the sound, or even the people who were drunk off their minds falling around them.

their eyes, especially wooyoung’s were focused on each ring or around the room, scanning all within the room trying to find new recruits or maybe new connections.

a bell was heard, a ring near them just announced a winner before quickly moving on. a pair of new fighters stepped onto the ring, one of them a rough looking men, presumably already fought a fight before this one, and his opponent…

…a woman?

her hair was tied up, cuts and bruises here and there but not enough to disguise her beauty. physically she’s far smaller than the man, less muscular, yet she hold no fear in her eyes.

“what’s a pretty girl doing in this hellhole?” wooyoung murmured,

right before the girl ducked down and punched his opponent right on his chest, hard enough to make him cut his breath. then landed a punch to his right cheek, followed by his left cheek. and a final kick to his head, quickly sending the man to his sleep, hopefully not an eternal one.

and that’s how she won the game.

not to mention leaving wooyoung speechless. that was a quick game. and she looked like a gem. a fighter like that would make jobs easier, faster, and more efficient.

he was deep in his thoughts, until san nudged him, “are you seeing what i’m seeing?”

wooyoung looked back at san, observing his line of sight, only to bring his eyes back to the said woman.

a gem in sight indeed.

“her?”

“yes, her. we need her. i want her. we gotta take her.” he mouthed. he then pulled wooyoung by the shoulder, and proceeded to stare into wooyoung’s eyes with the most serious look he could muster. “seriously wooyoung, i can’t handle this charmer—grifter shit alone anymore. we need a charmer. and i mean it.”

“san, we’re on budget and we’re here to look for a bodyguard—“ he was about to state but san had cut him off.

“did you not see the way she threw that punches? she can be a bodyguard. she is muscle.”

“yes, but—“ wooyoung hesitated, “i don’t know man, a lady bodyguard?”

san gasped. “that’s discrimination, what the fuck?”

“not in that way!” wooyoung bit back, “i don’t know man, i’m just not sure. she’s all great, it’s just—”

“but what?” san pressed.

san wasn’t wrong, they do need a charmer. san was the only charmer ateez had— they do have others, just not as good as san, hence the lad had to do most jobs by himself. the last time they had a good charmer other than san, but they got killed in action.

being a grifter, a charmer, he did get to know most thing and even on the deeper part of the underworld. any place he want, anyone, he could get through anything, most of the times. but ultimately, he was fed up. doing what he did best alone might finally took a toll on him.

so with the hard look, now turned puppy eyes, there was no way wooyoung could say no to san, the charmer himself.

he sighed. “you know what? fuck that. go and get her if you want.”

there were probably fireworks bursting behind san’s eyes, that’s the only logical reason (though far from logic itself) for the sparkle in his eyes. choi san quickly bolted away from the table, adamant on getting and recruiting the woman.

wooyoung, with yunho and jongho on the other hand sticked to the main plan; find new muscles to recruit. yeonjun, changbin and their own gang were soon scattered around the basement with their own mission to accomplish. jongho was still looking around, and yunho was still seen talking to the possible recruits.

wooyoung was just talking to one of the possible recruit, giving them his business card when san pulled him away to a corner. he kept guiding on wooyoung with this grin on his face, pushing him around until wooyoung finally faced the lady they’ve been talking about.

“so this is wooyoung,” san made the intro, “he’s our trainer, supervisor, and not to mention my best friend. and we—” he stepped back behind wooyoung, “—are interested in taking you in with us.”

taking a good look in the closer distance, she looked even better. her skin looked soft, save some scratches and scars here and there, but they were mostly healed leaving just a white mark. her eyes were brown, and like when she was on the ring, had this striking look.

this one’s definitely a charmer. she just needs to be guided, and they got a perfect teacher for her. stretching his hand out, wooyoung offered her a formal handshake.

“wooyoung.”

she watched his stretched hand for a while. the unsure glint in her eyes started to flicker along the time, and she finally took wooyoung’s hand.

“son jiwoo.”

the tall, black door seemed so big and scary.

despite it being just a plain door to a restaurant.

you might think it’s the door, but a part of you knew more than that. that wasn’t just a door you had to pass, a restaurant you must enter.

kim younghoon was waiting somewhere in that restaurant for you. this was going to be your first meeting with younghoon, and you gotta make sure it’s going well. this is your first big mission, as a member of ateez.

you straighten your floral dress, fixing any possible crease before stepping inside. a waiter came to your aid, giving their best smile, “may i help you?”

you smiled back. “i have a reservation, with mr. kim younghoon. is he here?”

the waiter smiled even wider, “ah, madam! yes, mr. kim has been waiting for you. let me take your jacket.” they spoke, as they pulled your jacket off of you. “if you please follow me, madam.”

the waiter guided you to a table near the glass window, where you found younghoon sitting in a formal, yet casual look. the white fitted top and light brown pants. upon the announcement of your arrival, kim younghoon turned his head, offering you a smile so bright. the gentlemen even stood up, pulling your seat for you instead of letting the waiter do that for you.

“you look nice.” he complimented.

“and you more. i thought the suits were your best look, but these? gorgeous.”

he chuckled, “trying to charm me straight away, i see.”

“yes, but some truth can’t be hidden for too long. i also have to charm my future colleague for a chance, right?” you quipped back, earning a soft laugh from younghoon.

“you’re straightforward. i like it, it’s also the way that i am and used to.” he said. he laid back to his chair, looking at you before asking, “a straightforward man gotta speak his mind, am i right?”

“yes they do, i suppose.”

he took your answer in silence. he looked out through the window, watching the bright afternoon sky and people on the street,, seemingly deep in thoughts. gone were the light atmosphere when you got there.

then younghoon spoke one sentence and a question. the easiest way to phrase and conclude your whole mission.

“i know juyeon sent you to fix things between our families. correct?”

upon the sudden intrusion, your body froze for a second. your lips almost quivered, letting out broken words, having nothing to come up with. kim younghoon fired a bullet and it hit right on the bullseye. and he didn’t even mention anything about anything work related, despite that being one of your most important reason to pursue him.

younghoon’s eyes were back on you, and you had no choice but to spit the truth out.

“yes, you’re right, mr. kim,” you sighed, but not yet defeated. “and i’m aware of… the gap between your families, that it’s not in a good condition.”

“how much did you know?”

“that your family was a supporter to lee jiyoung back when the war was happening.” you stated.

he clicked his tongue, “i wish it was as easy as that, mrs. jung.” he sighed as he leaned back onto his chair.

“i wish to help in many ways, mr. kim. in this way, because juyeon sent me for this reason. but other than that, a work with your family is what my family aim for. a personal gain. both, or one of them is enough for me and i’m willing to do the job.” you told him, straightforwardly. “is there something i can do to fix this?”

“to fix the gap between the lees and kims? i don’t know, mrs. jung. i’m not sure if there’s a way at all,” he shrugged.

but he quickly added in, “but, regarding ateez and my family, i think we both have a chance for that. i’ve spoken with my father, and maybe, just maybe, if this works, we’ll consider juyeon’s purpose of… mending the two families. now the question remain; would you take the job, and could you do it well?”

“i’m willing to try and do my best for anything.”

“anything?”

“anything.”

the man smiled, grinning almost. “then it starts now.” he said. younghoon raised his hand, catching the sight of a waiter.

entrees were served, followed by main dishes. younghoon and you talked about each other, and he talked a lot about himself.

how he and his brother were raised in england, before moving at the age of 15 back to korea. he went to university, took classes in law school before graduating, not only from a prestigious uni but also with honors. since that, he’s been helping his father around along with his brother regarding their family business, as they’re the ones who’s going to take their father’s place place someday.

kim younghoon was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

yet he seemed far from those whiny nepo babies who fed themselves off of their father’s pocket, but act like they rule the whole world. his family’s money might back him up, but he ruled his own brain, branding himself as the smart and hardworking guy from a wealthy family who could lead even without his father’s hand in the matter.

in short, he’s a man that everyone dreams to become.

the conversation went smooth up until dessert was served. you couldn’t help yourself but to blurt out, “so, what’s the job? when am i gonna do it?”

“oh, we’re actually doing it right now,” he quipped, putting another slice of cake into his mouth.

“what?”

younghoon didn’t say anything, only flicking his hand to call for the waiter. the waiter soon came with a bright smile as they put a velvet box right in front of you. not forgetting to say what a lucky woman to have a partner like that.

a partner?

you were still not functioning perfectly, still deep in your thoughts and confused even when younghoon pushed the velvet box towards you. “open it.” he said.

“mr. kim, i— i’m, i’m not sure i—“ you had stuttered, but he silenced you up.

“just open the box.”

per his command, your hands moved to open the box. upon the first touch, you could feel the soft velvet under your fingers, quickly understanding the high quality of the box, and perhaps, the item within it. curiosity might kill the cat, but not you, you believed as you opened the box and found a piece of necklace within it. a pearl necklace stared back at you from that box.

wordlessly, younghoon stood up. he took the necklace out of its box before bringing it near your neck. his hands softly moved your hair to the side, and you quickly responded by bunching your hair in your fist, giving him access to your bare neck. as he put on the necklace, he lowered his lips next to your ear.

“you’ll find a woman to your right, dressed in all green. she’s mrs. han, a socialite in gangnam and wife to mr. han, one of the most important people in the ministry of health,” he whispered to you, “she knows me, and might’ve been watching us since the beginning. she has a daughter around our age and she had been wanting to… arrange a marriage between our families.”

“and my job is…?”

finishing on putting the necklace on, younghoon simply smiled to you. “…to be my partner. fiancee, girlfriend, whatever. to put on a show. i don’t want to be engaged in that way, but i have a brother and he’s willing to do that in my stead,”

“there’s an upcoming socialite party, and a little birdie told me you’re quite… persuasive,” he started to explain, “if you can get us an invitation, put some good words and convince her to make an arrangement between her daughter and my brother, you’ll have your way with my family. you see, we need this connection. a connection with her husband makes it easier for our drug business, even in exporting and importing. mr. han is one of the man ruling the country. prove yourself, and my father promises to invite you for a dinner, to talk about future business with ateez. even with the lees. and the offer’s still up even though you only succeeded in securing an invitation for us to the party.”

he straightened his back, offering his hand to you, “there’s still a chance to back out.”

you weren’t sure, but you shook your head and took his hand, “i won’t.”

younghoon smiled, almost so brightly, a quick change from his previous hard demeanor. he landed a long lasting kiss on the back of your hand, another added shock to you. you almost stuttered and about to pull your hand when he spoke,

“the necklace looks dashing on you, sweetheart.” he almost purred, shocking you.

“kim younghoon?”

the latter’s voice stopped you from pulling away. younghoon simply turned to the lady who called his name, giving her a smile.

“mrs. han,” he greeted back, bowing slightly, “good to see you again.”

mrs. han only chuckled, “then you should’ve visit me more often. i haven’t seen you around in any of my gatherings.” she looked behind younghoon, at you. “and i certainly have never seen this lovely lady with her lovely necklace around.” she quipped.

younghoon gave his hand for you to take, and you did, standing up from your seat next to him. “let me introduce you to my fiancee, y/n. she’s the reason i’m not around much, mrs. han. you can blame her for it.” he once again kissed your hand in a cheeky manner, and you giggled following his act. “i can’t seem to get her out of my life.” he continued.

you bowed slightly to the lady, offering her a sweet smile. “my name is y/n, pleasure to meet you mrs. han. younghoon told me many things about you.” you introduced yourself.

“all the good things, i hope.”

“don’t worry ma’am, he made me think you’re a great woman. and it shows now.”

she laughed, feeling content with your answer.

“and he didn’t forget to tell me how much of a good host you are for your party.” you smirked, starting your mission.

by the time you came home, it was almost midnight. you knew wooyoung would’ve fallen asleep by then, so you tiptoed your way into your room, with your heels in your hands.

your heart almost jumped out of your chest when the light suddenly turned on.

“where have you been?”

“shit, woo!” you cussed while holding your chest, almost panting. “baby? why aren’t you sleeping?”

wooyoung sat on the edge of your bed with his arms folded as he stared at you. “obviously, i was waiting for you.” he deadpanned, “you know i couldn’t sleep without you. so where have you been?”

you exhaled, feeling guilty that you left the man waiting for until midnight, completely forgetting the existence of modern phones and to tell him of your whereabouts. “oh, baby,” you walked up to him, cradling his face in your palms.

“i’m so sorry i made you wait,” you kissed his forehead, “i had lunch with kim younghoon, and he gave me a task. i spent the whole day planning and then reporting to hongjoong, and we had a last minute meeting with stray kids. i should’ve told you, that’s my mistake,” you explained. wooyoung sighed defeatedly, finally accepting your apologies. he circled his hands on your waist.

“it’s okay.” he muttered.

you told him to get ready for bed, while you freshen up in the bathroom, finally ready to end the night. your body felt warm, being in your comfiest pajamas, and your heart follows when you saw wooyoung on bed tucked nicely under the blanket, with his arm stretched out welcoming you in his embrace.

“how was today’s scouting?” you asked with a small voice.

“it was okay,” he answered, listing the things he had done. “got some new muscles that i gotta train. met yeonjun and changbin. and… oh!” he gasped, making you look up to him.

“what is it?”

“you know, me and san found this girl while scouting, she was badass,” he said and you could practically see the sparks in his eyes, “she fought this buff man in like, 5 seconds, though i think the man was more of muscle than skills, but isn’t that cool? san wanted her so bad he ran straight to her after the fight.”

“anyways i didn’t want to scout her at first but san would probably held me on a gunpoint if i refuse him—“ you both laughed, “—yeah right? so long story short we probably got ourselves a new charmer. i think san’s gonna teach her more, but i’ll still have to take part in physical training.”

you hummed, “san fell in love at the first sight, huh?”

wooyoung nodded, “i think i did too.”

you playfully hit his chest, making him wince dramatically as he held his chest.

“jung wooyoung! don’t you dare fall in love with her!” you threatened him. the bastard husband of yours grinned.

“are you jealous?”

“hm, i don’t know. what would you think if i hooked up with kim younghoon?”

“hey!” he whined, clearly not liking the idea of you and another man side by side. not even one bit. and that was something everyone know, and some even witnessed it with their own eyes, referring to your previous encounter with lee juyeon.

you laughed to his blatant jealousy, and maybe, seeing the smile in your face and the sound of your melodic laugh to his ears were the reason for him laughing along with you.

wooyoung pulled you close to his body, putting his chin on top of your head. the smell of your shampoo invaded his nose, and somewhat it relaxed him all the time. maybe it’s your shampoo, or maybe, it’s the fact that you’re close to him.

he breathes slowly, but you could hear his heart beating fast behind his chest. some things change, but you realize one thing stays the same; his heartbeat. whenever you put your head to his chest you always hear the same fast beat from his heart.

and you know yours beats the way his did.

“i can never love anyone else but you.”

his voice pierced through the silence as he murmured the words into your hair.

maybe it was his voice. maybe it was the sentence, the words. maybe it’s both things combined, the reason why you feel such warmth in your heart and the pleasant butterflies flying in your stomach. the combination of two simple things, yet magical enough for you to take it as a sign of love.

love.

you buried your face into his chest, trying to hide your smile. all you could say was, “i love you, woo.”

simple sentence that also warmed his heart.

to both lovers like you, those moment felt like it’s just you both against the world. in your vows; both in happiness or sadness.

“will i see you again?”

wooyoung suddenly asked. the nature of the question making you pull away from him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“what kind of question is that?” you asked back, looking up to his face.

he seemed doubtful, that was clearly painted all over his face, visible from his eyes, the way it glinted.

wooyoung sighed. “i don’t know. you have a job, so many things to do now that hongjoong trusts you. and i’m happy for you, baby, i truly do, it’s just—“ he hesitated for a while before continuing.

“it’s— what if you get busier? what if we get so busy that… that we can’t even share a proper meal together like we used to? what if we can’t see each other as much as we used to back when we have less things to do? what if i can’t even hug you in my sleep at night? what if—“

“—what if we changed so much and turn in a direction we don’t want?”

late night thoughts do bring the most genuine question. and his was a valid one.

it’s no secret that marriage, no matter how sweet, how hot or cold, can suddenly turn lukewarm, tasteless, or even turn sour over the time.

that would be a nightmare. one that can turn very real, in any time, near or far.

to imagine a tasteless marriage life with your passionate husband made you crawl closer to him, burying your face in his chest to seek more warmth. the more seconds went the more you appreciate his prescence. taking in everything you could.

just in case it’d be your last.

“i promise we won’t turn that way, my love. i’ll do anything to keep us together. keep us, keep you safe.” you murmured into his chest.

“you just have to promise to love me still. like this. even when times go rough, when it eats us inside out, body and soul. even with the last sparks of love you have for me, love me. until i’m not here beside you.” you continued. you felt suffocated, unconsciously the littlest sniffle got out of you with the tears. “you’re all i have, wooyoung.”

desperation in it’s truest form.

but it’s true, you have no one but your husband. no family, no nothing. not even a life, if it was not for the past, or the present, given by your husband and his kin. and now that you’ve associated yourself with them, you, who used to have nothing, now have something. and it fears you to imagine losing them.

to go back to the solitude you were in before.

hearing your cries crushed him. he tightened his hands around you, securing you in his grasp, giving you the most comfort one could give. he might regret the way he voiced out his concerns today, yet it was an important question within your relationship.

and a silent way to say that he fears of losing you, too.

“i’m here, baby. i love you,” he said, giving a peck on your hair,

“and i promise to keep that love for as long as i live.”

NOT EVEN HALFWAY BUT I STILL WANNA FINISH THE WHOLE THING. enjoy. both in reading and waiting uwu

also we’re getting closer to… the start of the angst.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fics #mafia ateez #ateez mafia au #ateez au #ateez wooyoung #mafia!ateez #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez yeosang #ateez fic #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #younghoon the boyz #younghoon fic #juyeon the boyz #juyeon fic

[umber-cinders]

Hey fic writers, can I just-

This is my blog so Imma get on my soap box for one more thing about the whole "spam likers should be blocked" rhetoric.

People seem to have taken the idea from places like Instagram that spam liking gets you shadow banned because the algorithm thinks they're bots and—let me be clear when I say this:

THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS ON TUMBLR

Bots do not like your fanfic and fanart posts and tumblr does not ban you for getting multiple likes in a row!!!

Likes are literally part of the algorithm because tumblr has changed from the way it was back in the 2010s. Reblogs are absolutely one of the most helpful and valid ways to see posts on here—and people should definitely be encouraged to reblog and share with others, but reblogs are not the end-all-be-all of pushing content on here anymore.

The posts that the algorithm shows you takes into account the posts you yourself have liked and what those you follow/interact with have liked. You know these little feature here in preferences?

THEY ARE ALL BASED ON LIKES AND FAVORITE TAGS

Its why you see posts like this if you turn on the option.

Likes have become almost as equal in the algorithm as reblogs. Nowadays, a lot of people on tumblr's userbase only views the site via the mobile app instead of a laptop/desktop. It means that they're more likely to hit the like button on a post and scroll on so they can go back and find it later than they are likely to stopping every second to reblog each post.

That's just how things are now 🤷🏾‍♀️(and yeah that sucks lol)

If you don't believe me, the next time you see a post that has a lot of notes suggested to you in a search, tag or on the For You page—or anywhere on here, check the reblogs vs likes. Sometimes they're relatively equal

But I have noticed that a lot of the posts suggested to me also have way more likes than reblogs.

Again, I am NOT dissing people asking for reblogs because people really should be trying to reblog things from your favorite artists/writers/fandoms, but sometimes people will look at a post with a lot of notes and are more likely to reblog it. If you're looking for engagement then likes count towards that.

Social media has trained us to look at posts with a lot of traction (notes in this case), and make us more likely to share it. When you discourage and block people engaging with your posts via likes, you're just making the algorithm less likely to push your posts in the first place unless someone reblogs it.

And hey, if that's your jam, go on ahead, but even posts with ZERO notes that haven't been liked by people I follow get pushed to me if the algorithm thinks I'm going to enjoy it based on what I post and have liked before.

I could also get into the fact that with the way tumblr is set up, you could be blocking people that have to like posts and follow you from their main blog and reblog via a different side blog.

You could be blocking people that are too shy to openly engage with certain content right off the bat.

You could be blocking newcomers into your fandom.

You could be blocking people that see your content promoted to them in passing and might decide to come back and follow you later.

If you don't care about likes and only care about exposure via reblogs, then uh...ok. But my point is: please stop spreading the idea that likes mean nothing on tumblr 🙃

With all that being said:

PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG YOUR FAVORITE ARTISTS, WRITERS AND FANDOM CREATORS✨

#aight stepping done from the soap box now #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #tumblr writers #writers of tumblr #Bipoc writers #black reader #x black reader #black writblr #tumblr