#and so the two of you nap together and the issue is resolved

[dropsnectar]

New here, found you from your kitsune post. I don't know if this is the kind of ask you like but. I'm imagining fluff of the kitsune, maybe he takes a prank too far, messes with something too cherished, a necklace, stuffed animal, something of the sort. He hadn't expected to make you cry, that's not the face he wanted you to make. Quickly moving into a perceivable form while handing you back the thing he whisked away or helping you pick up the mess before coming over to kiss your face, wrapping his soft tail around you and rubbing your back. He hadn't meant to upset you this much.

Our Kitsunes nonsense strikes again!

Ever since he had revealed himself to you, things had been... entertaining. He still messed with you of course. It was in his nature to twist thongs to suit him, whether it be replacing your furniture with higher quality, more comfortable seating or you finding random groceries on the counter, often the ingredients of the dinner he wanted you to offer him tonight. And instead of waiting outside by that uncomfortable stump, he had graced you with his presence, his nine tails flitting about over a meal well cooked. It was only right that he sit with you, as he could see your face better from a chair, rather than a corner or a window.

Sensing his thirst for variety you had also started bringing different types of alcohol to dinner. You'd learn the stories and histories around each drink and share their tales over dinner. You only ever had a glass but your fox, not having to worry about work tommorrow, would take his full fill.

He was rather cute while drunk, moving you to the living room couch to cuddle as he'd ask you more questions, about the alcohol but mostly about you. His tails always had a habit of curling themselves around you, pushing you closer to him as he stared at your face with an unbreakable gaze. It made you blush.

Sometimes when you were midsentence he'd cut you off with a kiss, sharing the taste and tipsiness of the alcohol. But sometimes the two of you would talk all night, and he'd follow you to bed to watch you sleep in his arms. Hed been very clingy recently, ever since that night.

You were his favorite entertainment, as their was always something new he could gleam from you. A new reaction, new information, a new experience as you guys walked together under the moonlight. Their was an issue though. An annoyance. A bane of his that made possession boil in his chest and his hackles stand.

He had given you a gift, him! Holding you as you sleep! He was so generous, he knows this, sharing his heat with a human in the cold of night. He was saving your life really. But you had this... habit. Instead of pulling yourself into his warm chest, or wrapping your beautiful legs around his tails. You had a habit of holding this... thing in your arms.

It was a pillow-like thing, an anima. Pperhaps a dog? Or a bear. The thing was so weathered it was hard to tell. And you'd kiss its little snout every night before you'd snuggle it and pass out. It wasn't every night, just the nights he was your big protector spoon.

But still! He could be small and fluffy too! He had a fox form! You should have kissed his snout.

When his graciousness had finally run out he took that wretched little pillow and dropped it out in a marsh pond in the woods. He even magicked the pond so no one else could find the thing, lest you wander about in the woods and find it.

What he hadn't expected was to find you the next day searching every corner of the house manicly, like hed stolen your paycheck for the next month.

He makes himself known and you rush to him, desperation and panic in your eyes.

"Where did you put my stuff animal? I know you like to play games but this is really important!"

His eyes narrow in disdain.

" You mean that little plush rag? Why do you need it? I can hold you so much better than it can." He refused to be sorry but your eyes welled with tears as the realization flit across your features. Hurt. True hurt filled every crevice if your face and his stomach turned. No no, he didn't like seeing you like this, not that face. Never that face, he didn't want it.

"My grandmother gave me that stuffy before she died. Its all I have left to remember her. Give it to me now."

Immediately, he magicked up the plush. It was dripping and muddy. You grabbed for it quickly but he held it up above your head, a finger out. He magicked it clean, then passed it back into your arms. He understood now. Once, he used to have a grandmother too.

Blazing hot shame trickled down his throat and blazed into his stomach. His ears pushed flat against his head as he felt sick for what he had done. There would always be games to play, but he never wished to hurt you. And with something so sentimental too. Family was everything after all, especially to a kitsune.

"There is no excuse. I will never touch it again, I promise."

You held your stuffy to your face, staring at his limp tails and flat ears. You had never seen him so openly ashamed before. Pride was like air to this being and to see him so devoid of it was novel.

"I'll forgive you. But only on one condition."

He looked at you, eyes tired.

"What is that, then?"

You held out your stuffy with both arms.

"You kiss his snoot and say sorry."

He looked at you, and with as much poise as he could manage, he kissed the plastic nose of the stuffed animal.

"I'm sorry, little thing." His eyes went back to you.

"So you like small fluffy things, huh?"

You gave him a small smile.

"Maybe. Whats it to you?"

Their was a puff of white smoke. When the air cleared you looked down to find a small fox kit, staring up at you with big adoring eyes. You squeeled, and carefully set down your stuffy on the table.

You leaned down to the kit and hesitantly pet his little head. It was soft. He chirped at you, encouragingly and you pulled him into your arms, cradling him to your chest as all of his tails wagged about and brushed your skin.

You knew it was him but you couldn't help it. You crooned and pet him, kissed his snout and his little fuzzy forehead. You snuggled him furiously and sat with him on the couch. You swear you could hear him purring the whole time, the grumbling making you feel calm and at ease with him. Eventually, you lean foreward and kiss his forehead again.

"You are forgiven."

[taegularities]

colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck. 

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you’re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving. 

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at. 

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?���

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order. 

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, ��Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress. 

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ ���🏼

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[fictioninmyblood]

Back to Bed

Summary: Terry and Y/N had been married for just over 7 years with 3 beautiful children and a blooming self defense business they’d built together to show for it. Having started their relationship at the beginning of Y/N’s journey into discovering her submissiveness and Terry’s first stationing as an instructor - Terry had been her only dom and thus knew her like the back of his hand and Y/N has been the only sub to experience the harshest version of his dom giving her the same privilege over him. Having been pregnant with their baby girl upon coming home to the Sandy Springs situation, Terry has been using it as an excuse, too afraid to lean all the way into his dom personality the way he had with Y/N before his last tour.

After they get into an argument, again, about the events of Silver Springs and how even after the last few years of stitching their life back together, he still only talked to Summer about everything that happened and was handling her with kid gloves, Y/N separates from him best she can. Completely at a crossroads of what to do to feel like she’s still her husband’s wife and losing all the fight to try and figure it out, she gives Terry the silent treatment and isolates from him, doing her best to only be in the same room with him when the kids are. After weeks of her barely acknowledging him or the argument, Terry is tired of going to bed alone when his wife is sleeping in the guest room right below him. His plan? Let the dom in him handle it and finally confess his monsters.

WARNINGS: 18+ themes, Minors DNI, d/s themes, pre-smut, angst

A/N: Thank you to all the Terry girls out there that have created a monster in me for this man in literally less than a week. Story inspired by @megamindsecretlair ‘s “I Swear I’ll Never Leave” oneshot and @keyaho ‘s “R.E.L.L.S.” series.

A/N: There will be at least a part 2. Kinda proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: My work is NOT to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

Y/N had been napping peacefully in the spare bedroom when she heard her kids start screaming excitedly, waking her all the way out her sleep in panic. Once she identified their squeals as gleeful she relaxed, but decided it would be in her best interest to check and see what all the commotion was about. Imagine her surprise when she entered their living room to see her parents sitting on the couch with her kids talking over one another and Terry coming downstairs with their weekend-trips-backpacks. The moment she locked eyes with her husband, Y/N gulped, somehow understanding exactly what was going on behind those piercing eyes. Her father had been too wrapped up in the kids, but her mother saw her daughter the instant she entered the room, her motherly instincts in overdrive. 

As soon as Terry let them in she could see that he was even more exhausted than usual, his reliably calm demeanor obviously frazzled. Whenever they usually came to pick up the kids at his request, everything was already packed and ready, the kids fed the most recent meal or snack, and Terry had them waiting by the door. Y/N was usually who they waited on. It was completely out of character to have to wait for him to finish getting them ready or be told they haven't eaten at least a snack so far into the afternoon. Dinner was around the corner and school had been out for at least 2 hours. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. She watched the unspoken conversation happen between the two when he came back downstairs and hoped that Terry asking them to take the kids to hang out with them overnight would help to resolve whatever marital issues they were having. Her daughter looked just as bad as her son-in-law and judging by the fact she looked like she just woke up and came from their guest bedroom rather than the masters upstairs that was no surprise. Her daughter had always slept better cuddled up next to someone her whole life and Terry had become the ultimate sleeping aid when they met. She’d had to stock up on his clothes for the times he was away while in the military just to get a wink, conditioning her body to accept no one’s presence but his to help her sleep.

“Hey baby, how are you?” Y/N’s mother asked.

Y/N tried to muster a smile but felt how off it was, she hoped her mom wouldn’t ask further questions when she said, “I’m fine mommy. What are you guys doing here? I thought we were going to see you on Sunday for the family barbecue.”

Y/N walked over to her parents to hug and kiss them, she sat next to her mom and leaned her head on her shoulder when her mom kept rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and welcomed the affection, it’d been weeks of forcing herself to not seek Terry out for physical contact and it had been hell. That was her top love language and as much as she loved them, kid hugs and kisses only went so far. 

“You sure baby? You look tired.”

Y/N locked eyes with Terry again and sighed, “Yeah ma, I’m sure.”

Her father answered her question when he said, “Terry thought it might be a good idea if they had the opportunity to hang out with all the cousins that live nearby that’ll be hanging out tomorrow. Plus I’m sure he’d like some alone time with his wife. It’s been too long since you two have asked for a weekend anyway so it’s no problem.”

“Oh okay. That sounds nice,” she lied through her teeth, avoiding eye contact with Terry at all costs at this point. Diverting her attention she said, “You excited babies?”

She smiled the first genuine one since coming out of the room at the chorus of yes’s that graced her ears.

“Well I got everything in the car, carseat included,” Terry said, closing the front door behind himself, “and here’s some funds for the weekend.” He slipped some money into her father’s hand before he could register what’d been put there.

Her father looked down at what Terry gave him and got up to try and give it back. “Son, we do this everytime.”

“Then you should know that you’re leaving here with that money.”

Her father clapped Terry on the shoulder and they shared some chuckles as he couldn’t do anything, but shake his head and shake his son-inlaw’s hand. Not once since they had kids did Terry ever ask his parents-in-law to watch the kids without making sure they had a good chunk of change. The twins alone had been a handle full and a half since birth but babygirl turned their little hurricanes into big ones. He knew that whenever his wife tried she couldn’t win that argument so he’d made a point to be the one who did to keep the balance they both sought.

“Right you are son. Can’t blame an old man for trying though.”

“I can’t,” Terry said still chuckling. Thank you,” he looked to his mother-in-law as she stood up beside her husband, “both of you. We really need this.” 

Y/N’s mom laid her hand on his face and said, “Anytime. You two need to take care of yourselves and each other first more often.” She moved towards the door trying to make this as short as possible. “Now let’s get family, leave these two lovebirds to nest alone.”

Terry and Y/N smiled at each other for the first time in weeks at the sound and sight of their kids saying “ewww” and fake gagging. It brought a pang to Y/N’s heart and she immediately frowned at the realization that they hadn’t seen or heard those reactions in too long.

She stayed seated, the kids coming up one by one to give their mommy a goodbye hug and kiss before they left, as Terry stood holding the door open and hugging and kissing everyone on the way out the door. She damn near cried when her mom kissed her on the forehead, the silent sign that her mom knew something was wrong and they would talk about it later. When Terry finally shut the door and turned around to stare her down all that had been left unspoken seemed to come out from the shadows and sit between them.

“Y/N, kitten?” Terry asked. She stopped looking past him at the door and finally looked at him at the pet name. He had his arms folded and was gripping his biceps to keep from rushing to touch his wife who hadn’t given him permission to touch her in the 5 weeks since she moved to the guest bedroom. They hadn’t played together in over 6 months, her figurative silence having been brewing longer than the weeks she was literally silent. She knew that he was asking for permission with the declaration, handing over his control of the situation with just the two names. 

She gulped and whispered back, “Yes, big daddy?”

Terry let out a sigh of relief and released the hold he had on his arms, his hope restored that he hadn’t lost her. He still had a chance to fix this.

“It feels nice to hear you address me again, I’ve missed your voice little one,” he said as he walked towards his wife while rolling up the sleeves on his long sleeve shirt. He had turned the air up a few hours prior and put on the shirt in preparation of this moment. Y/N had a weakness for his arms and hands - over the years he’s learned that wearing long sleeves was the best way to use that to his advantage. With the way her breath hitched, her nipples pebbled beneath her outfit, and she got stuck eyeing his movements was a sight for sore eyes, it’d been too long since she let herself look at him like that. Since she got out of her head long enough for her body respond to him as it had always naturally done. In fact he knew the reason she had been avoiding him and sleeping in the guest room was because he was always able to get back in her good graces with just a few moments of existing. Any of their disagreements always ended with her folding no matter how mad she was throughout their whole relationship, so these last few weeks were a megaphone announcement that she was not playing around this time. 

“Huh kitten?” 

Y/N had no idea what words were coming out her husband’s mouth. Her pulsing pussy was ringing in her ears and she was lost in thinking about everything those hands could and would do to her. By the time she focused on his words again, Terry was standing in front of her grasping her chin to look him in his mesmerizing eyes.

“Did you even hear what I asked you?”

She gulped again and shook her head no. Curse this man and the hold he had on her. 6 weeks of holding out, staying quiet, and standing ten toes down on her frustrations, and all it took for her to let him back in was a few words and him rolling up his sleeves. Terry hadn’t even done anything yet and she knew that no matter how right she was, no matter how much she wanted to maintain her resolve, and no matter what Terry finally told her about what happened, she would be forgiving him. Hell, she already had the moment she walked into the living room to see her parents.

Terry repeated himself. “I said I missed hearing you address me little one. Did you know that? How much I’ve been aching to hear you speak to me, to be able to touch you. I have permission to touch you now though, don’t I kitten?”

“Ye-,” Y/N had to clear her throat, though it did nothing to clear the lust that had changed her voice to the breathy thing it was, “Yes big daddy.”

“Yes you know how much I’ve been aching or yes I have permission?”

“Yes to both big daddy.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “How did you know lil mama? We haven’t been talking so I haven’t had time to tell you.”

“Cause I’ve been aching too,” she squeaked out while the wiggle of her hips increased as she tried to create friction with her thighs. Y/N the woman could not help her right now, the only one present was the submissive.

“Have you? I couldn’t tell kitten.” Terry’s neutral expression turned into a frown as he cupped the base of her skull, gripping her locs to pull her head back, eliciting a moan from Y/N as her eyes slid close.

When Y/N opened her eyes again she was met with the fire behind Terry’s eyes and though it wasn’t what she was trying to do, it brought her great joy to see the dom in Terry. Not the soft one he’d been using as a shield, but the real dom, the one she fell in love with all those years ago. It had been entirely too long since he’d come out to play and she was starved. She nodded her head yes.

“Well you’ve done too good of a job hiding it from me these last few months mamas. I think it’s time we fixed that, don’t you?” he asked.

Y/N nodded again, best she could and Terry couldn’t help himself. He slapped her with an open palm, not to hurt her but to bring her focus back and make himself clear as he spoke, his voice deepening with the lust that now clouded every fibre of his being. “Words kitten. You will use them or I will stop.”

“No!”

Terry’s grip on her hair tightened and he raised an eyebrow.

Y/N stuttered to correct herself. “I mean no big daddy, please don’t stop. I’ll use my words.”

“Good. Now we will have that conversation and I will tell you everything you’ve been begging to know, consequences be damned, but I need to release some pent up energy and I know you do too. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes big daddy.”

Terry loosened his grip slightly and his face softened as he took in his wife, hanging onto every word, listening with all of her attention, already neck deep in subspace. “I don’t think you understand.”

“I do, I promise.”

Terry closed his eyes and shook his head. He was terrified, she was too trusting, too ready to give herself over to him for his release. She had no idea how much anger and grief he’d been storing these last few years and he had no idea what letting himself go to indulge would look like anymore. He’d been afraid of himself since the day the Chief handed him that money and he knew before ever seeing with his eyes that Mike was dead. “No you don’t. Kitten, I got a monster that I’ve been hiding from you, hell from myself half the time too, and I know I said I’ll explain later but I gotta make sure you’re warned properly before you agree. I don’t know if I can maintain my control tonight, it’s been too long-”

Y/N cut off his speech to start her own. Briefly breaking character for a moment, she laid a hand on his face and said “Terrance.” His eyes welled with tears he had to do everything to keep from falling when she continued. “I have waited almost 4 years for you to trust me with these shadow parts of yourself. I’ve been missing the version of you who trusted himself enough to allow me to be his release for almost 4 years. I don’t just miss my husband, I don’t just miss my dom, I miss you. Having access to all of you. I trust you.”

One rouge tear escaped and Y/N wiped it away before it make it too far down his face and stood cupping his face with both hands. Terry let his hands fall to her love handles as she kissed him and he let out a deep groan at the sight of her kneeling at his feet, clasping her hands together at the base of her spine and looking up at him with an expression that matched her declaration. “I’m ready big daddy. Do what you will.”

Terry wiped at his face and with his head thrown back he let out a long, “fuck.” Now that he’d started them down this road, he had a feeling that she was going to make him go the distance and it made him feral. His monster had been wanted out, but she just waved a proverbial red flag in front of him. She wanted to meet his monsters so bad? Bet. They wanted to devour her anyway and now, looking at her offering herself up so pretty, he would let them.

[a-hazbin-reader]

i just had a really cute idea- What about reader after the birth of her baby with Alastor feeling a bit insecure about strech marks ? how does Alastor make her feel loved?

FUCK I LOVE THIS

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Body issues, Suggestive?

Description: ☝️⬆️

At first, Alastor doesn't even notice the insecurities you're having over your body, too busy learning how to be a proper father

No amount of parenting books could prepare him for the overwhelming love he feels for his children

It takes so much effort for him to even put his children down and leave a room- you don't understand

Bedtime is hard for papa too

But little things about you start to tip him off that something has been wrong with you lately

At first, he blames it on lack of sleep, which is something you both are becoming familiar with

Or maybe you're not eating right, too busy looking out for your babies and the hotel

He just knows that you won't hardly let him touch you anymore, something he didn't realize he craved until he was suddenly deprived of it

You're sitting and feeding the babies? He wants to kiss and nuzzle at your neck because the sight is so cute

"Motherhood looks very good on you, darling~"

At first you're receptive to it, tilting your head and sighing happily until his fingers ghost over your stomach

"Actually, can you take over for me? I have to go-do something."

And he's left alone with his just as confused looking children

Then suddenly, there's baby food being thrown at his face and his babies are howling with joy

Lovely

Maybe you're stressed, being a new mother is difficult

So he resolves to take the babies off your hands for the day, something that you're grateful for

And when he manages to put his spawns down for a nap, he even draws you a bath, thinking you two could share it

It's a romantic one, bubbles and candles all around maybe even a flower or two

"Darling, there's a hot bath waiting for you and I if you're interested..?"

You're visibly stiff again, looking uncomfortable and shy like back when you first got together with him

"Could I just have the bath to myself..?"

It wasn't what he was planning, but he could never tell you no

But it is concerning to him when you lock the door behind you

You don't even change in front of him anymore, another little bit of intimacy and trust that he suddenly misses

Then he starts to notice that the mirror in your bedroom has been covered, and new creams have appeared in the bathroom and-

Oh

Carrying babies does tend to change one's body

He's seen what happened with your own but he never thought you would become insecure about it

So Alastor, being the good husband he is, resolves to remedy the situation between you two

He crawls into bed with you one night, waiting until you're nearly asleep to wrap his arms around you

You're jolted awake in an instant, feeling his chest against your back and his hands on your stomach

Touching and stroking your stretch marks

You go to pull away but his grip is firm, keeping you in place, voice light but genuine

"You're never not going to be my beautiful wife..."

You're so thankful for the darkness of the room, you don't want him to see the tears in your eyes or the marks on your stomach

Even though a small part of you knows he can see it anyways, it's less embarrassing for you

Damn these hormones of yours, your body still hasn't fully recovered from your pregnancy

And then he's rolling on top of you, kissing down your neck to your chest, then down to your stomach

His hands push up your pajamas to expose your skin to him, and you can tell that he doesn't need the light to see what's there

He stops you from covering the marks, kissing them instead and gazing at you with eyes full of warmth

"You were so proud of these before..."

You have to look away from him, overcome with emotions so strong that your voice comes out thick with it

"I'm not pregnant anymore."

"As if that makes you any less beautiful, these are just marks of our history together. I love them."

And he's kissing them again, moving back up to kiss you as gentle claws rub over each stretch mark and scar

You eventually can't help but melt into his touch, having missed him more than you realized

It's a good night between you two and you wake up feeling better than you have in awhile

It's still a slow going process accepting your new body, but Alastor is patient, eager to woo his wife all over again

It's almost like you two are back to the start of the relationship

You know that part of him only loves the marks so much because it's proof of what he did for you, how far he would go to make you happy

Also, because he loves you

And soon you start to love them too, associating them with your love for your family

Eventually you two are back to bathing together, changing together, being sickeningly affectionate behind closed doors

Not always behind closed doors

And when they do start to fade you almost miss them, rubbing over the marks in longing

Looking over at your husband playing with the children, a dangerous thought enters your mind

Maybe Alastor wouldn't mind another baby or two?

Maybe more

I love these asks so much ♥️

[it-happened-one-fic]

Such a Privilege - Leona

Author Notes: This fic just kind of flew together while I was killing time. There isn't actually much to say about it other than I am rather pleased with how snarky some of the dialogue turned out. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ flirtation/ post Octavinelle chapter

Word Count: 1125

Leona had a bad habit. One that you’d initially discovered when you’d been staying with him in the Savannaclaw dorm while the Octatrio had held Ramshackle dorm for ransom. You had not, however, realized exactly how bad his habit was until more recently.

The issue was quite simple. Leona got cuddly when he was sleepy, and the problem only increased tenfold when he was actually asleep.

When you’d been staying in his room at Savannaclaw, it hadn’t really been that big of a deal. It had just meant that, after moving from the couch to his bed due to Grim’s bad habit of scratching things in his sleep and Leona’s declaration that his couch was not getting destroyed by your talking cat, you’d had to get used to waking up in the Housewarden’s embrace. 

Which wasn’t exactly an unpleasant thing considering this was Leona you were dealing with. After all, he was surprisingly good at giving some of the best hugs, and said hugs were usually impossible to receive.

The two of you’d had an unspoken agreement that neither of you would speak of the nightly cuddles during that entire time, and everything had been fine. Delightful, even.

But then, after everything had been resolved and you were back in Ramshackle, you’d taken to studying in the botanical garden near Leona’s napping spot.

You’d grown fond of the lion beastman in an odd sort of way during your stay with him, and you didn’t actually get to see him very often, so it had seemed like a good plan. You got to spend time with Leona and had a quiet place to study. What more could a Prefect want?

Truthfully speaking, you hadn’t even noticed when the young man had begun creeping your way. Growing steadily closer until it was too late.

Arms wrapped around your waist, steadily tightening as you realized, far too late, what was happening. Leona’s head pressed first against your hip and then, with a disgruntled snort, shifted until your lap had been claimed as his makeshift pillow.

You stared in surprise at the now relaxed young man, who seemed perfectly content now that you were officially his cushion.

But his content came at a steep price. You weren’t going to get any worthwhile studying done with Leona snoozing away on your lap, and you were most certainly trapped.

Waking Leona was no easy task, and the outcome probably wouldn’t be to your advantage, what with the importance of letting sleeping lions lie and all that. Ruggie could attest to that simple truth, and this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

In fact, this had been happening ever since you’d started studying in the botanical garden.

You briefly frowned at the prince, snoozing away on your lap, before sighing and resolving yourself to do the only thing you could do and amuse yourself with the source of your problem.

Besides, even if he complained, you could cite it as his nap tax.

Your hands slid into his soft, healthy-feeling hair easily, and your eyes widened as his head rolled back into your palm slightly. Almost like he was encouraging you to continue toying with the chocolatey strands that smoothly slid between your fingers. 

You smiled to yourself as he somehow relaxed further the longer you massaged his scalp until your gaze shifted, landing on his fluffy-looking ears, and you felt a grin creep across your face.

You hesitated only briefly before carefully reaching out and carefully rubbing your thumb over the back of his ear. 

They were velvety, and you felt your eyes go wide at exactly how pettable Leona, of all people, was. 

His ears twitched slightly at your touch, and you felt yourself freeze. Your gaze darting back to his face, only to find him continuing to snooze away. Peaceful and utterly unaware of your actions.

You smiled again, shrugging to yourself slightly as you went back toying with his hair. Amusing yourself even as you remain trapped as his pillow and idly considering how the young man would react if you were to undo his braids and redo his hairstyle.

 You only went still when Leona shifted. Rolling over to look up at you with far too much amusement shining in his bright green eyes for you to feel totally comfortable.

You stared down at him in silence and he only seemed to grow more amused the longer the silence between the two of you stretched. To be honest, though, you felt like a child who’d been caught with their hand in a cookie jar, while he looked like you’d fallen for some sort of carefully laid trap. 

That feeling of having been caught was only made worse when he finally spoke, words slipping from his mouth in an all-too-smug tone, “Nothing to say?”

You twitched as he broke the silence before frowning and slowly retracting your hands, “You’re the one who suddenly decided to use me as a pillow. What was I supposed to do?”

He yawned, showing no signs of moving, “I thought you were studying?”

Amusement continued to flicker in the emerald depths of his eyes as you stared at him incredulously. Hardly able to believe what you were hearing, “With you snoozing away on my lap? Like I would get anything done that way.”

He smirked almost immediately at your words, and you tensed as he began to speak, bracing for whatever it was that he was about to say, “So I’m too distracting for you?”

You looked away, not wanting to agree as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, yes. Completely,” Sarcasm dripped from your tone, but Leona hardly seemed phased.

He did, however, at long last sit up. Snorting to himself before twisting so that he could continue to face you, “Well, did you at least enjoy yourself, Herbivore? Not too many get to do that.”

The implication was clear: he’d let you toy with his hair, and pet his ears even though most would never be allowed to do such a thing.

But despite that, as your gaze slid back towards him, a grin was already creeping across your face, “Be his Royal Majesty’s pillow, you mean? I didn’t realize it was such a privilege.”

He merely continued to grin at your deliberate misinterpretation of your words as you continued. Tilting your head in amusement as you finished, “I doubt that’ll be the last time that happens anyway.”

He shifted only slightly, angling his body so that he dipped into your personal space as he lifted his chin with a smirk, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You snorted slightly, your eyebrows lifting in amusement, before you gave the slightest of nods, “I guess so.”

[serendipitous-seven]

'i can hear him smile.' | jung hoseok x f!reader | a serendipitous life series

summary: you wonder why hoseok is so quiet since returning from tour... pairing: jh x f!reader [sunny] genre: family fluff, fluff, sweet-angst tags/warning: baby-related material such as breast-feeding, slight angst but it's not sad

a/n: i felt compelled to repost this fic particularly after seeing those clips of hobi expressing his loss of self <3 apologies for lack of posting, i was having issues with text posts have since resolved the issue *yay*

dad bts series

With a then newborn baby, the stillness surrounding your home becomes normal. Used to some kind of humming or background noise to help keep your sanity, hearing the creaks of the wood floors or walls settling around you no longer caused you to jump or to peer around the corner anticipating a masked intruder. ‘Honey, nobody can penetrate the security here.’ Hoseok would be quick to settle your anxiety.

Smiling to yourself, you rearrange the flowers for the umpteenth time, mostly admiring them. A bouquet of red roses gifted by your husband. Returning from an 8-month-long tour with a tired smile and eager arms to hold you and your son. Oh, how Hoseok’s heart ached when he had to leave a then two-month-old Huimang and you, a new mother to care for it all on your own. Of course, your families and a few close friends gathered around you, some teaching you the ins and outs of parenthood while the rest ventured this unknown path with you.

You cried - a lot, laughed when Huimang nearly peed on you as you changed his diaper for only the third time alone since Hoseok left for North America. Just on the cusp of sleep while feeding your son only to be awoken by your friend, sore parts to boot, and a baby drunk from milk.

Hoseok made sure to call every single night after a show or signing. On his days off, he’d dedicate several hours of those days to spending time with you and Huimang over FaceTime. His phone stayed on the charger while he watched you move about your day, swimming in the sound of Huimang’s soft coos and even shrill cries. Noticing the way you kept it together the hours your son was awake. Finally at night, when Huimang was fast asleep, you’d appear with tearful eyes before your husband. Willing yourself to stop. It was all he could do to soothe you with words, wishing with all his being to be by your side. To cradle you, mend you, and reassure you with his physical presence.

‘You are doing such a great job, my love,’ Hoseok would tell you this over and over. Blinking, you come to again. Vibrant red petals illuminated by the bright sun streaming in through the ceiling-to-floor window. It’s nearly 2 PM, and Huimang should be stirring from his first nap in need of feeding. You skim the walls with your fingertips as you make your way to the bedroom where you left your sleeping baby, a warm smile touching your face as soon as you open the door.

Hoseok lays next to Huimang and you can’t help but giggle, surprised to find him in the same position as you left the two of them hours ago. The sun warms his back as he strokes Huimang’s cheek, running his slender finger down his little button nose, stopping to place his fingertip over your baby’s lips. Hoseok’s pink lips stretch with the slightest smile as he stares down at his son. He kisses his fingertip before putting it lightly against Huimang’s. You make yourself known to which Hoseok understands it’s time for Huimang to eat. He rubs his round belly, your son’s eyes already fluttering open. He whines for the moments until you are sat in bed, Hoseok placing him in your arms with the C-shaped pillow placed around you to help carry the baby‘s weight while he feeds from you.

He stays with the two of you, a hand glued to your son at all times. You smile at his soft caresses, stifling a laugh as Huimang’s eyes roll back in pure ecstasy. Food and papa’s touches; what more could a baby want? Unlike the other times, Hoseok returns with much to say, you note his silence. Resting your head back on the headboard, observing him while he watches the baby, a litter of hearts covering his dark eyes. He peers over at you for a moment, leaning in for a few kisses before moving back. He doesn’t say anything, he just watches. The day continues as lazy as ever. You welcome the noise of your baby and husband playing in the living room while preparing dinner. You aren’t sure whose giggles make you want to burst more- Hoseok’s or Huimang’s. Once again, you laugh by yourself at the jovial sounds filling your home. Dinner is had and before you know it, the late hour has crept in. You shut off the lights room by room, checking in on sleeping Huimang before moving to your bedroom for the night. Readying yourself for bed, your eyes fall over Hoseok as you move about. Discreet as you watch him when you collect your pajamas from the walk-in closet and then from the bathroom vanity, door ajar, a perfect view of him laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. He hardly stirs when you finally make it to bed, applying a little bit of cream on your hands before shutting your light off. It’s only then does he show signs of life despite his gentle breathing being enough of an indication, turning his light off. Before he can settle under the covers you run your hand down the length of his arm, laying it in his palm.

Hoseok turns and the two of you lay to face each other, his hand now grasped around yours, he brings it up to press a single kiss on your knuckles. You smile, feeling his soft hair through your fingers, “you’ve been so quiet since coming home.” His stare is longing, content but even a little melancholy. In the darkness of your bedroom, you see a sheen spread across his eyes. You move to press your palm against his cheek. “It’s so loud while we tour,” his voice is so deep, exhausted likely still needing to recover from the strain his body undergoes during those months, “I enjoy it of course; yelling into the microphone to thousands, jumping around, laughing, hearing them cheer at us…” A stillness falls over the two of you once again. From the baby monitor now set on Hoseok’s nightstand, you can hear Huimang snoring lightly, humming in short breaths. Is he dreaming? You notice Hoseok’s eyes are closed again but a look of utter euphoria has taken over his expression; “I like this new quiet we have at home, I long to come home to it now,” he opens them and finds you immediately, “I can hear him after not being able to for so long. I can even hear his smile. Then I can hear you giggling to yourself from the kitchen-“ he teases you. You roll your face into the pillow only to be brought back by your husband. He moves closer to kiss you. You steep in the feel of his deep chuckle against your lips, how thoughtfully he wraps his hand around your jaw.

Chasing after his lips when he pulls away, he gives in for a few more moments with you, holding you close. After a while you rest your face against Hoseok’s chest, keeping a hand on his cheek and stroking his soft skin with your thumb while he cases his arms around you, rubbing your back. Hoseok hums contentedly, taking in the silence and comforts of your home together. His family. You smile, taking in the feeling of your husband finally holding you after so many months. You listen to the sounds he longs for, ironically the silence he longs for. Huimang lost deep in sleep, it sounds different now. Knowing your husband is soothed by it, likely falling under it as if it’s a lullaby meant only for him.

[kairos-polaris]

John raising Gideon au, her relationship with Lyctors, part two to this post. Mercymorn and Augustine version

Augustine: Checked out the moment they "resolved" the issue surrounding Kiriona and her birth. Rather wishes she was dead, avoids her unless John wants to play house. John once asked Augustine to train Kiriona. Augustine reluctantly agrees ("*cough*Teacher's pet*cough*" "Mercy you aren't subtle) but John changes his mind after one class. Augustine is too rough with her and John knows he wishes she was dead :) Kiriona doesn't like him either, choosing to annoy and bother him whenever he is around (which is rare tbh).

One time she stole his cigarettes and tried to smoke. Augustine caught her smoking and laughed so hard, Kiriona managed to stab him. He teaches Kiriona how to smoke after this and that's literally the only instance of them spending time together

Mercymorn: If Augustine couldn't care less about Kiriona, Mercy hates her with passion. For many reasons. Because Wake's reverent isn't there to tell them, she believes Kirona is hers for some time, not even considering that Wake could have used her cells until Kiriona grows into Wake's features. But until then she is just so angry that she is forced to be around the child born only to be killed, "her" child. Cristabel part of her feels guilty over that, that she, unlike John, feels no love towards the child, wants her dead just like Augustine does. She hates Kiriona more because she feels a twinge of guilt when looking at her but she suppresses it instantly.

One time when Kiriona was like 5, Mercy found her napping in the kitchen. She got annoyed and woke her up. Sleepy Kiriona who still had hope in her heart that she could win Mercy over, smiled at her and said I love you, hoping it would endear Mercy to her, if a little bit. Mercy instead freezes and runs out the room. She refuses to be in the same room as Kiriona for the next two years until John forces her to and then doesn't speak her to her at all for the next five years. After this Kiriona gives up on Mercy ever growing even a little fond of her (she does eventually stop hating Kiriona as passionately, when she realises Kiriona isn't hers)

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 6: Missing Someone

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: It’s time to tell all and talk about each other’s pasts

Word Count: 2,417

Content/Warnings: ANGST, kissing, use of pet names, no-good exs, crying and near-crying, miscommunication but it’s resolved

Author’s Note: I was gonna make it bad, but then I realized, it’s not like this couple to have a huge blowout fight and misunderstanding. They’re too good at talking it out.

Shoutout to my childhood friend I visited last week for helping me write this. He won’t read it, but I appreciate him indulging my thought process. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. It makes me very sad tbh. I skip it a lot when listening.

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

You and Ari were going to build a new dresser in your bedroom. It had been nearly six months of being together officially. Your old furniture was breaking down already, so the two of you had gone shopping. Ari insisted he was just going so that he could provide his truck for hauling it, but you knew that wasn’t the case when he turned down the first three you liked.

“No, that one won’t match the wood grains of your cabin.”

“What’s the material on that one? Pressed composite? No good.”

“Sure Duchess, that one could work…if you’re blind.”

You rolled your eyes at that last one,

holding back a laugh. Sure, those were valid reasons, but any minor criticism was something you took personally. He didn’t even live with you! Finally, you’d gotten him to agree to a nice, subtle piece that complemented your bed frame without clashing against the rest of the cabin. The only issue was, you had to build it.

Once the two of you had gotten home from the furniture store, you were exhausted. Not only from the shopping, but from long drive since you had to go to the nearest city with hopes of finding anything good.

After eating dinner, you and Ari settled on the couch together, cuddling to catch up on the show you two were binging at the moment. Sure, you usually preferred to do things away from screens, but sometimes, there was nothing that could replace classic, trashy TV. The dresser could wait. Ari was laying on his back and you were laying directly on top of him, ear over his steady heartbeat until you drifted to sleep.

You began to stir awake and stretch when you realized the TV wasn’t playing anymore. Strong hands stroked your back and your eyelids fluttered open. Your sleepy pupils sparkled and dilated as you moved your chin to Ari’s chest to see him looking down at you the same way, him not even realizing the way he smiled when you were within this eye sight.

“Well good morning handsome.” Your voice was full of sleep.

“Good morning.” Ari leaned forward to kiss your nose as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Looks like it really is morning. 2:47 am.”

You hummed in response. “I think we kinda threw off our sleep schedule with what was supposed to be a nap.”

Ari nodded and laughed. “Oh definitely. But now we’ve got all this time to be productive. You wanna build that dresser?”

You groaned and threw your head into his chest, smushing it your nose and mouth. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You groaned and sighed before your muffled voice came out against his pecs again. “Lemme go pee first.”

You pushed off of Ari’s chest, causing him to exhale most of the air in his lungs with a laugh before he watched you scurry to the bathroom.

Ari got up and walked toward your room to get started on the dresser while he waited for you. Just as he sat on the floor straddling the instructions and some spare parts, he heard a buzzing coming from the nightstand, lighting up your dim bedroom.

“Duchess, your phone is ringing.” He yelled out the bedroom door.

“You can get it. I’ll be out soon. It could be important since they’re calling this time of night.” He heard your faint response.

With a groan, Ari stood up again and took the few large strides towards your nightstand, picking up the phone off the charger. The number wasn’t saved.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is that you? I miss you s’much. You should come over.” A man slurred from the other side of the line.

Ari was confused. He knew the area code of the phone number wasn’t from around here, but who was this man and why was he calling at this hour?

“Who is this?” Ari gritted out the words. He was beginning to feel something. There was anger, there was frustration. He was hurt that this seemed like something that was kept from him. The man on the other side of the line continued to call out your name.

“It’s me. It’s Oscar. Where are you? My bed’s cold.”

That got Ari. It hit him where it hurts and he felt a pang in his chest. He hung up the phone and stalked over to the bathroom where you were washing your hands as his hands shook. You hadn’t looked up yet.

“Hey Bear, was it anything important?” You were met with silence, only Ari’s heavy breathing and the sound of running water filling the air. When he finally spoke up, you could hear a near-growl in his voice.

“Who is Oscar?” Your head darted up and your wide eyes met his through the mirror. You shut off the water, dried your hands, and turned around.

“He’s no one. No one that we should be concerned about, anyway. Why did he call?”

You could see the worry on Ari’s brow and the tears that threatened to fill his reddening eyes. “He said his bed was cold. He misses you. Is there something I don’t know?”

You broke your gaze with Ari, looking at your shifting feet on the cool floor while you fiddled with your fingertips. You took a deep breath and a step towards Ari, surprised by him taking a step back. He’d been hurt before and he didn’t need it coming from you, too. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his distance.

“Oscar is my ex. I should’ve known it would be him calling at this hour.” Ari’s look of hurt took on even more emotion; it was his turn to be confused.

“So he calls you often at this time of night? When I’m not around? And you don’t tell me? Do you always pick it up?”

You shook your head, reaching out to Ari, glad that this time he let your set your hands on his waist.

“No.” You whispered back, your watery gaze meeting his. “I know you and I have been a little private with our pasts, but I think it’s time we tell each other everything.”

Ari nodded as you followed him to the couch. A place where you two had just had your bodies pressed together found you sitting on opposite ends, your legs criss-crossed in front of you and Ari’s long legs out to the side. You weren’t touching at all as you pulled a pillow up against your chest for comfort and took a deep breath, preparing to start.

You told Ari everything. All about the relationship. The expectations, the lies, the late night phone calls, the broken promises, the new girl after the breakup. He nodded along, keeping a mostly level face, although he maintained a mild layer of disgust. How could someone so awful keep you for so long? You were too good for Oscar. Heck, Ari thought to himself, you were too good for him, too. But he would spend the rest of his life becoming better for you if he had to.

As Ari was taking it all in, you continued on. “Mostly during the relationship, but even for a few months after, he would still call me late at night. It’s been over a year since the last time. I honestly thought he would’ve forgotten all about me by now. I don’t have his contact saved anymore. Something must’ve happened, though. But it’s not my problem. He was always whiskey drunk and saying he missed me, just like this time, but I knew that wasn’t the case.”

You looked up at Ari. He seemed like he was beginning to understand. “When we were dating, I fell for it. I fell for all the sweet, yearning things he would say, and I’d come over. We’d dance down the hallway and fall into his bed. We’d lay there and talk, well, it was almost always him doing the talking and lying until the sun came up. I really lost my voice over that whole thing.”

Ari felt such deep sadness for you. His favorite thing was when you would talk passionately about something random or speak your mind against the popular opinion. To hear that someone took that away, someone didn’t appreciate you and your amazing qualities, made him want to scream. His jaw clenched and he kept his silence, grateful for the full insight on your life. If Ari ever met Oscar, well, who knows what would happen to that punk?

Your voice began to break as you sniffled. “I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, or break my heart, but I felt used. Like I was a late night lonely drug. I know he thought he loved me, and he would say that I was all he wanted, but I think he just wanted someone. At one point, I wished that I was that one he wanted, but I think a part of me always knew I wasn’t.”

Ari had crept closer again over the duration of your story. He pulled you in tight to his chest and rubbed your back as you wept, tears staining his old t-shirt. He had no idea how someone so awful could bring down someone so amazing, so angelic. You were everything. The sun rose and and set on you for Ari.

He pulled away and set his eyes deeply on yours, his hands holding your fingers. “I’m so sorry, Angel. I’m sorry you had to go through that. You deserve the world. Anyone who can’t see that was never worthy to even be in your presence.” He kissed your forehead and your eyes gently closed at the gesture as a soft smile graced your face again at his true, genuine sweetness.

“You are the world. You’re my world, and I’m going to spend as long as I have to so you can see how much you mean to me. Every day, I’m going to do everything I can to give you the love you deserve. To show you just how much I really, truly, honestly love you.”

You sat there, mouth agape in shock. There it was. That was the first time either of you had dared to say the L-word to each other. It wasn’t haphazardly thrown out there as a last-ditch effort to stay. It wasn’t overused and thin. It was heavy, it was intentional, and it was true. It carried such a weight to it, but your were sure Ari wouldn’t have dropped it had he not meant the word with his whole soul.

You felt it too, though. That was the part that astounded you. There was no other person who you believed could ever hold a place so fitting for the word love. There was only Ari.

“I love you, too.” You spoke firmly, gazing into his bright blue eyes, lit up extra from his beaming smile. His hand moved up to your cheek and he leaned in for a kiss. His soft lips met yours as your tongues danced together. There was no greed, no rush. Just love.

When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads against each other. You sighed and giggled. “While I’m out here being honest. I feel like there’s something else I should tell you.”

Ari’s head tilted to the side, confused on what other bombshell you could be hiding. The truth was, you had never been completely forthright with your thoughts.

“Did I do something to make you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me before?” You could hear the wavering in his tone. After such a vulnerable moment, what else could be coming?

“No, no, that’s not at all what’s going on. It’s just…ugh….” You were beginning to grow frustrated with yourself. There was so much you kept locked inside as a result of how Oscar hurt you. You were elated it was coming out for Ari to see. He deserved to know every side of you, but words were hard to formulate in the right way.

“I’m sorry. I want to communicate more openly with you. But it’s scary. I thought when you found out about everything with Oscar, you’d judge me for it. You’d look at me differently.” He shook his head, about to speak up before you cut him off.

“I want to be able to explain it all fully. I should’ve told you all this sooner. I knew once I gave you everything, it would lock me in. It would have solidified everything in a way we can’t come back from. You knowing all the details of my life. I didn’t want it to blow up, because I knew if it did, I would never recover. If I’m being honest, I was so scared to give it all over to you because I’ll never get it back.”

Ari’s blew out a puff of air, processing your words. He simply nodded, allowing you to finish. He completely understood where you were coming from. To trust someone so deeply again after pain like that was the scariest thing he could think of, and he was going through it, too. He was just glad you did trust him. Because he’d give you everything you deserved and more in a heartbeat. The two of you weren’t locked in to anything bad at all, you were just securing yourselves in something you already knew.

After all the heaviness, you made an attempt to lighten the mood. “And, I think you should know, I’m completely capable of assembling a dresser by myself. There are just some times I ask you for help because I want to spend time with you. Not because I need it.”

You winked and Ari heartily laughed in response. “Is that also why you asked me if I needed help cooking dinner last week?”

It was your turn to laugh, throwing you head back before pulling it forward and shaking it back and forth. “No. Sometimes I offer help because I can’t stand to watch as you do something wrong.”

Ari playfully rolled his eyes and pulled you in close for one of his signature bear hugs. He spoke into your hair. “Well, I’m just happy you keep me around. And I’m always happy to do whatever, right by your side, like a true partner. I love you.”

You both inhaled each other’s scents deeply. “I love you, too.”

When you pulled away, Ari opened up and told you everything about his past, too.

Next >

Bonus A/N: reverence is rare and lies are plentiful

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

[elliethejellie]

And Here You Were~

A Sun and Moon x Reader (oneshot? series? drabble? I don't know yet)

AO3 Link

What would happen if the cheery and innocent daycare attendant at the Megaplex grew attached to one person in particular? Would it become overly protective? Neglectful of the daycare duties? Is the animatronic capable of jealousy? Love? Hate?

Well, you should know. You are the one they've got their eyes on, after all...

*****

We remember the first day you showed up. It was a Tuesday, and you were terrified. Your little denim overalls and rainbow-striped shirt were a sight we never tired of seeing - it made you fit in perfectly with the colorful theme of the daycare.

"She's got some anxiety, and she is not to be excluded from naptime for any reason. She gets cranky without her naps and will just cry and cry and nobody can calm her down and-"

"Yes, yes, okay, ma'am. Trust us, we're all more than qualified to handle your little superstar while you're away. Isn't that right Sun?" the human daycare attendant pined, trying to calm your anxious mother. She looked a mess with her hastily thrown on baggy clothes and dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was up in a lazy bun, tangled as all hell, and her lips were dry and cracked. She was going through something. We pieced together through little snippets of conversation from you later on that your parents were going through a divorce, and she was fighting for custody while still trying to keep up with her demanding job. She was a strong and independent woman, so having to bring you to childcare made her feel like a failure. But she wasn't.

"Yes, of course!" Sun replied cheerily. He bounded towards your mother with excited energy - enough that it  absolutely terrified you and sent you into a screaming flurry of tears. Sun's rays shrank back into his head slightly and he apologized immediately. The human daycare attendant rolled their eyes and grabbed you anyways, while your mother reached into her bag and pulled out a few different prescriptions. Sun mentally logged everything you were supposed to take - anxiety medication with your lunch if you were still not interacting, nausea medicine if you complained of a stomachache after eating, and doctor-ordered melatonin to help put you down for naptime if you weren't sleeping. 

Great, another helicopter mother, Moon said inside of Sun's head. They had done that for as long as they could remember. It was how the two communicated with each other when one of them had control and the other was stuck watching on from inside. But Sun ignored his brother this time, not wanting to miss a single thing your mom was saying. 

The human attendant nodded nonetheless at your mom, taking the labeled freezer bag with the orange bottles and placing it behind the front desk to be logged momentarily. "I promise, ma'am, we will look after your little superstar well, and she'll fit in just fine. Isn't that right, Y/N?" they asked you, who was finally calming down from your screaming fit. Now you were staring at Sun with wide eyes, fearful but curious. 

Over the next few months, you had grown to adore the daycare. Once you opened up, you got along well with all the other kids. Your personality began to shine through, and you seemed like the perfect child. You were a great problem solver, friends with everyone, and creative when it came to literally everything. The other children in the daycare always wanted to play with you, and you always made time for all of them. If there was an issue between your friends, you would help resolve it before Sun even had the chance to make it over to you. You never broke the rules, used your manners, and somehow encouraged every other kid to follow in your leadership.

But our favorite part about you was how you never seemed to treat the two of us as one in the same. We still remember the day you dragged most of the kids to the craft corner and encouraged everyone to draw cards for Moon. When asked why by your curious classmates, you would respond with "Because he never gets as many gifts as Sun, and I think that probably makes him sad."

You grew up with the daycare, and a year turned into two and then three. 

But one day - a Monday, we believe - your mother came to drop you off, and abruptly told the human on shift that it would be your last day. She looked disheveled and even more tired than usual. Her eyes were red - she had been crying. You weren't your usual self that day, either. You were whiny and reserved, hiding away in the quiet corner. You refused to play with anyone, making excuses each time one of the other children tried to get you involved. You even refused to eat, and wouldn't sleep at naptime.

It was during that last naptime that Moon had taken you away from the other kids to try to understand what was happening. Sitting in one of the castle towers next to the ball pit, he finally asked you the burning question on our mind.

"Starlight, what ever is the matter? Sun tells me you haven't eaten or played at all today," he said with a softness he seemed to reserve only for you. You were clinging to one of the half-moon pillows with so much force for your little body, it made Moon worried immediately. You only shook your head as tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

We never did find out why you weren't returning. 

The daycare wasn't the same after you had left. The children fought, naptime was difficult, and Moon seemed to fade from the little superstars' minds as if he was never important. But we pushed through nonetheless. We never forgot about you. We kept your drawings up on our wall in our room and would look at them any time we were feeling down. The sadness faded from a relentless pain to a dull ache after a year. And soon, we didn't really think about you much. Other kids came and went, and we just moved on.

Or so we thought we had. 

We were informed that some things were changing about the daycare, about Moon, and about the Megaplex in general. We were forced to go to Parts and Service daily for about a month, having new programs put into our coding. After the month (and many refusals to answer our questions), we were told Moon was to patrol the Megaplex at night. We were asked several test questions by Vanessa, the new head of security, to make sure the programs were working properly.

"Okay, and what do you do if there's a code blue?" she asked.

"Seek out any head personnel and get them to safety before dealing with the intruder or intruders," Moon responded, crossing his arms. "Now can you please tell me why we're doing this?" he asked for the hundredth time. And once again, Vanessa ignored him, writing something on her clipboard. 

"Okay, that's it, now follow me," she said, setting the clipboard down and leading Moon out of the P&S room. He did as he was told, not because he wanted to, but because that was part of the new programming. Unless going against direct protocol, the brothers were no longer allowed to do as they pleased. If given a direct order from security personnel, they were forced to follow it. 

Where do you think she's taking us? Sun asked his brother, unbeknownst to the blonde. Moon shrugged, blinking his new eyes rather rapidly as he struggled to get used to the several new overlays he now had. He could see where each of the glamrock animatronics were, Vanessa's (or anybody's) level of clearance, and even call his wire out in the rest of the megaplex now.

Vanessa led them up to the atrium and around a corner to another woman sitting nervously in one of the cushioned seats for families to take breaks on. She also wore a security guard outfit, but she didn't have the same clearance as Vanessa. In fact, she seemed to have very little clearance, Moon could see, due to the new overlay. Sun gasped loudly inside their shared mind, making Moon flinch. What?! the blue animatronic hissed back.

Sun didn't reply, and Moon made an irritated noise. Vanessa was talking to the other security guard, when she finally turned to him and smiled. "Apparently you two have met before," she said, gesturing towards you, who stood up but kept your eyes to the floor. Something tugged at the back of Moon's mind as Sun tried to bring up a memory file. But he didn't need to. You looked up and locked eyes with them, nervousness written all over your face.

For years the brothers daydreamed of seeing you again. For years they sat in their room and wondered what happened to you. For years they waited patiently, hoping that by some miracle, you would be brought back to them again.

And here you were.

[tigereyes45]

do you think you could write something for TOS McSpirk, maybe them sharing a bed for the first time? McCoy being burnt out and Jim/Spock convince him to have a nap in their quarters while they work. Night comes and they end up snuggling together? I’m seriously craving some innocent-ish hurt/comfort with those three.

thank you <333 no pressure though ofc

Sorry this took a bit, and that I didn't follow your prompt completely, but inspiration hit me so here it goes:

Summary:

Jim is sick, and McCoy has burnt himself out taking care of the captain. Spock has an idea to resolve one of those issues.

Preview of the story:

“Spock!” McCoy yelps as Spock shifts him into a more comfortable position. The doctor throws his arms around Spock’s neck. “If you drop me, I’ll never let you live it down.”

“I will not drop you.” Spock’s certainty was enough to seemingly assuage McCoy’s nerves. Instead as the pair round the bed, McCoy turns to glare at Jim.

“You planned this somehow.” The accusatory tone would usually be enough to make Jim nervous, instead the captain simply laughs as much as his sore throat would allow without triggering a coughing fit.

“You are tired, Doctor McCoy. You’re mental faculties and physical body have begun to show clear signs of a condition humans call, ‘burnt out’.” Spock carefully lays McCoy at the top of the bed, letting his legs dangle off. Spock bends down and quick removes the doctor’s shoes. He rises, preparing to take them away.

“Oh no you don’t!” McCoy’s fingers firmly pinch Spock’s sleeve. “Jim, this teacher’s pet hasn’t slept at all in the last two days,” McCoy wags a finger at Spock with his free hand. “And don’t you try to deny it. I have evidence.”

Spock’s jaw tightens. Jim tilts his head further back up the pillow. “Sounds like you should join us Spock.”

(Wanted to use a gif of McCoy and Spock putting Kirk in a sickbay bed, but I couldn't remember the episode. It's 3:17am here. I'm too tired to keep looking haha. XD )

Edit: Feel free to send in fanfic requests! You can find my list of what I like to write here.

[pridelessdaydreamer]

On this crisp morning (or whatever time Linhardt sees fit to exit her room for the first time in the day), a small brown paper package blocks the door of the Hevring heir's dorm room, nestled in close to protect it from the elements and from passerby alike.

Inside, cushioned by shredded paper, a copper candle holder gleams with a polish strong enough to nearly function as a mirror. Around it curls an awkwardly proportioned plush cat: an elongated forest green body with stubby limbs and thick, visible stitches holding it all together. It rests with closed eyes made of two long lines of embroidery thread. Atop both of them rests a handwritten note:

Happy Birthday Linhardt!

Your first gift was letting you sleep in as long as you want today. You're welcome. (A face is drawn next to this text, sticking its tongue out at the reader.)

I know you'll never stop staying up all night reading stuff, so this candle holder is supposed to help you strain your eyes less in the dark! Handling glasses seem like it'd be a real hassle with all the places you like to take impromptu naps, so you should try to take care of your eyesight a little, y'know?

I don't know any laws about sleepy, stubborn cats owning not being allowed to own another cat, so the last gift is just a napping buddy for you.

Eyes flutter open unusually late—though, Linhardt doesn’t realize this at first. Rather, they presume the hour to be the same as usual—reasonable, though lacking in recognition. With a slightly lesser degree of tiredness, they sit up in bed, and with a sharper mental acuity than normal, they get up and get dressed.

It is when she arrives at the door, however, that things finally start to click into place. (It is not an immediate process by any means, but now she was thinking about things—not just mindlessly going through the motions.) There is a weight behind the door that she did not expect, and upon inspection: a package. (They couldn’t imagine what for, but might as well open it.)

And so Lin reenters his room, setting down the package on his desk and then opening it. First paper, then the container, then the cushioning and a note—

Oh right. My birthday.

—and that is all that is necessary for the boy to know the source. (Well, he also signed it at the very end, but you know how it is with recognizing your best friend’s handwriting—it’s far more immediate than that, so really, why wait?)

“Hmph,” mage smirks, already endeared by the words of it alone. (There’s also an audible laugh when they see the face Caspar had drawn mid-note.) Though the other boy had the tendency to be… politely put, a bit of a fool, it was evident, the heart put into the gift they’d received—and the wisdom, they would admit. (They had actually intended to get a candlestick for themself in town soon eventually at some point.) Caspar had also gotten them a nice one. They’d have to thank him later.

Or perhaps now, she considers, eyes now paying keen attention to the cat plush. Her mind is immediately drawn back to the hamster she’d made him (that was certainly not a coincidence), and here, she laughs again—louder, full smile.

“Well, Caspar,” he muses aloud, “I’m glad to know you like it so much.” And with that resolve, cat is taken from its perch (the candlestick set upright on his desk), and Linhardt exits, navigating his way to…

…What time is it again?

Ah well. Finding Caspar wouldn’t be too much issue really anyway; classes could wait.

[eod-agent-13-12]

Lore Master Post:

Partly-Canon Standing:

Being Dead has some Unintended Consequences

Phoenix and John Juniper should never date

A What If Scenario

Time Loops (Extreme Version)

A Phoenix's Serenade (Roxanix Fic)

Expectations and Attention (Juniper X Phoenix Fic)

Vow (RoxaFabbyLaris fic)

You'd Expect They'd be Used to This, But They Aren't. (The Stanley Parable Inspired)

Birds of a Feather

Canon Lore:

Trains of Thought and Pins in Concrete

Zoraxis Time Schedules

From the Same Nest

Keepsakes and Dossiers

A Vacation

Fire Safety

Documentation and a Project Proposal

Start of Tragedy

Rusted Tears

Warmth in a Bowl of Noodles

A Nest made of Blankets

What Someone thinks is Best

Maybe it's a Trick of my Mind

Dr. P, Do we have a blanket?

I can't see what they see

The Guilt in Smiling

A Few Steps Out of the Darkness

A Crane in a Phoenix's Nest (Angst Heavy)

Breaks, Pressure, and Awkwardness

It was the Little Things

Who's Your Hero?

Night Classes and Spiral Platforms

I Just Hope It's a False Alarm

Trust Issues with Tins

Miscommunicatea-ng

Phoenix and Party Tricks (Roxana Prism's Birthday)

A Handler's Pep Talk

Scales and Tracks (Anna Ulanova's Birthday)

Chief Resolves and Associations

Keep it Locked, Under Key

Resignation and Firing

Hele, Guerilla Songs, and Nap Time

Isn't This a Familiar Situation?

A Complicated Color Code Day

You'd Think it would be the Agents…

Tunnels and Access Points

Life Isn't So Bad When You're Out

Sense, Silence, Sentiment

You can't Cage a Phoenix Arc (RP series with @phoenix-and-found-family and @the-one-and-only-043): Separate Link

Scenes with Other Phoenixes:

Comforting a Sibling

This isn't just work anymore, it's family

We'll Stay until you feel better

It Burns on the Insides

Return to a Baby Chick

An UnComfortable Turn of Events

The Tipping Point

A Simple Lullaby

Attack on Zoraxis Arc: Separate Link

Image Posts: Separate Link

Alternate Universe:

Candlelight and Phoenix (Introduction)

A Phoenix and Candlelight (RP between @phoenix-and-found-family's Phoenix and Operative Candlelight)

Cooking and Laughter (Short Moment within RPs)

This Kid (Drawing)

Alternate Timeline (Mrs. Ambrose)

Safe and Sound Simon Says (Mind Control AU)

Safe and Sound Simon Says Part Two

What Part of "No" Do You Not Understand? (Incubus Juniper AU)

Tie the Net Around You (Zoraxis Operative AU)

Our Final Waltz (We'll Let Go Together) (Agent Phoenix X John Juniper AU)

Turned Away Fic

Mga Bagay na Hindi ko Masabi (Agent Phoenix X Anna Ulanova fic)

FanLetters Crossover (Masterpost)

Radio Host Phoenix:

Radio Host Phoenix (Drawing)

Static and Radio Waves (Phoenix as a radio host)

Static and Radio Waves Part Two

Static and Radio Waves Part Three

Static and Radio Waves Part Four

Fan art!

Other RPs

Wraith and 13-12

Wraith, Cats, and Sleep

014 and 13-12 (Slight medical emergency)

13-12, Wraith, and Typhoon (First Meeting of Wraith and Typhoon)

Pheoness, Pheonix, and 13-12 (First meeting with Pheoness and Pheonix)

Prank War (With Agent Shadow)

Wrong Universe (Wraith Meets the Original Kazuya)

[jenni42085]

Bubble Gum

Chris, well daddy always said to spit gum or candy out before nap time because you have had a mess a time or two, but sleep hit you out of nowhere as you were coloring a picture for daddy on your play mat. Usually it was a fight to take naps on weekends but today was different. Today you were sleepy. Dodger curled up with you and kept you warm so you easily gave in.

Chris walked inside from yard work and noticed how quiet the house and looked at the time. He realized it was your nap time and that maybe you had fallen asleep with no issues. He walks into your play room and sees you and Dodger nestled together breathing shallowly and adorably. He took a quick picture for his memories. As he was about to cover you with your favorite fuzzy blanket he notices something bright shiny purple on you as well as Dodger.

Upon further inspection he realizes that it wasn’t slime or taffy but the dreaded bubble gum. He knows for a fact that he told you a few days ago to limit the gum and remember to spit it out before bed or anytime you felt sleepy. But here he looked down and saw his precious baby girl asleep with bubble gum hanging out of her mouth sticking to herself as well as Dodger.

He stood there a moment trying to figure what would be the best way to resolve this sticky situation. He figured he would go about it the quieter of the two and less tears.

“Dodger. Wake up pup,”. The playful pup opened one eye and look at him as he quietly and quickly got the bubble gum out off of the dog’s ear with not too much resistance. Thankfully it wasn’t matted into the dog’s fur.

Sighing, he shut the door to let Dodger run off some energy and away from the madness that is going to ensue.

“Princess.” No movement. Just more deep breathing and a rub through your curly natural hair as your sleeping form went back to sleep reaching for your side kick puppy. “Princess. Wake up.”

A few more minutes of trying to wake you and a gentle nudge and you finally woke up. “Hi Daddy.”

Chris kneels down to your level. “Hey Bunny. How was your nap?”

A stretch and a yawn happen before you can reply. You scratch your head then realize there is a sticky substance at the end of it. “Daddy?” Your voice questioned with fear and sadness laced in it.

“What has Daddy said about bubble gum?”

You thought for a moment. “To spit it out before sleepy time. And only twice a week.”

“Did you follow that rule Princess?”

Your eyes got bigger as you finally realize that the substance is gum in your hair. “I didn’t mean to Daddy. I forgot. I just got sleepy.” You plead with sadness as fear hits you that he is going to cut your hair. “Daddy! Please don’t cut all of my hair off! I’m sorry.”

The tone of your voice made his heart break. He should have hidden the gum that Sebastian had given you but figured you would have remembered. He calmly rubs his hand down your cheek. “It’s ok little one daddy can fix it.”

“But Daddy.”

“Princess.” He breathes deep trying to get you to focus on him. “Do you trust Daddy?”

You nod as tears are coming down your cheek. “I do Daddy.” You reply before he can tell you to use your words.

He picks you up as if you weigh nothing and carries you to the bathroom counter. You hiss as your warm brown skin comes into contact with the cold marble counter.

He steps in between your thick freshly tanned brown legs. “Princess you are a very lucky girl.”

Your head pops up as he says this. “ How so Daddy?”

“Well it’s only on the tips of your pigtail. So it will just be a trim daddy is going to do.”

“Better than you did Dodger you did that one day?” You ask with a smile.

“Yes sassy pants. Better than Dodge that one time.” He replies as he playfully pops at you while undoing the one gum filled pigtail.

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (32)

Author’s Note: Dear readers, I am terribly sorry for how delayed this chapter has been. If you follow me on social media or have read my other Tumblr posts, I have explained my situation briefly, but will explain again here. My baby was born with Laryngomalacia and my life has become a crazy rollercoaster ride of doctor’s visits and sleepless nights. I couldn’t return to my job because of his health issue and had to give up the only job I’ve ever wanted. The last two years of my life has been dedicated to getting my Masters for this job, and just like that, it’s no longer mine. This has been a hard season for me, but I am thankful for my sweet baby and the time I get to be with him. In short, I will be a stay at home Mom until his health issue has resolved, so I am hoping to get an opportunity to write more. However, he is a pretty high-maintenance baby who only sleeps for 10 minutes at a time, so finding the extra time has been difficult. This chapter took an entire month worth of naps, even though it is shorter than my other chapters (sorry, but I have to submit as much as I can get done, and I’m sure you all want something instead of waiting longer). In addition, I am also hoping to use some of this time writing my own book, BTHG, which I hope to publish one day. Again, I want to thank you all so much for your dedication to this story and for continuing to support it through all seasons of these last several years. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter! Stay happy, stay healthy readers. Until next time.  

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Chapter 32: An Approaching Sun

In the moment that Sakura had asked him directly in the desert: “Is it enough for you?” Sasuke had known his answer in his heart. And when she turned away from him in the presence of Kankuro after their return hours earlier, the sight of her angry back made Sasuke realize it was the first time that he had ever seen it. Sasuke had practically begged for that confession, pleading for her to tell him how they could be together so he could justify the choice he had already made some time ago, justify choosing this despite all his many worries. Those words sung to his heart and caressed his concerns lovingly. He still gave her an out, asking “Is all of that true?” and when she said “yes,” it was Sasuke’s final unraveling. Th be at “yes” was the final reassurance that his stubbornness needed before he took hold of her chin.

Unlike the kiss of his dream in the desert, Sasuke was careful—so careful when placing his mouth on hers. His fingers held her chin firmly while he took time to unite their mouths. As he did so, he braced himself despite his nerves and deepened the kiss. Sakura responded carefully as well, and Sasuke lifted his hand to touch her cheek in reassurance. To say, I want this. I’ve wanted this. But his fingers brushed wetness and Sasuke instantly broke away, startled at the tears he found running down Sakura’s face.

He searched her eyes with worry, immediately apologizing. “Sorry—”

“No,” she smiled, grabbing hold of his receding face with her fingertips, and whispering, “—just happy.” Sasuke wanted to sigh in relief because those tears had always been a sign that he had hurt her, but this time she was happy. She brought his mouth back to hers, not wanting it to be over, and Sasuke let her lead for just a moment. He forced himself to pull back despite the fire rising in his stomach.  

“Maybe we should discuss—” he began, anxiety creeping into his heart about what she was thinking, but Sakura’s brightly lit face, that growing smile that spread to her eyes, stopped him.

The laugh that came from Sakura sounded so sweet that Sasuke couldn’t help but blushing. “You want to talk?” And she was right, Sasuke was a terrible talker. But when it came to this choice, he wanted to make sure they were on the same page—would be on the same page always. Sasuke and Sakura both knew Sakura would be making a lot of sacrifices by accepting this relationship between them. The least he could do was attempt to communicate his concerns, clarify their steps, ask questions and more. He couldn’t afford to be reckless, not with her.

“Sasuke,” Sakura whispered, leaning forward into him. He stiffened instinctually at her nearness but softened when her arms wound softly around his neck in a tearful hug. He accepted the embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered again, “for giving us a chance. I promise I’ll do everything to make you happy.”

He buried his face into her shoulder, his heart simultaneously full and broken by those familiar words. And for a moment, Sasuke forgot all his previous reasons and wondered why he had waited all of this time. If he had only held her sooner. “Thank you,” he repeated, as she pulled back to look at him “for everything.”

Sasuke decided not to waste any more time or words. They would find time to talk about this later. And for a second time, they came together hesitantly, each finding one another’s lips with their own in the growing darkness of a moonless night. Sasuke didn’t retreat again when she whispered his name against his own mouth. Just as much as he wanted to convince Sakura that he meant this, he also wanted to convince himself that this wasn’t a reckless mistake he was making. Brazenly, even foolishly, he wanted to commit to it.

And then a knock came at the door. And they both practically flew away from each other to opposite sides of the room.

A smooth and uncomfortably familiar voice had both ninja blushing. “Just letting the two of you know that me…and Naruto… will arrive first thing in the morning. The Kazekage requested a meeting a couple days ago and we were supposed to be there tonight, but as always, I will most likely be late. Thought it would be proper to give you two a heads up.”

There was an audible poof as the clone of their former sensei evaporated just beyond the door.

Sakura raised her hand to cover her mouth, touch her lips, and gasp. Sasuke blushed and turned his back to her, contorting all emotions back into his controlled mask, embarrassed not only to be caught in such an act, but to have allowed them to be snuck up on by that old pervert of a ninja. And another thing, Kakashi hadn’t even made the slightest effort in disguising his intentional warning. Even Sakura knew it. How did Kakashi guess that such a thing might be occurring between them if Sasuke, himself, hadn’t planned for it to happen until just moments ago?

“How is he late,” Sakura started to grin sheepishly, “if his clone made it here at the designated time?”

Sasuke quickly glanced around at their location, noting the clothes on the floor, the shared room, themselvesacting appropriately guilty. Sasuke didn’t state the obvious: The Sixth Hokage was stalling for them so they could do some rearranging. To keep Naruto in the dark for now.

Sasuke walked quickly to the door, opened it, and scanned down the deserted hallway. There was nobody there. The Uchiha contemplated his next move. Should he leave? Go into Kaguya’s dimensions and wait until tomorrow? Perhaps he should meet the Hokage and Naruto halfway, that way he and Sakura weren’t seen together. Or should he toss all concern to the wind and just tell Naruto the truth? His former teammate had as much said they should be together, right? He had wished Sasuke that happiness verbally several weeks ago. Then why was this such a big deal?

Two soft hands rested on the top of Sasuke’s shoulders. “You’re overthinking this, aren’t you?” Sakura asked, leading Sasuke back away from the door and towards his bed. “We are what we have always been, Sasuke. Friends on a mission together.”

Sasuke scoffed at her lack of worry about Naruto—and through Naruto—the whole Leaf Village finding out about this.

He sat as she pressed down the front of his shoulders, gesturing for him to relax. “You’re not going anywhere tonight, so there’s no use in worrying. Focus on resting and regaining your strength.”

“Sakura—”

“Rest,” she shook her head. “Doctor’s orders.”

She retreated to her own sleeping spot without another word, settling down to rest. But Sasuke was certain she spent the rest of her night thinking about them, about the kissing and confessions, just as he did.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura had indeed spent the majority of the night in typical giddy fashion, replaying every second that she had only ever held in her desperate dreams. It had finally happened: them. Sasuke had chosen them. Sakura wasn’t foolish enough to allow her fantasies to run away with the images of a home that they shared, a family that they raised, the friends that surrounded them as they grew old together. Sakura knew exactly what would come as a result of their choice: a lonely and longing road. And Sakura was okay with that road because it was Sasuke and the world needed him. With her back to the Uchiha across the room, she touched her lips once more and felt the smile beneath her fingers. Eventually, she focused her chakra on her heart rate and induced her own slumber.

A few hours before sunrise, Sakura’s internal clock awakened her. She was far too conditioned by the relentless routine of the hospital back in Konoha to trick her body into sleeping longer, even after it still bore the extra lethargy of yesterday’s events. Her left hand was still stiff and sore from the damage to her tissue, and she instinctively channeled her chakra to it, keeping a consistent stream traveling to the limb until it healed completely. Sakura was relieved that she had this healing ability because the type of destruction done to her skin would be irreversible for others.  As she readied herself, wrapping the hand delicately in thick bandage, she snuck a shy glimpse over in the sleeping Uchiha’s direction.

Sasuke slept soundly, a possibility that she thought would not likely happen due to his constant tossing and turning of wakefulness. At least one of them was now getting some decent sleep. It was still too early to wake him, but Sakura had been reprimanded more than once now for taking advantage of his sleep to pursue other matters. Retrieving a small blank scroll from one of the many shelves in the room, Sakura wrote the sign for “hospital” on the inner flap. She placed it visibly on her bed before quietly slipping from the room. He needed rest, and she wasn’t going to wake him.

When she arrived at the hospital, all of her overnight patients were still fast asleep. A blurry eyed medic greeted her warmly, expressing thankfulness for Sakura’s safety as well as her shock about Hisa and Mako. Sakura exchanged pleasantries, not too keen to talk about the topic of either of those two traitors. Her mind wandered to someone else, a child she desperately wanted to see.

When Sakura reached Isao’s mental health ward, she gently peeked through the crack. To her surprise, Isao was wide awake, sitting cross-legged in the dark of his room. “Miss Haruno?!” he whispered loudly, immediately recognizing her.

“Isao,” Sakura questioned as she stepped through the door, “Did your night terrors keep you from sleeping again? Did you not take your medicine?”

But the child didn’t answer her. Instead, he bolted off the bed and grabbed her around the waist. He cried into her stomach, sobs shaking his injured body. “I thought you might be dead!” he whimpered, “I thought you were gone…like her, like my mom.”

Sakura fell to her knees and embraced the child carefully, cursing herself for not checking in on him sooner despite Kankuro’s assurances. With her trained medical eye, Sakura immediately noticed the thick bandages that encompassed his ribs. She didn’t realize that Sasuke was the only one she needed to reassure about her position in the world. “You don’t have to worry about me, Isao. Nothing can take me away from this life. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” he wailed, his voice muffled in the space between Sakura’s shoulder and neck.  

“Yes,” she assured, holding him out at arm’s length to assess him more carefully. Besides a wound to his arm and a broken rib or two, it seemed he was going to be all right. “You should be proud of yourself,” Sakura lifted his chin. “You fought by my side. You made it back. You did it with injuries, too. I think you have what it takes to be a great ninja.”

“Really?” he asked, wiping the streams of liquid from his eyes.

“Yes,” she assured him. “And I have great news.”

He smiled up at her in excited anticipation. “What news?”

“My friends are on their way. They’ll escort you back to the Leaf Village.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After Sakura rewrote the two letters addressed to the Kazekage and Hokage that Mako had confiscated after drugging her, Sakura made her way towards the Kazekage’s central tower. The sun began to rise in the east, mixing with the night to create that beautiful ombre sunrise of orange-blue-pink that belonged to this desert. In her current state of high spirits, Sakura thought that maybe the sun had gotten closer, warming the day and her skin like the sunrays after a long and laborious winter. But she knew it wasn’t really the sun approaching closer and closer every day, but instead, it was a person who had finally reached the season of spring in his life and opened his heart to a summer. Sakura beamed and took a moment to appreciate this monumental sunrise.

“SAKURA-CHAN!”

It was also special because it was the sunrise that would accompany the rest of Team 7’s arrival.

Sakura turned to see the orange and black-clad figure of that heartwarming voice barreling towards her, a grin that occupied half of his face, and a hand that waved back and forth. He ran and ran until he was just before her, leaning forward over his knees. Sakura had developed a habit of hugging her blond friend recently, and she didn’t hesitate to do so again this time, squeezing him so tightly that her blond shinobi’s face turned blue from her super-human strength of a hug.

“I’m—so glad—to see that—you’re safe! Can’t—breathe, Sakura…” Naruto choked out.

Sakura couldn’t help herself. Pinpricks of tears accompanied her smile. She had loved her time traveling with Sasuke, but apart from Sasuke, Naruto was one of the only people in this world that made her feel like home away from home, and she had missed him. And then Kakashi was there, raising his own familiar “yo” hand sign, dragging along an equally disinterested Shikamaru, whose attitude was the complete opposite than it was when Tamari usually led him through the adobe buildings of Suna.

After releasing Naruto, Kakashi was there placing a compassionate hand on her shoulder, a gesture that he used to do regularly when she was a Genin. “I’m proud of you.”

And those words meant the entire world.

“Gaara!” Naruto yelled to the person who had come up behind her. “Long time no see!”

And the warm expression that the Kazekage returned to his friend from another village, revealed to Sakura that Naruto was that person for others, too.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Kakashi had had a rather amusing night, devising a plan to keep both Shikamaru and Naruto delayed in their journey. All it took was a stall in the form of a competition, which was really simple to do actually. Kakashi had jokingly remarked that out of the three of them, he could outsleep both lazy ninja because he, of course, was the Hokage and the laziest among the three. The rules were simple: During their hour break of rest, Kakashi would summon a clone to supervise them while they rested, monitoring who would naturally wake up first. Naruto yelled “you’re on!” and ran 10 miles at his highest speed to tire himself out enough that he would sleep soundly through the hour. Whether or not Shikamaru was smart enough to see through Kakashi’s plan, he didn’t argue, lounging backward in the sand on the border of the Country of Wind, and crossing an arm lazily over his eyes. If Kakashi had a large sum of money, he would make a bet here and now that Shikamaru would win this.

After his two counterparts were open mouthed, and drool bubbling, Kakashi sent away his clone with a head nod. It disappeared into the setting sun toward the Sand Village. Then Kakashi waited, enjoying a night of stars while reading his beloved Icha Icha Paradise by firelight. This was more like it, he thought to himself, glad to be unburdened by the demanding lifestyle of the Hokage.

When Gaara had requested a meeting via carrier bird, Kakashi’s brow had furrowed at first to learn about Sakura’s situation, along with the enemy she and Sasuke had encountered on their journey. The Kazekage requested that he or someone close to him report to Sunagakure. And then Kakashi had pinched his chin in careful thought as he admired the surmounting pile of paperwork on his desk.

“Want to go on a trip?” he had asked Shikamaru, who nodded off at his position.

“Not really,” Shikamaru responded disinterestedly.

Kakashi baited, “I guess I could take Naruto with me to meet with the Kazekage, instead.”

“The Kazekage?” he probed, “A trip to Sunagakure?”

“Yes,” he stretched, unfurling the scroll he received from Gaara, so that Shikamaru could take a better look from afar. “It seems there are some foreign shinobi causing problems for Sakura.”

“Hmmm…” Shikamaru pondered, coming to read the offered scroll over Kakashi’s shoulder. “It’ll be a drag, but I guess I can go. Don’t want anything to happen to Sakura.”

Mhm, Kakashi thought to himself. Because of Sakura. That wasn’t the kunoichi on Shikamaru’s mind. Kakashi realized suddenly that he was too involved in all the lives of this young generation. How did he always find himself knowing too much?

“Then it’s settled,” Kakashi nodded, snapping the scroll back into it’s rolled-up position.

And then the door of his office was practically kicked through. “I’m still going,” Naruto announced, startling both Kakashi and Shikamaru as he announced his obvious eavesdropping.

“If Sakura is in danger, then I’d better be there.”

And that’s how Kakashi ended up with two knuckleheads on a week vacation to the Sand Village. And then Kakashi’s logical next thought had been of the other two members of Team 7. He had been ecstatic when he learned that Sakura had temporarily accompanied the Uchiha on his life-long mission and that Sasuke had let her. Years of reading Makeout Tactics informed Kakashi of what was to become between the pair, a natural progression of suppressed feelings over the course of many years. Most of the time, there was only one outcome if a male and female shinobi embarked on a long journey together. Sending the clone was a precaution, just in case his suspicions were correct, and their unexpected drop-in might cause a stir.

But Kakashi had never expected to walk in on that…When the clone disappeared and the events that his clone just witnessed dropped into his memory, Kakashi laughed quietly to himself under the stars. He grinned up at those same luminaries for a moment, grateful that both of his ninja pupils had finally navigated their way to one another through the murk of life and had decided to take on that life together. Sasuke had finally, finally let her in, and the knowledge felt like the Uchiha had come home again.

Well done, Sakura. Naruto may have brought him home, but what you have done, is shown him a path to his own special happiness.

The Sixth Hokage had lounged back into the grass, placing his open book over his eyes. He didn’t wake Shikamaru and Naruto, when the hour expired, after all. And to his surprise, when the other two ninja woke him the next morning, Kakashi had won the competition.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke stepped out of his portal just in front of the Kazekage’s building, anticipating the cringey reception he would receive from Kakashi and Naruto once he reached Gaara’s office. He took his time climbing the steps. When he entered the room, the Uchiha quietly leaned back against the far wall to avoid interrupting the conversation that was already occurring.

“Essentially, we are asking for the Leaf’s cooperation with us as we search Tanigakure for the enemy’s whereabouts,” The Kazekage announced from behind his desk. “It is a territory between our villages, and it would be best if both village personnel were present during searches, so it seems more diplomatic to the citizens of Tanigakure.”

The white-haired ninja nodded, Naruto voicing his sensei’s unspoken response. “Of course, The Leaf will work with you Gaara. Isn’t that right Kakashi-sensei?!”

Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Can’t you at least call me ‘Lord Hokage’ when we are on official business?”

Naruto ignored him and announced. “If they’re going after Sakura, then of course we will help. I’ll go find them myself!”

Sasuke shook his head in withdrawn amusement at his teammate’s old habits of needing to be the center of attention in literally every setting. Sasuke’s eyes also found Sakura, who stood at the front of the party, tapping her foot impatiently. She clutched two letters to her chest and Sasuke sensed that she was waiting for an opportunity to interject, little to no concern about this topic. Sasuke smirked. She couldn’t care less about some target on her back by shinobi that belonged to the same group she had already gone head-to-head with.  

“If they can’t be found,” a spikey ponytailed ninja remarked, and Sasuke quickly identified his childhood classmate, Shikamaru. “Then wouldn’t it be better to draw them out? They are after Sakura after all. We could just wait for them to strike again.”

Sasuke frowned. He didn’t like that idea. Shikamaru had never been one of Sasuke’s favorites, and the Uchiha liked him considerably less whenever he made suggestions about using his friends as bait. Genius he may be, but Sasuke didn’t have to like him or his ideas.

“I’m sure we can think of something…” Kakashi thought out loud, drawing the eyes of the room in his direction.

“While you’re thinking about it,” Sakura finally spoke, handing both Kakashi and Gaara each one of the letters she held. “I would like to request both of your considerations regarding a matter concerning a young boy here in Sunagakure. He’s been through a lot, and he expresses interest toward starting anew in the Leaf Village.”

Kakashi and Gaara both surveyed the letters in their hands, and Sasuke could see even from where he stood that the reports were extensively detailed. Once again, Sasuke found himself admiring his teammate’s professional persona who seemed like a different person altogether.

“He has expressed the desire to train as a shinobi, but I also want him to continue treatment at the Children’s health clinic in Konoha. I am requesting that he be released by Sunagakure into Konoha’s care until the child decides he’s ready to return.”

“I’ll talk with my council, but I approve as long as the Leaf is willing,” Gaara agreed, glancing over at Kakashi to assess his reaction.

“Of course, that’s okay,” said Kakashi, beaming over at Sakura. “However, some people in the Leaf might harbor negative sentiments toward the youth for various, equally ridiculous reasons. He might be accused of things like being a spy, might be shunned, and more. Can he handle situations like this?”

Sasuke watched Sakura carefully weigh Kakashi’s words. There was a shadow of worry that crossed her face for just a second and then Naruto was elbowing her. “I’ll keep an eye on him!”

“How can you be in Tanigakure looking for Sakura’s aggressors and be in Konoha to…” Shikamaru began but then trailed off as he held everyone’s dumbfounded gazes, “…never mind. I’m not on my game today. I’m obviously overworked.” They all let out a laugh because everyone knew exactly how Naruto would do it with his infamous shadow clone jutsu.

“I’m certain Isao will be okay, but any time you can spare him, would be great, Naruto. Being around you would do him some good,” Sakura said and everyone around the room nodded in agreement. Even Sasuke agreed silently to himself in the back. Being around Naruto had changed each and every person in this room, including himself.

“He can travel back with us when we leave,” Kakashi announced, and Sakura grinned in success.

Gaara quickly changed the topic back to the most pressing matter at hand. “We have Sakura’s assailants in custody. I’d like all your personal evaluations of them as shinobi.”

Everyone in the room nodded, and the Kazekage turned to Kankuro. “Take them to the prison. Sakura, if you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss something with you in more detail.” Sasuke’s ears pricked at the mention of her staying behind. But his rational self reasoned that it was likely just to talk about the events of yesterday.

“Uchiha can further explain who they are while Sakura and I finish up, right Sasuke?” Gaara asked toward Sasuke’s direction without even looking up from the paperwork on his desk, both revealing Sasuke’s presence to his fellow Leaf-shinobi and volunteering him to work. Annoying sand guy.

Of course, they all spun at the mention of his name, locating him against the far wall. He didn’t wave or smile, but just crossed his arms in typical Uchiha fashion.

While Naruto was practically leaping toward him, shouting “There you are Sasuke!” Sasuke couldn’t help but catch Sakura’s eye and the Uchiha stiffened at the obvious embarrassment that flashed across her face for the briefest of seconds before she shyly looked away. And even when his loser of a best friend was wrapping his arm around Sasuke’s neck in an annoying way of showing affection, Sasuke didn’t miss the fact that Kakashi also noticed Sakura’s display, and Sasuke caught his sensei’s knowing expression as the Hokage looked back and forth between the two with one smiling eye. Sasuke sighed. They were screwed.

.

.

.

[farfarawayinthelandof]

I loved the Gaang x reader post you did😌 I was wondering if you could write one about the reader does when the Gaang is sad

WHAT THE READER DOES WHEN THE GAANG IS SAD

gn!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: OMG, i’m so glad you liked it. and thank you for this request as well!

ੈ♡˳·˖✶

Aang

- When he gets sad, he just gets really quiet, and it is quite easy to tell when he is upset.

- and because of the great s/o you are, you notice right away.

- you get him away from the group, so you can be alone to talk about whatever it is that is bothering him.

- at first, aang is hesitant to talk, but he trusts you fully, so he’ll begin to spill.

- you keep an arm around him the entire time.

- to cheer him up afterwords, you spend some quality “chill” tine with him, letting him take a break from his avatar duties that really stress him out.

- so you guys bake together, go out to explore, or just stay in and nap.

- and whatever hobby you have, you try to teach him. <3

- basically you do something to get his mind off the topic after talking it out.

Katara

- i feel like whenever katara gets upset her instinct is to just hide it.

- and all of a sudden everything she says or does feels really fake.

- so you know she’s upset, but its still hard to confront her because she’ll just deny it the first few times

- eventually her sadness rubs off on you

- and she wants to help you, so like the good friend/girlfriend she is, she goes to you.

- so the entire time you two talk, its just comforting each other.

- and by the end of it, an hour later, you guys have your arms around each other

- and you finally get to see katara’s real smile after like a few days, and you really missed it :,)

Sokka

- when he’s upset, it’s easy to tell.

- like he wont stop making jokes, but he’ll look very deflected. also they’re very self deprecating, so…

- to comfort him, you cook him something. a southern water tribe recipe, probably.

- he glady takes it and by the time he’s done eating, he feels better.

- then you guys sit comfortably and talk about whatever it was that was bothering him.

- you really want to cheer him up, so you’ll go together to resolve whatever the issue is.

- after it’s resolved, sokka feels 100% better, but that doesn’t stop you two from spending the entire day together hunting, training, and annoying the shit out of katara with toph 💖

Toph

- when she’s upset, its not necessarily hard to tell, but it is difficult to get her to open up.

- so you’ll talk to her alone, and it’s a very one sided conversation about feelings.

- after about 20 minutes toph’s just like you done??

- and yes, yes you are.

- she gets up and walks away.

- and you’re like damn okay.

- but now you feel bad and unbeknownst to you, toph feels the same.

- she goes up to you all awkward and you do too…

- you resolve you issues with each other after a long day, and now you’re talking about what hurt toph in the first place.

- it was probably her parents 🙁

- after a half an hour, everything is better and you two go to bed feeling refreshed.

Zuko

- sometimes its hard to tell when zuko is upset, because he is pretty good at hiding his feelings. that and he looks the same pretty much always.

- when you want to make him feel better, you go up to him. you don’t talk, you just hug him

- and there’s like a mutual understanding between you two

- he hugs you back

- being the firelord really stresses him out, so i feel like that’s probably what is bothering him.

- as soon as he says this you’re on your way to message iroh.

- cause zuko needs a break :(

- yes you two then proceed to have a super extra spa day.

Suki

- she likes to talk about feelings.

- she’ll come to you when she’s upset

- you let her vent and you’ll ask if she wants help to resolve whatever the issue is.

- she wants to do it on her own, so you two will just spend some time together, probably training, to help suki feel less stressed about the situation.

- when the conflict is resolved, she still wants to spend more time with you, know that she feels 100 percent.

[dirtycccat]

the demon bros+ undateables showing their love

thought about this for 5 min then had to write it out so enjoy

lucifer

first off you notice he treats you differently

and by differently i mean like you’re his favorite child  sibling

you get away with anything??? and he’s softer with you than with the others (which is canon)

then you see that?? he keeps buying you stuff you said you wanted when he was present

and you’re ofc impressed

but you’re more impressed by how open he’s around you

he’ll leave most of his walls down around  you

which means you’ll get to experience unfiltered lucifer

he’ll laugh around you more, make dumb dad jokes, nap with his head in your lap, complain drunkenly about his work and bros, give you sloppy cheeks and forehead kisses

you find it rly cute though

if you’re in the human world he’ll 100% take this chance to send you beautifully written letters asking you how you are and leaving some verses that reminded him of you on the back like a 19th century vampire

“dear mc, how is your life? mine is filled with woe and unease since i do not  have the light of my life around anymore...anyway here’s a poem about being horny and alone by a 18th century romantic author hope to see you soon, xoxo lucifer”

you try to respond in the same way and send him memes on the back instead of  poetry (or real poetry depends on your mood)

mammon

protective of you 100% will throw hands with anyone that even glances weirdly your way

but also wants to show you off? like look at this human!!! this is MY human!!!

gives you random thoughtful gifts that reminded him of you

wants to be around you 24/7 so he invites you to all the events that he thinks you’ll like

you wanna party? perfect. you wanna go on a weird ghost stories tour around the city? cool. you wanna waltz in one of those old people parties? he’s already reserved two tickets. you just wanna lay around and nap? he’s already on your lap.

it doesn’t matter if you’re in a romantic relationship or not this man WILL serenade you outside your window

rapunzel style with an acoustic guitar or with a boombox like a rebel 80s kid

anyway here’s toxic by britney spears babe this is for YOU

levi

considers you his bff ofc

but also at first he’s still really awkward around you and doesn’t really know what to do for you and feels bad thinking only you do things for him

until you reassure him you enjoy just being around him so it’s fine

he blushes and starts inviting you more to his room to game/ watch stuff

at some point he starts buying two tickets to all concerts he goes to and invites you along

but also? he asks you what you’re into and starts marathoning your favorite animes/ movies/ series so he can talk with you abt them

you feel really moved that he’d do that for you???  like??? bruh...

your relationship is basically friends respecting each other and wanting to know each other the best through their passions even if it means getting into some weird shit

it’s rly wholesome tho

if you’re romantically involved he’ll totally do roleplay as your favourite character and you do the same for him and it’s really cute

also imagine: artistic collabs. you make fanart together??? you can program games together???? you do cosplay together??? the possibilities...

satan

he’ll hate to be compared to his dad brother but he does show how much he trusts you by showing his unguarded side too

when he first talked about lucifer without the filter of his nice guy persona you were pretty shocked

like he was really going at it

but then you realize? he’s just like that when he’s comfortable

and it’s not all mean spirited, he just has,,, a strong personality and a lot of opinions about stuff (which you sometimes share with him)

but you also found out it’s really fun to gossip with satan

since he knows all the juicy gossip from his multitude of ties (he’s sharing the title of gossip queen with asmo that’s why they get along so well tbh)

also if you even find a teacher you hate he’ll tell you all their embarrassing moments to make you feel better

he also recommends you books and poems and sends you quotes that made him think about you

so you sure as heck don’t need to buy books while you’re in the devildom bc he’ll buy you an entire library 

asmo

compliments you without comparing you to himself which is the highest compliment he can give

like mammon he’s more into the showing everyone his favorite human around while also protecting them

he’ll take you to his parties and gatherings as a guest of honor, he’ll make you meet all kinds of people and open up opportunities for you

he’ll be the one that pampers you

you’d think lucifer is the sugar daddy of the family but nope it’s asmo

he’ll buy you cute clothes, shoes, beauty products everything that he saw and imagined would look bomb on you

if you’re not into clothes he’ll buy you art supplies, books, anything you want but he’ll still probably  buy you at least some clothes he thinks are cute

if you’re romantically involved,,,, he’ll buy other toys for you as well which you can try together wink wink

beel

cooks for you

no questions asked when it’s his turn to cook he’ll think about what YOU would like to eat first before making something

which is??? really touching coming from beel

and also means sometimes he’ll make the same dish three weeks in a row and annoy the others while you just get excited bc ??? you get to eat your favourite dish??? again and again???? 

thank you beel you truly know how to touch someone’s insides

also opens up to you and talks to you about his fears and thoughts

expect to get 4 am msgs from beel if he had a nightmare

which would end up in you coming to cuddle him (and belphie also joins sometimes)

which tbh is that even a thing you can complain about?

belphie

is more baby less murder when you’re around

naps on your lap, naps on your shoulder, naps with you anywhere

but also let’s you nap on HIM

besides being soft around you he actually opens up to you too

and talks to you about his traumas and issues

which he has in common with his twin what can you do

so you have weekly cuddle parties with him and beel where you talk about shit and actually make them resolve their issues instead of just,,, ignoring them

also if you’re into each other you probably tease each other and flirt really shamelessly in public while the others cringe and or blush at your language

are you a cowboy? because i want you to ride me all night 

simeon

writes you fancy letters with poetry like lucifer, but his ink is scented and  his envelopes contain pressed flowers more often than not

if you’re together you even do letter sexting if you’re into it

creates characters based on you in his stories (which you don’t believe even if levi points out you that the two of you are kinda similar)

asks you to spend more and more time with him and luke

invites you to picnics, reads to you while your head is in his lap, cooks you snacks

if you’re a theatre kid too,,, you do musical love confessions too,,, sometimes by just reciting the lyrics of really popular musical theatre songs in a death panned voice

cough a heart full of love from les mis but read like poetry through the fence of the house of lamentation cough

asks you cryptic shit hannibal style like “tell me mc what does it mean to want to be consumed whole by another? is it a desire to become something bigger than yourself or is it related to our need to become one with our loved one like some cultures pointed out before?”

you’re either really into his cryptid talk or just roll your eyes and smooch him

diavolo

invites you around to his castle all the time

sometimes he even pulls some weird shenanigans just to make you spend more time with him

expect tea parties with him luci and barbatos in no particular combination

gives you compliments 24/7  even in public

remember how he treats lucifer? he’s that for you too but he’s learned from the lucifer experience to focus on complimenting you as a person more than how you look

if you’re into pda he’ll touch you all the time

if you ever wanted a gomez - morticia romance, here’s your goth big titty himbo that’s way too full of love

if you’re lovers expect to be pampered, i feel like? he doesn’t buy a lot of gifts and such because he’s probably tired of material things but he will make time in his busy schedule for you and spend a lot of time with you

which means more to him than gifts

(we will buy you anything you ask though)

barbatos

actually talks with you about stuff outside rad, the demon bros and diavolo

also invites you to alone time tea or wine time

where you drink and gossip

if satan and asmo are the crowned queens of gossip barbatos is the king of gossip but he doesn’t share his knowledge to most people so nobody knows what he knows

but he knows,,,, a lot

and not only that he knows a lot about people nowadays,,, but imagine the things he knows about like historical figures and such,,, 

so prepare for story time with barbatos where he  talks about how oscar wilde was almost summoned by drunk inccubi during a party once, or how  diavolo cried when he was a kid because he sent a letter to caravaggio asking him to paint his portrait and he said no

also if you get drunk together expect really energetic talkative barbatos destroying DESTROYING everyone (except diavolo ofc)

“lucifer please i once saw you crying because you thought diavolo was ignoring you when you actually forgot to press the send button to your messages ”

if you’re romantically involved diavolo will always be first in his hear but that just means you’ll have to invite diavolo along on your dates which  just means you’ve got a new lover and a new bff

solomon 

he invites you on all kinds of wacky adventures

you  visit witches, go to weird magical forest parties or orgies if you want, you go travelling the mountains for rare herbs

it’s like you’re faust and he’s mephisto  haha the irony and he’s showing you another side of the world you never knew 

ofc the others know about all this but??? they thought it’s normal and didn’t even consider you know nothing about it

but solomon knows what it was like to be just a human

and since he likes you he empathizes with your situation

he also make you meet all kinds of people

since he has 72 contracts and hundreds of years of doing wack stuff he must know some interesting people

and now his friends are your friends 

i feel like romantic solomon would be just him?? but less shady with you especially since now you understand him better 

but also he’ll probably bring you weird shit from his alone expeditions

did you ever want the tears of a mermaid? a carnivorous plant that feeds on emotions? a crying portrait? no? well too bad because now you have a room full of weird items

...that you love and treasure thank you very much