#I’d make the edit but I’m far too lazy

[lemontartyellow]

Do y’all remember the CPR x Reese’s Puffs x Misery thing. Cuz Ed is all three at once.

[evesburden]

Malogranatum [Ominis x Slytherin F!Reader]

Ominis opens up to you in the Slytherin common room while Sebastian is out clearing his head. Slight angst and melancholy follows. A fic that gives perspective to his standoffish behavior towards you, despite his warm welcome at the start of the game. I’ll probably edit later when I’m not so lazy and read it myself.

If someone had asked Ominis Gaunt who his family was, he would have sighed and listed off his lineage - always with his disclaimer on how he did not agree with the Gaunt family practices. He would do so in a measured voice, blocking out any emotional response that might bring that horrible guilt roaring back to his ears. A tricky spiral he had learned to carefully mortar to the far reaches of his consciousness in polite company.

However, when you had asked him what family was in its stead, he felt himself take a staggering pause. Maybe you hadn’t meant to phrase it that way, maybe you were just truly interested in his bloodline…But the warmth and cautiousness in your tone spoke otherwise.

So, after a long pause, he divulged thoughts that he kept pieced away. He did so cautiously, his pale slender fingers pinching and twisting around one another in anxiousness. He told you how he had first met Sebastian and Anne, how they quickly adopted him into their tightly knit bond, despite his cold and somewhat prickly demeanor that first year.

Truth be told, he had only been so off-putting due to his own concerns. Walls he had put up that he had never before felt safe letting down. Anne saw right through them, with Sebastian only too happy to follow along. Always the one up for a challenge to keep up with his twins antics.

He was much better now, at socializing and making friends. Just as the twins had adopted him, he began to adopt their boldness and steady footing. Never any best friends, mind you. That was reserved for the duo who had quickly become the only place he felt structured. But he did have a fair sprinkle of acquaintances throughout the school and houses.

More than Sebastian, at any rate.

Ominis spoke of spending nights and holidays with the Sallows, how despite the constant teasing and bickering between the two, he had found a security he didn’t know was previously available to him. He chuckled remembering how he thought he was in love with Anne for nearly an entire year, until he realized that the love he felt wasn’t the romantic variety. Ominis was, and still is, clumsy with familial dynamics and affection. He admits this to you in the same way adults tell stories of when they believed in Santa — with a warm melancholy of lessons learned and fond memories.

Almost an hour goes by until he notices that he had been the only one talking, the realization hitting him with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t place. A self-consciousness he rarely was vulnerable enough to experience in front of others.

“That’s truly lovely, Ominis.” You had responded as he faltered, sincerity so thick Ominis felt like he needed to clear his own throat of it.

“Sorry,” He murmured in embarrassment, “I suppose I sound like a prattling old man.”

Ominis couldn’t see you shake your head, but he could feel the motion from where you were sat next to him, “Not at all, truth be told you could speak about all of this for hours and I’d be elated.”

There was a…squeeze in his chest just then. A sensation that somehow both alarmed and comforted him. If you had been observant, maybe you would have caught the half second his eyes widened, before they crinkled in a small smile, “That’s very kind of you to say and not something I necessarily deserve.”

Ah, there it was. The guilt.

Ominis stood up, wanting to end the conversation on a good note, and not on the flashes of jagged cursed energy that lurked in his memories. He imagined Sebastian was still getting his fresh air, if that’s what he was actually doing at all, as he let his wand lead him to their rooms.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when he finally heard the clicking of the door, alerting him to Sebastian’s arrival. Ominis sighed, his tone an annoyed whisper, “You really ought to go to bed at a somewhat normal hour.”

Sebastian laughed in a hushed tone, “And miss the adrenaline rush of nearly being caught? I could never.”

Stereotypical Sallow; always a childish quip to be had. His friend had been a lot more reasonable when Anne was still attending, since Sebastian wouldn’t go out if neither of them agreed to join him. It was a bit worrisome, how he was slowly changing. Most would argue independence was a good thing to mature into, but in Sebastian’s case it felt destructive. Like he was chasing something that they both knew he was never going to find.

“Why are you still up?” Sebastian asked, sitting with his back against the side of Ominis’ mattress, “Not fair to nag me just because I choose to take my insomnia outside.”

He paused while he considered lying to Sebastian on why his mind was refusing to pull him into the lull of dreamland. However, he was too emotionally drained to do that back and forth. Once Sallow felt a sniff of a secret he was like a dog with a bone. If that dog had fleas and a slight hyperactivity problem.

“Our newest classmate and I had a…Nice chat in the common room,” Ominis explained, unsure how to best word it, “It had been awhile since I was able to do that.”

There was a pause, “You chat to people all the time.”

Ominis let out an annoyed huff, “We spoke about you. And Anne, of course.”

“What about me?” Sebastian’s voice was part curiosity, suspicion, and incredulity.

“Just how I came to know you both and our first few years together.”

“…And that kept you up?”

This was the part that Ominis had been carefully treading around, the part he had been struggling with formulating into words — even in his own mind. But in true Sebastian form, if there was something Ominis didn’t want to divulge, it would be the one thing his friend would ask about.

“No,” Even Ominis was aware of how annoyed his tone sounded. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was so upset with having to share the details to his best friend. To someone he fully considered as a brother. Maybe it was his issues with affection, “She had asked me what I considered family to be and naturally, you and Anne came to mind.”

If Ominis was bad at showing affection, Sebastian wasn’t much better. Except where Ominis was the kind to rarely express such thoughts verbally, Sebastian was always the first to make light of them with jest. Ominus decided to take advantage of the beat of silence he was positive Sebastian was using to try and formulate a socially acceptable response.

“But other, not so pleasant, memories followed, as they often do,” He continued as if he were talking about the weather, “So I came to bed where my self-loathing thoughts were so rudely interrupted by our resident delinquent.”

Sebastian chuckled, no doubt relieved that Ominis had made a light hearted joke of his own despite the seriousness of the topic. If the descendant of Salazar Slytherin had been completely honest he would have asked Sebastian the question that had been lingering in his mind all evening; What does the new fifth year look like?

It was never something Ominis had shown the slightest of interest in — what someone looked like. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever asking that before, let alone even care to. It wasn’t as if he would suddenly get his eyesight back and would need to pluck people from a lineup. He often associated people by their voices first, then their smell, and finally tastes that would remind him of their demeanors.

Anne’s voice came off like the crackling of lit torches, warm and familiar but with the slight unease that fire tends to bring. Sometimes, it was more like a rock being skipped across a lake; more lively and active, traveling further out of earshot but never out of reach. She always smelled like fresh wool and gently spiced soap, except on days she had been exceptionally adventurous, and came back smelling like grass or dried weeds. The thick underlaying of pollen and soil, from where she had no doubt been ducking for cover to stay hidden. She reminded him of fruit tarts filled with berries that were picked just a touch too soon. Bitter but sweet and refreshing, never the same flavor ratio twice. Buttery pastry that had a light crisp to it, but was soft and gooey where the filling had sat.

Sebastian’s tone was always deathly serious or teasing — Like the raucous in the school halls, at times it took a moment to decipher if someone was upset or just overly excited. It was akin to hearing the waterfalls around the lake, roaring impact against rock that was either extremely relaxing or would put your teeth on edge. He smelled faintly of stale book pages that had been left unopened for too long and the Butterbeer candies he kept in his pockets. Occasionally, after he showered, he would smell like the same soap as Anne — probably because he didn’t care to purchase anything different. Rocky air also liked to cling to him when he had been out. Fresh but with old moss and a slight salt peppering the edges. As far as taste went, much like the candies Sebastian stowed in his pockets, he reminded him of fresh butterbeer at the three broomsticks…But specifically the butterbeer they had bought Ominis and filled with a sprinkling of grass as a ‘prank’ their first year. He could still remember the warm flavors being harshly interrupted with the pungent taste of spring lawn trimmings. Sirona had let out an annoyed sigh as she brought him a new one, while the siblings tried to muffle their laughter.

If he were honest, that was Ominis’ favorite draft that he had ever had. Not that he would openly admit it, of course. Sebastian’s outward ego was already far too obnoxious without any additional ammunition.

Despite their unique differences, the twins both smelled like Feldcroft as a foundational scent. The small home where they had grown up. Damp wood, dried hay, and slightly over ripe apples. It was a smell that Ominis wished he could bottle and label homesick.

The new fifth year…Her voice reminded him of rain. But not the deep echoes when it landed in an obtuse pattering, but a tad sharper, like when it struck the windows just right in the astronomy tower. Ominis hadn’t been able to pick up her perfume yet, or maybe it was her soaps, but it struck like a honey chamomile with sharp spikes of lavender — but even that didn’t sound quite right. There was another scent underlying those, not an offensive smell, but something uniquely her that he had no name for. To be honest, he hadn’t been around her long enough to be fully confident on what her personality was like. She seemed to always surprise him based on the situation and the people he overheard her conversing with. If Ominis had to pick one at the moment, based on what little he knew about her…He’d have to say warm mint tea, with a hardly noticeable trace of sweetener. Maybe lemon, as well.

No, that wasn’t quite right either…

“Falling asleep already?” Sebastian’s voice cut through Ominis’ musings.

“Unfortunately I’m still among the living.” He deadpanned, stormy eyes pointing up towards the ceiling, fingers silently drumming against his sternum.

“I was thinking…”

“Always a dangerous endeavor.”

Sebastian ignored the comment, “Of writing to Anne about her. The new fifth year, I mean. I think they would get along.”

Ominis nodded.

“I think I’m going to introduce them. Might lift Anne’s spirits a bit. Meeting people outside of our doorstep.”

In all it wasn’t a bad notion and normally, Ominis would wholeheartedly agree with anything that was healthy and good for Anne. Something Sebastian had been in low supply of lately, as far as ideas went. Regardless, It wasn’t lost on him the verbiage he had chosen.

“Just you and her?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light and inquisitive.

“Well, yeah for the first time anyway,” Sebastian clarified, but his voice seemed a tad tighter…almost nervous, “You can come next time.”

Ominis wasn’t daft. After all, Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his depth when it came to organizing events. There was a part of Sebastian, that for whatever reason, wanted this to be a closed event. It rubbed him the wrong way for a multitude of defenses.

They were best friends for years, was the first to come to mind. He had known Anne and Sebastian longer and far more intimately than anyone else in their lives. If anything, it would make more sense to invite him to help ease the social interactions. He had missed Anne too. Why was he expected to sit this out? Was he being replaced?

The second, and far more impossible to vocalize, left Ominis’ chest feeling like a pomegranate being split open. The initial crack being swiftly followed by the sound of flesh ripping from the fruit, juice spilling into clutched hands, no doubt staining everything it touches.

“Makes perfect sense,” He felt like he had a stone in his throat, “Tell Anne that I miss her when you go.”

Ominis made the decision that it would be in everyone’s best interest if he simply kept the new student at a distance. As separate from his emotions as possible, much like the memories he so often clutched back from bubbling to the surface.

Growing attached and vulnerable to more things he would just inevitably lose was naive. Sebastian and Anne were his family, and while they were never sure how long Anne would be in their lives, he knew that Sebastian would be the constant. He had accepted he would lose Anne, someday, and the mourning for that would come when it was time.

That was all the mourning he had the heart for.

Ominis went to bed that night, and despite his resolve, was left feeling like he had already lost something anyway.

[hikari-drkspc]

❅ “Weakness” ❅

character: yandere! saionji ukyo [dr. stone]

warning: yandere, non consensual touching + (almost) kiss (not by ukyo) ; MINOR/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, PUT YOUR AGE IN BIO/PINNED POST TO INTERACT

words: 1k

a/n: this is a repost from my main blog (@/hikari-writes) so yes this writing is old + bad, i just moved them here w/o editing bc im lazy and wants to keep reminding myself how bad my writing used to be <3 this was set before Tsukasa empire was defeated !!

Ukyo stands in front of Hyoga, his face showing his nervousness and small beads of sweats could be seen trickling down his face.

“Why did you call me out here?”

Ukyo asks, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. He didn’t want to let Hyoga knew he’s anxious that they are meeting alone and a bit farther than their headquarters. If, in the worst case scenario, he was attacked, it’d be hard to escape. Although he don’t find any reason why Hyoga would attack him now.

“…Nothing much.”

Hyoga replies curtly and as soon as he did, Ukyo’s ears caught a series of footsteps heading towards them.

The footsteps he knows all too well.

Even though his ears could catch on sounds from a pretty far distance, he knows that her way of walking has always been so insanely fast. So although he knew beforehand that she’s coming, he still couldn’t take any action before she reached their place.

“Hey, Hyoga-san….why did you call me out here?”

Y/N finally reaches their place, her face showing pure confusion as she saw Ukyo and Hyoga facing each other.

“Y/N….”

Ukyo mumbles her name, his face turns pale all of the sudden. He doesn’t seem to be getting any good vibes from this situation. Out of all people, Hyoga called out Y/N, Ukyo’s no. 1 weakness, his girlfriend, here at this quiet place. It seems like Hyoga planned it so that she came right when Ukyo and Hyoga’s facing each other.

“Ukyo.”

Hyoga ignores Y/N’s presence and continue facing Ukyo.

“I’d like for you to join force with me to end Tsukasa’s life.”

Ukyo and Y/N went dead silent at that one sentence. For the first time ever, Ukyo couldn’t believe his own ears. Y/N’s legs started trembling at Hyoga’s sudden proposal. Did those words just came out of him? Even though Tsukasa trusted him, he wishes to kill him?

Ukyo was quick to regain his composure. He then looks straight at Hyoga’s face.

“And if I don’t want to?”

Hyoga stays silent at Ukyo’s reply. He then takes off his mask and in a blink of an eye, grabs Y/N’s arm and pull her face closer to him.

Y/N could barely understand the situation that flashes right before her eyes and her reflexes are too slow compared to Hyoga for her to even turn her face or push Hyoga away. But she does understand one thing. The sight of Hyoga’s face nearing hers makes her eyes widen in horror. Just the thought of other people aside Ukyo having their lips on hers is just… unbearable.

Just as their lips about to touch, Y/N was snatched away from Hyoga’s grip and a knife was pointed at his throat.

“Well, well…so even the peace-loving Ukyo can point a knife at someone’s throat when his Y/N is about to fall on other’s hands, huh?”

Ukyo hold Y/N tightly with one hand and his other hand kept the knife close to Hyoga’s throat. His face isn’t showing his usual calm exterior. Instead, he was like a completely different person. His face turns gloomy and his eyes are looking at Hyoga dangerously.

“I thought you knew that you can’t object an offer from me. Oh well, now the deal has been made. There’s no going back.”

Hyoga calmly said as he pulls up his mask back and walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

Y/N is still clinging to Ukyo tightly, her whole body trembling. Ukyo who finally regains back his composure, try to reassure Y/N by embracing her small body. It’s almost as if he’s doing it to reassure himself. As if she could disappear at any moment and he’s clinging to her so desperately.

“Ukyo….I’m okay now.”

Y/N softly whispers at him. Ukyo reluctantly lets her go, and as soon as he did, her lips met his and they both melt into a sweet, loving kiss.

~*~

“I could barely understand what happened just now…Are you going to be okay, Ukyo?”

While they walk back to the headquarters, holding hands, Y/N asks a question that’s been on her mind since just now.

“….I’ll be fine. Completely fine. So don’t worry. What you should be worrying about is yourself. His target is you if he found anything suspicious at me. And that’s the only thing I don’t want to happen.”

Ukyo strokes Y/N’s head reassuringly and give a peck on her forehead.

“I really was afraid just now, you know? I wouldn’t have known what to do if he had kissed me.”

As soon as she mentions that, Ukyo’s face turns gloomier and his glares turns so scary it could kill a newborn fawn.

“If that’s the case, I’ll just kiss you two, no, three times than he did.”

Y/N’s ears turn red at his exclamation and she just smiles lovingly at him.

“I would love that.”

“For tonight, Y/N, sleep with me. I don’t want Hyoga to attack you while you’re alone. Stay by my side.”

Ukyo turns to her and said this seriously. Y/N quietly nod at him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Even if you don’t ask for it, I’ll always stay by your side forever and ever.”

Ukyo’s heart warms up at her loving confession and squeezes her hand.

“It’s okay…” He thought to himself. “Tomorrow’s gonna be the day this empire meets its downfall. Senku’s plan gonna work. Until then, I will protect Y/N even if I have to dirty my own hand. I may be a coward, but for her, I will…”

“Ukyo? What’s wrong?”

Y/N peers at Ukyo who was silent for a moment, worried of his sudden silence. He also seems to be glaring…which she just shrugs it off as her imagination.

Ukyo snaps out of his train of thoughts and stare a while at Y/N’s face before softening his expression and genuinely smile at her.

“It’s nothing. I was just thinking of how much I love you .”

He says that so smoothly, making Y/N blush a bit.

“That’s right… I love you so much, I’m willing to change myself.”

Ukyo thought that as his smile turns into a cold one.

[gwilymz]

filthy f*cking rich -- part one

hey! im back to writing; this is a new fandom im writing for, so im nervous! be gentle with me!  i hope you enjoy and i hope some succession fans find this! this is a multi-part series and im not sure how many parts i plan to write, but i realized that im far too detailed as it is, so i had to break it up nonetheless. i also apologize for any errors; i admit i get lazy when it comes to the editing stage!!

Synopsis: You are out at an elite club in NYC and meet a handsome stranger. Smitten by each other, your flirting escalates and important details are left unsaid. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Lead up to smut, Drug usage (by you and Kendall), Drinking

“Good fucking god, Y/N,” your friend, Amelia exclaimed, as you forked out another fifty to pay for drinks. It was payday, and to say the family you babysitted for was rich would be the understatement of the fucking century. “What does that family do for a living?” She asked, downing the last of her mojito. At 20 dollars a pop, she was savoring every last drop, not that she was paying for any of it. 

“All I know is the mom of the kids is divorced to a very wealthy, very guilty businessman. Apparently he makes a fortune, he fucked up the marriage, and he just pays for them to live lavishly. Rava still has a job though, a good one too. Basically, they’re really fucking well off.” You answered, shoving some bills into a poorly-filled tip jar. 

“Well good god” She answered, stirring her fresh mojito, not even hearing the clinking of the ice against the frosted glass over the steady house music blasting through her veins, along with the minty rum. “If they need a back up sittr, I’d be happy to work for even half of that. They can put me on retainer.”

You grinned. “It’s a good gig, for sure.” You mouthed a slurred Thank You to the bartender, an attractive man in his mid-twenties, with full lips, and even fuller biceps. His face was rugged looking, peppered with stubble, and he smelled of cleanliness, of musky aftershave and the remnants of sweat, the evidence of which was glistening over his smooth forehead.

“He was hot.” Your other friend, Libby, commented. “I’m self-conscious just being here. The elite scene in New York is just so intimidating.”

You nodded, gulping down a moscow mule; it was just a little something to sip on between shots. “I definitely agree. The key is to just pretend you fit in, even if you really don’t.”

Amelia scoffed. “You do fit in though.” She pointed to your purse, a new Yves Saint Laurent bag you had recently saved up for. 

“Not really, and I’ve only worked for Rava for a couple months. Most of this money has gone to rent. Besides, I don’t think you understand just how rich these people are.”

“How rich?” Libby raised her eyebrows, dark brown and perfectly plucked. Her family back home was much more well off than yours, so you were a bit annoyed at her commentary. A pretty brunette from Connecticut, she sported 400 dollar dresses for a casual dinner, and didn’t need to worry about where rent money would come from each month. She still got allowance at 22, a fact which astounded you when you were told. 

You sucked your lips in, shrugging. “I mean, it depends. Shall we get some statistics? I mean, I’m assuming all of these dudes in suits don’t struggle for money. They just look so far removed from the world. An average night out for them is hundreds at dinner, the same at the bar, and five times that on coke.” You gestured to a man sitting in a dimly lit corner, hunched over a handheld mirror. The sleeves to his crisp button up were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, assured forearms. At least 4 rolled up hundred dollar bills were sprawled around the table, and he picked one up, pushing his right nostril in as he bent down to take in the three, fat lines of cocaine expertly striping the mirror. They were long, a clean white. 

You didn’t realize how intently you were staring at him until he looked up, eyelids hooded, his hazel irises sleepy, drunk looking, confused and secure all at the same time. He looked as if he was the most comfortable in that state of in between, of knowing exactly what he wanted and what he was doing, but also of the looming terror of not knowing what the fuck would come next. Would he crash? Would he have a sustained high, or would it fizzle out, like it did with the shitty coke, the stuff he got when he put Greg in charge of the drugs? 

He smirked at you, and you saw how his pupils grew into black saucers, swallowing the hues of golden brown you could barely make out with the intensity of the purple lights glimmering above him. He glanced down at the tiny baggie of coke, half spilled on the mirror, and tapped his nostril twice, shrugging. His strung out way of asking if you wanted a line or two. 

“This is what I mean,” You looked back at your friends, gesturing with your head back at the man in front of you, tucked away in his own little version of heaven,  gripping the ground with the soles of his tough leather shoes but simultaneously high, high above everyone else, in his own world, where everything was fuzzy and intense and he always got whatever he wanted because he was always the richest in the room. And now he had money and untethered confidence, the best company a man could ask for. 

“What is what you mean?” Amelia looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I bet you if I asked this man how rich he was, his answer would shock you.” You answered, clutching your bag as you made your way over to him. 

“You can’t ask him that!” Amelia semi-whispered in your ear, looking around as she sat across from him. 

“Ask who what?” The man questioned, cutting another line with a heavy looking credit card. 

You wouldn’t usually be as forward, but the four drinks in your system brought a newfound confidence along with the semi-slurred speech and flushed cheeks. “You’re rich, aren’t you? Like how loaded would you say you are?”

He pretended to ponder. “I guess, imagine someone who is filthy fucking rich. Like beyond what you could comprehend.” He smirked. His voice was firm but silky, his lips pillowy and red, bitten from his high.

You sat down directly next to him, drawn in by his half-smile, how he carried himself, how he was commanding but oddly off-putting all at the same time. He just looked like trouble, like a scandal, but it made you all the more intrigued. 

“And that’s how rich you are?” You asked. 

He raised his eyebrows. “No, a lot fucking richer than that,.” He bit his bottom lip, gesturing towards you with his rolled up hundred. 

“Cocky, much?” Libby scoffed. 

“She asked,” He shrugged, taking the line for himself instead of waiting for your prolonged response. You didn’t love the idea of coke, but he looked fucking hot doing it and you couldn’t believe you found yourself thinking that. He sniffled, wiping the excess powder from around his nose. The remnants of a line peppered the corner of the mirror, and he gathered it with his index finger. “You know, if you’re afraid to snort, you can rub some on your gums. Less scary that way.”

You looked up at him, pondering what to do next. You had never done coke before, but here was an upscale club in New York, a sunken-in green couch, and a sexy, rich guy with a lopsided smile, basically offering up his finger for you to suck on for a free high. Maybe it was against your better judgement, but you grabbed his wrist, pulling his finger to your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, his pupils becoming impossibly larger as he swiped the pad of his finger across your velvety gums. 

He smiled, moving his other hand to your knee. The finger that was just in your mouth gathered a small amount of coke on the moistened pad, finding its way to his own mouth for a quick swipe along his gums.  Your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your upper thigh. He pretended not to notice, a newer, fresher high pouring from his nose into his head and seeping through the rest of his body as he looked at yours, as inconspicuous as possible. 

The high hit you slower than you had expected; your tongue tingled as you watched his lips form into a curious smirk, deepening the creases by the corners of his mouth, where slightly greyed stubble was peppered. You wouldn’t usually allow a random, strung out man touch above your knee at a crowded club, but something about this man was making you erratic, and excessively planted in the firm ground of the present, when your head usually floated more towards the future.

You had honestly forgotten your friends were still here, watching you and the nameless, filthy rich man eye fuck each other as the vibration of the bass seemingly pushed you even closer together.

“I liked that,” He whispered in your ear, moving his hand to grip the soft skin of your inner thigh, still low enough to be acceptable, but flirting along the line of inappropriate, sexual. 

“Liked what?” You feigned innocence, flashing him a cute smile. 

He rolled his eyes, his breath hot against your cheek as his thumb rubbed circles on your thigh. “My finger in your mouth. Did you like the coke?”

He was as quick to mention it as he was to brush the topic to the back of the room, where your friends had roamed off to, still watching you from afar, awaiting a look for help you felt you wouldn’t need to give them. 

“I’m indifferent about it. Never have done it before, and definitely wasn’t planning on doing it tonight either.” You smiled down at your lap, suddenly aware of his stare, its effects burning your cheeks, your hands, in between your legs. He smelled rich and he had that greedy entitlement seeping from his pores, something which usually would have been strongly off putting, but at that moment made you certain that this was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“I didn’t mean to peer pressure.” He said, flatly. His thumb and index finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt a sweet looking girl such as yourself.” He gave a closed-mouth smile, his thumb swiping against your lower lip, still tingling. 

“I don’t mind. It was my choice.” You shrugged, your foot beginning to tap against the wooden floor which was littered with a sticky gunk. 

“Atta girl,” He sighed, squeezing your leg, pulling you even closer, bordering on his lap. His pants were molded perfectly to his body, hugging his thighs and stopping right at his ankles. His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, a tight black number you had bought ages ago in your hometown. “This suits you.” His tone was blunt, but you could tell he was trying to say the right thing. It was just unclear as to whether he actually cared about your feelings or if he just wanted to fuck you. There was a slim chance it was both. 

“I like the suit.” You pulled on his tie, making his lips near yours; you could smell mint, some tobacco, the faintest tinge of lime. “Looks like you came straight from the office.”

He chuckled. “I’m never out of the fucking office.” He fingered the top button of his shirt, popping it open. “It’s all business, sweetheart.”

“Even this?” You looked up at him through your lashes. “Getting high with me?” You loosened his tie a bit, forgetting you were in a public place, although it felt like it was just you two, breathing each other in, eager to see what would come next.

“Well this is a break. Well deserved.” His hand inched further up your thigh, and you welcomed it, looking around for a quick escape, somewhere a little more quiet. 

“What did you do to deserve this?” You teased, pushing his hand further up your thigh. He groaned lowly, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s a good fucking question, because I do nothing but fuck up.” He swiped his thumb over your clothed clit, feeling how wet you were, how ready. “Jesus,” He whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where exactly are we going?” You asked, fiddling with a button on his shirt, opting to pop it open because you were already this far with him. 

“My car, my penthouse, fucking anywhere.” He pulled his hand away from your core, pulling his tie looser in the process. “It’s hot in here. Loud. And I want you.”

Throwing back the rest of your drink, you grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the couch, eager to make his–and your own–wish come true. He didn’t bother to gather the four, rolled up hundreds, or the rest of his drugs, but maybe, you thought, they weren’t his to begin with. You often forgot how in the minds of the elite, everything was theirs, nothing was off limits, and everyone and everything could be bought. “So where will you have me?” 

He pondered, or more likely, pretended to. “My penthouse, of course. If I am to choose. It’s nothing special, though.” He winked. 

You headed toward the exit at the front, where you had come in, his hand still grasped in your own, warm, inviting, masculine. 

“Other way.” He pushed his other hand against your lower back, turning you around. His lips pressed against your ear. “I wasn’t lying about how fucking rich I am. If we go out that door, we’re the headlines in tomorrow’s tabloids.” And then his hand inched lower, over your ass. As he led you out of a hidden exit, blocked off by caution tape, you wondered if this was a good idea, or a march to your own grave. Leaving a bar, drunk and high with a man whose name you didn’t even know seemed to coincide more with the latter. 

“What was your name?” You asked, opting for at least a false sense of security. It was better than nothing, after all. 

He tore the haphazardly strewn caution tape, his hand still on the small of your back. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. “It’s Kendall.” He conveniently left out the last name; Kendall was sufficient enough, and left out the recognizable aspect, the heavily connoted Roy that either had women throw their drinks in his face or feign interest in him.

It was an interesting name, you thought. Definitely unexpected, but that was like him. You said nothing, not surprised he didn’t ask for your name in return. 

The air from outside was crisp, light. And the wind as fast as the trip to Kendall’s apartment building, one of the only residential buildings you had seen in New York to be aptly called a skyscraper. The tension between you and Kendall was palpable as the driver opened the back door for you. The combination of the brisk breeze and the cramped backseat had made your skirt ride up quite a bit, and Kendall was hard, excited as he thought about what would come next, what he would do to you. He was certain the cocaine had worn off, but he still felt high, and that concerned him, just a little. He felt like he was twenty one again, when independence was new, sexuality to be explored. 

His apartment door was heavy. That’s what Kendall told you as he pushed you up against it, causing it to slam, the cold echo of metal startling you into his arms. He smiled against your mouth, one of his hands finding your throat. His grip was firm, but he didn’t choke you. Instead he just looked at you, your hair tousled and frizzy, cheeks tinged with a feverish blush, your lips even darker. 

Swiping his free thumb over your bottom lip, he pushed it into your mouth, causing you to suck on it instinctively. Your cheeks hollowed, eyes sheepishly meeting his. 

Then, with the commanding, firm tone only a man like him could ever get away with, he said, “Get on your knees, now.”

Part Two

[remtan]

New Romancer 2

Rim’s 2nd album, New Romancer 2 was released on December 5th 2023! This album really shows how greatly Rim and Mao Sasagawa combine, and what they can do when they experiment together. Rim’s new wolfcut looks great and perfectly matches her edgy vibe. I’ve also noticed the general shape of it looks quite similar to Kaf’s hairstyle. I can’t wait to see her new 3D model at her upcoming Sinka live! (edit: this was written before her sinka live) Here's some of my favorite songs from the album in no particular order:

おしえてかみさま

This song grabbed me right away as the intro track. The voice sample captured my attention immediately, and the chords that followed afterwards reeled me in. One of my favorite things about this song is the piano that sounds a lot like the signal when the train crossing gates close due to an incoming train. I love how eerie and psychedelic it feels, but it also makes you want to dance.

生きているより楽しそう

I love how gritty this song is! The guitars and bass are all up in your face, and Rim’s voice complements them in an edgy, angsty fashion. The layering of Rim’s voice in different sections makes this song interesting to listen to! To be honest, I love this kind of sound from Rim the most.

Inner Child

I listened to this song all throughout 2023. The beginning piano and melody are so catchy, I love how there’s a hint of Mao Sasagawa’s voice layered under Rim’s as well. One of my favorite parts is the drum breaks appear only for a few seconds in-between Rim’s voice and the piano. I like how the first half of the song has the piano as the main instrument but then in the second half, the guitar takes over. Then near the end of the song, the piano comes in again to create the last chorus. This song is definitely one of my favorites out of the entire album!

フロム天国

A playful, upbeat song for Rim that’s still full of Mao Sasagawa's guitars. Ema also features in this song! I’ve heard that Rim is a Dustcell fan so I’m sure she’s happy to have Ema featuring in her own album. For a moment, I couldn’t tell which voice was Ema and which was Rim’s. I’d love to hear them sing together more!

Pilgrim

Pilgrim! This song was released over a year ago and currently it’s Rim’s 2nd most viewed music video at 4 million views. I immediately felt nostalgic upon hearing this in the middle of her new songs. Mao Sasagawa creates such a floaty hypnotic feeling with both his instrumentals and Rim's voice. The most memorable part of this song was Mao Sasagawa’s use of choppy voice samples that contrasted greatly against the rest of the song.

Fanfare

For some reason, this song reminds me a little of R Sound Design. It has somewhat of a groovy Jpop vibe! The outro is my favorite part, the piano is so addicting. I think out of all of Rim's new songs on this album this one will be the one I have listened to the most.

Refrain

Unlike in Inner Child where Mao Sasagawa’s voice layered under Rim’s for only a few seconds, his voice is all throughout the song. The melody feels a little lazy and laid-back but as the song goes on the melody becomes increasingly redefined by the constantly changing instrumental. I'm amazed at how quickly Mao Sasagawa can change the atmosphere of a song just by adding a few instruments. As Refrain's lyrics becomes increasingly more pessimistic and frustrated the song does as well. The MV also illustrates the changes in the song really well!

デイネイ

It's edgy but I really feel like rim had fun singing it, it has a snarky, playful vibe. I really like the piano runs in this song, it really differentiates it from the rest of the songs in this album.

Eloim

Definitely Rim’s scariest song so far, I can’t get myself to watch the MV because its too scary. It also marks an experimental change for both Rim and Mao Sasagawa. Unlike Rim’s usual songs, this song’s instrumental is full of dubstep. Rim’s whisper in the back is also very haunting. My favorite parts has to be when the guitars come in and the song builds for the chorus. I also love how Mao Sasagawa eerily trickles the piano notes, its similar to what you would hear in a horror movie. This song is currently Rim’s 4th most viewed MV at 2.4 million views, 3 months after its release. It’s right above Tall Story that she made with Guiano, which has 2.1 million views and was released 2 years ago.

不的

I love Rim's and Joucho's voices together, really putting the haunting feel of their voices together. Out of all the vwp duets, this one really stands out! It's so beautiful and edgy and eerie at the same time. I always feel like both rim and joucho are capable of capturing this mysterious, otherworldly feeling that's outside of reality. They performed this on Music Verse months ago and during the performance they panned Rim's voice to the left ear and Joucho's voice to the right ear and wow did it give me goosebumps.

Rim and Mao Sasagawa also did an interview on the production of this album here, and its a good read of rim's worldview, why they chose to use certain words in Rim's songs and also rim's career. They also touched upon Rim's identity as a virtual singer and how she often doesn't use her 3d model in her music videos. It's nice to get confirmation that this was a deliberate choice by Rim's team and that they've considered how her identity as a vsinger affects how people interact with her music. It's also sad to hear Mao Sasagawa say he's frustrated that people might dismiss Rim's music just because she's a vtuber, wherein he emphasizes because in the past people used to dismiss him because he was a vocaloid producer. However things are different today and he's grateful that vocaloid has broken into the modern Jpop scene. It makes me remember how Kamitsubaki are a rarity in the vtuber scene in terms of how seriously they promote and perform their music. Like Mao Sasagawa, I also hope the attitude towards vtuber music can change.

And in terms of the vtuber scene, it's worth pointing out how different Rim's genre and aesthetics are compared to other vtubers/vsingers. As rim's music and worldview continues to develop, I'm sure she'll continue to stand out and be a unique presence whether its in the virtual or non-virtual music scene.

[horizon-verizon]

Rhaenyra deserves to be usurped in the show because of her stupidity. She shows no political cleverness and easily allows the Greens to increase their influence and control at court, which is why she is so easily usurped. When her father is on the brink of death she returns to Dragonstone instead of staying with Daemon in King’s Landing to make sure her allies are in place to help her ascend the throne peacefully.

I’m not against Rhae Rhae because she’s a woman, I’m against her because she’s just stupid and reckless. I’d be equally as against her if she was a man. Aegon II isn’t a better ruler in any way, but his council certainly is, and if he behaves like Robert Baratheon who was always drunk, his council would just rule the realm for him. So I believe that Aegon’s council would rule the realm way better than Rhaenyra would.

*EDITED POST*

A)

Show!Viserys’s ailment is far worse than it was in the book, so Rhaenyra seeing his death imminent is not canonical. Writers’ fault, no matter what GRRM says. 

This alone would require a total rewrite of how things went down as to how the Greens usurped Rhaenyra both in the show and the book. Because unless Viserys were to explicitly tell Canon!Rhaenyra to go back to Dragonstone, I do not think that Book!Rhaenyra would look at Show!Viserys' condition and not stay at the Keep.

That the writers didn’t think of this, intentionally refused to follow through, means that they either wanted to write this show for mere bucks and were too lazy/uncreative to rewrite and follow their own rewritings OR they sincerely think Book!Rhaenyra is inherently unfit for the throne.

B)

You: “Rhaenyra deserves to be usurped in the show because of her stupidity. She shows no political cleverness and easily allows the Greens to increase their influence and control at court, which is why she is so easily usurped.”

What I am about to say is true for BOTH show and book Rhaenyra, bc the the story, her story, is the same:

I don't deny that Rhaenyra's last choices at KL were unstrategic OR self-contradictory (Rosby and Stokeworth [self contradictory in principle, strategic for the practical...in the moment], the Velaryon bastards-turned-lords, & Nettles). That after Nettles, she shouldn't have ruled.

I also think that those decisions are reflections of the already existing Targ-Andal patriarchal, blood-purist paradigm, that Rhaenyra is the example of a character who was FIRST felled down by the people around her (and harassed since childhood--10) and THEN by her own actions that were responding to those harassment and external doubt in her because she is a woman first invested with and then choosing to press for power and a position taken from her.

While it is definitely true that Rhaenyra seems to have always had some Targ-Andal elitism that built some of her confidence in her claim's validity, the personal history, plus the long societal censure, plus her kids dying would have some sort of effect on her. And it did, namely her doubling down and attempting to maintain control at all costs and most "conveniently"--or in the quickest gratification--which means conceding about Rosby and Stokeworth and attacking Nettles to reclaim Daemon (not just sexual partner, but her military and political support who if he had children with another would create competition for her and her kids).

I have a post where I talk about how Book!Alicent was majorly stupid HERE and how Show!Alicent is horribly written AND was never a true friend of Rhaenyra/a nonthinking "person" HERE & HERE. just because I never ever hear how people think ALicent messed up (and she did) espe making her anger lead her there. In fact, many actors did, and they are somehow "better" than Rhaenyra to some people bc they do not characterize Rhaenyra's feelings and responses as either consequential.

And then there is jeynearrynofthevale's post about how HotD failed or what they could have done to make the show better HERE, where they say:

Spend way more time on court politics and the buildup of the dance. Show why the two sides are falling the way they do and establish the core issues at play. Spend some more time establishing the characters before time jumps. Maybe give Rhaenyra motivation for ruling in terms of what she wants to do. Have her and Alicent navigate around each other in court.

Partly, I think that the kind of frustration people feel towards horror movie characters for not doing this and that has been copied just a little bit towards Rhaenyra and not enough on the writing of this show. 

Canon!Alicent and Rhaenyra were 9 years apart and Alicent turned on Rhaenyra ever since she birthed Aegon II, so we know she has plotted against rhaenyra since then. And argued with Rhaenyra, openly since she was at least in her early teens.

Why did the writers choose to remove Alicent’s evil stepmother characterization and replace it with a pseudo-best friends relationship? Because they (Migeuls Sapochnik and Sara Hess I think) thought it was too discriminatory towards Alicent...meanwhile this experience of an older woman victimizing her stepchildren or just other children for the sake of her own power or her own children’s safety/prosperity is a very real and common event. And women can just want to benefit from the patriarchal system and freely victimize or fight other women for power within that system. 

It is actually feminist to tell such a story, to let people see that cycle of patriarchal abuse and selfishness, how it enlists women to attack each other or attack vulnerable people. To remove that from Alicent and to make Rhaenyra this conciliatory person willing to give up the throne “for the realm” as Viserys told her is to make the general phenomenon of women wanting power into an inherently evil thing. 

Canon!Rhaenyra didn’t want power and decided that everyone was now her bitches, anon, she wanted it because she was selected for it, and she feels up to the task so it is within her dignity, and Viserys explicitly named her as his heir. She never doubted her own rights visibly. And she "grew up" and stood up for herself in her black/red dress moment, you know, that moment that the writers gave to Alicent.

In the same canon moment, she was also silently saying to Alicent that she wasn't putting up with her domestic bullshit. So even Show!Rhaenyra is lacking and a reflection of sexist writing.

Here are a few posts as to why this show is sexist despite it claiming it is feminist:

Male Gaze, Female Vicitmization, and Visual Eroticism in HotD (a reblog of my post written by xenonwitch)

The essentialist argument of "Women-pacisift-and-weak vs Men” (written by rhaenyragendereuphoria)

Evil Women and Patriarchy (by ainomica)

Evil Stepmothers ARE Compelling (by minetteskvareninova )

C)

Rhaenyra is Princess/Lady of Dragonstone. She inherits a lord’s authority over it at the age of sixteen in the book, as is royal custom. Dragonstone:

is her family’s original Targ seat of power in Westeros (Aegon I and the Targs pre-Conquest)

the one place where her authority goes uncontested, so it is here where she can bunker her children and has already accumulated resources against the Greens

Basically, this requires more of a Doylist reading of HotD and a look at how the writers chose to write this season and how Rhaenyra/Alicent grew up while at court after both marry.

And in canon, Rhaenyra dragged Maester Gerardys with her to Dragonstone to heal Viserys when Mellos wasn't helping at all, but Alicent wanted her to leave afterward, saying Rhaenyra was an interloper:

but Alicent was the one to try to send Rhaenyra away, saying she "meddled" into affairs that she mean to mean were not Rhaenyra's problem... despite Viserys being her father...:

This, again, indicates that Alicent has been working to isolate and exclude Rhaenyra for years before and after Daemon came back in 111 A.C.

Alicent used to try to welcome Rhaenyra as a daughter, or at least be well-meaning sometime before her son was born:

Rhaenyra was born 97 A.C. Aegon was born 107 A.C. Rhaenyra was 9-10 years old when he was born, which means Alicent started to resent and plot against her at that time:

Alicent very clearly was building a faction and garnering support against Rhaenyra, and couple that with what happened to Otto, plus how hateful they became of each other, what Alicent thought she and her son were owed...I think it's very safe to say that she put Rhaenyra down a lot in the Red Keep with innuendoes, implicit insults, remarks, etc. also remarks meant to make her look bad or sluttish, like this one:

Why this change? Or really, the suppression of the heat between them, the lack of backfire against Alicent?

D)

You: “Aegon II isn’t a better ruler in any way, but his council certainly is, and if he behaves like Robert Baratheon who was always drunk, his council would just rule the realm for him.”

You obviously never read the book. From the beginning, Aegon wanted and took control. while Criston lied to him that Rhaenyra would kill him otherwise, Aegon--I as I argue--likely always felt at least entitled to the throne and jealous of Rhaenyra's state if only because he feels entitled to a lot of things as a prince (his gluttonous and assaultive behavior). Only Alicent and his sister-wife being able to hold him back so he could be persuaded into not killing Rhaenyra. Twice. (Posts HERE, HERE, QUOTE #1, QUOTE #2, and what he would have done to Rhaenyra’s son, Aegon the Younger).

Aegon II and Robert Baratheon are still two different people, with different circumstances. Aegon II was born a prince and rode a dragon, inheriting the magical ability to ride dragons. He has his pride and because Alicent directly taught him to consider his own sister lesser, he was very eager to become king no matter what Septon Eustace has to say about it.

He argued with Otto directly for not bringing about things the way he wanted to. Robert never argued or felt powerful/able enough to argue against Tywin. 

But he never allowed others to rule for him until he shattered and burned his body while fighting Rhaenys. and even after he does what he does at Dragonstone...I already alluded to it above in the parentheses where I give links to posts and quotes.

*EDIT* And then what happens AFTER Otto and Alicent dies?

E)

You: “I’m not against Rhae Rhae because she’s a woman, I’m against her because she’s just stupid and reckless. I’d be equally as against her if she was a man. [...] So I believe that Aegon’s council would rule the realm way better than Rhaenyra would.”

And yet, you think that Otto Hightower, the man who pushed Rhaenyra into the heir position by convincing Viserys to do so just so he can prevent Daemon being named heir -- thus he and Viserys started this whole debacle (if we were to argue about who was politically stupid here and set up this civil war) -- is a good candidate for ruling of any kind?

The same Show!man who forced his own daughter to marry a rotting, much older man just so he can seat her/Viserys’ sons by her on the throne for his own selfish benefit?

The same man who enabled Vaemond to go against Corlys’ wishes for Lucerys to get the Driftmark seat? 

We can go back to how people expressed how the lords of Westeros and their kids looked at Rhaenyra askance because they were anxious that bastards in their own families would have an easier time contending with them....but:

Rhaenyra’s sons ARE "legitimate" and the lords have nothing to fear (written by theblackqveen)  

bastardry is NOT natural, it is entirely contingent on human decision (original post written by me and the reblog by the-king-andthe-lionheart)

doesn’t Otto’s going against Corlys express wishes and plotting with Vaemond count as him endangering Corlys’ house’s succession and stability? The same argument that greens argue for how the lords/their sons will look at Jacaerys becoming king? Otto actively does this. Where’s the consistency, the truth-telling in this argument? 

All this shows misogyny on your part, anon. Sorry about it.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

22, 58, 75 for the fic ask game? :)

I am SO sorry, I was so excited and happy to get this ask and then I never answered it! <3

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

There are a lot of things I don’t know how to do - action, for one. There are a lot of things I’m too lazy to do, like detailed worldbuilding. And all my fics so far have fallen into fairly similar patters - either emotional reflections or emotional conversations. But until 2019 I’d never written any fanfic at all, or even considered it, so there’s no saying that won’t change.

I don’t usually connect with a lot of the writing exercises that I’ve noticed as common on tumblr. I can’t take a one-word prompt and create a story from it, or start out with a trope and build a story around it. I look at the long lists of characterization-building questions and can’t answer most of them for most characters I write, even canon ones. Basically, I’ve never done any practice or any disciplined writing, and when I look at the ways you’re supposed to practise I draw a blank. I just occasionally get an idea that connects with me emotionally and even more occassionally manage to write it down.

58. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)

I like getting a new idea and outlining it, and I like writing down the parts that are clear and vivid in my mind. I’ll usually have spent a while daydreaming about something and mentally assembling it before I start writing it down, and will by then have a sense of many of the key things I want to do. That part is fun! After that it gets into the more challenging parts of pulling together all the other elements that need to be there but that I don’t have the right words for. And I’m downright awful at editing - reading prose that sounds wrong in my head doesn’t make me want to fix it, it makes me want to close the document and walk away!

75. What scene in Ashes took the longest to write? What was difficult about it?

That depends on whether write means times spent actually writing or time spent leaving it alone because I didn’t know what to do! 😂 Chapters 7 and 8 were the longest in the making by far, because I had a sense of the major moments in the emotional journey that needed to happen, but I was having trouble putting them together in a way that worked. Chapter 7, with a lot of help and advice from friends, came together pretty well - the Finrod and Fingon conversations stayed similar to what I had planned for a long while but the timing got rearranged , abd the Finrod-Turgon conversation helped a lot with getting the other parts to fall into place without Maglor having too many repetetive conversations. Chapter 8 was even more challenging abd in the end I’m not sure it did work the way I wanted it to; it was one of the pitfalls of being very much a plotter rather than a pantser, that I didn’t know any way to substantively anend it from my earlier ideas without breaking everything that came after, which was the stuff I wanted to get to.

[schokokokatze]

Tribe of Nêsos 3: Kápros

Somehow, he made do.

Orektós had lost his wife, but not his future. Their children were alive. Her beloved horse, Néphe, was alive. It was now his duty to make sure all of this - all of her life - had not been in vain. 

Not too far away, four strangers landed ashore. Poira looked around at the pale faces of her little family. Her second oldest daughter, Idu, and youngest son Yissharu, were all that remained of Poira’s children. She tried to cling to the thought that these two, at least, had a chance. Things were looking much worse for Idu’s son Rusa, who had lost his father to the disease already, and was showing the heaviest symptoms of the four of them. The old woman was aware of how lucky she had been, to have made it this far, but she was yet more grateful that they were no longer cooped up on a tiny boat. Not while she still had the feeling that the world spinned around her at every movement.

Idu: “I am telling you, mother, it must have been the food. If we gather new food here, it will be clean, and we will all survive and get better.”

Yissharu: “Speak for yourself, I feel as if I’ve perished already and you are dragging around my corpse. Every time it’s quiet, I think somebody else died. Never thought I’d found the sound of retching or someone having the runs comforting.”

Poira: “Settle down, child. Your sister may be right, and we all should pray that she is. We can not afford to loose anybody else. How is your son, Idu?”

Idu: “He is hanging on. Let us ... wander inland? Look for clean water, and something to eat?”

Poira: “You go ahead, children, you are much faster than me. My pace will be slow, but I will follow, don’t you worry.

[shoutout to @windermeresimblr​ for creating Idu! Her entire family was generated by pairing her with randomized townies and editing the results, because I’m lazy. You will get to see more of her.]

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

On the last day of Queer Pride Month,🌈 and the Eve of Disabled Pride Month ♿🐉

Here’s a post I originally made on r/lgbt, back in May, with slight edits:

Being Disabled in the [Gender, Sexual, and Relationship Minority] (LGBTQIA+) Community

This is a tricky thing to talk about. On the one hand, the GSRM community has fought long and hard against any link between our identities and orientations and physical or psychiatric illnesses, and so many folk in the community are leery of any association with Disability.

And on the other hand, heteronormativity itself demands that you not only desire the "right kind of people" in the "right kind of way," but that you be the "right kind of person" to be desired. Your intimate relationships could be as straight as a flagpole and as vanilla as soft serve from the mall's food court, but if your body and/or mind falls too far outside the bounds of normativity, your sex and your gender will be seen as "kinky" by the mainstream.

And so, many Straight Disabled people (but certainly not all) are also leery of any association with Gender, Sexual, and Romantic Minorities. Outside the small corner of Disability Studies in Academia, there's little discussion of gender, orientation, or relationships in those places where disabled people go for support and services.

Yet Disabled GSRM people exist. It's kind of like  Schrödinger's identity: Disability and GSRM identities exist independently of each other (Nothing about being GSRM is pathological, and nothing about being Disabled 'causes' someone to be GSRM). But they're also deeply linked; how we understand who we are and how we relate to other people is  shaped by how others treat us.

For example, I'm not Aroace, Panalterous, and (aspirationally) Polyamorous because I'm disabled. But, because of how people have acted around me as a disabled person, I spent the first 52 years of my life convinced I was the Token Straight Ally™ in nearly every one of my friend groups. 🙄

Also, in general, Disabled people share a lot of common experiences with GSRM folk:

 We're likely to be minorities within our own families

 We're apt to face the same prejudices at home as we do in the "outside world"

There's often a sense of shame around disabilities, and families are often reluctant to admit they have a disabled family member

There's often gaslighting of the Disabled family member, especially if they're a minor ("You're just lazy," "You're just complaining about how hard it is, because you want attention," "There's nothing wrong with you, it's just growing pains," "You're faking," "You wouldn't be bullied in school, if you tried harder to fit in," etc.).

And there's often pressure to "cure" the disability, even when there is no cure, so that if you're a kid, any free time you might otherwise have is taken up with therapies (Did you know that Applied Behavior Analysis -- a "treatment" for autism -- uses the same techniques as Conversion Therapy?)

Disabled people are often reliant on those ableist family members to get access to the outside world (needing parents to drive the wheelchair van, cancel the therapy appointment so there can be time for something else). And social events designed to be accessible to different disabled people are often run by church groups, or other organizations who have a homophobic (and transphobic) bent.

So even though I understand (and empathize with) the GSRM Community's reluctance to associate itself with the Disability Community, I wish it weren't so. Because it makes Pride Month all the more ironically isolating when the events and venues aren't accessible.

---

That’s where I’d ended the original post. But I’ve since had a “post-script thought” that’s less generous to the Normate Queer community:

Historically (at least from what I’ve witnessed) a lot of Queer Culture is celebrating the ✨Absolute Fabulousness✨ of the human body, and human sexuality. I know this is in response to, and a repudiation of, the cultural attitude that we are “Filthy” and “Shameful.”

But it also means that the presence of Disability, in the middle of all that celebration, is an awkward challenge to that -- with bodies that drool, and slump, spasm and get fatigued, with voices that stutter, or go silent, with minds that turn foggy.

And that makes it so much easier to “forget” that disabled queer people exist.

But a slogan popped into my head that might become an art piece for next year’s Pride Month(s):

Disabled Queers: Queering Queerness.

[altarwaiting]

totally random but I’m trying to make some a bit of extra money bc my friends from college are visiting so I’m thinking about selling some of my taylor merch so just seeing if anyone would be interested in anything? so far I’ve found a 1989 world tour book, a signed midnights CD (moonstone blue edition) and a 1989 album cover tote bag idk if any of that is even worth anything but like DM me if you’re interested I’d rather have it go to a fan than someone who is just gonna resell it. I can send pictures too I’m just being lazy. 

I also have a “feeling 2022″ (size 3xl) long sleeved shirt but idk if anyone would want that since ... well it’s 2023 lmao but if you do hey hmu! 

[floofe-trans-doggie]

My review of every Smissmas 2022 map for Team Fortress 2

Rumford: Decent little Payload map, dragged down by the fact that Valve fucked up and didn’t include a bunch of materials originally, still missing a couple textures post-patch, otherwise fun but nothing to write home about. 7/10

Coal Pit: An excellent reskin of Gravel Pit with a refreshing new theme, a more interesting area around the final point with broken ice, and snowman bombs that make the old map more lively. I also find BLU trying to stop RED from using a freeze ray to enact global cooling fairly amusing. 10/10, honestly kinda carries the update.

Frostcliff: A Payload map that is mediocre at best, Frostcliff provides perfectly fine gameplay for the most of the map, but the last point is far too chokey and easy to defend, making it almost impossible for the attacking team to succeed. The texturing in some parts of the map is lazy and jarring with snowy textures on top of inclines connecting to wall textures with no snow in sight, carving straight lines in the terrain that scream ‘unpolished.’ It also suffers from the Bread Space problem of RED’s first spawn facing towards the end of the map and being at a right angle to the beginning, leading to most teams trying to run to C at the beginning of the round instead of A, at least on their first round on it, though this is somewhat mitigated by a door closing off part of the map when it’s not in use yet. There’s some potential, but it’s overall poorly designed and executed. The layout also gives me flashbacks to Erebus and Terror, two of the worst Halloween maps. 4/10

Frosty: It’s capture the flag. The map seems fairly well-put together, but you’re never going to actually play this map. Any server running this map turns into the same playground as 2fort, so I can’t speak much to how it plays, though being a capture the flag map means my expectations are low anyway. For these reasons, I’m not giving it a score, but nice as it looks, I’m not queuing for it.

Frostwatch: This is the worst attack/defend map I’ve ever played. The second point of the first stage is by far the most difficult of the entire map for BLU to push with the only routes aside from the main choke being two parallel routes to the sides, one of which is a tunnel not even wide enough to fit 2 people side-by-side, and the whole thing is an uphill battle giving the defending team the high ground. And that’s if you even make it there because BLU’s first spawn is absurdly easy to spawncamp, being wide open for Snipers to have a field day and having a dropdown from one of the spawn exits which can be camped under very easily. BLU’s last spawn has a similar issue, though not to the same extent, except on the last spawn all of the spawn exits have similar, albeit smaller drops to camp under. The second stage, for no discernible reason, has two points that can be attacked simultaneously, both of which need to be captured to progress to the final stage. Neither of these points are particularly well-designed, with one of them in particular standing out for basically just being a pit outside RED’s spawn where they can rain hell on anyone attacking, but because of the second point of stage one, if you make it to stage two, your team is almost certainly stacked enough to steamroll both it and stage three. Stage three is mediocre and really boxy. I’d also like to point out that this map has had several out-of-bounds spots you can get to, an issue normally only present on Halloween maps where you have to use spells to do so. How they fucked that up, I don’t know. 0/10, I never want to play this map again. I leave the server if the other players are dumb enough to vote for it after the round ends.

Edit: It has occurred to me that a reason for the prevalence of spawncamping on the first stage, aside from how easy it is, is that the area immediately outside of BLU spawn connects directly to the first point, meaning RED more or less has to hold right outside of spawn in order to keep A. This, combined with the second point being chokepoint hell, makes stage one of this forsaken map strikingly similar to Dustbowl last.

And thus concludes an unnecessarily long rant about Frostwatch my Smissmas 2022 map review! Have a fucking Smissmas or whatever.

[hikari-drkspc]

↬ general yandere! stanley headcanon

character: stanley snyder [dr. stone]

warning: yandere, mentions of m0rder, mentions of viol3nc3 ; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI,  PUT YOUR AGE IN BIO/PINNED POST TO INTERACT

words: 698

a/n: this is a repost from my main blog (@/hikari-writes) so yes this writing is old + bad, i just moved them here w/o editing bc im lazy and wants to keep reminding myself how bad my writing used to be <3

➳ Stanley would definitely be the more possessive type of yandere if anything.

➳ He’s the type of guy that doesn’t take no for an answer, so you will be his no matter what.

➳ His obsession would start as a simple attraction towards you. He just finds you amusing to a degree and he likes interacting with you.

➳ As he found himself falling more and more in love with you, his desires to keep you all to himself grow alongside his feelings.

➳ Which is never a good thing to happen, by the way.

➳ You should definitely expect him to remind you of who you belong to constantly, even to the point of suffocating you.

➳ I’d say he’s one of the most extremely dangerous yandere in the Dr. Stone universe. Not only because he won’t hesitate to kill anyone that he detests, but also because there’s a chance for you to be one of them too.

➳ Stanley has lived his life as a military officer and I’m betting he has never experienced love before, therefore making his understanding of it to be extremely twisted.

➳ He expects you to obey him, and if you don’t, well, let’s not talk about the consequences.

➳ As I said before, I somehow imagine Stanley to consider the choice to kill you, even though it’s a rare occasion for yanderes to kill their darlings and the most they would do is to break them to the point of no return.

➳ Although, for him to actually consider this decision, you must have pushed him a tiny bit too far.

➳ He thought that maybe as a corpse, you’d be more obedient to him and won’t question his love.

➳ But enough talking about him killing his darling, let’s talk about how he’d act around you.

➳ He’s not a fan of PDA but he still occasionally does so just to show the others that you belong to him. It wasn’t even done out of true affection for you. He just did that to assert dominance.

➳ When you two are alone, he would have you sit down beside him and let him rest his head on your lap after completing whatever task Xeno had given him.

➳ He’s a manipulative and calculating type of yandere and would fabricate a lot of lies in order to make you stay with him.

➳ He’s not a delusional yandere, but his limited understanding and knowledge of love made him not quite realize what he’s doing is wrong.

➳ Actually, even if he knew, he won’t actually stop his behaviour.

➳ His way of showing his affection is by playing with your hair. Whenever he rests his head on your lap, he would twirl some of your strands of hair and kiss it.

➳ He’s a very blunt and straightforward guy so he constantly would tell you how beautiful you are. He won’t actually shower you with lots of praises every single minute or anything, so he makes sure his compliments sounded as genuine as possible.

➳ He won’t hesitate to kill or at the very least, break a bone or two, of anyone who does as much as stare at you.

➳ He’d be so disgusted by them. You’re not at fault for being so beautiful. No, of course you’re not at fault. It’s those filthy pigs’ faults for not understanding their damn place and even thinks of getting their hands on you.

➳ Stanley won’t hesitate to kill anyone or everyone but he has made Xeno an exception. Not because he felt indebted to him for whatever reason that makes him work for the scientist nor is it because he considers Xeno to be his friend. Rather, it’s because it would be extremely inconvenient to live in the Stone World without the aid of a genius such as himself. Even with all that has been said and done, he still loves you albeit a little too twisted. He doesn’t wish for you to live in the wilderness anytime soon.

➳ He can show his undying affection for you, but only under one condition and that being you not opposing him in any way possible. All you need to do is just humor him and you will be safe from the clutches of Death.

[lokittystuckinatree]

LCU Rewatch: Ragnarok Edition

My previously undying passion for MCU Loki has been waning lately. The Loki Series better bring it back or else…I’ll cry or something

No amount of words could describe how much I adore this movie, so my notes will be brief (I lied)

I will say they often took the humor too far for sincerity, mischaracterized Loki frequently, and made Thor too silly at times. This movie still hits different though

Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin is still one of the best soundtrack choices in movie history

If I wrote for Marvel I’d have introduced Amora in Thor the Dark World, had her present for Ragnarok, and given she and Loki an enemies/ lovers dynamic. I still would have introduced Sylvie as the love interest for TVA Loki, because it would be fucking hilarious if he managed to get with both Enchantresses in different timelines. Bonus points if Sylvie and Amora meet, and Amora chases Sylvie around with a knife (accusing her of stealing her Enchantress gig) so TVA Loki tries to help Sylvie by chasing Amora around with a knife, which prompts Sacred Timeline Loki to chase TVA Loki with a knife in the hopes of helping Amora. (Thor is in the background, crying.)

The way Thor places his hammer on enemies to immobilize them hahfjgkfkh

I headcanon that Loki doesn’t exclusively write and/or put on plays about himself, but Thor happened to show up on one such day where a play about Loki was being performed. Loki’s quite narcissistic and self obsessed, but it’s not his defining character trait. Knowing Loki’s character voice and sense of humor, (“little blue baby icicle”) he absolutely wrote that play himself too. (Also because I doubt Odin was able to hear “I didn’t do it for him” which confirmed Thor’s suspicions, too)

Loki pouted when Thor said he looked greasy and weaseley awww you’re gorgeous to meeeee

Loki focused on arts and infrastructure and decreased military intervention and imperialism…good bean. I guess they were trying to paint him as lazy or vain, but I just saw character growth. They went from attempting to genocide their own species and take over the world to at least claiming “it is best to respect our neighbors’ freedom” I’m so proud of them

No one in the Theatre troupe was even slightly surprised Loki was pretending to be Odin. They were probably the first to notice lmao.

Loki’s character voice is off in this movie, but it got better again in the Series

I have a gut instinct Loki is a passionate tea drinker. I just know she inhales the stuff. But he would also love coffee. So basically they would just like caffeine

Odin’s death makes me tear up, but also see ya sucker good riddance!

Loki upon meeting Hela, probably: am I adopted or not????? Are you my mother????

Hela is fucking terrifying, as usual

If a variant of Hela can be Odin’s kid instead of Loki’s, and a variant of Gwen Stacy can become Spider Gwen, then why is it so hard to understand that a variant of Loki can become a variant of Sylvie Lushton?

Hi Fandral! Hi Volstagg! Bye Fandral. Bye Volstagg.

BRUNHILDE HELLO my king

Can’t get over how Loki accidentally saved Sif’s life by sending her on that mission

“It is a he?” Listen I know it doesn’t actually mean anything but I have decided Grandmaster asks that because Loki’s genderfluid ass showed up first

Still can’t decide whether or not Grandmaster and Loki’s ‘relationship’ was consensual, which typically means consent was dubious at best

Not Hela eying the tesseract lol. Loki is absolutely genetically related to her

“Our sister” OUR awwww. The scene where Loki’s illusion appears to Thor is actually pretty in character and well written. Loki isn’t the star of the show this movie, but he still draws attention

Next season I want to see him become as magically powerful as Hela, not exaggerating

“A hammer pulled you off?…intimate relationship with this hammer” excuse me while I choke on my drink because I forgot this scene existed

HEY THERE HULK

I want to hold Loki and kiss Loki and tell Loki everything’s ok soooo bad right now, is that weird? No it’s not, we’re legally married in my head, cringe I know.

HI HEIMDALL!! (you were hinted before but hello!)

Im so torn about Thor’s character development. On one hand, his “I don’t need a hammer, my power and strength come from within” arc is fascinating and profound, but his character growth was ruined and ignored later…

I like Hulk and Thor’s friendship. Theyre both angry, aggressive people who punch their problems out, so they understand each other, but it’s that same similarity that causes conflict between them. (And then there’s Loki, who thinks he’s not hot headed but obviously is, and always at the worst times. Loki’s anger is quieter, deeper, subtler, but it’s always bubbling, one crisis away from boiling over and causing irreparable damage. However, he also learns to put that anger to use “trust my rage”) Hulk is like fire, Thor is like fire, Loki is like water. Tempestuous and changeable.

Poor Bruce

Aaahhhhh yes, possibly *the* sexiest fight scene in cinematic history 😏 followed by one of the most jawdroppingly beautiful sequences of Cinematography. If you catch me rewinding every 3 seconds, no you didn’t

“I don’t want to fight your sister” you already fought his other sibling, my dude

Sylvie and Valkyrie would be the most chaotic and feral team to grace a screen since…ever. Bonus if they fight each other at some point, because the homoeroticism would be incalculable

“It varies from moment to moment” now THAT that is peak Loki

I keep forgetting Thor is like…actually smart (sometimes lol)

“I’m asking for safe passage through the anus” A. Omg Loki we know you’re gay chill B. I want to know who pitched that line and what everyone else’s reaction was to hearing it

What in the frick did they do to Loki? He’s so unlike himself it’s giving uncanny valley. Mom come pick me up I’m scared

I do not buy that Loki actually genuinely tried to kill Thor before the events of Thor 1. Bluffs, threats, rambunctious mischief? Absolutely. But in my opinion, to imply that Loki regularly tried to kill Thor as a child? blatantly goes against her previous characterization. They really love painting him as a cold blooded serial killer don’t they? 😐 (he’s not a psychopath, and I’m sick of writers, other characters, and even his own fans treating him that way)

Stopped there. Took a break. Back now.

even in the MCU Loki sees his life as a tragic story to be told. Writes a play about it, refers to himself as a monster children are told about at night, notes the “poeticism” of Odin’s death potentially splitting he and Thor apart (especially because Frigga’s death brought them together) etc. This motif is taken further in the series, and needless to say, he’s literally the God of Stories in the comics.

Holy Ravioli the scene before “let’s do get help” is depressingly good. “Do you truly think so little of me?” “Loki, I thought the world of you.” Loki’s visible heartbreak when Thor agrees they should never see each other again? How the fuck did we go from “Loki tries to kill Thor once a week lol” to this…This movie is such a mixed bag when it comes to Loki’s characterization. Almost feels like there are two different versions of Loki in the writers room.

Thor more or less says “you’re too much for me” and Loki hears “I’m not enough for you”

“We are not doing get help” this bitch Loki, YEET

Can we talk about this scene? Either Loki planned to betray Thor prior and was heartbroken because his fears that Thor no longer wanted him around were confirmed, confirming his decision, or he hoped that Thor would tell him to stay and was heartbroken because he doesn’t. Either way, Loki has just suffered what he sees as a rejection or abandonment, and that is what triggers or justifies his backstabbing behavior. BPD much?

“Life is about change, but you just want to stay the same” the meta level of Loki, a dynamic, tempestuous, mercurial, fluid character being told that his chaos is becoming predictable and he doesn’t truly want to change??? That’s good writing there.

I also suspect WHY he doesn’t want to change. toxic patterns of betraying and pushing people away to avoid/punish rejection and that hesitance to trust or get emotionally attached can feel like the only way to keep yourself safe, and you can get addicted to isolation and disappointment to the point where tragedy becomes your identity. Building a new identity is scary.

“You’ll always be the god of mischief, but you could be more!” “I’m the god of mischief, always have been, always will be” “You can be anything, anyone you want to be!” and so on

Loki’s an introverted loner who craves being the center of attention in any social situation. That’s a difficult mix to reconcile (I know too well) Also being a natural leader and original thinker yet not being taken seriously by anyone…I also get that

He’s so cute with his hair tussled hflfjdfkgkljhk

It feels like someone is missing from this movie, and at first I thought Jane, then had the startling realization that it could be Amora

Sylvie hiding from the TVA in Ragnarok would make a great episode of What If

As a writer, I still can’t decide if Thor should have become king or not…

The dynamic between Thor and Hela is intriguing, tragic, and narratively rich. If Loki and Hela are parallels, Hela and Thor are foils.

The only thing that could have made Loki’s Dramatic Entrance better would be if Lady Gaga started blaring.

I still get chills when Loki smiles and Thor reappears and Immigrant Song starts playing

Loki and Sylvie are frost giants but are also associated with fire, as the Norse God Loki sometimes is. One of my favorite details.

Things I’ve decided happen off screen: Thor and Loki hug, Loki survives Thanos, etc

Everything was fine nothing bad happened they all lived happily ever after the end

[unrequitedloveletter]

Cals Writing Guidelines

Okay, I realize that I wrote guidelines for this account nearly two years ago, but I’m redoing masterlists and account aesthetics right now and I figured I’d just make a whole new post (I was too lazy to find the old one with these and my personal boundaries and things have changed so new post it is) 

Guidelines under the cut because I didn’t want this clogging up anyones dash lol

like I was twenty-three months ago, I’m still pretty lenient in most things. I’ve always been pretty chill and willing to write almost whatever and that still stands! 

Whatever, however, does have it’s limits and I’m going to communicate those clearly because I didn’t think I had the right to have limits two years ago (people pleaser brain, 2021 was not my fucking year--) but I do know for a fact that have a right to them now. Those limits (most of which are fandom specific) are listed below in the form of a cutesy little FAQ because it made it easier for me to understand when typing this out at nearly three in the morning. 

-Am I willing to write smut?

Yeah! Smut is totally cool with me but I will not write anything involving dd/lg, watersports, rape, or the sexualization of death in any capacity. Please do not ask, I will just delete your request rather than dignifying it with a response if you do. 

- Kaz Brekker fics involving touch??

Again, sure, but as it’s always been with these fics, you either let me bring Kaz up to at least twenty five (he’s 22-24 in the show and he’s still touch averse, 25 is the low end) or you clarify that you’d like it to be an AU wherein Kaz isn’t touch averse at all. 

-How long will requests take? 

it depends! There’s like, zero method to the process I’ve curated over the past nearly two years. Because of that, I can’t give you an estimate (sometimes they take forever, sometimes they’ll be written, edited, and published in the same day) but I think that the longest I’ve gone without answering an ask I actually intended to do was two or three weeks before I just kind of sat down and did it because motivation hit me. It also depends on the time of year it is. Around winter things will come out quicker, and the same goes with summer because my time gets freed up a bit. 

-What is a no-go for you, generally speaking?

my boundaries are pretty clearly stated above but otherwise, if they’re not somewhere on my account, please don’t ask me to write for them, and when it comes to the identities of canonically queer characters (like Wylan) please don’t ask me to write them into relationships that disrespects their sexuality in canon. I will not write Wylan with a fem! reader because, as far as I know, he’s canonically gay, so please do not ask me to write a fic of that nature unless you want me to write it so that they’re best friends and the reader is dating one of the crows or something of the sort. 

-How will I know if requests are closed?

I normally put that in my bio! If you send something in while requests are closed, no biggie! I’ll probably decline it and just let you know that they’re closed at the time they were sent in, unless you send something in close to when I’m planning to open them again. As far as events are concerned, I’ll reblog the event post when requests close for the event and again, put the ‘requests currently closed’ or ‘requests closed until x day’ into my bio just to be safe. I might also start putting it on my pinned but that’s a decision I have yet to make. 

That’s it! We’re done here, and this is just gonna go up onto my pinned, which I am currently in the process of redoing. 

[inkofyoonkoo]

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in | 1

🏵️ Wordcount: 30k 🏵️ Genre: Fluff/angst/smut | From strangers to lovers!AU • FWB!AU 🏵️ Jungkook x Reader 🏵️ Description: In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past 🏵️ Warnings: age difference (10 years gap, both characters are adults); mention of panic attack; characters death (not the main protagonists); 🏵️  [EDIT] I should’ve added it since the beginning but I totally forgot because I’m dumb.  The little poems that open every scene aren’t mine (I’d give a finger to write that beautifully 💔): they’re Japanese poems I’ve found randomly, or belong to well-known writers -so to them goes all the credit.  🏵️ A/N: since I’ve almost finished the ending of this story, I start posting here the first part too! In all honesty, I don’t know if someone will ever give it a chance (due to the thematics and the length) but if you do, thank you from the bottom of my heart! Please consider hmu if you arrived till the end and like it because this story drenched me of every energy and it’d be nice to hear your opinion 🐰  

You don’t love Jungkook.

You love when he comes, when he makes you come. 

You're just this. You're barely whispered orgasms in the darkness of his bedroom; lazy kisses stolen in the backyard of his house; airy laughters over a glass of wine; tears hidden on a shoulder; little sips of breath in the crook of each other's neck when you hug tight, on your sofa; early morning strolls, your hands so close for your fingers to intertwine in the slightest; tales of a carefree childhood that taste of watermelon and beer; whispered words on a pillow -too much intimate for the pair of you to forget them when the night is over.

It's a palliative that makes you forget about the past you’ve lost.

Something that is bound to end when the warmth of summer will start to fade.

Something that… is close to happiness.

Something…

"The magic fades too fast The scent of summer never lasts The nights turn hollow and vast But nothing remains … Nothing lasts"

If someone would’ve told you that you'd end up spending your days far away from the blinding lights of a big city, you'd have surely laughed at the top of your lungs. 

Born and raised in a large town for most of your young age, moved to Seoul to study at KNU and make your dream come true -drinking every ounce of a bittersweet nocturnal life made of discos and cocktails and rides in taxis and sudden 3:00 AM snacks bathed in the neon lights of nightclubs, it was only natural for you to believe that your existence would grow in a chaotic metropolis.

You could only picture yourself there, immersed in a perpetual, fast, ever-changing chaos that would leave you breathless… and yet, at the age of thirty three, the only place that feels like home is a village nestled amidst the mountains -so small you can easily pinpoint every single person and associate them to a specific name, a specific quirk (and even know their genealogical tree by heart)... 

Living in a small area with a very few inhabitants who know each other as if they belonged to the same family has its pro and cons: if someone gets a flue, there’s the high chance that the sickness will spread like wildfire; if a problem occurs, there’s always a kind neighbour ready to help you -on the other hand, though, there’s a risk that your secret will become the new (embellished) gossip. The trust that ties people with one another is so lasting you rarely experience episodes of backstabbing or dreads -but when it happens, oh God, you should pack your things at the speed of light and migrate to the most distant planet.

Life isn’t hectic, but the silence and peacefulness that embraces the town borders like a dome is so homey you can’t get enough. Sure, your mind sometimes echoes back to all those times you were wrapped in a sort of feverish excitement for abrupt plot-twists, filling your heart to the brim of gushing nostalgia -especially because the only memorable, upcoming event here is the annual harvest festival that is held around the end of June. However, something noteworthy happens once in a while: like the time Mr Park cheated on his wife with the young flower girl; or when Kwon’s son got arrested for dealing… or, like, when a new person comes to town.

Especially when a new person comes to town…

The motionless quietness of the village shattered on a chill morning of April, when the pebbly street that passes through your residential area welcomed a rickety little van with three guys in it. Now, considering the horde of tourists that invade the village only to reach the mountain when the good season or winter is approaching, this shouldn’t be a remarkable episode; but the fact that the vehicle stopped right in front of the long-inhabited Kim’s house, and someone started living there, well… that’s for sure extraordinary.

Even more extraordinary is the fact that a month has already flown by, and everyone's still talking about the: “handsome young man” (or “odd young man”, it depends on the recounts) who came and never left...

“Mrs Choi told me he probably broke out of jail. I told her we should call the police, but she said it’s just a rumor and has no evidence to prove it.” Ms Kim flickers her hand right up above the plate of rice cakes to shoo away a fly, a little frown appearing between her well-finished eyebrows. “In my opinion, he’s associated with some weird gang. I mean, did you see his right arm? All those tattoos must mean something!”

You nibble at the small rice cake, running the tip of your tongue on your bottom lip to get rid of crumbs -and to refrain yourself from bursting out laughing (if she knew that her beloved, gentle Seokjinnie has got a nice flower tattoed on top of his left buttcheek, she’d surely have a heart attack).

“It seems so impossible to me. He’s been here for a month and hasn’t caused any trouble yet. And he’s so polite. The old Mrs Kwon told me he helped her carry the groceries, a few days ago. And he also cleaned Mr Lee’s garden.” Ms Min closes the fridge with her foot, the glasses full of orange-juice on the tray she’s holding swing for the sudden motion.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Ms Kim retorts, mouth twitching (just like Seokjin would do). “Appearance can be deceiving! Being polite doesn’t change the fact that he can be a delinquent, or hangs out with bad companies.” She gives the landlady a warm smile when she hands her out a glass, nodding a little. “Do you remember Choi's youngest son? Such a good boy, him and my Seokjinnie practically grew up together… and then he robbed poor Wooshik’s shop.” She turns to you, searching for some support in her statement. “(Y/N), you know who I’m talking about, mh? He was one of Namjoon’s students, wasn’t he?”

There’s a pang of poignant pain in your chest when his name tumbless of her tongue with so much ease, like he was out on errands, ready to come back home when the last rays of sunshine will stop seeping through the fronds, and it spreads to the liquid sparks now trembling in your eyes. 

You take a sip of orange-juice, trying to shove back down the lump in your throat. “Yes, he felt so bad when he came to know about it. He says Donghae was such a smart guy, he could’ve done great things…”

Namjoon spent the whole night sitting on the veranda overlooking the luxuriant garden in the backyard, eyes fixed on the trees stretching up to the starry sky of October, a closed book laying on his lap; his hand was lazily stroking Moonie’s head, peacefully sleeping next to him, and your requests to come back inside were always welcomed with a vague: “Mhm” fading in the chilly breeze. The news shocked him so much that he couldn’t close his eyes without picturing the gentle smile Donghae used to deliver him every time he asked for advice, during the breaks at school. Namjoon never stopped wondering who led him down a bad road; what pushed him to commit such an awful crime; how he couldn’t notice the twist his life was taking…

Ms Min spares you a quick, sympathetic look before focusing on her drink, lips morphed in a gentle smile that reminds you of her son. Ms Kim, instead, seems on the cusp of telling you something, only to close her mouth and shake her head shortly after.

She curls a lock of black hair between her fingers, the sparkling red painting her nails shines in the sunlight coming from the opened window. “Anyway, I was trying to say—”

“Oh, c’mon, cut that poor guy some slack.” Ms Min interrupts, resting her cheek on her palm, poking the tip of her tongue on her cheek (just like Yoongi would do). “Ok, he’s got many tattoos and piercings. And his mint hair is pretty odd… but let’s not forget that my Yoongi-chi has the habit of dying his hair pretty often, too.” She rests her elbow on the coffee table, the shoulder strap of her worn-out vest slides down along her arm. “Do you remember when he went through his purple phase? People kept telling me that he put himself into trouble and this was his own way to communicate, when the truth was that he liked the purple color a lot.”

Yoongi liked a girl who loved the purple color a lot, actually. He thought this could be a brilliant way to catch her attention. She broke his heart the last year of high school, after a couple of blowjobs and a very few kisses secretly shared in the sports equipment storeroom while their classmates were having gym class outside. He says he barely remembers her if you touch upon the topic, but it never gets unnoticed the glint of annoyance streaming in his thin eyes if he only hears her name.

“And yet, my son is such a good man… or not?” her eyes become two threatening half-moons (just like Yoongi would do) now pinned to her friend’s face, tinged with a ruby shade that spreads down to her neck.

Ms Kim nods. “Yoongi-chi is a gentleman. The exception that proves the rule, I’d say.” 

Ms Min huffs. “I don’t know. The new boy has got sweet eyes. A boy with such gentle eyes can’t hurt any living thing, I’d stake my son.”

You let out a chuckle. You’re dying to confess to Yoongi that his mother would sell him only to save the reputation of a stranger with a pair of Bambi eyes.

You don't participate much in their conversation, mostly because you don't know what to say about the new boy in town: you don't know his name, you don't know how old he is; you don't know what he's doing here, if he's going to stay permanently or if he's just another fleeting soul that will graze the harmony of this place for a couple of months before disappearing again. You suppose he's a relative of the Kim's, considering he lives in their house -but you don't have the certainty. You only know that he's got an ocean of tattoos scattered on his right arm; so many piercings you lost count after the first three; mint hair styled in an undercut; and he always spends his days with an energetic dog who barks every time he pinpoints your peaceful Moonie, napping at the entrance.

But that's it. Nothing more, nothing special. You're really not interested in him -you aren't really interested in anything anymore, actually.

The new boy in town is just a blurry silhouette in your grey world, perfectly blended with all the other shadows that gravitate in your atmosphere… and you're pretty sure he'll be just that for all the time he'll stay here—!

"If I were you, I'd pay attention, (Y/N)." Ms Kim's voice breaks through your consciousness, there's a note of worry that has you blinking in confusion. "I caught him staring at your house every time he walks his dog out," she comments, lowering her voice -like she feared to be heard by prying ears. 

A line appears between your knitted brows as you try to recall all the moments you might have seen him look at you in a suspicious way, but your mind is vacant like a typhoon just passed by (in your defense, you stopped taking notice of whatever happens around you; there's a high chance your mind hasn't registered anything in particular…)

You rotate your shoulders to get rid of the cold chills spreading from your skull. "He was probably staring at Moonie. He's got a dog too, after all." You stretch out to look at the various rice cakes, undecided on which one to eat first. 

Ms Min grins. "Darling, I noticed too how he looks at you when he comes to the restaurant." Her left brow wobbles up. "So, unless Moonie started walking on two legs and serving customers: no, I don't think he's interested in your dog." She spares a glance to her friend, who seems unable to see the joking side of this whole situation. "He gets all shy when you serve him, he starts stuttering… adorable."

“Shady," Ms Kim mutters, going back to listing all the reasons why they should establish a security service and patrol the area to prevent any horrible crime. 

You let out a chuckle, observing the women discussing. For a very brief moment, it feels like witnessing their respective sons in the middle of an argument -Yoongi, unbothered and ready to spit harsh comments to cut the conversation short; and Seokjin, talking in a rush, neck and cheekbones scarlett for the passion exuding in his words. 

The fact that someone noticed you amidst many should make you all giddy inside, and excited to meet them again -hopeful that something might happen between the pair of you, just like in those rom-com movies you loved to watch on Sunday afternoons; and yet, you don't really care about it.

Namjoon would describe the phase you're going through like a long, everlasting, painful winter.

You thought you'd get used to it, over time… 

You didn't. 

"Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters: nothing is left of me, each time I see her…"

When you walk out the backyard of Ms Min's restaurant, Yoongi is already there, enjoying his break. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone, the filter cigarette tightened between his thumb and index finger already half consumed. 

There's a little frown between his knitted brows, the tip of his tongue pokes on his cheek. He's visibly irritated and, despite your vain attempt to contain yourself, you can't help but sneer -because in these few years you've learned to know him like the back of your hand, and you perfectly know what's whirling in his mind. 

"They aren't together," you announce your presence with this comment, opening the can of Coke you took from the kitchen. 

Wide-eyed, Yoongi shifts his stare to you. The tip of his ears is flushed with a delicious crimson shade that has your fingers twitching for pinching them. 

He blinks twice, stare flickering from you to his phone. "I wasn't-I'm not—shit." He curses under his breath, pulling his phone inside the pocket of his apron with a nervous gesture. "How do you know it?" He takes in some smoke, avoiding the curve of playfulness on your lips. 

"That you were peering on Minji's Instagram, or that they aren't together?" Your eyes crinkle in the corner when he starts mumbling incomprehensible things (some insults, probably). "You don't see it, but your eyes shine when you look at her pictures, or we talk about her." You notice his shoulders stiffening, but apart from a muscle twitching in his jaw there's no trace of annoyance across his face "Anyway, I questioned her. They're just colleagues." You hesitate, scrutinizing the sparks in his eyes. "She likes Seoul a lot."

He shrugs. "Good for her."

"But she misses living here even more," you continue, ignoring his harsh statement. Tenderness crackles in your chest for Yoongi's incapacity to sort out his emotions and act like a mature grown-up. "She keeps asking me about you: how's Yoongi-chi doing? Is he eating? Is he getting enough sleep?" You sink in his shaky eyes for a second, before he lowers his head to hide a delicate smile from you. You drum your fingers on the can. "I think you should write to her. You're wasting a good occasion for—"

"You're one to talk about wasting good occasions? Don't make me laugh.." Yoongi gasps for air the moment he gazes at you, wide-eyed, then he curses under his breath. "Sorry, (Y/N), I didn't mean to—"

He meant it. But you accept his words with a nod, aware that your friend isn't entirely wrong: considering how you've been living your life these past years, all the stories you cut in the bud at the first hint of affection, you are the last person who could judge others or give advice. 

"No, you're right. I should mind my own business." You take a sip of Coke, feeling the area around your eyes swell up. "It's just… it hurts to see you like this."

"It hurts to see you like this, too." He scans the expression of vagueness dancing across your features. "You know how it feels, after all." He takes in some smoke and lets it out, breaths escaping in grey curls slowly fading in the air. 

You hold the can tighter, knuckles white for the grip. "It's different," you retort, feeling a thousand needles piercing through your heart. "Minji is still here. You're still on time to save things between you two. You - you can't compare her to Joonie, you can't." Words trail off mid-sentence, liquefying in a thick silence that has your muscles flexing all at once. 

Yoongi scratches his nape, munching the corner of his mouth. "Listen, can we just change the topic?" He grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer. 

“And what do you want to talk about? The new boy?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, enough! Jin's mother and mine do nothing but blather about him every single day. It’s getting boring.” He rests against the wall, spreading his legs. “What’s so interesting, anyway? He’s just a boy.”

“A boy with lots of tattoos and piercings, with mint hair, who looks like a member of a gang or a drummer… not really interesting, aha.” You let out a chuckle, fixing your apron. “Jin’s mom thinks he’s some kind of delinquent.”

“Whoever has got a piercing or two is a delinquent, to her. I still remember when I got my first earring. She told Seokjin that—"

"That he should reconsider your friendship, I know," you conclude at his place, tenderly. 

"Yeah, well… It was my first year of high school. It was pretty traumatic." He snaps his tongue, twiddling with the couple of hood earrings adorning his right ear. "And, anyway, I don't think he's a bad guy. He's too polite, it seems like he never cursed in his whole life." The left corner of his mouth quirks up. "Mom said he stares at you. And that he blushes if you talk to him."

You huff, shaking your head. "I know, she warned me. Jin's mom wanted me to install a burglar alarm."

He arches a brow. "You should stop hanging out with our mothers."

"Why? They're funny! And Ms Kim makes some delicious rice cakes." You let out a dreamy sigh, feeling your mouth run dry only by thinking of her cookies. 

Yoongi parts his lips, he's got the expression of someone who's ready to insult you; however, he manages to exhale a feeble muttering, rubbing his finger on his temple. "But my mom's right, he keeps staring at you." He brings back the previous topic, ignoring your grunt. "I noticed it too. He looks at you like you were a piece of meat. And that guy loves meat." He smirks. "Do you want me to test the water?"

You squelch a chuckle. "No. Let's be honest, Yoongi-chi, you'd only be able to make him run away from this town." You spare him an amused glance before going back to sipping your beverage. "And I'm not interested."

Yoongi breathes out the smoke one last time, putting the cigarette out under his sole. "Are you sure? He's pretty cool. And I'm pretty sure he hides some toned muscles under those baggy clothes. Ugh, don't look at me like this… the other day I served a group of girls full of hormones, I still remember their conversation. It's a nightmare." His brows wobble up in an ominous sign that has chill travelling down your spine. "Don't you miss being held by someone?"

"Don't you?" You retort, less playful than your friend. "I'm not interested," you repeat, feeling a cold sensation settling in your lungs. It gets hard to breathe.  

He shrugs. "You should try, having a bit of fun would do you good. You know, let yourself go, and not push people away as soon as they show a bit of interest. You deserve happiness." He gazes up to you, stare and features softening each passing second. "You really do, (Y/N)."

"You do, too," you mumble, seeing him clean his apron and jeans before heading toward the door. Yoongi's words cuddle your heart in turmoil, but it doesn't last much. "You know? You should put a like on her posts. I bet she'd write to you immediately."

"She won't. She hates me and doesn't want to see me anymore, remember?" He says, after a brief moment of hesitation. From that position, you can only see the tip of his ears -it's bright red. You'd like to hug him from behind and tell him that everything will work out.

You shrug. "There's no harm in trying." You deliver him an encouraging smile. "Tell your mom that I'll finish my Coke and I'll be right there." You shake your drink a little, resting your head against the wall to get some rest before going back to working. 

You relax, hearing the clack of the door. A sudden thud, though, makes your eyelids flutter up in a rush. 

"The new boy likes banana Milk and rice cakes. It's the only thing he buys when he comes to the supermarket." Yoongi peers at you, sticking his head out of the doorframe. "You should give him a little welcoming present. Bet you'd make him happy." A smirk etches itself on his face before your arched brows. "There's no harm in trying."

“You’ve to look closely to see its loveliness You have to look for a long time to realize that it’s lovable You too, are also like that”

In a village so small, there's not much to do to fill your time if you didn't plan anything in advance: days look all the same, a dull redundancy of details and faces and names you know like the back of your hand that don't spark any excitement anymore. Everything is so predictable that diverting your usual path to visit the local pastry shop is comparable to an unexpected plot twist. 

Or, maybe, everything seems colored in grey because Namjoon isn't here to keep you company…

Sat on the seesaw in the small park close to your neighbour, you stare at some children trying to catch the attention of Moonie, comfortably resting under a bench (the usual bench Namjoon used to sit on to read his books, situated under a tree big enough to provide some shadow and coolness). 

You go back to watching in front of you, contemplating the black contours of the mountains rising up in the horizon, wrapped in hues of orange and red as the sun sets down just behind their peaks. 

Your eyelids flicker down, heavy, and your head gently lays against the chains sustaining your seat. You squelch a yawn, rubbing the puffy area under your left eye. Another sleepless night, another day spent dragging yourself through the day.

You should leave. 

You know this is the only way to take charge of your own life again and stop feeling like you're drowning even if you're above water… but you can't. This simple thought bugged you so many times lately to the point you found yourself cracking your eyes open in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling cloaked in dark; but nausea starts brewing in your stomach if you only picture yourself grabbing your belongings and putting them in a luggage, ready to leave this place once and for all.

From your home… the home Joonie chose for the pair of you to spend the rest of your days, together… That's why you can't go. The awareness that you'd let him down, if you'd ever decide to leave; and, anyway, too many memories connect you to this place, you don't feel ready to toss them behind your back.

You take in a deep breath, relishing the warmth of June kissing your skin in a gentle touch, eyes closed and head slightly tilted to the back. The tip of your toes presses against the ground, you apply a little pressure to swing back and forth, slowly. 

Joonie loves this part of the village. You're pretty sure this is his favorite place. If you only concentrate a bit, you can picture him chilling here, after school, before coming home for dinner… and you're there, by his side, cuddling Moonie (your head on his shoulder; his low voice as he reads his favorite paragraph; his fingers intertwined with yours; his soft kisses on your temple).

You used to love this park with every fiber of your being; but now that Joonie has been gone, all this green and peacefulness don't make any sense anymore...

A dog barking in the distance breaks through your consciousness, suddenly, scattering all around your whirling thoughts. Your eyelids flutter up in a rush, a glint of sunshine strokes your eyes, obliging you to close them to accustom yourself to the light. You cover them with a hand and turn to the left, searching for the source of the noise that scattered away all your thoughts. 

Brows snapping together, your attention is drawn by a short-haired dog stretching toward Moonie to sniff him, before going back to barking. It takes you a couple of seconds to get your thoughts in order, finally realizing that he is the new boy's pet -he must belong to him, no one else owns a Doberman here. He barks again when your dog doesn't seem intent to interact. 

Curiously, you take a look around, expecting to see his owner nearby -but aside from you and a couple of grannies chatting in front of the hair salon on the other side of the street, there's no one else around. 

You munch the corner of your mouth, indecisive about what to do: you could wait here for the boy to show up (even if you'd prefer having anything do with him, especially after all the things your friends' mothers told you); or you could take the dog to him on your way home… But what if the boy is desperately searching for him? I mean… Joonie lost sight of Moonie for five minutes once and he almost bought a whole distillery to get rid of sadness, thinking that his beloved pet could be gone forever. 

Letting out a sigh, you stand up, fixing the bleached jeans. You slowly approach the two pets, paying attention to not annoy the Doberman, considering that you don't know how he may react to a stranger's presence. You crouch down, Moonie immediately turns to you, stretching toward you for some cuddles. 

"Moonie, hey…" you stroke the top of his head, the corners of your mouth quirking up. "Why are you ignoring him? He just wants to play—oh!" The other dog suddenly rests his paws on your lap, making you lose balance. You fall on the ground, his legs wrapping around your own while sniffing you. "Ouch… you really are having fun, mh?" You caress his ear, trying to calm him down. 

"Bam! No!"

The dog, probably hearing his own name, completely forgets about you. You follow the trajectory of his stare, eyes widening when you take notice of the person dashing toward you -a plastic bag brushing against his leg. 

The new boy in town…

He halts his own run at a few steps from you, bowing. "I'm - I'm deeply sorry!" He bows again when you stare at him, the tip of his ears tinged with a vibrant ruby shade. "I had to buy some - some things and I lost sight of him for a second and he—Bam, no…" he bends on his knees, resting his hands on his sides to drag him back and help you to free yourself. "Did - did he hurt you?!"

"Don't worry, he didn't, I'm fine." You deliver him a small smile before focusing again on his dog, still using you as a perch but attention fixed to his owner. "So, you're Bam. Such a cute name," you comment, cupping his muzzles with both hands. "He's pretty energetic."

The boy stares at you intensely -as if he just zoned out. His eyes grow bigger when your brows arch for his sudden mutism. "Ah, he is. He's still a puppy." He pats his back. "I instructed him, but he gets pretty excited when he's interested in someone new." He swallows when his shaky stare, hidden behind some orange sunglasses, engulfs into your own, amused. 

"Don't think he was interested in me—" your words melt into a chuckle when Bam taps his nose on your cheek (Jungkook's lips curve in a beaming smile). "He was trying to make friends with Moonie. But, well… he prefers being on his own." You give a little nod toward your pet, still peacefully resting under the bench, mouth ajar and tongue sticking out. 

"Oh, it's true… you've a dog too." He places the plastic bag on the bench, crouching down. "You - you live across from me. He usually spends his days outside, resting on the steps." He shakes his head before your stretched lips. "I - I'm not spying on you or anything. It's - it's just that your house is close to mine, so it's easy to notice - notice things." Words tumble off in a messy rush, fingers curling around the hem of his harem pants. 

A burst of tenderness gushes out of your heart. You suddenly feel guilty for the anxiety that wrapped you a few minutes earlier, overwhelmed by the rumours circulating about him; actually… you feel bad for the fact that some rumours started in the first place. 

A small, reassuring smile blooms on your lips. "It's ok, don't worry." 

A muscle twitches in jaw, but your comment is helpful enough to make him relax. He catches a breath before resting his arms on his thighs, curling his lips and snapping his tongue to catch your dog's attention. High-pitched words fly out his mouth, followed by a giggle when Moonie finally crawls out his hiding spot, sniffing his hand. 

Now that you think of it, despite the many occasions your paths intertwined, you never stopped to seriously talk to each other -you probably shared a comment or two about the weather when you served him at the restaurant, but that's that. And yet, this boy exudes so much quietness he makes you feel at ease, like he's always lived here. 

Taking advantage of his sudden distraction and the stillness of this very moment, without clients calling you back and forth for you to take their orders, without the loud laughters and chattering plaguing the atmosphere, you take your time to finally look at him: the baseball cap he's wearing, worn backwards, permits you to take a glimpse only of his dark undercut, but the bits of mint hair that don't fit fall over his forehead in thin waves; his ears are adorned with piercings that run all along the shell -three dangling earrings on the only visible portion you can get from your position, one on the upper part; his infamous doe eyes are hidden behind orange sunglasses that match with the loose-fitting, bright yellow t-shirt he's wearing. Tattoos of various shapes and dimensions decorate his right arm, black ink branching on his honey-like skin and intertwining with the bluish veins arousing from the back of his hand, covered with gothic letters with no meaning to you… 

He's arguably a bit flamboyant, but rumours aren't generous with him: he's the typical city boy who shows up here for the holidays, flaunting a stylish look that gets considered eccentric by the majority of inhabitants who never stuck their noses out of the borders of the village. But to you, it feels like being thrown back to your halcyon, hectic days in Seoul -surrounded by so many variegated people you couldn't tell what was extravagant and what's not anymore. 

This boy...  He pinches the nostalgia you tend to cocoon you when you feel smothering, making it hard to forget about a past you decided to forget. 

You realize you're intensely gawking at him only when he gazes toward you, lips curled in a way that emphasizes the small hoop running along the right corner of his mouth. 

"Oh—" he takes off his sunglasses and cap in a rush, raking his fingers through the flat hair sticking to the roots to fix it. "S-sorry, I should've taken them off earlier." 

"Ah, I don't mind what you're wearing." You rub a hand on your face, snorting a laugh. "Sorry, it sounded so bad. I just wanted to say—"

He chuckles (a nice chuckle, actually). "I got it, it's ok… thanks." He moistens his lips, teeth torturing the bottom in a rhythmic pace. “I'm J-Jeon Jungkook, anyway.” 

The corners of your mouth quiver a little before quirking up, shaping your mouth in a type of soft smile that wasn't blooming on your face for a while. “I'm (Y/N)...” you're about to apologize for staring at him earlier like he was an alien, but his next comment makes words wither in the back of your throat. 

"I know," he scratches his crimson nape. "You - you work at Min's restaurant. Ahm, people often call you by your name, so I - I sort of learned it."

You swallow, mentally listing once more all the warnings that Seokjin's mother desperately tried to instill in your brain. “Oh, you remember about me…"

He nods, voice escaping in a soft blow. “How could I not?” His eyes grow bigger before your arched brows, like he just realized what he said. “I – I mean, I noticed you because you ignore me.” A small pout tugs at his lips, brows snapping together. He reminds you of your little ones when they try to speak English but words just don't come out. Then, frustration melts in a small giggle. "The other day, you offered me a cookie shaped like a bunny. I felt so bad eating it because it was so - so cute but then I was starving and I didn't feel like cooking and so—" his recount, mumbled in a sheepish rush, fades in the effervescent sound of your airy chuckle. 

You are aware you're going to look pretty rude for interrupting in this way, but you couldn't refrain yourself. The way his fingers flicker in the air; the way his words bounce upon the embarrassment; his red cheekbones… he was hilarious, in a good way that tickled your heart and made a burst of laughter bubble in your throat. 

And it's so… weird, that piping hot warmth expanding in your chest like a balloon. It's weird and nice, you weren't feeling it for a while. 

The muscles around your mouth and the jaw hurt as if they never knew how to do such a simple and natural act. 

It takes you a few seconds to turn to him, aware that your demeanor might have offended him. You're expecting a frown of disappointment, a childish pout, a scrunch in his nose; and yet, when you turn, there's no trace of annoyance dancing across his features. Actually, his lips are morphed in a smile and you notice a proud set in his straightened shoulders, as if he was satisfied with making you laugh.

"Sorry, it's just that you—" you stop (telling him you find him adorable would only embarrass him more). "Ahm, we keep apologizing, apparently… but, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

“You didn't." He hooks his fingers under Moonie's chin, scratching it. "Min's restaurant is a nice place, though. Probably my favorite restaurant—well, it's not like there's not many choices. But they make some great meat, and Min Noona is very sweet. She doesn't - doesn't look at me like I'm some kind of criminal."

“She is…” you lower your stare, guilt washes you from head to toes for all the times you laughed when people referred to him as 'odd' or whatever other epithet. "I'm sorry they’re giving you a hard time. People here are usually very nice but, you know, nothing happens around here. A new person in town is an extraordinary event."

He scrunches his nose. "It's been a month already."

You move your leg backward when Bam finally loosens the grip around it. He rotates on his spot before bowing a little, inviting you to play with him. You hesitate, but Jungkook isn't paying any attention to the pair of you, too busy focusing on your dog. You chew on your bottom lip, grabbing a small rock before tossing it toward the seesaw. Bam runs after it, barking. 

"Also… there are so many tourists who look like me," he points out, irritated.

"Yeah, well… but they usually come and go. They don't stay…" your eyes crinkle in the corner when he turns to you, skeptic. "You see you'll get used to it."

He shrugs. "I don't care. I'll leave at the end of August anyway." Jungkook turns to Moonie, whistling. 

You swallow, taking notice of Bam dashing toward you two with the corner of your eye. He bows again, back wiggling mid-air. "You'll leave a big void in their lives when you'll go away, you know?" You can't explain why, but there's a warm sense of solace by knowing that he won't stay here too long. 

Jungkook laughs, front teeth now exposed (Yoongi told you he looks like a cute bunny when he chuckles at the utmost of his happiness. He was right. And, yes, Yoongi used the word 'cute' to describe him -your friend is a softie in disguise, after all). 

You press your palm on the bench to help yourself stand up. You bend your knees a little to stretch before plopping down on the wooden seat, recollecting a stone. You swing it in the air to catch Bam's attention before throwing it behind his back. You move closer to the corner when Jungkook imitates you, sitting on the other side. He rests his elbows on his thighs and hunches his back over, giggling when Moonie tries to nudge his face.

In this position, his arms seem more toned (of course, you don't stare long enough to ascertain that he's beefy as your brain claims it to be).

"Ahm, about earlier… I didn't mean to stare. But you've got some nice tattoos… they're pretty." 

Jungkook lifts his right arm up, rotates it a little to reveal other drawings. "Thanks! I always dreamed about getting one… and when I finally turned twenty, I got my first." He stares at them, fondly. "I didn't plan to get so many but, well… almost three years have passed and I'm still thinking of getting some more."

Almost three years… you do a little calculation and—oh God, you hope Yoongi and Seokjin will NEVER get to know that Jungkook is twenty three years old. They'd start telling you that a toyboy is a gift of destiny for you to escape from the winter of your existence… 

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, curious about your sudden mutism -and the round eyes. And the stretched lips. "What?" 

You snap back down to reality, shaking your head. "No, it's just… I wonder what a young boy like you is doing here." You fondly observe Bam resting his muzzle on his left thigh, while Moonie is using the opposite one like a pillow. 

"Discovering the true meaning of life?" Or, more simply: holiday." Jungkook stares at you through his lashes, waiting. It feels like he's waiting for you to submerge him with dozens of questions; and, although you're pretty tempted to question him about his life, the fact that he seems to like your lack of interest in him is enough to smother every curiosity. So, Jungkook darts you a glance brimmed with gratitude before going back to focusing on your pets. 

For the past minutes, you keep talking about your dogs and other small talks you'd usually have with random tourists. It's just when Bam rests his paws on his forearms that Jungkook calls it a night. 

"Ok, ok, you wanna go, mh?" He says, in a high-pitched voice that has your heart squealing for the cuteness. He lifts his legs up a bit for the dogs to inch away, then he stands up, cleaning his harem pants. "It's better if I go." 

You nod, patting a hand on your side to catch Moonie's attention. He approaches you, sitting down close to you, and your hand immediately runs to caress his head. 

“Ahm…” Jungkook's fingers grip at the piercing on his eyebrow, his teeth clamp to the bottom lip. "It's been nice - nice to talk to you, (Y/N)." He wears his cap backwards and his sunglasses, bowing a little

"Yeah, me too, Jungkook-ssi.”

Jungkook smiles, a dimple appears on his right cheek…

Namjoon had two dimples on both sides...

You really think so. You really think that it's been nice to talk to him. 

“My soul has travelled long and far to find yours”

Showing up a month late to your neighbour's house to welcome him in town isn't very polite. Actually, showing up only two days after a random conversation you shared in the park speaks volume about the fact that you're just trying to clear your conscience -and it also makes you feel pretty stupid, considering the ten years gap between the pair of you (even though he still doesn't know about this tiny detail, mh).

However, Jungkook's sheepish words kept you company throughout these days (seeping through all those thoughts that usually fill your mind from the very first second you crack your eyes open to the last time you flicker your eyelids down) and you thought… you thought that there's nothing wrong in giving some rice cakes to someone.

You thought that Namjoon would have been delighted to meet the newcomer. He'd offer him some tea; he'd passionately described the numerous sightseeings that make this place a small diamond cuddled by the mountains.

You thought… that this is the first time that you think about a man (a boy?) who isn't Namjoon...

Chewing on your bottom lip, you travel those few steps that separate you from the entrance. You tighten the paper bag against your breast while climbing up the couple of worn-out steps, heart getting stuck in your ribcage when you're finally across the wooden door. Your trembling hand flickers toward the doorbell but some pop music flowing from the windows left ajar makes an alarm bell ring in your head: you're going to bother him. 

Jungkook said he's here on holiday, clearly emphasizing that he appreciated the fact that you paid him little attention… His friendly conversation was just an act of courtesy, not an invitation to step inside his routine. 

You sigh, shaking your head. This is ridiculous! You aren't doing anything bad! You're just going to give him these damn rice cakes, wish him goodnight, and forget about him! 

A line appears between your knitted brows as you push the doorbell, hand running to curl around the hem of your frayed sweater. Calm down, relax… You're just going to give him this welcoming gift and go back to your usual, eventless days made of the same, redundant things and faces and names—!

A sudden bark sound coming from the inside snaps you back down to reality, and your muscles tense all at once. Anxiety tugs at your stomach when you hear Jungkook's muffled voice floating back to you, trying to hush his dog. You swallow, trying to ignore the mild queasiness brewing in your stomach.

You tuck some hair behind your ear (the holes closed up, you stopped wearing earrings. You loved wearing earrings…), trying to fix the messy tail sloping on a side. You rub a knuckle to the corner of your eye, paying attention to not smear the makeup -only to remember that it's been a long while since you've brushed some eyeshadow on your eyelids. 

It dawns on you the realization that you're a breathing disaster. I mean… you planned to come here to give him a gift, and you didn't even make an effort to look presentable. On the other hand, though, he already saw you a billion times at your worst when you work at Min's restaurant or you simply wander through the town, so he should be used by now to the feeble dark circles and the unstyled hair. Also, why do you care so much about your physical appearance? You aren't here to flaunt your pretty facade. You're just here to give him some cookies and—!

"Hello?" The door opens all of a sudden to reveal Jungkook, a little frown between his brows and a veil of annoyance in his somber stare. As soon as he takes in the sight of you, though, surprise fills his big eyes, and pulls up the corners of his mouth. "(Y/N), hi—oh!" He clings to the door when Bam runs between his legs to approach you, resting his paws against your lap. "Bam, no! Aish…" he sighs, scratching his hair. 

"Don't scold him, it's ok." You hold the bag with your arm, using your free hand to pat the top of his muzzle. You gaze up at Jungkook, noticing some stains of cream paint on his right cheek and his baggy t-shirt. "Sorry for intruding. Maybe you were busy…"

He shakes his head vigorously, fingers curling tightly around the doorframe. "No, no... You aren't. I'm just - just painting and—" he spares a quick glance to his own outfit, toes curling in a pair of worn-out sandals. "Did - did you need anything?"

You scrutinize his face to search for any trace of frustration for showing up here so abruptly, but only a muscle twitches in his clenched jaw. He seems… embarrassed, as if you interrupted him in a private moment. You give a quick glance to his grey bermuda shorts (ignore the long stretch of his legs, ignore it) , reminding yourself that he's a 23-year-old and you're butting into his free time, after dinner, without any warning. 

You swallow, wishing for a hole to open beneath your feet and suck you into the center of the world. "I… I went to the pastry shop and I thought I could buy you something. Ahm, you know, give you some sort of belated welcoming present." Your attempt of a smile quivers when you hand him out the paper bag. Your arms fall along your sides, numb. 

After a brief moment of surprise, he opens it in a rush (he resembles one of your little students when they open a birthday present, all excited and forgetful about the surroundings). 

You caress Bam behind his ear, amused by the stretch of Jungkook's lips as he glimpses inside the bag. "Yoongi-chi told me you always buy them—ahm, you know, the cashier at the supermarket during the morning shift. The man with small eyes who always seems on the verge of setting fire to the town," you explain before the crack of confusion crossing his face, nervously chuckling. 

He seems to zone out for a second, nodding soon after. "Oh, yeah… the guy who works at Min's restaurant." 

"Mhm, him! Ms Min is his mother. He gives her a hand every night."

Jungkook rests against the doorframe. "He's kind. He always give me some meat more." He lets out a giggle, tiny wrinkles appear close to the tip of his scrunched nose. 

"Yeah, he's very kind… just, don't tell him, ok? He's pretty affectionate to his tough facade." You let out a sigh when Jungkook's laugh floats in the air, melting away your apprehension. "Anyway… he said that you like rice cakes and—we didn't want to intrude, of course, it's just… you know, the town is small and everyone knows everything." Then, as if this could save face, you add, "These ones are more tasty. Our pastry shop is pretty renowned here… sure, it's also the only pastry shop we have, but you got what I meant."

He munches the corner of his mouth, amused. "It's ok. I like - like them a lot. Thanks." His eyes crinkled in the corners are two half-moons that don't match with the dim smile he's now giving you. 

You can't interpret it, but something in the way his feet are angled toward the side tells you that it's probably for the best to close curtains on this awkward bracket you opened by force and finally leave. 

You catch a breath. "Well, I leave you alone." You gently guide Bam's paws to the ground, stroking his head one last time. "Good night—"

"Stay…" Jungkook's voice wafts over you like a breeze that has the thin hair on your nape rising up. He seems to register what's just tumbled off his tongue -the way he said it; the deepness of his voice; his hand stretches toward you as if he had to grab you. He scratches his cheekbone. "I - I mean, you don't have to go away. I can - can offer you a tea or a beer—no, mom says I shouldn't offer beer, it's not nice," he mumbles, blushing. "We… can eat the rice cakes."

You smile. You prefer going back home. "No need to follow the rule of good neighbourliness, Jungkook-ssi."

He pauses, pats his hand on his own toned thigh to catch Bam's attention (for the record, you didn't look at his thigh long enough to actually realize that it's toned). "I'm not…" the left corner of his mouth quirks up. "I really want to eat rice cakes with you, (Y/N)." He gives you a little nod, like he wanted to emphasize his proposal more. 

Somewhere, deep down in the abyss of your chest, panic starts to brew. 

You can't stay. 

You've got so many things to do. You've to… to clean the kitchen. You've a basket full of clothes to fold and iron. And you've to… your thumb brushes over your wedding ring. You've to finish reading the myryad of books that Namjoon bought and didn't read. You twirl your ring around your finger. You've to sit on the veranda in the backyard and stargaze alongside Moonie.  You've to fix the bookshelf because it's so full of Namjoon's books that it practically curved down for the weight. You're about to pull out the ring, you push it back. 

You've to go back to your home, to your solitude...

But Jungkook opens the door wide and steps backward to let you walk in, waiting. And he's got this sheepish smile. He's got these bright eyes full of expectation...

You feel weak in your knees as you take the first step inside, heart plummeting in your stomach when the door closes behind your back. You take in a breath, a good scent of softener caresses your nostrils.

Ok. Now that you're here, you can't go back. Sure, you can come up with a random excuse about the oven left on; or that you can't leave Moonie all alone for too long; or that you're tired and you'd prefer going back home to rest… but you'd just end up humiliating him. You breathe in, ignoring the silly fluttering thing your heart is doing in your chest. You can stay for a very few minutes, accept a glass of water and then go away-!

"Oh…" Bam nuzzles the back of your knee before moving in front of you, standing up to rest his paws on your stomach, barking for some cuddles. "You really are affectionate, mh." You cup his muzzle, grazing it with your thumbs. "You said he's still a puppy?"

He nods. "He was so small when I brought it with me at home, a few months ago." He moves his hands to describe his size, the paper bag dangerously swings mid-air. "But Dobermans tend to grow up fast." He blinks twice, like a sudden thought just crossed his mind. "Did you leave Moonie at home?"

You avert his stare. "Yeah, he didn't want to go out." Moonie is laying down on the floor, right in front of the locked door of Joonie's studio. Waiting. 

You rotate your shoulders to get rid of shivers, taking a look around to distract yourself. The inside of old Kim's house is... different from the mental pictures you cherish in a corner of your mind, and this new scent of softener and paint clenches with the poignant stuffy smell you associate with this place. 

"We were pretty surprised when someone came to live here," you start, feeling his stare boring through your skin. "Are you related to the old Kim's, by chance?" 

He shakes his head, glancing around. "My best friend, Taehyung… he is their grandson." He proceeds toward the small coffee table, placing the paper bag on it. "I was going through a hard time lately and he told me to spend some time here to, like, clear my mind? He said the peacefulness here might be helpful."

"Is it helping you?"

He chuckles, his shoulder blades adhere to the shirt as he flexes his spine. "No, actually it isn't." He scratches the back of his nape, tip of his ears tinged with a reddish hue. 

You swallow back in your throat the knot of questions you'd like to ask him about his life; about the various twists and turns that lead him here; about that ounce of sadness that seems to tugs at the corner of his eyes if he mentions about his past… but you quieten down the feverish excitement in your head, convincing yourself that it's useless to get to know better someone who's going to leave soon and that you won't see anymore. 

"Did you furnish it?" You inquiry, taking off your shoes. 

Jungkook's eyes widen a little, a glint of gratitude floats into them for the sudden change of topic. "A bit, yeah. Taehyung told me to do what I want, but… you know, this isn't my home. I fear I might ruin it." He inhales sharply through his nose. "But I sent him some pictures and he likes how I painted the walls! He also mentioned about paying me but I don't think it's nice to take advantage of him." He flashes you a smile that reveals his front, bunny-like teeth.

You stare at the cream walls, at the paint cans tidily piled up on a cloth. "Last time we came here, there was a terrible wallpaper—ahm, don't tell your friend about the terrible wallpaper."

He sneers, placing his hand upon his chest. "I promise. This will be our little secret." He flickers two fingers in the air, a silent way to tell you to follow him to the living room. "Did you know Tae's grandparents?"

You're right behind me, paying attention to not bump into Bam, who scampers between the pair of you. "No. It was already inhabited when we moved here, three years ago." You wait for him to grab some magazines and comics scattered on the sofa to make some room for you. 

"We?" He puts them on a couch, up to some wrinkled hoodies. 

You lower your head to hide the curve of tenderness etching itself on your face. The mess in the room reminds you that Jungkook is a 23-year-old who wasn't waiting for any visitor (but it also reminds you Yoongi, dozens of shoes gathered at the entrance; it reminds you of Joonie's studio, all the notes randomly piled up on his desk; paintings he had to hang on the walls abandoned in the corner. Artistic people apparently love chaos). 

Your fingers run to caress your wedding ring. "Me and my husband." 

Jungkook gazes over you, stiffening. "Ah, yeah...  I noticed the ring." A thick silence follows his comment, and you expect him to come up with an excuse to make you leave. Instead, he turns toward you in a rush, goggle-eyed. "Wait… how old are you?!" 

"Thirtythree." This little number tumbles off your tongue with hesitation, leaves a bitter taste in the back of your throat -even though you can't explain why. You've never cared much about your age. It's just a number, it doesn't identify you. But being all alone with Jungkook, ten years younger than you… well, you start to care about it. 

"Thirtythree…" he mumbles. He doesn't seem… uncomfortable. Actually, there's a spark of excitement in his wide eyes that has your stomach twirling. "You look younger. I always - always thought we were around the same age." 

"Disappointed?" You ask, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

You expect a grin; a chuckle; something that would make you understand that he isn't taking this conversation with too much seriousness. But, despite every gloomy prediction, he delivers you this gentle smile that punches the breath out of you. "No. I've always liked older - older women." He chews on his bottom lip, sizing you up.

You swallow, avoiding his stare. Is he... flirting? Nah, he isn't. He can't. Imagine if he'd ever flirt with you -especially tonight, when you dressed up in the dark. And, anyway, you don't care about it!

"Ahm, anyway… Once, Moonie ran here to chase after a cat so we came here to pick him up. It was pretty… crumbling." You observe Bam nuzzling against Jungkook's side, searching for some attention. The boy shifts his hand behind his ear, stroking it. "You did a great job, really. It's more… cozy."

He inhales sharply through his nose, a proud set in his shoulders (you don't notice the line of his pecs adhering against the shirt, you don't). He pats Bam's head one last time before reaching the small kitchen, visible from your position. "You can sit. I'll be back in a minute."

As you contemplate his retracting figure, your mind drifts back home. You really have to go. You've so many things to take care of. It doesn't seem right to stay here, chatting with a boy ten years younger than you that you don't even know. But Jungkook opens the fridge to take a drink and from your position, you're able to notice all the packages of banana milk or chocolate milk disposed on the higher shelf, amidst bottles of water and beer. 

A burst of tenderness rips your chest apart. Jungkook looks like a rebel, an aloof and unapproachable guy who could mess up the quietness of the town; but it's just surface. You're sure there's so much more in him, if people would give him a chance...

"You must really love it…" you nod toward the packages of milk, smiley. 

The tip of his ears is red. "I do, since I was little. Mom was desperate, it was the only thing I drank." He giggles, glancing at you. "What would you like to drink? I'd offer you a beer, but it sounds bad?" He ruffles his mint hair, showing it back a couple of times with both hands. 

Namjoon offered you blueberry tea, the first time he invited you to his place. He broke a mug, taking them out from the cupboard. He gave you one chipped on the edge, apologizing for his clumsiness. You fell in love a little more with him. . 

"I… can't stay much. I've got, ahm, things to do…" you mumble, sinking in his eyes veiled with… disillusion. You catch a small breath, lips unfurling in a dim smile. "But a beer is ok."

The beer becomes two. 

You're still holding back, the alcohol isn't helping you to loosen up; but you're more chatty, and way more open to make a joke (still, you aren't tipsy enough to emulate one of Jin's awful puns yer -thank God). Jungkook, too, isn't giving in to drunkenness; his face is flushed, red spots are scattered along his neck, words fly out his mouth accompanied with giggles, but he's careful to not delve into conversations that could lead the pair of you to something more intimate. 

Both of you float on the surface making small talks, chatting about your dogs, how you educated them when they were two small puppies. He recounts about the nice people he met while wandering through the village, or the weird tourists he encountered while hiking on the mountain; you tell him about the hiking trails you used to cross, and other places he should visit while being here.

It's easy, it isn't demanding. 

Until Jungkook digs more into your acquaintance...

"So, you weren't born here." He's on the sofa with an arm resting on the backrest, one leg folded on the cushion, the other stretched over the edge. He keeps the bottle of beer on his thigh, there's a ring of water on the fabric. 

You mention your hometown, how you spent your days with your family there. Briefly, of course, omitting the embarrassing moments that still catch you off guard when your mental shields are down. Then...

"Then I came to Seoul to study, and I worked there for a few years after graduating. We moved here… three years ago." You stare at Bam, peacefully napping on a cushion at Jungkook's feet. "Joonie, ahm, my husband, he wanted to live in a quiet place. It's always been his dream…" you take a sip of beer, in a poor attempt to swipe away the bitter taste this brief anecdote leaves on the back of your throat. "He used to teach in a high school, and requested a transfer up here as soon as there was an available place. He teaches literature in the local high school." You bite your tongue, feeling like you've spilled way too much information. 

His stare widens, mouth hanging open like he couldn't keep at bay his surprise. "And you followed him?" 

You chuckle brightly after a moment of astonishment, you feel Jungkook's eyes slowly caressing the gentle stretch of your neck through his lashes (it's the beer, for sure). "Of course, I did! I couldn't leave my husband here alone while staying in Seoul."

He vigorously shakes his head, munching the corner of his mouth. "No - no, well—of course you couldn't. But, I mean…" he moves his hand in the air, hands flickering in the air as he is trying to collect his thoughts. "I mean, you had a job and… well, dreams? Did… did you really want to come here?" 

Your eyes shake a little before the curiosity dancing across his features. "We talked about it." You talked about it a lot. For days. For nights. Joonie never imposed his decision. He just touched upon his desire to move far away from the city… and you thought it might be a nice idea. 

He scrunches his nose and mouths a curse before lowering his head, brushing his tattooed hand on his forehead. "Sorry, it's not my business." He stretches to put the bottle on the coffee table. His hand lays on Bam's head to stroke it a couple of times before laying it on his lap. 

"I… had some dreams that made me decide to move to Seoul. But, as I grew, things started to change," you analyze, taking a closer look to those areas of yourself you stopped listening to many years ago. "I don't know, having a quiet life and a nice job seemed enough while I was growing up. They still are, actually." You sink in his somber stare for a brief moment, delivering him a dim smile. "Boring adult stuff, you know."

A little frown of disappointment cracks between his knitted brows. "I know what you're talking about." Judging by the firmness in his voice, he seems offended for being treated like a young boy who can't grasp your feelings and reasonings; and yet, that small pout does nothing but accentuate his juvenile attitude -which is a good thing, because it keeps you grounded. You think he'd come up with an excuse for you to go home, but instead he adds, "Don't you miss the city?"

"A bit… actually, I miss the friends I left there more." Hoseok is the only one you still talk to. Not as assiduously as you used to do before Joonie left you. The other people are just sporadic texts full of emoji sitting in your inbox, or seldom wishes during the holidays. Words bubble up in your throat when you meet his glance, feeling this urge to justify your presence here despite your young age. "I love staying here, anyway." 

He nods, thumb brushing over the gothic letterings scattered on his fingers. "This town is beautiful. And everything seems so… relaxed? Like time flew slowly…" he points his finger toward the window, the garden immersed in the dark tells you that you should go home. You don't move. "Every morning, I go running down to the mountains. Once I arrived at the beginning of a hiking trail and the scenery was so… breathtaking." Gentleness tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I get why you love living here."

You divert your stare, eyes crinkling in the corner. "Where do you live, instead?" You change the subject, hoping that he won't ask you further about the true reasons that keep you here. 

Jungkook stiffens, like he wasn't expecting you to question him about himself. "Busan," he says, vaguely, stare fixed to his toes. "Then I went to Seoul to study at Yonsei University."

"Oh, that's cool! And what are you studying?"

"I studied filmography." His voice gets weaker. "I dropped halfway through the year, though." He scratches his crimson ear, paying attention to not look at you straight at your face. There's a note of shame that tugs at your heart in a painful grip, like he already faced this conversation and feared you might judge his decision. 

You're surprised, indeed -but you always are when it comes to students abandoning their choices in the middle of their path -after all, you've spent many years side by side with Joonie, who was surrounded by talented students who broke his heart with their decision to give up. 

A million questions cross your mind. Why did he drop off? Was it too hard? Didn't he like it? Did he understand this wasn't what he wanted to do in his life? You extirpate them, though. Jungkook looks so small, squashed by the weight of the silence settled upon you.

"Will you go back to Busan, when you'll leave? Like, dunno, did you have a job there?"

Jungkook gazes back at you with shaky eyes filled with gratitude, corners of his mouth pulled up. "I had a few jobs here and there, after leaving college. You know, I don't like staying in the same place for too long. But before coming here, I was working in a supermarket close to home. You know, my parents hated to see me doing nothing all day. I - I mean, it's not like I was lazy or - or anything, but it's hard to be hired as an employee when you only finished high school and you have zero experience." He rubs the piercing on his brow. "I'll probably go back and search for a job. Or maybe I'll go back to studying. I'm still confused… Right now, I'm planning to go to Jeju with my best friends at the end of August. Then, we'll see…" he catches a breath. "What about you? Oh, that's so dumb, you work at Min's restaurant." He slaps a hand on his forehead, giggling. 

"That. But I'm an elementary school teacher, actually." Tenderness shapes your lips, as all the memories shared with your littles ones echo back to mind. 

He frowns. "I thought… so, the job at the restaurant is a front?" He asks, amused. And confused. 

"It's a… diversion? Sort of…" you avoid his stare brimmed with confusion, staring at your wedding ring. "I… I've been through a rough time lately, and Ms Min suggested I could work for her. You know… to keep my mind busy." You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the area around your eyes swell up. "She can't afford to pay me, but I don't mind. They've been all so nice to me, I like helping them…"

Jungkook looks at you, intensely, as if he'd like to open your skull to understand why you're working for free. Then, his stare lays on Bam, who perked his ears up for some dogs barking in the distance. "It must be nice, knowing anyone, being here for one another…" he slowly glances at the Marvel clock that reads 11:00 PM, then his attention drifts to your ring. "Won't your husband be worried about you being out till late?"

There's no judgement in his voice, nor he seems bored by your presence here. Actually, there's a light vibration that you can't catch -but it makes you want to run back home. 

"He… doesn't live here anymore, don't worry." Your muscles tense all at once, pain squeezes your heart. 

"How—" his eyes grow bigger. "Ah, I'm sorry. I'm deeply sorry, I—" his hand runs to squeeze the tattooed arm. "I know how it feels when you divorce—I mean, not - not personally. Jimin's parents did, ahm, my childhood friend. It was… awful. And sad." He scratches his red cheekbone. "I'm sorry, Noona…"

Divorce...

It's quite convenient that Jungkook interpreted things in his own way. You should tell him the truth, though. You don't. 

"We… didn't exactly divorce. It's complicated." You deliver him a smile that doesnt the reach your eyes. "I'm fine, though. It's been half a year now, I'm getting used to it."

You aren't...

You suddenly feel the urge to leave this place -Jungkook. You already shared too much with a stranger; and what's worse, a weak voice begs you to talk to him a little more. You can't give to the vulnerable part of you. You can't. "But it's quite late, anyway. It's better if I go—"

Jungkook shifts on his spot, stretches forward as if he'd like to stop you. "(Y/N), I'm sorry, I—I didn't want to—"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Jungkook-ssi, it's ok." You stand up, putting the beer on the small coffee table. "It's just… it's late, and Moonid isn't used to staying alone for so long." You brush your hands along your sides, noticing Bam staring at you. "Hey, you… we woke you up?" You crouch down to caress him under his ears, smiling for his eyes shining bright.

Jungkook stays still, you notice the muscles in his legs flexing for your proximity. But still, he doesn't move. You refrain yourself from looking up, aware that the first thing you'd see would be his crotch, considering his position. 

You exhale a chuckle when the dog nuzzles your palm. "Ok, now I really have to go." You stand up, feeling uncomfortable for Jungkook's stare -for suddenly remembering that there's a ten years gap between the pair of you. "Thanks for the beer. Ahm, good night." You approach the door and put back on your shoes before Jungkook could actually stand up and accompany you to the entrance. 

"Thank you for coming here!" His voice wafts over you in a gentle hum, it makes you stay on the doorframe with a foot already outside. "We… should do it again, Noona. It was a lot of fun." There's a soft smile dancing across his features when you gaze over your shoulder and Jungkook seems so manly… and so young. 

He's over there, standing, broad shoulders and thick thighs and toned legs and strong arms… and fingers clenching around the hem of his shirt; and sadness pulling down his brows; and expectation floating in his doe eyes…

The urge to tell him that you don't want this to grow into something deeper that could plant roots in your routine swells on your tongue… but Jungkook is delicate and his eyes shine brighter than the stars covering the nocturnal sky.

You nod. And smile. And say, "See you soon, Jungkook-ssi." 

You don't want to shatter that small beauty that is Jungkook's peacefulness. 

"But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind, and upon the waters, until they found me"

Mornings are the hardest part of the day.

The second you crack your eyes open, reality cascades upon you like a bucket of icy water. It drenches your muscles and bones, until they calcify. Weighs upon your chest so hard it's difficult to get up, to breathe (to live). Some mornings, you just want to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Some mornings, you wonder why certain people go, and why certain people stay. Some mornings just don't make sense at all.

Some mornings, it feels like Namjoon is still here, beside you. With his tired smiles; his eyes shaped with love; his whole soul shining and making your life a bit brighter… and those times, days make much more sense -to the point that you fear that just one wrong movement could make you forget about him. 

If it wasn't for Moonie, who reminds you that you still have to take care of another being and not just yourself, you'd give in to your sad, penetrating thoughts. 

However, there are times in which you feel the urge to get off your bed and gulp all the fresh air your lungs can take. 

Today, it's one of those days. 

  You slowly open your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunlight kissing your skin. Before you, a pristine lawn unfurls itself in an ocean of green that meets the light blue of the sky, surrounded by a blanket of mountains that touch the clouds. 

You often used to spend your free time in this wide valley, resting against the giant tree that naturally signs the vicinity of the first expert hiking itineraries. It's a thirty minutes walk from the beginning of the path, but the beautiful view is worth the foot-ache. You're glad to see that in all those months of absence, nothing changed. 

You gaze down when Moonie stretches toward you, mouth open and tongue sticking out. You pat a hand on your thigh, inviting him to use you like a cushion. He rests his head upon your lap, big round eyes fixed on the thick layer of trees in the distance. 

"You missed coming here too, mh?" You graze the top of his head, resting comfortably against the tree. 

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath of air, stretching your arms. Talking with Jungkook about all the wonderful sightseeings he's discovering every day, and that made you fall in love with this town, reminded you how much you enjoyed waking up at 6:00 AM to take a stroll around on your own, letting Namjoon sleep. 

It was one of the rare moments in which you could finally be yourself -just (Y/N), not Kim Namjoon's wife or the "school teacher".

Also… and this is really hard to metabolize, but you felt too excited to lay in your bed. Since the night of small-talks you shared with Jungkook a couple of days ago, adrenaline has been brewing in your veins, preventing you from focusing on your routine as you used to do. 

You inhale sharply through your nose, the air is so fresh you feel your chest swelling up. Moonie wiggles out of your feeble embrace, perking his head up as he pins his round eyes to the horizon across from him. You pay little attention to his behaviour, certain that a wild animal or a tourist caught his attention. Your eyelids flutter up when he starts barking, though, mostly to make sure that he doesn't start dashing toward whatever disturbed your quietness. 

Scrunching your nose, you follow the trajectory of his stare, espying a figure standing still at a few meters from you. From that position, it's hard to pinpoint who that person might be -a tourist? One of your neighbors? A maniac? For sure, he's gazing back at you, and anxiety rings in your head like an alarm bell. 

You're about to stand up and walk away when the stranger starts swinging an arm in the air like a flag. "Hello, Noona!" The person shouts. 

And with just one greeting, you understand that he isn't a random tourist (or a creep). 

"Jungkook…" his name flies out your mouth in a soft whisper, brought to surface by a stab in your ribcage. It's impossible for him to hear your feeble voice from that distance and in fact, he doesn't dare to approach you. He's… respectful, somehow. Respectful of the natural distance between two strangers. Respectful of the years of void that float in between like a silent ghost. 

Now… a greeting doesn't mean anything. If you pay him back in kindness, it's not like Jungkook will step into your life like a hurricane; and yet, a sense of discomfort sets in your lungs, while a faint voice tells you to not give in to the curiosity that inevitably drags you toward him. 

Maybe you should listen to this thin voice and ignore him. You could pretend you didn't see him and wait for him to go away. If you act like you don't care about his existence, Jungkook would surely stop gravitating toward you.

However, a cold sensation cripples up your heart at the mere thought of treating him so… harshly. 

So, you raise up your arm, waving at him -way more mildly than his own gesture. 

It's probably the sign Jungkook needed to come closer because soon after, he starts running toward you. You try to stay calm, but when he finally steps in a clear field of view, you can admire his body wrapped in shorts and a tight t-shirt that emphasize way too perfectly the well-defined lines and muscles hidden under various layers of fabric (oh God, may your quivering heart survive). 

He slows down, halting himself at a few steps from you, bending on his knees to catch some big gulps of air (his thighs flex for the effort to sustain him, your fingers hitch for tracing every groove). His hair, pulled back by a hairband, falls over in damp waves, framing his face red for the run. He straightens himself, tilts the head back to catch another deep breath, ruby spots tinge his neck and you… really, you try all your best to not gawk at the contour of his pronounced pecs, or at the soft bow of his crotch. But he's standing there, with his hands on his hips, the lower part of his body stretched in your direction, and you can only contemplate him in all his glorious beauty… 

(This is all Yoongi's fault! Ms Min told him that Jin's mother told her that she saw you getting out of Jungkook's house the other night… which can only be translated as: the beginning of the end of your peacefulness. From that revelation, your friend never stopped to butter your conversations with random questions about the size of his dick; if he's good at using it; if you're going to treat your relationship seriously or you're going to let it drop before emotions could grow; or lavishing wise speeches like: "Remember, (Y/N), size isn't important. It's important how you use it". You hate him.)

"Good… morning… Noona," he greets between long sips of breath, tapping the back of his hand on his face to wash away the sweat. 

Thankfully, the suffix tumbling off his tongue reminds you that you're older than him, a ten-year gap that makes guilt tarnish every fiber of your being for indulging in a shameless contemplation of a boy and his young body. 

"Jungkook-ssi, hey. Are you out for your morning run?" You avert his stare, hoping he didn't catch you staring. "You should take advantage of your holiday and sleep a bit more." You graze Moonie under his chin. 

He takes off the hairbend, racks his fingers through his hair to separate it from the roots. "I mainly do it out of habit. I used to run every early morning back in college. I used to do boxing." He shoves the mint locks back with both hands, sweat keeps them glued to the top of his head. "And I - I tried to come late in the afternoon once, but it's packed with - with tourists. I prefer not meeting people." He scrutinizes the hairband with a little scrunch in his nose before putting it back on, the bits of hair that don't fit fall over his forehead. 

You giggle. "Ops, I ruined your peace, then."

His eyes grow wider at your playful comment, head shaking vigorously and hands fluttering in the air. "No, no, no! I wasn't talking about you! It's always nice - nice to meet you, Noona." He swallows thickly, twiddling with his eyebrow piercing. It feels like he's fighting against himself toward something you can't grasp. Then, he seems to give in, eyes shaking when they meet your own. "I… I wanted to visit you. You know, to thank you for treating me so nicely, but… but I don't think it's appropriate." His stare lays upon your wedding ring, a muscle twitches in his jaw. "You know, people here don't look kindly on me. I don't want to put - put you into trouble with them or, ahm, your husband."

The gentleness in his voice and actions makes an earthquake of tenderness explode in your guts. His respect toward you and your needs as a person (not just as someone older than him) is a force that pulls you toward him. Inevitably, like the sun surely will rise to the East. 

You swallow, thumb brushing on your ring. "Don't worry. I don't care about what others think." You avoid his stare, unable to camouflage the discomfort dancing across his features. "You can come when you want, Jungkook-ssi." You reassure him, aware that this is the usual, casual thing you say out of education -not with the real intent for it to happen. 

It's like… you know, when you meet an old acquaintance and you exchange the usual small talk and then you say: "Hey, we should meet up for a drink" aware that none of you will actually call to plan a meeting. And, pff… a twenty-three-year-old boy would never knock at your door for a coffee or a drink. Jungkook will probably prefer hanging out with people his age...

Your words seem to hearten him a little. A smile blooms on his rosy lips, his posture straightens. He lets out a long breath that he was holding up to now, darting you this look full of gratitude that makes goosebump dance along your skin.

"Hi, Moonie!" Jungkook crouches down, hands immediately cupping his muzzle, lips curling to click his tongue. 

You briefly stare at his thick thighs, muscles flexing as he adjusts his position while resting on his calves (you wonder how it'd feel to seat on them. Of course, it's just a thought, not something you'd like to do, mh). "Is Bam at home?" You ask, mainly to distract yourself from the (dangerous) exposed areas of his body.  

He nods, looking attentively at your dog. "Yeah, I prefer running without him. I - I mean, geez, I sound so awful." He giggles, slapping a hand on his face. "Ahm, the fact is… he usually chases after animals and I fear he might - might get lost. Like, I run pretty fast, but he runs faster." He scratches the back of his ear, twiddling with a dangling piercing. "I already got lost twice, when I went hiking. I wouldn't survive if something happened to him." He sits down on the grass, legs spread for Moonie to stretch out and use his lap as a cushion. Your dog lays on his legs, mouth open and tongue sticking out.  

"It happened to us too, at the beginning. You know, when you're bold and you believe you can remember the path." You stare at his tattooed hand, caressing Moonie's back. "You shouldn't go by yourself. It's dangerous."

He tilts his head to boths sides, bones cracking in the process. "I still haven't found a worthy hiking buddy." He grins, his amused stare engulfing into yours. "Do you come here often?"

"Not much." You twiddle with the folds of your long skirt. "I used to come here pretty often, actually. Then, I stopped…" 

Jungkook looks at you like someone who'd like to submerge you with a tons of questions. Thankfully, he doesn't give in to his curiosity. "And what do you like to do here?"

You pause. Then, "Nothing."

His brows snap together. "Nothing…"

You chuckle. "Yes, nothing. I just stay here napping, or reading. I sometimes play with Moonie." You tuck some hair behind your ear. "As you can see, I'm not very interesting." Feeling his skeptic stare boring through your skin, you suddenly feel the anxiety drooling away from your bones: showing this facet of yourself (the boring one; that side of you that only a very few people accept without judgements) might be the right way to keep him at a distance. 

You've this uncontrollable urge to push him away from you..

But Jungkook doesn't seem to care. He scrutinizes you, hard and long. "You're... calm." A soft smile etches itself on his face, like a flower gently opening to the first rays of sun. "You're matching with this beautiful place." He waits for a follow-up that doesn't come, shoulders crossed by shivers. 

You part your lips but not a sound escapes from them. Your brain is in total black-out. His gentle boldness catches you off guard and you don't know how to react. Is he serious? Is he playing? Is he flirting? 

His eyes crinkle in the corner before your muteness. A glint of sadness streams in his shaky eyes before he drifts his attention to Moonie, almost asleep due to his soft touch. "Well, I really need to go now. Bam doesn't like staying alone for too - too long." He carefully pulls your dog away, paying attention to not hurt him. He strokes the top of his head one last time before standing up, cleaning the back of his shorts. "It was nice to talk to you again, Noona." He bows a little, a vibrant flush spreads to the tip of his ears. "See you."

You greet him with a gesture of your hand, speechless.

You ignore the rhythmic tum tum tum produced by your heart; the goosebumps dancing along your skin. 

It's the morning cold fault. It must be. 

“You shatter my sleep All milk-need and petal lips. You smile, and I melt”

You don't expect to see Jungkook again anytime soon. 

Of course, you expect to run into him from time to time -during a walk; as you take Moonie out; while grocery shopping; at Min's restaurant; while you're taking care of your garden. There's nothing to be surprised about: the town is small, the chances to meet randomly are too high to pretend you won't meet him anymore. 

What is certain is that you don't expect him to actively cross the street and knock at your door, on a chill Tuesday night, a few minutes after dinner. 

Like a figment of your imagination that could vanish with a blink of an eye, Jungkook stands on your doormat -with a sheepish smile adorning his face, and a box in his free hand (the other holds Bam by the collar, preventing him to jump at you the moment you opened).

A mild queasiness brews in your stomach when you meet his shiny eyes -the same type of nausea that bubbles up in your throat when you step out of your home lately, hit by the realization that your lives might intertwine again. 

This thick anxiety that cripples up your heart catapults you back to the first time you took a plane to fly to Seoul, all alone, scared to death about the idea of not surviving; to the first time Joonie looked different in your eyes and you understood that your heart would beat differently only for him; to your wedding day and the gloomy conviction that you were too young to take that step; to the day you moved here, abandoning your comfort zone, jumping into an the unknown future ahead of you...

You thought you wouldn't feel like this anymore… at the mercy of your own emotions.

(At the mercy of a boy who looks at you like you were an aurora borealis made of flesh and bones…)

Your first reaction is to close the door on his nose and fly away from this place. Or you can pretend to be sick (and, like, fake your death, too). A weak voice inside of you suggests you to be direct and tell him to stop with all of this, pushing him away. 

But then, his voice wafts over you, and your heartbeat throbs in every inch of you, squelching every other sound.

"Good afternoon, Noona. Sorry for - for the late hour. I don't want to bother you." He bows a little, a single curl of mint hair falls over his forehead. "I went to buy some things this morning and I thought to bring you something. To thank you for your kindness." His features soften, cheekbones tinged with a light pink shade. "You've always been so - so gentle to me…"

You swallow. His gesture warms you. The awareness that he doesn't feel welcomed here hits you like a bucket of icy water.

"You… you didn't have to." Your fingers accidentally graze the back of his hand when he hands you out the box (goosebump kisses your skin, glides up to the back of your nape, you shiver like winter just exploded all around you.) "Thank you, really."

Jungkook hesitates, brushes his hands along his harem pants. He sometimes gazes over your shoulders, almost anticipating the appearance of someone else wandering throughout your house that could explain your docility, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. 

"Well…" he snorts a nervous chuckle, probably hit by the silence you're giving him back. "Ahm, just this. A little present, mh." His smile quivers a little, shoulders hunching over. "I leave you to your things, then. Good night—"

"Wait!"

Your heart thumps in your throat when you register your own voice lingering in the air, a high pitched request that makes him stiffen on his spot. 

"Jungkook-ssi, you can stay." You swallow, giving him a poor attempt of an encouraging smile. Noticing his hesitation, you shuffle backward, opening the door wide to let him walk in. "Stay, really. It's ok. I wasn't doing anything special." You spare a quick glance to your shabby outfit, feeling pretty embarrassed for your appearance. 

But Jungkook doesn't seem to mind what you're wearing -probably because you never judged him for the way he takes care of his own body. 

He catches a small breath before nodding. "Thanks…" he brushes past you, the good scent of softener makes you weak in your knees. You move aside as he takes off his sandals, disposing them neatly next to your gym shoes. 

"I - I hope you don't mind, but I asked for advice from Yoongi hyung since I don't - don't know your taste." He scratches the back of his red ear. "Sorry, I should've minded my own business. But he saw me pretty indecisive and—"

You chuckle. "Don't worry, Yoongi pretends to not care but he's the first to stick his nose into our affairs. In a good way, of course." You grin, picturing him sitting behind the counter all grumpy and mopey. "I wouldn't be surprised if he told you, dunno, my favorite type of condoms." You try a poor attempt of a joke to make him feel at ease, which makes you feel pretty stupid -especially for the sudden awkwardness that embraced him. Until your brain starts to get in motion, making you realize the real reason behind his embarrassment. "Oh, no… he didn't—"

"I - I didn't take him seriously!" He interrupts, shaking his hands. "I was buying them and-I mean, it's not like I have someone or anything. It's just a precaution, you know, in case I meet someone I like and—" words fade in a squelched grunt, he pokes the tip of his tongue on his cheek. "There's no - no one…"

Breath sticks in your throat. You don't know why he felt the urge to clarify it. After all, despite the brief encounters you shared, you're two strangers, and Jungkook can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants without making you part of his experiences.

"I don't care, Jungkook-ssi." You shrug, noticing the clench in his jaw. "It's your life, you don't have to tell me anything. And don't mind Yoongi-chi, he was just teasing you." You curl your fingers around the box, the light scrunch sound reminds you why he decided to show up here in the first place. "Ahm, what can I offer you? Is wine ok?" 

He nods, following you in the living room -well, Bam drags him into the living room as soon as he glimpses at Moonie, peacefully resting in front of the door of Namjoon's studio. "Bam, aish… let him alone."

"Don't worry, I think he likes his company," you comment, watching his dog rotates on his own spot before resting close to your pet, barking for attention. "You can sit there." You nod toward the small coffee table before grabbing a pair of glasses from the cupboard.

Jungkook follows your guidelines, plopping down on the seat that permits him to keep an eye on Bam. "Are you an expert of wine?" He asks, catching sight of the various bottles disposed on a shelf. 

"Not much. I just like drinking it." The tip of your ears reddens when Jungkook exhales a giggle (it gets prettier each passing day). "Seokjin does, though. He always brings some wine when he comes here—ahm, he's a friend. You already saw him, the younger cook at Min's restaurant," you specify, noticing the expression of confusion dawning on his face. 

He twiddles with his eyebrow piercing, eyes growing big. "Oh, yes. The most beautiful man in town."

You roll your eyes. "Yes, people tend to exaggerate when they talk about him."

"Actually, he introduced himself by saying this."

You let out a bright chuckle, imagining your friend introducing himself in this silly manner -there's a proud set in his shoulders when you turn to him. "Jin too tends to exaggerate when he talks about himself." You approach the table, placing the glasses in the center. You pour some wine into them, burgundy drops fall on the table already stained. 

Jungkook grabs his glass, giving you a little nod to thank you. He takes a sip, nose scrunching and tongue clicking for the bitter taste. 

You sit across from him, eyes pinned to the two dogs peacefully resting at a few steps from you, fingers twiddling with a lock of air escaping from the sloppy tail you wore before cleaning the dishes. 

You open the box he bought you, admiring the Bungeoppang perfectly aligned in it. "Mh, I adore them! Thank you!" You grab one, taking a bite. 

Jungkook giggles. "Thanks to Yoongi hyung, actually." 

A thick silence settles itself between the pair of you, preventing you from starting a conversation. You deliver a sheepish smile to each other before taking a sip of wine to keep yourselves busy. You'd like to submerge him with a lot of questions about the life he left behind in Busan or Seoul; about the many small things that crafted him into the boy he is today. But you don't know how much you can delve into his past, nor do you know which buttons you can push without making him feel uneasy.

Thankfully, while taking a look around the room, his attention drifts to a couple of photographs placed on the table between the couch and the sofa (one portraying you along with Yoongi and Seokjin, not posing, just laughing for something that Namjoon did, before he took this shot; the other picturing you and your little ones, in your classroom during the celebration of Children's day). 

He stretches a little to give it a closer look. "Are they your students?" 

You swallow the last chop of pastry, nodding. "I'll miss them a lot. They're going to start middle school after the holiday." Nostalgia tugs at the corners of your lips as you remember the last day you spent together. "But I'm excited to meet new kids. It's nice to teach them English, seeing them learn day by day…"

"Oh, English…" he mumbles, gazing at you. "I'd have learned it much more willingly if you had been my teacher." He runs the tip of his tongue on his lip piercing, his intense stare sets your guts on fire. "They look… happy. I'll bet they'll have a good memory of you. I still cherish my old elementary teacher. He was - was kind even when I made silly mistakes."

"I don't know. I hope so?" You chuckle, gazing at their bright faces. "Nobody complained until now. And they're always so nice when I meet them. To think that I didn't particularly like children when I was younger." You feel his stare boring through your skin, as if he'd like to question you about yourself a little more -like, why you don’t have any photograph of your husband; or why you don't have children; if you actually planned to have one. 

But Jungkook doesn't press you further. He stays quiet, eyes crinkling in the corner and a delicate smile that has your heart liquefying, and you don't know how to keep alive the conversation (you thought you two would never meet anymore and now he is here, drinking wine, plaguing your house with his good softener scent that makes you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck -titillating some fantasies that make you want to bury yourself in a hole). 

You gulp down some wine, fumbling for words. "So… are you excited to go to Jeju?"

Jungkook blinks twice. He probably didn't expect you to talk about him (or to remember something about him). "Ah, yes. I only went there once with my brother, a few years ago. So I'm pretty excited. Taehyung is already mapping out an itinerary, I won't have a minute to breathe." He gulps down the drink to the last drop (you notice his habit to clench the free hand into a fists. Adorable). "But Jeju means that I've to go back to Busan, too."

You study his small pout. "You don't sound very happy." 

"I am. I've my friends there, after all. It's just, my parents... I - I get along with them, but..." he hesitates, his hand runs to stroke the tattooed arm. "I think... I disappointed them. You know, for dropping out of college, for many of my choices…" he glimpses at the ink branching along his skin, the left corner of his mouth shaped with bitterness. "I, you know… I feel like they were expecting great things from me, and I'm not doing anything good." He lets out a chuckle, scratching his undercut.

Your heart crumbles for his genuine confession. You weren't expecting him to reveal this vulnerable aspect of his life -to actually show you his discomfort; and you don't know how to react. If he were Jin, you'd hug him tight; if he were Yoongi, you'd grab his hand; if he were Joonie, you'd hug him from behind.

But Jungkook is a stranger… How do you warm the heart of a person you know little about?

"I… I'm sorry they are making you feel like this," you manage to say, aware that your comment is completely useless. "Do you regret giving up?"

He tilts his head to the side. "Sometimes… other times, though, I think that I made the best decision for myself." He rests his hands on his chest. "I never told this to not make them worry, but I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic, in the last months. I kept wondering: what am I doing? Am I wasting time? What if this isn't the best thing for me?" He ruffles his hair, eyes shining wetly. "Now, instead, I wake up in the middle of the night because I feel like I'm wasting time, too. Like… all my friends are building something, they know what they want for their lives… while I'm still searching for my place in the world." He presses the thumb and pointer on the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, I look like a lost child. You're probably used to talking about more mature topics."

You snort a laugh. "Are you joking? Me and my friends might be in our thirties, but we still don't know what to do with our lives either." 

Jin isn't ready for love and does nothing to move away from this place; Yoongi is too scared about love and does nothing to make his dream to become a producer come true; you keep all your ghosts close to you and do nothing to move on… she doesn't mean anything. Age is just a number. You can grow up physically, but certain things rooted into you don't change overtime. 

You give him a reassuring smile. "Namjoon had your same problem. He wanted to give up, and went through a huge crisis for a few months." You stare at Moonie, who's letting Bam use his back as a cushion. "It's far more common than you think."

"Then?"

"Then, he understood what he wanted to do, and he went back to studying. Many of his students went through the same phase and his advice was to stop and take their time. Just this." You deliver him a reassuring smile. "You'll see you'll understand what's best for you, sooner or later. Just… don't pressure yourself. Or you'll risk doing something that will make you unhappy."

"I hope so… people think I'm too lazy." His bottom lip juts out in a pout. "Your husband seems such a nice person."

"He is…" you mumble, drinking some wine to replace the bitter taste of your words. You vaguely stare at a spot magically appeared on the table, spacing out. 

Jungkook stares at you, delicately. "I... don't know if you broke up on bad terms or not, but I hope you and your husband can clear things up. It feels like… you've some kind of unsolved matter." He curses under his breath when you gaze up at him, clenched jaw and shaky eyes. "Sorry, it's not my business."

You shrug. "It's ok. It's just that everyone knows everything here, so I'm not used to talking about him anymore." 

You avoid talking about him, actually. Yoongi and Seokjin and Hoseok repeat to you that disclosing your thoughts about Namjoon would help you to move on with your life. That venting out would make you feel lighter. And you don't know, you don't know it will actually work… there's just a weight upon your chest whenever your mind echoes back to him, and you're pretty sure it will never go away. 

You're sure that nobody will be able to move it (him) aside...

Jungkook casts a glance upon your ring. "I didn't - didn't ask anything around. Mom says it's not nice." He moistens his lips. "I prefer to hear things from you."

You swallow. "You can ask me all that you want."

The boy hesitates, searching for any trace of doubt across your face -something that could tell him that you don't mean what you've just said. 

He inhales sharply through his nose, voice low. "How long have you been married?" 

Your thumb brushes upon your ring. "Seven years."

Surprise floats in his big eyes. "Oh… that's a very long - long time…" he chokes on his wine. "Wait! You - you were my age!"

"Almost. I got married as soon as I finished college. He was already teaching in a middle school, he is two years older than me." 

His eyelids flicker fast, lips curled. "I… I'd never see myself married. Fuck…"

You burst out laughing (Jungkook stiffens. An intense ruby hue colors his cheekbones). "No, sorry… it's just—" you rest a hand on your stomach, crossed by painful spasms. "You don't look like someone who curses." 

He puffs his cheeks, mumbling behind the edge of the glass. "I curse. Sometimes."

You moisten your lips, cleaning the tears shining at the corner of your eyes. "You seem so… rude. But you're very gentle, actually." You didn't use a coquettish voice, nor did you make any malicious gestures.

And yet, Jungkook reacts like you've just flirted with him. He runs the tip of his tongue on his bottom lip, chewing on the piercing in the corner. "Would you prefer me to be ruder?" He inhales sharply through his nose, straightening his posture. 

You swallow. The alcohol in your system makes you see things you usually wouldn't notice with so much care -like, the well-defined lines of his pecs; the imperceptible softness of his nipples against the cotton fabric of the shirt. 

Jungkook has the breah punching out of you…

"No…" you mumble, sinking in his eyes full of galaxies. "You're great as you are."

  After two glasses of wine, Jungkook gets closer. He moves from his spot to the side across from the sofa to use it as a backrest. 

Third glass, you move closer. With the excuse to watch some pictures laying on his phone, you sat beside him -but still distant enough to not touch him.

Fourth glass, Jungkook angles his torso in your direction, the arms folded on the sofa to use them as a pillow -the tip of his shoe nits the leg of the table, adorable (slurry) apologies drool from his lips bouncing upon giggles. 

Fifth glass, you imitate his position, your knee accidentally hits his own (and he apologizes for you. Still, he doesn't inch away). You look at him through your lashes, drinking whatever his soft voice says...

He recounts about his friends; the hectic life in Busan, in Seoul. You tell him tales of your hometown, the little students you saw grow up in the past years. He talks about Taehyung, how they met in college due to a series of odd events; he talks about Jimin, how they used to play through the streets of Busan when they were little kids. You talk about Hoseok, the first person who treated you kindly when you arrived in Seoul; about Jin and Yoongi and how you became inseparable since you've moved here (you don't about Namjoon). 

Nothing too intimate, anecdotes that make your throat vibrate for the laughter that scrunch your face up and make your jaw hurt for the effort. 

Jungkook's eyes are tired and shiny; and yet, he keeps looking at you as if the things you're saying were worth the time spent together. 

These ten years between you two blend into something vague, almost… forgettable. 

"I'm so used to living here by now, I don't know if I could go back to the chaos of the city." You brush some hair away from your face (you notice Jungkook's fingers twitch, like he was on the cusp of doing it). "If I look back, I can't believe how much I changed. You know? I was always partying. Beer busts, discos, high heels, dresses, lots of boys…"

"Oh… It's a pity, being born a few years too late." Jungkook smirks, red cheek pressing on his arm. "Probably, when you were dancing to The Rhythm of the Night?, I was playing Minecraft. Or sleeping."

You laugh, too tipsy to care about the malicious curve of his lips, about his stare lingering upon the bow of your chest. 

"Did you meet your husband there? During a party?"

The area around your eyes swell up, your smile flips off your face -Jungkook stares intensely at your change of reaction, as if he wanted to open your skull to catch your train of thoughts. 

"No… he's never been a party boy. He loves calm activities… visiting museums, or new cities." The corners of your mouth pull up, imperceptibly. "I fell for him first and I was so scared because we were so different, so…" you swallow the wobble in your voice. "Namjoon is the quietness I tended to reject." You lost contact with Jungkook's eyes, you're probably boring him. "Anyway, Hoseok invited us to his birthday party. We met there…"

Namjoon's figure flashes in the back of your mind. His smile in the dim-lit room; his eyes crinkling in the corner; his round glasses gliding on the bridge of his nose; his polite way to help you searching for the right words when you couldn't talk in Korean properly; his stuttered apologies when he clumsily spilled his drink on your new dress… 

You shudder. You suddenly feel the urge to stay alone. 

"What about you?" You change the topic, unable to bear the memories of Namjoon cascading in your mind. "Did you leave a special one back at home?"

Jungkook hesitates, opens his mouth but closes it shortly after. He shifts his attention to Bam curled up against Moonie, peacefully napping. "Many girls. No one in particular."

"Uh, so it's true when they say you're dangerous." You take his confession lightheartedly, noticing his discomfort. "A heartbreaker came to town. Better not tell it to anyone, or they'll come to your house with pitchforks and torches." 

He lets out a bright chuckle, hides his face in the crook of his arms. "No, I mean… I had a few stories, but nothing worth mentioning. You know, classmates, friends of friends, girls I met during the parties after my boxing matches, blind dates… but I get bored easily, I just wanna have fun. And girls my age are so… dreary." He chews on his bottom lip, the euphoria replaced by a somber expression. "Great… I just ruined my only chance to demonstrate that I'm a serious guy."

"Don't worry, it's ok."

"No, it's not. I sounded like I'm an asshole, but I'm not. I'm not..." he turns to you, slowly, like he feared you might judge him for his hectic sexual life." 

You rest your head better on your arms, smiling softly. "You're young." Then you think that Jin is thirty-six and he lives on flings and is absolutely against serious relationships (he never said it out loud, but you can see the relief on his face for being single when your affection for Namjoon smothers you). "You probably didn't find the right one." Your eyelids flicker down in the slightest, you're quite tired. "Maybe when you go to Busan. Or Jeju."

"Maybe she's in a small town." His voice drops two notches deeper, it makes shivers travel down your spine. Jungkook curls his fingers around the fabric of the cushion, swallowing thickly. "What are you doing tomorrow morning?"

You've to fight against your sadness in order to get out of bed. You've to find the strength to put up the usual mask of peacefulness to not worry your friends. You've to water Joonie's bonsais. You've to read one of the books Namjoon bought and never started. You've to take Moonie out... 

"Things..." You mumble, in a barely whispered hush. 

The sparks in Jungkook's eyes tremble a little. "Things…"

"Yes, ahm... I've got some things to do. You know, the chaotic mountain life." You snort a chuckle, panic gnaws at your throat. You want him to go back home. You want to stay alone. "Why?"

Jungkook hides a yawn in the crook of his arm, hesitates. "I thought a lot about what you said the other day, that I shouldn't go hiking all alone. So, I was thinking… why don't you join me?" He diverts his stare, staring at Bam. "Or we can take our dogs out for a walk. Bam likes Moonie. And he likes you. And I do too, I mean—" he brushes his face against his arm, chuckling. "You know what I mean." 

You should say no. Because you've many things to do. Because you aren't interested in his proposal. Because you want to stay on the surface of your acquaintance, but if you start going out together, you risk things will grow. Because—

"I'm… out of shape. I stopped hiking." 

Namjoon loves hiking. He laughs because you get tired easily and have to stop halfway. His hand holding yours. His soft smile when you use his lap like a pillow, laying under a tree. You don't go hiking anymore. 

"We can take an easy path. I'm no expert either." Jungkook's hand moves closer to yours, beyond the sparks in your eyes his smile shines bright. "It'd be nice… to spend some time together."

No, it wouldn't. It wouldn't. It's a bad idea. It wouldn't—

"Ok…" your voice flies out above a whisper. "Yeah, ok."

Jungkook lifts his head up, hair falling over his forehead. "Ok, yeah, great!" He lets out a giggle, scratching his nape. "It's better - better if I go, then, or I'll risk not waking up." He stretches his arms, the shirt lifts up a bit to reveal his belly (you notice the thin hair disappearing under the elastic of the harem pants. Your face heats up). "Bam, let's go." He whistles to call his attention. 

Bam looks at him for a while before standing up, stretching and yawning. You stare at Moonie, ears perked up for the sudden movements in the room. 

Your heart feverishly throbs in your throat. Maybe this hiking thing comes at the perfect timing: it could be a good occasion for him to realize that you're boring -so this thing between you two will end before it even starts. 

You press your palm on the cushion of the sofa to stand up, but the numbness in your legs mixed with the wine makes you trip on your own feet. To sustain yourself, you rest a hand on the sofa while the other lays upon… something tough. Toned, precisely. 

You let out a giggle. "I drank a bit…" It takes you quite a few seconds to register that you're using Jungkook's bicep like a perch -and your smile flips off your face. It takes you even more to process that he's holding your waist -and your heart plummets in your chest. You flicker your stare from his hands to his face, so so close, and for the first time in a long while you grasp all the details that, if put together, give shape to that beautiful being that is Jeon Jungkook.

His big doe eyes, dark and deep and shiny -like the Milky Way were floating in them. The tiny moles, on the bridge of his nose, under his lip, on the left portion of his neck. The upper lip, thinner than the bottom's, its plumpness emphasized by the hoop ring circling the corner. The piercing on his eyebrow, covered by a few mint curls. The barely noticeable scar on his left cheekbone. 

Handsome...

You merely think it, after months spent hearing other people talk about his beauty (amidst the eccentricity).

Jungkook must catch something in the glint of your eyes because he delivers you a sheepish smile, before lowering his head. 

It's a sign you should pull away. You're making him uncomfortable. A thirty-three-year old who looks at a twenty-three-year old like he was a breathing work of art (or like you'd love to bite off his clothes). But Jungkook gazes back at you, and his eyes shining wet are so mesmerizing you can't inch away. 

"You ok?" He mumbles, quietly. His thumbs brush against the fabric of your shirt. 

"Yeah... Too much wine." You chuckle. "But I'm fine." 

"Good." 

Jungkook runs the tip of his tongue on his bottom lip, chews on it. Like a force was pulling you, your trembling fingers reach for the little scar -a soft groove immersed in a hue of bright red. He stiffens when you barely graze it, and your first reaction is to move away (and migrate on another planet); but his hand reaches out for yours, after a brief moment of astonishment, permitting you to rest the pads on his cheekbone. You press the tips a little, enjoying the smooth sensation of the cut on his skin.

Namjoon had one on his hip… 

"I fell when I was little," Jungkook starts, eyelids fluttering down. He tilts his head to the side, your palm adheres to his cheek. "I was fighting with my brother. I stole one of his toys and he was - was chasing after me and I bumped the corner of the table." He lets out a giggle. 

Namjoon fell from the bicycle when he was hanging out with some friends. You love grazing it while hugging him from behind, in bed. A small moonlight cut on his amber skin...

"You've a brother."

He nods. "He's older than me. Now we get along, but we used to fight a lot when we were little." His lips stretch in a beaming smile, eyes opening like leaves in the sun. "I can't wait to see him again, when I'll be back to Busan."

His words full of joy are enough to shatter the bubble of intimacy you were floating into (what the hell has gotten into you?). 

You pull your hand away in a rush, brushing the palm on your side like it was stained with some dirty substance. You remind yourself that Jungkook is a young stranger who will leave soon: he'll go back to his life, his friends, the people he loves, the girls he left behind. He'll go back to enjoy his twenty-three years with people his age.

Jungkook is a stranger...

You stand up, observing the expression of confusion that dawns on his face, bottom lip jutting out in an imperceptible sign of disappointment. 

"It's nice that you two get along." You fold your own arms around your waist, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Busan is nice. I went there twice, when Joonie participated in some conferences." You tuck some hair behind your ear. Mentioning Namjoon will help you to stay grounded. "You'll have a lot of fun."

Jungkook pauses. Then, "I'm having fun here, too." 

His low voice liquefies into the thick tension now settled upon you, seeps through the cracks and slaps you in your stomach. You feel like… you've just crossed a line you should've never reached in the first place, and now you don't know what to do to beat a retreat. 

Jungkook clenches his hands into fists, unfolds them again, brushes the tips against one another as if the consistency of your body was still laying upon them (your guts twists at that sight. He drank too much, too). Delivering you a dim smile, he stands up, stroking Bam's head when the puppy approaches him. 

Trying to contain the trembling in your shoulders, you near Moonie, who woofs toward Bam, seeking for attention. "Hey, you… you surely slept a lot, mh?" you mumble, crouching down to caress his relaxed muzzle. You can feel Jungkook's stare boring through your skin, like he was trying to understand what's whirling in your mind. However, when you gaze over him, there's no trace of annoyance across his features -just a pair of soft eyes that has your heart beating in every inch of you. 

Jungkook parts his lips but whatever was about to tell you rolls back down his throat when a pair of knocks at your door breaks your stillness. Your dogs start barking toward the entrance, Yoongi's voice wafts over you in a muffled sound:

"(Y/N), it's me. Are you there?"

You snap back down to reality, sparing a quick glance to the boy on the other side of the room. He doesn't seem particularly fazed for your friend showing up here so late. You, instead, are a bundle of nerves: you know that Yoongi will torment you forever for Jungkook being here with you at night, all alone. 

"(Y/N), don't pretend you're dead as usual. I know you're awake!" 

Jungkook softly chuckles at Yoongi's comment (you won't punch your friend only because Jungkook’s laugh is the prettiest sound). "Coming! Wait, geez, don't kick the door down..." When you open, Yoongi darts at you a frustrated look, fist still resting mid-air. 

He starts talking before you even have the time to greet him. "It's all your fault!" He crosses his arms, resembling one of your little students when you scold them. "I followed your bad advice to put a like on her photos, because she posted a picture of the mixtape I made in college. My mixtape, you get it? The one I made for her. I had to put a like, because that mixtape was a masterpiece—but, anyway, I wasn't expecting shit and within five minutes she sent me a message: 'hi, Yoongi-chi, how are you doing?' Do you get it?! Yoongi-chi, after all these years, holy fucking shit—oh." His flood of words fades in a silence brimmed with surprise as soon as he takes notice of Jungkook, standing still on his spot, stroking Bam's ear. He blinks twice when the boy bows a little, greeting him with a polite: 'Hello, hyung' "Did... Did I interrupt something?"

You gaze over your shoulder. Jungkook is shaking his head. "Don't worry, hyung. I was about to go. Bam, c'mon…" he taps his hand on his thigh to catch his dog's attention, guiding him toward the entrance. Yoongi moves to the side to let him walk out. "So, it's ok then? Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM?" Jungkook asks, a little wobble in his voice makes you weak in your knees.

You swallow thickly. You're trapped. You can't tell him 'no' after agreeing to his request. You'd act like a total bitch; you'd embarrass him in front of Yoongi, judging by the expectation floating in his eyes, you'd break his heart…)

"Yeah… yes, it's ok, sure," you manage to say, tongue-twisted. 

Jungkook's whole face scrunches up. "Great!" He exclaims, with the same high-pitched voice he usually uses when talking to Bam. "Ahm, see you tomorrow. Good night, Noona. Yoongi hyung." He bows again, before toddling away. 

You observe his retracting figure with your heart fluttering in your throat. You close the door when he crosses the street, all muscles tensed up and mind empty like a typhoon just passed by.

Yoongi coughs, dragging you back down to earth. "Noona…" He sneers. "Tomorrow morning? Tomorrow morning, what?"

"Something that a woman my age shouldn't do." You shake your head before his arched brow. "He… invited me to hike."

Your friend pokes the tip of his tongue on his cheek, jamming his hands inside his pockets. "What's wrong? You love hiking."

"I do. Just, not so much as I used to..." you shrug when a line of annoyance crafts itself between his knitted brows. You're too tipsy and tired to face this topic. "And I'm out of shape. Don't think he'll invite me ever again after tomorrow." You shuffle toward the couch, plopping down on it. Moonie is immediately beside you, leaning his chin on your knees. 

"Nah, don't worry. I bet he can't wait to give you a piggy-back ride. Or hold you in bridal style." Yoongi glances at the empty bottle of wine and the two glasses, grinning. "Ready to give him a blowjob surrounded by the sounds of the forest?"

You snap your tongue. "Oh, Yoongi-chi, we both know you're the one who looks forward to receiving a good blowjob by you-know-who." You smirk, staring at his red cheekbones. You inhale sharply through your nose, watching him mutter under his breath. "So… Minji wrote to you."

He nods.

"And you?"

He frowns, sitting on the sofa. "I didn't reply, of course." He stretches his hand out, Moonie jumps on the empty cushion and cuddles next to him. 

"Why?"

He scratches the back of his nape. "I don't know what to tell her." He tilts his head back, huffing. "What the fuck do you say to a friend-with-benefits who wanted something more and you treated her like shit? That I didn't fuck with anyone else since she's been gone? That I regret everyday rejecting her? That if I could turn back time, I'd become his boyfriend?"

A shadow of tenderness draws a smile on your lips. "Yes… if that is useful to move on."

Yoongi opens his mouth, closes it shortly after. You know he's refraining himself from telling you something awful. "I won't do shit. I… it's better if we stay like this. It wouldn't work. The fact she went away is a sign that it won’t work. Shit, I need a drink…" he comments, standing up. He goes to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge before you could tell him to treat himself. "Regarding the new boy—"

"Whatever it is, I don't care."

"The other day, he bought condoms. Size large." He leans against the sink, smirking. "He is well-hung."

Your stomach twirls. You want to throw up (and a part of you wants to take Jungkook’s dick in your mouth). "Oh, shut up.."

“I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I’m torn in two”

  Jungkook posted a new video on his Instagram page, in the afternoon. 

He's sitting on the black pouf across from the large window that overlooks the backyard garden of his house -the rays of sun filtering through the fronds kisses his face in lights-and-shadows patterns that has your fingers itching for tracing each one of them. His mouth is curled in a way that fully displays the tiny mole laying underneath of his bottom lip, tongue clicking in a rhythmic beat akin to hands of a clock marking the time in the silence. The caption reads: “I’m bored”. 

(Yoongi informed you that “the new boy” made an appearance on his social media, sending you the link that redirected you to his page. He added that it obviously was a cry for help because you abandoned him for the whole day; he also suggested asking Jungkook to pick you up at the station when you'll be back in town and give him a thank-you blowjob. You hate Yoongi.

Jin only put a like on the video, instead. Then, he commented with a playful: "You should come by to Min’s restaurant. The daily menu offers Bulgogi for only 5 dollars. An unmissable offer!" Jungkook replied with three laughing emoji. You love Jin). 

You pause the video, the clicking sound now is just a ghost faded in the horn sounding coming from the street and some rap playlist seeping through a latest model stereo. 

You wonder how he spent the day…

When you told him you'd spend this Friday out of town to meet up with a friend, his eyebrows collapsed on his doe eyes in a nuance of sadness that striked your throbbing heart. On a feeble smile that graced his face, he told you that it was ok, to have fun; he told you to text him if you were bored -you haven't (you never send each other messages; actually, it's better if you don't start). Maybe, this brief break from your assiduous encounters could be a chance for Jungkook to meet someone new, setting you aside in the process…

Your liquid stare flickers from the replies cascading in the comment section (a very few male friends; a tons of girls) to the video. You scrutinize the well-defined shape of his thick eyebrows, the metal bar piercing adorning the right one; the length of his eyes, the deepness of his dark irises; the plumpness of his bottom lip, rosy and shiny presumably for lip balm; the smoothness of his hair, parted to the side—!

You go back to his page when the picture of your fingers racking through those mint and black threads suddenly appears in the back of your mind. His personal Instagram is full of his selcas at the gym; videos of his boxing training; toothy smiles that punch the breath out of you; nightlife and trips brackets with his best friends, Taehyung and Jimin; pictures of his Marvel action figures collection neatly disposed on shelves in his bedroom; shootings of Bam when he was a small bean curled up in his arms… it's the typical page of a young boy revealing a miniscule part of his life. 

It reminds you that ten years keep you apart, making you live into two different sides of the world with little to nothing in common. 

It reminds you that Jungkook has nothing to do with Namjoon... 

Hoseok plops down on the chair all of a sudden, his grunt of disappointment breaks through your consciousness. You were so caught up in your own thoughts to not process that he walked out of his bedroom to come back to the living room. 

"Sorry, business call." He huffs, shoving back his brownish hair parted to the side. “They moved up the mv shooting and I've to be there at 9:00 AM. Goodbye to my plans of sleeping till 12:00 PM." He joins his hands in front of his apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I asked you to meet up because I was free and instead, I spent half of my time on the phone." 

Yesterday morning, Hoseok texted you out of the blue to tell you that he'd like to spend his day of break with you -because the last time you saw each other had been almost half a year ago (his white shirt stuck to his torso due to the hot weather and humidity; the loosened black tie; the eyes puffy and red and cheeks crossed by the ghost of tears shed in the past days). He asked you to meet up in Seoul, because he'd love to show you around his new apartment that overlooks the Han River.

After half a year made of excuses and 'no', you accepted his invitation lightheartedly.

You close the app on your phone and rest it on the corner of the counter resting against the window, before turning to your friend, a small smile hanging on your lips. 

Time has been generous with Hoseok. It seems like years stopped elapsing upon him. Years are a very few wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiles; wrinkles around his mouth when he exhales his bright laughter; grooves a bit deeper on the back of his hands. But aside from this, he's still the same, jovial Hoseok you cherish in all your memories bonded to Seoul. 

The only jar notching him is the note of melancholy that pierces through his peacefulness -the same you see floating in your own eyes when you stare at your own reflection in the mirror. 

That's why you avoided Hoseok for so long. Having him at a few inches from you reminds you that you're the sides of the same coin: both dealing with a lacerating wound in your heart, expressed in two different ways. 

You let out a soft chuckle before his mouth shaped in a 'V' cut, shaking your head. “Don't worry. Being one of the most wanted choreographers of South Korea comes with a lot of responsibilities. Well, it has its perks, too…" you cast a glance upon the window across from you. Seoul stretches before your glistening eyes with its high buildings and light poles chords running through the city surrounding the Han River; your attention drifts to the bridge, yellow and red car lights all lined up and scratching the dark veil of the night.

There's something magical in this scenario. 

An invisible force that calls you back to the chaos of the city, inviting you to pack all your belongings and come back here -were one of the most important chapters of your personal book began. 

But you can't. You left too many important things in your town. 

You left someone locked in a studio brimmed with books and clothes and letters and diaries; you left a man with a pair of  droopy eyes who always waits for you to walk you home even if his shift ended a hour earlier; you left a man with plump lips who invites you to play videogames in his two-rooms home flat while he cooks your favorite dish, recounting you about the last woman he met on Tinder; you left a boy with a pair of doe eyes who softly knocks at your door every morning at the same hour, ready to walk your dogs out together -a boy who posted a video on Instagram because he was bored.

(The fact that Jungkook is included into the list is a little unsettling).

You suddenly feel the urge to go back home…

You look at the moonlight cloaking the waters like a second skin, your pointer gliding along the edge of the glass of wine. "I didn't think you'd be back in town so soon, anyway." You take a sip of your drink. "Last time I checked, you were in Daegu for Sansuyu’s concert. I heard it was great."

"It was. I love working with her, she's so… down to earth, despite the success." He flaps his finger in the air, lips curled in a sign of offense. "But the tour finished two weeks ago. Which means that you aren't stalking my Instagram profile. That's soooo bad, (Y/N). Friendship ruined. Enough." He dramatically rests his hands on his chest, opening just one eye to see your amused reaction. "But I don't expect much from someone who used to post a picture once every two years."

"Quality over quantity." You comment, "You know I've never been a social media girl." The corners of your mouth quiver, curve a bit. "Joonie was way more active than me." His page was full of sculptures and paintings and books and museums he visited and selfies with Moonie and nature… it was calm but with a profound meaning, just like him. You stopped visiting his profile.

"Well… I took a look, and it seems like someone is pretty active, lately." Hoseok grins, you swallow thickly. "Two photos in just a week. The end of the world is near."

Since Namjoon’s been gone, you stopped updating your page. Nothing seems worth enough to be portrayed in a photograph. But a week ago, Jungkook took a picture of you while you were relaxing on the river -Bam and Moonie playing next to you; and three days ago, Jungkook took a picture of you while you were reading under the old tree, a small smile on your lips, soft eyes, and peacefulness cocooning you. 

He told you that you looked pretty. You believed him, and you posted them (he put a like after a couple of seconds).  

Hoseok folds his arms on the table. "So... who is the lucky one?" 

You almost choke on your drink as you look at him, goggle-eyed. You recognise that expression too well: it's the same that crossed his face many years ago, when he questioned you about you and Joonie and your green love-story. "What do you mean?" you moisten your lips, that light wobble in your voice is enough to show your discomfort. 

He sneers, a malicious glint streams in his eyes veiled with exhaustion. "You seem... Happier. More calm, mh." He shrugs. "And you usually rejected all my invitations. I admit I'm surprised you accepted, this time." Hoseok rests his back against the wall, eyes pinned on the window. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're here. But the fact you agreed to see me again means that: 1) you needed to run away from your town; 2) you're finally getting better." He lets out a sigh. "What's his name?"

"Jungkook..." You pronounce it before your brain could actually register Hobi's analysis. It's just when you sink in his amused eyes that you get a grip of yourself. "But - but it's not about him, I really wanted to see you. It's been so long, after all. I missed you so much." And it's true, you missed Hoseok to the core. . 

“I missed you too." He chuckles. "Jungkook… does he live there?" He goes back to the previous topic. You're trapped. 

"No… he's there on holiday." There's a stabbing pain in your ribcage when you say it. "But nothing happened. We just hang out, that's all."

“C’mon… tell me something about that man.”

Man… that word crafts a lump in your throat. Hoseok probably expects that you met a man around your age, or older. Maybe a middle-age man; an employee escaped from a smothering job to indulge in a few days of recreation. One of those men who spend their weeks wearing an elegant suit and a tie and who's a fleecer when it comes to business. Instead, you spend your days with a boy who ran to your village because he can't put together the pieces of his life  and it’s torn in two between going back to college or searching for a stable job or travelling around the world and stopping somewhere -paying attention to not plant roots. One of those city-boys full of tattoos and piercings who's raising a dog like a son and is gentle and delicate. A boy who—

“He’s twenty three…” his age tumble off your tongue cautiously, like you’ve just spilled a secret that could cost your entire life. You stiffen, unprepared about the expression of sheer dismay that is surely crossing his face. But when you turn, Hoseok doesn't seem surprised. Or, well… he is, but not in a negative way. "He lives in the house across from mine, but we didn't talk at first. Like, we ignored each other. We got close thanks to our dogs… now, we hang out almost every day to walk them out, or we go hiking. Or we have dinner or lunch at our places. Nothing special," you briefly explain, heart all warm for the memories cascading in the back of your mind. "And he's going to leave at the end of August." Saying it out loud will remind you to keep your distance. 

"Oh… it seems serious."

"It isn't. Nothing happened." You take a gulp of wine. "Did I say that he's going to leave at the end of August?"

He chuckles, nodding. "And… do you like him?”

Oh… this is new. This question is simple, but to you it is pretty hard because you never stopped to analyze your feelings for Jungkook. You like hanging out with him; you like watching movies with him; you like exchanging a joke or two when he comes to Min's restaurant. But you never texted each other; and you never went grocery shopping together; and you never relied upon each other when doubts overwhelmed you. 

The fact is… despite mocking you, Seokjin and Yoongi never actively asked you what's happening between you two, or what you feel for him. And you didn't shake things up to prevent yourself from labeling your acquaintance and give a name to the emotions bubbling up in the abyss of your chest. 

"I don't know… I just, you know, I sometimes would like to…" words trail off mid-sentence, a vibrant flush spreads to the tip of your ears. "He's got a body that's a work of art. Like… God." You rub a hand on your face, giggling. "I drank too much wine."

He squeezes your shoulder, flashing you a beaming smile. "Don't worry, attraction is a normal thing. Don't feel ashamed of it." He reassures you, fondly. "This Jungkook… he must be special. After all that happened you pushed away everyone, and I get it… but you're letting him stay. It's a nice thing." Hoseok's voice is soft, it melts away the icy cold that was surrounding your heart. "And whatever might happen between you two… you don't have to tell anyone. Just go for it!"

The left corner of your mouth pulls up for his suggestion, eyes fixed on the burgundy liquid in the glass. You take a sip of it, swiping away the bitterness in the back of your throat. 

"You, instead?" You change topic, feeling tears pricking at the corner of your liquid eyes. 

Hoseok pauses, serious. Then, his lips unfurl in a sweet smile. "I met a girl." He lowers his head, awkward. "We go out from time to time. Ahm, she… she works as a make-up artist in my company and we got closer during the tour." He chews on his bottom lip, hands trembling on his lap. "When we sleep together, she whispers my name. It's… nice. I never felt like this." Hoseok's stare, shining wet, engulfs into yours. "I've never understood Namjoon, when he told me that you were the right one. That you were, you know, the human made for him. But now I get it…" he lets out a sigh, like this confession was weighing on his chest for all this time. "I… fear it might end."

You open your mouth to express your joy, but not a sound escapes. Words are withered flowers resting in the back of your throat. You set your eyes on a picture of Namjoon situated on a shelf, feeling your heart plummeting in your chest (beats skip on his smile, on his dimples, on his young features -on this half a year of absence). 

The area around your eyes swell up, tears shine bright in your eyes.

Hoseok reaches for your hand, snapping you back down to reality. His thumb brushes on your wedding ring, he pulls you closer to wrap you in a soft embrace (the same he used to give you when homesickness hit you, back in college; the same he gave you amidst all those people wearing a balck suit and grief). "I should come to visit him," he says, displaying for the first time the very first emotion of sorrow in his trembling voice. "I haven't come since that day."

Teeth clamp the bottom lip to keep tears at bay. "You should. You'd make him happy."

The nocturnal landscape outside the window train unfolds in a flash of blinding lights immersed in the darkness, you take in the sight of every bit of it, aware that you won't see this magical view for a very long time. 

In your inbox, your Kakao-chat with Seokjin closes with a pair of angry emoji because you rejected his request to come to pick you up at the station ("It's late, it's dangerous. Unless you already asked for it to the new boy, then it's ok 😡😡"). In your Instagram chat, Jungkook sent you a text a few hours ago -the first message since you've started hanging out ("Hello, Noona. Are you having fun?" You said yes, and asked him if he had fun. "I did. But not like the other days. Something was missing").

Your phone vibrates, Yoongi just sent you a selfie of him and Moonie, both sprawled on the sofa: 

[Yoongi-chi - 11:03 PM] Btw, he was mopey all day A lost, sad puppy

[You - 11:03 PM] I know :( It's the first time I leave Moonie alone for so long I feel awful 

[Yoongi-chi - 11:05 PM] Moonie is fine I was talking about the new boy :)

[Yoongi-chi 11:05 PM] Guess a good blowjob will make him happy again :D 

 Anxiety wraps around every fiber of your being like ivy, muscles tensing. Just your heart lays untouched in its cage of bones. It thumps feverishly, calling Jungkook's name in a series of beats out of tune. 

It hasn't happened in a while.

You're scared.

“When we held hands it felt different. The warmth washed away all my worries”

  You’ve always looked forward to the harvest festival like a little child waiting for Christmas day, hands itching to grab a present and unpack it at the speed of light. 

However, Namjoon's absence took a toll on your excitement, dissipating the summer magic that was wrapping this event: it's just a celebration like the many you've witnessed during your past trips in other cities or countries; there's nothing special in those stands, in the laughter and loud chattering plaguing the atmosphere; in the music seeping through the noise; in the screams of children; in the feeble, reddish lights of lanterns bathing the streets. 

It's like… It feels like Namjoon took all the beauty of your world with himself, when he left. 

And yet…

You turn to your right, captured by Jungkook’s chuckle (dealing with the shivers spreading from your skull to your toes). Standing beside you, he's busy watching the puppet show that you know like the back of your hand by now, resembling one of the many children sitting on the ground, carefully following the development of the plot. He's holding a cotton candy stick, from time to time his free hand runs to grab a small piece of thin, pink fluffy filament and pulls it in his mouth with a couple of fingers, sucking them in the process to get rid of the sticky substance.  

You study the way his lips curl around his thumb; the way his brows snap together when he really enjoys his food; the shiny sparkle of his lip piercing when the light hits it just right. 

You shouldn’t be here with him…

You shouldn't be here...

A sensation of discomfort sets itself in your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You shouldn't be here, having fun. It's… wrong. But a part of you (the smallest, but the most tired one) begs you to cut yourself some slack and stop overthinking for the slightest second. It begs you to listen to Hoseok reassuring words, which accompanied you throughout these days, and to just enjoy the moment, and take notice of all the beauty you'd lose if you had decided to spend your night at home -on your own. 

To take notice of Jungkook and how handsome he is when happiness cocoons him. 

When Jungkook laughs, you feel like the word beauty takes a brand-new meaning: his nose scrunches up on the tip and the bridge of his nose lifts itself up imperceptibly; his mouth opens wide to reveal his front teeth that make him look like a little bunny; his eyes crinkle in the corner, and the puffy area under them swell up into two soft pads that has your fingertips itching to prod them. 

All of a sudden, Jungkook turns to you, probably feeling your stare boring through his skin. His bottom lip, jutting out, is shining wet for the saliva and sugary cotton; he runs the tip of his tongue on it to clean his mouth, and a small smile unfurls, slowly swiping away the confusion that was dancing across his features up to now.

(It's the same smile he delivered you after proposing you to accompany him to the festival with him, a couple of days ago. His face shone bright in the sunlight above your heads, the sound of the river filled your silence. And the surprising fact is that… you didn’t hesitate to accept. He asked you to go together, and a genuine: "Yes, sure" immediately tumbled off your tongue, pumped up by your throbbing heart). 

“Do you want some?” he questions, shaking the stick to the sides. 

Snapping back down to reality, you shake your head, feeling a vibrant flush spreading from your neck to your cheekbones for being caught staring. Still with his eyes caressing your side-profile, you go back to watching the puppet show, without really taking notice of what's happening on the small stage. You focus your attention on the two gold-fishes peacefully swimming in the plastic bag you're holding tight (Jungkook won them for you. He called them (Y/N) and Kookoo. You should be scared he called them after your names, but your just heart made an annoying fluttering thing in your chest before his toothy smile), then you stare at the various children sitting on the ground, recognising some of your (ex) little students, who make sure to wave at you enthusiastically whenever you meet their bright eyes.

Nostalgia tugs at corners of your mouth and cascades down to your chest when you think that you won't hear their jokes and laughters and voices anymore, when the new school year will begin. 

Jungkook chuckles again, tilting his head back to swallow down a big chunk of cotton candy. 

You wonder if nostalgia will hit you with such an electric intensity when he won't be here anymore, too… 

“It’s nice…” Jungkook suddenly comments, sucking on his thumb. He prods the tip of his tongue on his side teeth, taking a look around. "It's been a really long time since I've been to a village fete."

You watch the curtains of the small stage close down, probably to get ready for the next show. "There were a lot of them where you live?" You raise your voice a bit for the loud applause lingering in the air. 

"Not many, no. But I used to go to all of them with my friends." He rubs his hand on his side before laying it gently on your small back, guiding you out of the crowd as you brush past the people gathered behind the children. "At first, I just wanted to play in all the stalls. You know, my favorite is the throwing-hoops. I won - won so many plushies. As I grew up, it became a good way to pick up girls—I mean, it's not like I played that game for that. But it was a good way to get noticed and they were so cute and smelled so nicely and - and—God, it sounds so terrible? It's just that they had this nice smell and I—hey!" Jungkook’s bottom lip juts out when you burst out laughing in the middle of his recount, interrupting him. However, the expression of disappointment across his features liquefies into something more serious as he observes the scale of your neck while you tilt your head back, hand running to cover your mouth.

You turn to him, ready to apologize, but the way he’s contemplating you, like you were some sort of work of art with a beating heart and blood… it sets your guts fully alight.

You moisten your lips, noticing his stare is now enraptured by the area around your mouth. “What?” you manage to ask, unable to erase the wobble in your voice. 

You’re scared about his reaction, about the eventual answer he might give you, because Jungkook is just like a child, sometimes: he's brutally honest, in a way that makes you feel self-conscious about yourself. 

His eyes crinkle in the corner (and your heart skips a couple of beats). “You’re beautiful when you laugh like this,” he says, delicate, as if you were a flower at the mercy of the hail. A light pink shade colors his cheeks, but his smile doesn't flip off his face. “It’s a pity you don’t often laugh,” he then comments, with a low voice, studying the expression of surprise dawning on your face.

You avert his stare for a brief moment, exhaling a giggle. "Oh, c'mon, that's not true. I laugh a lot.” You move to the side to not smash against a group of guys, you accidentally bump into Jungkook's side (he doesn't inch away). 

“No, you don’t," he replies, peacefully. "And when you do, dunno, something is… off. But when you laugh like this, like you feel it… it's a nice view." He swallows thickly, scratching his temple while casually staring at a stand full of typical products and jams of the area. 

You part your lips but not a single sound escapes from them. There's a scorching earthquake that shakes you from the inside, impending you to fully focus on a proper answer. You feel… naked. It feels like Jungkook carefully observed you for all this time, mentally listing every tiny detail or gesture that crafts you in the person you are. His capacity to see past all the shields you've put around you frightens you because, to you, Jungkook is still a stranger. Sure, he spilled some tales and recounts about himself, but it's still not enough to label him as a "friend" or to assure you that you've stepped over the "acquaintance" line… 

You know that he's waiting for a follow-up that doesn't come -you can read it in the expectation floating in his eyes. But the only thing you can give him in return is a small smile, which will never compare to the heartwarming words he shared with you.

The pair of you go back to wander through the streets adorned with lanterns, paying attention to not bump into the people coming from the opposite direction. None of you seems intentioned to start a conversation, attention drifted to the stalls at your sides. You wonder if Jungkook is annoyed for the moment you shared a few minutes ago, considering you voluntarily made your bubble of intimacy explode -just like you always do when you smell the first sprout of emotion. 

"You… ahm, did you want to come - come here with your friends, by chance?" His voice quivers a little, like he feared you might agree to this option. His wide eyes shake before your frown. "I told you to come with me, but I didn't think you probably had plans with them already."

Your only plan was to spend your night at home, on your own. Seokjin is probably fucking with his girlfriend (the second in four months), Yoongi is probably writing songs that no ear will ever listen to (because the only ears he cares about are too far away).

He nibs at the cotton candy, munching slowly. "I don't want to cause you troubles, (Y/N)." Your name wafts over you like a distant melody, waking you up from your numbness (you like the way your name sounds on his lips). 

 You liked the way your name sounded on Namjoon's lips...

"You… you aren't," you say, vaguely. "Why would you think that?" 

He scrunches his nose. "People keep looking at us like we were some weird aliens.” 

Oh, that… 

“Oh, that… yes… I mean, no! No, no, you aren’t a problem!” Your stomach twirls for his big eyes now veiled with disappointment, teeth clamping at his bottom lip in a nervous gesture. You rack your brain frantically to search for a good way to reassure him. "You know, they’re still curious about you. And I believe they think you’re probably trying to swindle me, or you're trying to kidnap me due to your gang." You let out a chuckle, amused by the myriads of stories still circulating around him. "But… it's probably me, the problem." 

Because you're wearing a nice, short summer dress -after years of hoodies and tracksuits and old sweaters and worn-out jeans (the dress that Joonie bought you just because you said how much you liked it).  Because you've put some make-up on -after years spent without even trying to hide your exhaustion or sadness. Because you're spending your time with a new guy -after spending all your time only with Yoongi and Seokjin, the only people who fully comprehend the weight of the sorrow you're carrying with you. Because you got your ears pierced again, a few days ago, and now a pair of gold hoops are shining on your earlobes. Because—

"Because I stopped coming to the festival since my husband has been gone." You give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. "That's why they're curious. Don't mind them…"

He frowns. “Why?”

Because Namjoon loves it. Because Namjoon is here, in every corner. Namjoon floats in the laughter plaguing the atmosphere. Namjoon is the music that lingers in the air. Namjoon is in the bookstalls, in the typical smell of paper that he adores to the core. Namjoon is in the lanterns lighting up the city. Namjoon is in every second of this event, and you feel smothering. 

That's why you stopped coming here. Because you're still here, enjoying this moment. But Namjoon isn't...

"I thought you liked it," he adds, overwhelmed by your sudden mutism. "You talked so much about this festival, I was looking forward to it." 

"I do, it's just…" your fingers twiddle with your wedding ring. You catch a breath, tears pricking at the corners of your shiny eyes. “It’s complicated…”

Jungkook pauses. Then, “I know… you always tell me." There's no trace of annoyance in his delicate voice, but still you can catch a veil of sadness that tugs at your heart. 

Oh, God… how much you'd love to confess to him all the things running through your head and chest; how much you crave to show every facet of your true self, without any fear to crumble like sand slipping through his fingers; how much you'd love to be able to include Jeon Jungkook in your life (but you can't).

Your fingers flicker in the air even if your brain didn't send any impulse to your limbs, like a force was pulling them. They scrape the thin veil of air between you two and rest on his bicep (you try to ignore the flex of his muscle, but you know your brain is registering this detail for later) in a feather-like grip -firm enough to make him stiffen, though. You sink in his wide eyes full of astonishment, aware that you've never indulged too much into physical contact, and you expect him to rotate his arm to shove you away… instead, he stays still, relaxing in your touch each passing second. 

His stare lingers on your hand, only to flicker up to your face, softly.

You don't know why you did it. You used to do it with Joonie when he felt down and-and Jungkook isn't your husband, though. You can act like this, in a blind belief that he'll accept your demeanor just because Namjoom accepts it. You can't, it's not right, it's—!

Your heart lurches in your chest. You observe Jungkook's fingers laying on your own -they're a bit sticky for the cotton candy. He presses them on his bicep more instead of pulling you away. And then, he darts you this… comforting stare, silently telling you that everything is fine. 

And you feel lighter…

Like Jungkook's happiness and quietness were a good reason to go back to breathing… 

You notice his lips parting, like he was on the cusp of telling you something; but whatever he was about to say rolls back down in his throat when he takes notice of a stall, behind your back: it's the throwing-hoops stand, adorned by a myriad of plushies of various dimensions hung all around it. 

You give him a tender stare, contemplating the thousands of sparks shining bright in his eyes. They remind you of the starry sky above your heads when you stargaze in the backyard of your house, Bam and Moonie napping close to you. "Want to try?"

He sinks back down to earth, observing the long queue across the stand. "N-no, don't worry. Too many people, don't want you to waste time waiting." 

You shrug, clamping your hands behind your back. "It's ok. There's a bookstall I'd like to see, I can wait for you there." You grin before his skeptic glance. "You said you were good at it. Or should I think it was just a way to impress me?"

“Well… sort of—no! N-no, no, I'm good at it, but I - I'm out of shape, mh." He swallows, shoves back his mint hairs with both hands. "Is - is there something you like?"

You look at the toys, unfazed. "Not particularly. Anything is ok as long as you win it." You didn't mean to sound so flirty, you were just trying to keep a light-hearted conversation to spare him the embarrassment. But Jungkook suddenly straightens his postures, inhales sharply through his nose while his chest swells up. "It's ok even if you come back empty-handed, of course."

He snorts a laugh, smirking. "I'll win for you the biggest plush they have." He tilts his head to both sides to crack his bones before raising his thumb up. He nears the people gathered around the stand, waiting in line. 

You stare at him, unbothered by the quick glances people throw at him for the arabesque of tattoos coloring his right arm. 

You go in the opposite direction, approaching the bookstall you noticed a while ago. You start studying the various titles and covers piled up a bit messily, searching for all those novels that Namjoon often mentioned in his recounts. You want to try them, seeing if they're as interesting as he used to say. 

Caught up in your own thoughts, while moving a bit to the side to pick up a book, you accidentally bump against the person situated beside you. 

"Ah, so sorry," you apologize, hand running to your opposite arm to scratch it a little. You're about to go back to minding your own business when your brain suddenly registers who the girl next to you actually is. "Oh, you—" your eyes grow a little, corners of your mouth pulling up a little. "Hajoon, hello."

She was an old student of Namjoon. You don't remember much about her, aside from her name and that she moved out of town last year to study at university. 

“Ms (Y/N), hi.” Hajoon bows a little. She delivers you the usual stare that the majority of people here dart to you -as if you were only Namjoon's wife, and not (Y/N).

You're about to question her about her life, the usual small talks you usually have whenever you bump into Namjoon's old students only to not deal with uncomfortable questions they could ask you. However, words falter and die in the back of your throat when you take notice of the swelling womb under her t-shirt. 

Oh…

Shee must've read something in your wide stare lingering on her belly, because she exhales a light giggle. "It's already four months," she states, lovingly, casting a glance down below. She doesn't seem mad about you gawking at her, she must be used to the curious glances people inevitably throw to pregnant women. "I still don't know the sex, we prefer keeping it as a surprise."

"Oh, that's…"

That's great. It's really great. Why can't you vocalize it? It's great… That's great. It's—

"Great," you manage to say, feeling a stabbing pain in your chest, close to where your heart rests. You shake your head, trying to recollect your thoughts. "Ahm, I didn't want to stare, it's just—"

She's young. She's younger than you when you met Namjoon. She's around the age you were when you left your hometown.  And she's already pregnant. While you and Namjoon… it's just—

"You're so young. I remember when you used to greet Namjoon outside school."

She chuckles, hands rubbing the womb. "Yeah… I admit we didn't search for it. But it happened, and we're so happy." Her eyes crinkle in the corner, she reads something in curiosity crossing your face. "It's Sungho. I thought it'd end after graduating, but we were able to work things out. He's still in Daegu, he couldn't take a few days off from his job, unfortunately." Hajoon nods. "We'd like to get married, someday."

You recognize that stare, the same you had when Namjoon was just a friend and you were too much of a coward to confess your feelings. When seeing him from afar was safe, and picturing your life together was a source of comfort during the hard times. When talking about marriage was as easy as breathing. When you were talking about children, wondering what kind of parents you two might have been. It's the same you had when Namjoon looked at you, catching you staring, and you couldn't help but think that everything made sense just because he existed and he was yours. 

The same you had when you were living with the man you loved and despite the imperfections and obstacles, life was perfect…

Hajoon speaks and you try to focus on the conversation, barging in with a comment or two to not appear rude. Hajoon speaks, but your mind is a million miles away from her and her joy. 

What are you doing here…

You should be at home. You should be taking care of Moonie. You… shouldn't be here… wearing a summer dress, putting your make-up on… 

What are you doing here?

"Well, it was nice to see you again, Ms (Y/N). And, well…" she delivers you that smile -to silently let you know that she feels sorry for you, but it's now too late to say it out loud. Because it's in the past, it's gone, everyone moved on… 

You try an attempt at a smile, glad that your conversation has come to an end, but as soon as she steps away, your features stiffen. You feel wrapped into a bubble. Sounds are muffled outside, confused…

"The weather is nice today. Guess I'll go for a bike ride. Are you in?" Namjoon searches for a clean shirt. Sun shines on his tanned skin like diamonds...

You fold yourself into a warm embrace, feeling the shivers running down your spine. You're cold. You squeeze your eyes shut. You see the sun filtering through the windows, bathing your bed. Namjoon's side is empty, wrinkles on his portion...

"No, I prefer staying here."

"Thought you'd love to come with me. It's been a while since we've been together…" Namjoon cleans his glasses. Namjoon takes off his sweatpants. Namjoon throws them on the chair, they fall on the ground...

You try to catch a breath, but air sticks in your throat. You can't pull it down. You feel smothering. You shake your head, but Namjoon is still there. He's taking off his tank top, his muscles flexing for the motion.  

"Ngh, I thought I could spend some time at home. And I've to run some errands. Can't we go another day?"

"Or you can do them another day." Namjoon chuckles...

Your heart is pounding, uncontrollably. You feel like the ground beneath your feet is crumbling, sucking in you in. You squeeze your eyes. Tears prickle at the corners. Namjoon is still here. Namjoon chuckles at something you said. Namjoon rests a knee on the mattress and stretches toward you. Namjoon places a kiss on your forehead...

"You sure you don't want to come with me?

Namjoon delivers you one last smile, eyes two sweet half moons. His hands are tight around the handlebars. His: "I love you" wafts over you softly. You wave at him. You'll tell him you love him when he'll be back... 

"(Y/N)!"

Someone calls you. There's a sigh on the other side of the phone. Jin's voice is quivering. You don't understand anything he's saying. Words blend with tears and sighs and gulps…

"(Y/N)! Look? I won! Well, I know the plush is small and - and, well, I actually won a bigger one. But a child was crying and I - I gave it to her..."

There's blood in the air. And the sickening smell of brakes on the asphalt. You try to catch a breath, but you can't. You feel smothering.

"But this one is cute, too. And I thought—(Y/N), you ok?"

You feel like fainting. You rest your hands on your bent knees. Cold shivers run to your toes. Sweat sticks on your forehead, a drop glides down on your temple…

"(Y/N)... You ok?" Jungkook gently touches you on the shoulder and you flinch, gazing back at him. His shape is blurry beyond the liquid sparks in your eyes. You try to call him but your voice doesn't come out. "What—don't you feel well?"

"I—" you gasp for air. You can't breathe. "Want to—" you exhale some air but it sticks in your throat. You cough. "Away…"

You don't know what you've just blurted out. Your voice is slurry, a mess between stuttered breaths. 

Jungkook spares you one last glance before grabbing your hand into his own, gently guiding you far away from the crowd (were they staring at you? You don't know. You don't care. You can't register what's happening around you). He speeds up the pace, looking around to search for a quiet place. It takes him a couple of minutes to find a little frequented area, distant from the frenzy of the festival. 

"Keep breathing…" Jungkook says, soothing voice. He maneuvers you to sit down on a bench. He crouches down, guiding you to follow his instructions. "Here… keep breathing, like this." He takes a deep breath in, letting it out to help you in this simple task that feels insurmountable. "You're safe here, (Y/N), keep breathing… like this, you're doing great..."

You hunch over, resting your forehead on your lap. Heat wraps your face, cold sweat drops glide down your temples. You keep breathing, following Jungkook's calm voice. It slowly pulls you out from the abyss you were sinking into. 

"Do you need anything? Some water?" He asks, you shake your head. "Do you want something sweet?" You shake your head. "Do you want to stay alone?" You shake your head, again. 

You hear him move, and in a brief moment of mental quietness you wonder if he's going to leave you here. But, imperceptibly, his fingers lay upon the back of your hands. "Is it ok?" You nod, breathing in. He pauses. "This is the moment I should take off my - my jacket and put it around your shoulders. But - but I don't have it." A note of playfulness makes a little giggle sprout in your throat, you exhale some air, then breathe in again. "I can take off my shirt, if you want." 

You snort a chuckle. You lift your head up a little, Jungkook delivers you a wary glance. "I think… that if you'd show your pecs, maybe people would stop badmouthing you." You try an attempt at a joke, aware that you aren't crossing a brilliant moment, right now. 

But Jungkook doesn't care. Jungkook bursts out laughing, whole face scrunching up. He moistens his lip, eyes crinkling in the corner. His thumb brushes on the back of your hand. He doesn't let you go even if you stopped trembling a few minutes ago.

"What do you want to do, (Y/N)?"

Jungkook is here. 

(Namjoon isn't.)

His thumb caresses your palm. You want to go home. 

"I want to go home."

  The cheerfulness of the festival plaguing the atmosphere lingers in your neighborhood, despite the city center being a ten minutes walk from your house. 

Sat on the veranda on the backyard of your place, you gaze at the myriad of stars scattered on the veil of darkness cloaking the town. You let out a sigh and close your eyelids, resting your heavy head against the wall.

God… you feel so embarrassed…

Having a mental breakdown in the middle of a festival, amidst all those people (people who know you)... It's true that you can't control your reactions, but you always feel so stupid and tired, in the aftermath.

"Hey, fish..." 

You crack your eyes open, head turning toward Jungkook. He is still here. You thought he'd go back to the festival, after accompanying you at home; you thought he'd greet you… and he wouldn't show up anymore. I mean… you must have embarrassed him. This is the first time you're crumbling in front of him -in front of people who aren't Jin or Yoongi. You thought Jungkook would leave you for good…

Instead, he stayed…

He guided you to the sofa, helping you to lay down. He fixed the cushion under your head, gently washed away the sweat on your forehead with a napkin. He made you a warm tea. He stayed when you took a ten minutes nap. 

"I… I'm sorry," you start, weakly. Jungkook doesn't turn to you. You moisten your lips, exhaling a sigh to control the tears shining in your eyes. "Thanks, though. For helping me, earlier."

Jungkook nods, putting himself into a stretched position. He tilts his head to both sides to crack the bones in his neck, casting a glance upon the bowl containing the two gold-fishes. "How long have you been suffering from panic attacks?" He asks, cautiously.

For a while. Since Namjoon's been gone...

"Half a year…" You stiffen. You don't like to talk about it. "How did you—"

"Jimin." He interrupts, softly. "They started when he was little, in middle school. I learned to recognise the symptoms." He smiles, bending over the bowl. "He's doing a lot better now, though." He now gazes at you, hesitant. "You… you feel better, mh?"

You nod, catching a trembling glint in his eyes. "I ruined the night, I'm sorry..." 

In the past weeks, you learned a little about Jungkook, so you expect him to reassure you. You expect him to give you a beaming smile to make you feel less bad about yourself. You expect him to do… something. Because he is gentle, ready to help others…

But the corners of his mouth pull up imperceptibly before going back to concentrating on the fishes, a gesture that punches the breath out of your body.

You ruined everything. Not only this night. Everything (whatever this everything might be). 

You know it. The acquaintance the pair of you are nurturing day by day shattered somewhere, in a place so distant you can't easily reach to patch it up with a stitch of two. 

After all, Jungkook is just a boy. 

He doesn't know what it means to love someone with deep passion and end up on your own, carrying on your shoulders a tons of projects you'll never be able to fulfill because they seem perfect only with the person who left you behind. Maybe… Jungkook is getting tired to spend-waste his time with a woman who has more sad days than happy ones -actually, he's probably regretting the day he decided to let your lives intertwine. 

You hope he is...

"I'm sorry," you start, feebly. Jungkook doesn't look at you. "I really am. You should… you should be having fun at the festival. You could meet many guys your age." You bend your legs close to your chest, circling them with your arms. "You'd have much more fun there," you mumble, resting your chin on your knees.

Jungkook taps a finger on the bowl, the fishes dash away. "It's ok. I'm having fun here, too."

You turn to him, cheek adhering to your knees. Through your lashes, Jungkook looks like a disappointed kid who can't catch the attention of the two gold fishes swimming in a circle; deep inside your heart, you're aware that it's you, the main cause of his disappointment.

"Fireworks are about to start," you continue, ignoring his previous statement. Jungkook inhales sharply through his nose. "If you go now, you're still on time—"

"I said it's ok," he interrupts, pouty, "It's ok. I want to stay here, with you." Words fly out in a whispered hush, graze your spine in shivers. "I'm having fun with you, (Y/N). It's just…" he straightens himself, his hands flickering in the air. "I'd like to do more. You don't seem happy… never." His stare now trails to you, but there's no trace of boredom or annoyance in his doe eyes; the only visible crack is sadness, and it pinches your sense of guilt. "Are you happy, (Y/N)?"

You don't know if he's referring to the moments you've shared up to now, or in general. Whatever it is, you don't reply.

In all honesty, you aren't. For a very long time now. But… you sometimes are. There are little, quick-whispered moments in which your brain forgets about Namjoon and life seems a wonderful journey to discover again: when Jin spills one of his awful jokes, exhaling his windshield laugh; when he bumps into your house without warning, bringing a dish he personally cooked for you. When Yoongi delivers you his gummy smile; when his face heats up because his mother called him "Yoongi-chi" in front of you. When Hoseok calls you only to make sure that you're doing fine; when he sends you souvenirs from all the places he's visiting. When Yoongi and Jin's mothers invite you to have some tea with them. When Jungkook… is here. 

Jungkook, waiting for you on the other side of the street, throwing rocks to entertain Bam. Jungkook, inviting you to have a walk together. Jungkook, showing up at your place with cans of beer and the proposal of a movie night made of trashy Z-movie. Jungkook, sitting on your sofa while watching cartoons and commenting out loud, Bam and Moon resting their muzzles on his thighs. Jungkook, letting out his airy laughter. Jungkook, bending down while drawing random sketches in his notebook. 

Jungkook… just him.

"I am. Sometimes…" you manage to say, still affected by your own thoughts revolving around the boy. 

"But you were more with your husband." It's not a question, the next comment tumbling off his mouth. You stiffen. It's like Jungkook immediately caught the reason behind the perpetual winter that's conditioning your life. "Would you be happier if he came back?" He hesitates, almost scared about the consequences his words might trigger. "If you miss him so much, you should tell him. Maybe you can solve things and he'll be back." A light grimace crosses his face, but he goes back to scrutinizing the fishes before you could actually notice it. 

"It's complicated." You brush your thumb on your wedding ring. "I feel like I'm suffocating when I miss him."

"What do you miss the most?"

The question is easy; the answer should be even more. His smile accompanied by two adorable dimples; his low voice; his chuckle; his hand resting upon your forehead when you used to use his lap as a pillow while he was reading; the passion dancing along his voice when he explained to you topics he loved; his: "I love you" blurted out when you least expected it, breathed out like they never weighed upon his heart...

"Small things. Things I only knew," you say, instead. Your heart quivers, he's the first you're revealing this. "Like… he couldn't dance well. But he always used to pull me into an awkward dance party while we were cooking. He was so clumsy. I lost count of how many things he broke because he accidentally hit them." You let out a chuckle, Jungkook gives you a little smile. "Or when he used to talk to his bonsai every morning. He treated them with so much care, like they were his little children." You swallow, the way his fingers used to caress the tiny leaves appear in the back of your mind. "Or… ahm, he used… since we've started dating, he used to dedicate small poems to me every day. He wrote it on napkins, ripped pieces of paper, sticky notes… I stored them all in a diary." Flush spreads to the tip of your ears, sweetness is dripping in your chest, washing away your sadness. "I haven't read them since he's been gone, but I remember each one of them by heart." Your shaky stare engulfs into his own, dark and intense. "I know that anyone can do these things—"

"But they're special because he was the one doing them," he completes the sentence for you, corners of his mouth quirking up. "I know what you mean." His eyes crinkle in the corners, then he turns toward the fishes. 

You stare at him. You'd love to open his skull and catch his train of thoughts -because it really feels like he knows what he's talking about. "Have you ever loved someone like this?"

Jungkook scratches his nape. "Don't know if it's love. But… lately, I think about all the things I love doing alone, and… dunno, it would be nice to do them with her." The moonlight kisses half of his face, you'd like to caress the visible portion and swipe away the sadness sprinkled on it. "Is it love, to you?"

"I don't know. Love is different for everyone. And I'm sure, you'll understand it on your own if it's love or not." You go back to watching in front of you. "Like… There were some things I loved to do on my own, and Namjoon too. But my whole life… I could only picture it beside him." 

"And I still do" is left unsaid, but judging from the heavy breath Jungkook just exhaled, he perfectly captured your meaning. It takes him quite a few seconds to stand up, hands brushing on the jeans to clean them. He's about to go away. You aren't surprised at all. He's probably tired of staying here, listening to the words of a woman who can't let go of her husband's memory. 

You stare at the garden, the moonlight kissing the plants and flowers. It's interesting this evolution, considering that Jungkook claimed more than once about his incapacity to let his past relationships grow in something deeper; you'd like to tell him that he's just to give himself time and be patient, that someday he'll meet a person and all the pieces will go to their right places on their own. That he's an incredible boy, and you're sure that the person he'll love with a passion of a thousand suns will be the luckiest soul on Earth—!

The screeching sound of footsocks pressing on the wood sends shivers down your spine, all your whirling thoughts sinking into oblivion. Cold wraps around your bones. You're used to people coming and going. Jungkook isn't different from all the men who came after Namjoon. Jungkook is…

Jungkook stays. He's standing there, across from you, hands curling around the hem of his t-shirt. He sits down, using his crossed feet like a cushion, fists laying on his lap.

"I envy your husband," he blows out, with an honesty that makes your muscles tense all at once. "You've got such beautiful eyes when you talk about him. Or when you… think of him." He scratches his head. "I wonder if I'll ever find someone who will look at me like this."

"You will."

He hesitates, nose scrunching a little. "And… What if the only person I want to look at me like this will never do it?" His question lingers between the pair of you like a broken melody out of tune, drenched with an awareness that rips your heart apart. 

You shift your stare on his face, scrutinizing the sombre expression dancing across his features. You're about to tell him that he should go. Panic cripples up your heart and you want to tell him to go. To go back to when he was a stranger and you were the only person treating him like he was invisible. To go back to the big city and live his life at his fullest and—!

A sudden whistle pierces through the silence, capturing your attention. You set your eyes up to the sky, watching a thin sparkling line crossing the dark veil before opening in an ocean of reddish sparks with a blow. 

"They started…" you feel guilty. He could've been witnessing them side by side with the other spectators, breathing in the excitement plaguing the atmosphere if you only didn't have a breakdown. "Namjoon loves them so much…"

"I love them too." A small pout tugs at his lips.

"You should turn, then. You're missing a wonderful sight."

"No. I'm not…"

You swallow. Jungkook stretches and you tilt your head back in the slightest, dizzy for his warm breath fanning against your mouth. "I… I'll go away this weekend. I promise a friend I'll spend it with him," he starts, voice dropping two notches deeper and reverberating through your chest. "But I'll be back on Sunday night. So… Monday morning? Same hour?"

Your heart thumps wildly. 

You nod, tears threatening to roll down. The way he's treating your encounters like a promise between you two… it's a supernova explosion of tenderness that makes you all warm inside. You tell yourself that Jungkook is acting like this because you're the only one he knows. You try to keep in mind that he's doing it because it's summer, he wants to have fun. You remind yourself that all of this will be over within two months.

Two months…

Jungkook turns to the side, his cheek brushes for a second against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping you in a feeble embrace. His breath is a nice sound amidst the explosions of the fireworks, the screaming and laughter of kids playing in the street. 

You're touching... happiness. 

You can't get used to this.

[hongcherry]

oh holy lights | kth (m)

“Taehyung has been struggling to find inspiration for his photography assignment, but you help him spark his creativity with the simple act of hanging up Christmas lights.”

🎄 Pairing: boyfriend!Taehyung x girlfriend!Reader(f)

🎄 Rating/Genres: M(18+); Smut, pwp, light fluff, established relationship, college au

🎄 Word Count: 4.9k

🎄 Warnings: Bondage, (adult) pornography, light breast play, hickies/markings, dirty talk, sir kink, oral (m receiving), one gag, fingering, unprotected sex (oc on pill; stay safe), creampie

🎄 Project: Part of the 12 Days of BTS event

Prompt: Kinkmas

🎄 Beta: My friend, Panda, is back again with those quick beta edits! Thank you so much for helping me even though you were sleepy! You’re always there for me and I’m very grateful for that. <3 And thank you for the amazing title teheheheh

🎄 Author’s Note: Ta-da! That’s it for the 12 Days of BTS event! At least, the writing portion anyway hehe. I’ll be reviewing two fics on my reading blog to fully complete the project. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with any of my 12DOB fics. They were quick turnarounds since I didn’t have as much time as I anticipated to write (darn classes), but I hope they were fun to read! I've had this idea for a fic for a long time, but I never wrote it. I'm glad I was able to. I hope you all enjoy it.

Happy holidays to everyone and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it! I hope you all have a great day. Stay safe! ^-^

12 Days of BTS masterpost | main masterlist

“This doesn’t look right,” Taehyung huffed, leaning back into his chair as he stared at the photos scattered across his screen. He titled his head as if the new angle would give him a eureka moment. It did not.

“I’m sure they look fine!” you encouraged from the other room. You were standing on a chair as you strung lights along the curtain railing.

Taehyung had been scrolling through the photos he took a few hours ago outside. He had decided to take a winter course in advanced photography because the selected course would only be offered during this time. He had been wanting to take it for a while, but it was never available.

“You’re not even looking at them,” he argued and brought his hands to his face. He rubbed them against his temples. The stress was biting at his bones and making him frustrated. This was his third time going out and taking photos this week; but for some reason, everything he captured didn’t resonate with him. It should’ve been easy. The theme for this assignment was the holidays. Everything around him screamed the holidays, yet he wasn’t proud of anything he photographed.

“I don’t need to,” you replied. You cautiously went on your tip-toes on the chair, hoping you didn’t lose your balance. You were doing good so far. “Your work is always amazing, babe.”

“You have to say that. You’re dating me,” Taehyung sighed, not believing your compliment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. The assignment was due in four days and he had nothing to show. Plus, he still had to edit them, which consumed extra hours of his life.

“Do not! I’d tell you if I thought they were shit.” You paused in reaching out to attach the strand to the pole as you processed what you just said Quickly, you added, “Nicely, of course.”

Taehyung didn’t reply, but it didn’t bother you. You figured he was just thinking of what to do and not ignoring you.

You smiled triumphantly when you successfully fasted part of the light strand. You were almost done with lining the curtain railing, however, you came across an obstacle. This side of the curtain was out of your reach and there was no room to move your chair closer. You could stand on the couch since it was in front of the curtain, though the side table was in the way still. Moving the table would give your chair room, but frankly, you were too lazy to deal with that. Looks like it was time to phone a (boy)friend.

“Babe?” you called out. Since he has yet to put in his fair share of decorating, you felt now was his time to do so anyway.

“Yeah?” You heard him reply faintly. His tone was dull and your heart crumbled from how much he was struggling.

Taehyung wasn’t a perfectionist. He wanted his work to be top-notch, but he was never obsessed with making every little detail flawless. He saw the flaws as artistic, always enjoying the abstract parts of his work. Regardless of this, he still wanted to be proud of what he produced. He never wanted to showcase art that he wasn’t 110% happy with. You wished you could help him more. Earlier this week, you had suggested places that had pretty holiday decorations, which he went to, but he never came back satisfied.

“Can you come help me for a second? I need your long arms,” you answered and waited on the chair for his arrival.

After some shuffling, he appeared around the corner. Your lips instantly quirked upward at the sight of his fluffy hair.

Taehyung peered up at you and noticed you were standing on a chair with the end of a light strand in your palms. Even if he was under pressure from his class, he still smiled at how adorable you looked. You had on the tan, fuzzy hoodie he had bought you a few months ago paired with black spandex shorts. The hoodie had small ears on the hood—mimicking one of his favorite animals.

“Can you attach this part of the strand to the railing? I can’t reach it,” you asked, gesturing to the part of the pole you were talking about. Taehyung nodded and climbed onto the couch. He placed one foot on the couch’s armrest and took the lights from you. You climbed from the chair to spot him; your hand hovering near his waist in case he fell.

“More to the left please,” you instructed.

“Here?” he questioned, holding the strand against the railing.

“Perfect!” you exclaimed with a grin before he secured it in place.

“It looks great!” you added once he was done. He climbed off the couch and walked to the light switch, turning off the lights while you hastily grabbed the end of the strand to plug it in. Taehyung took a couple of steps back to view your work in all its glory.

You stood under the lights as you craned your neck to see them. Taehyung tilted his head as he trailed his eyes over your figure. It was lit by the lights above you, shining red and green hues over your body. Taehyung watched as you adjusted a few bulbs after climbing on the chair again.

“Does it look good from there?” you asked your boyfriend and peered over your shoulder at him.

In reality, Taehyung had not been analyzing your decorations. He was too enthralled with how your body was illuminated by the lights above. Something about the way you were slightly visible despite the dark room seemed to have sparked something in his mind.

He hurried to retrieve his camera, turning it on and adjusting the settings as he trekked back to the living room. You had moved the chair back to the dining room and were sitting on the couch admiring the lights when he returned.

“Do me a favor, bear?” Taehyung asked softly, calling you by the nickname he had given to you after gifting you the tan hoodie you were wearing.

“What is it?” you wondered as you turned your attention to him. You noticed the camera and gave him a puzzling look.

“Can you stand in front of the curtains again?”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled and stood in front of them, not needing an explanation as to why since you were used to his sudden sparks of ideas by now.

Taehyung had always enjoyed taking photos of you and you never minded. In fact, if it weren’t for a friend who couldn’t make it to one of his shoots, you wouldn’t have ever met him. Your friend had called you the night before. They had come down with a cold and wouldn’t be able to help Taehyung with his photoshoot for an assignment. You had nothing to do that Saturday, so you took their place. You were indifferent about being in front of the camera—didn’t have a preference whether you were the model or assisting behind the scenes.

Despite being nervous meeting Taehyung for the first time at his photo shoot, he had made you feel comfortable. It was hard not to smile when you heard his deep laugh. It was contagious—just like his boxy smile he flashed you frequently.

Taehyung had offered you multiple chances to help with his assignments after that. It was usually in front of the camera, but he had also asked for advice when he was editing too. His hard work and bubbly personality were difficult to resist. Not to mention, he was definitely the most handsome man you have ever encountered before.

“Move a little forward please,” he instructed. He played with the settings again before bringing the camera to his eye. You smiled when he shut one eye to see better. You struck a silly pose, flashing him a charming smile and a peace sign.

He took a photo then checked how it turned out on the camera’s screen. After adjusting the settings once more, he took another one.

“Do we have any more strands of lights?” Taehyung asked and glanced around the room. There was a big storage box to his right and he went over to rummage through it.

“We have plenty left,” you laughed sheepishly, recalling how you may have accidentally gone on a shopping spree the first week of December.

Taehyung unboxed one of the packages of the multi-colored strands. He silently twisted off the wires binding them together, plugged them in, then handed them to you. You glanced down at the lights in your hand and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Pose with them” he chuckled, finding your expression endearing. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started playing music through the speaker in the room. After tossing his phone aside, he lifted his camera to his eye again.

You unraveled the lights and pulled the strand taut between your hands. You angled your arms in a diagonal and peered at the camera—waiting for the camera’s click before adjusting your position.

A couple of minutes had passed with you shifting the strand of lights in various arrangements. Taehyung had started humming to the music as he moved around the room to get multiple views. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling about the photos. It was difficult to see his facial expressions since he didn’t have lights near him.

“How do they look?” you questioned when Taehyung took a break to analyze the photos. You both sat on the couch—the strand of lights abandoned on the floor. You rested your head against his shoulder, watching as he scrolled through the images.

“Better than my other ones,” he murmured.

“You think you can use any of them for your assignment?” You placed a hand on his back, giving it a soothing rub as you tried to ease his stress.

“Maybe,” he said.

“If you still need more shots, I can help you,” you reassured and gave him a smile. Taehyung glanced at you, soft lips dipped in a small frown.

“You’ll get the shot you’re looking for,” you encouraged. “It’ll come to you.”

You leaned forward to press a tender kiss to his lips. When you pulled away and still spotted the frown, you kissed him again.

“Take a break. Maybe it’ll help,” you suggested and nudged his arms down. He hesitated for a moment, glancing between his camera and you.

“Put it down, Tae,” you ordered calmly.

He sighed but complied, setting the camera on the side table and turning back to you. Smiling, you cupped his face with a hand and tangled your other in his long locks.

“You know I’m always here for you, right?” you questioned, rubbing your thumb against his cheek sweetly.

Taehyung nodded; his eyes shifting down to your mouth. His tongue darted out to lick along his bottom lip as he waited for your reply.

“Good,” you said and pecked his lips lightly. “I love you,” you added, lips brushing against his.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled before closing the distance.

The music playing in the room was a slow beat, making the moment more intimate as your lips moved against his to the rhythm of the music. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled your body on his. Your hands fell from his face as you moved them to rest against his chest. Taehyung broke the kiss and flipped you so your back was against the couch and he was between your legs.

His hands slipped beneath your fluffy hoodie to rest on your bare skin. His cold hands had your body jolting in his grasp and a small squeal to come out of you, meriting a deep chuckle from your boyfriend.

His lips pressed against the column of your neck. He nipped at the skin before soothing the area with a lick. You leaned your head to the side to give him more access while your hands gathered at the bottom of his shirt.

While Taehyung was marking up your neck, you were untucking his shirt from his pants. You wasted no time as your hands glided up and down his smooth chest.

Taehyung hummed against your neck at the feeling and raised his own hands higher up your body. His large hands grabbed your bare breasts since you weren’t wearing a bra. He gave them a squeeze, which earned him another noise from you as he finished his work on your neck. Taehyung pulled away to admire what he did, taking note of the faint bruising starting to form.

You took the opportunity while he was sitting up to remove his shirt. He smiled down at you and helped you. He reached down and gently started raising your hoodie. You grabbed the ends and pulled the material from your body. Once that was off, Taehyung carefully removed your shorts and underwear so you were completely naked.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” he whispered, hands trailing up your bare torso. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

He slotted his lips against yours again. His hands reached around your body to press you against his chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck as Taehyung held you close.

“I want to try something,” he said when he pulled away.

“Okay,” you agreed. You didn’t need to know what he wanted to do. You trusted Taehyung with your life. He would never do anything to harm you or put you in danger. He knew your limits and you knew his.

Taehyung smiled and stood up cautiously to make sure he didn’t hurt you as he climbed off you. He sat down near the curtains and patted the spot in front of him.

“Come here,” he said.

You wondered what he was planning as you made your way to where he sat. You sat in front of him and silently watched as he picked up the strand of lights from before. He scooted closer and began weaving the strand around your body. He was careful in his movements, adjusting any bulbs that were pressed against your skin so they didn’t burn you—even if it was minimal.

So, that’s what he had in mind. Watching his deft motions had your heart pumping rapidly. While you and Taehyung had dabbled in tying each other up in the past, it was never to this extreme. You had no complaints, though.

“Does it hurt?” he asked and slid a few fingers between the light strand and your skin to see if they were too tight.

You shook your head and glanced at his work. He had arranged the strand so that they were entwined around your torso and legs. They wrapped around your breasts, your ass, and your legs. The sight had you feeling giddy as you started to feel yourself get wet.

“Use your words, bear,” he said and lifted your chin to meet your gaze.

“No,” you replied; your eyes locked onto his dark ones.

“No what?” he prodded, hand still holding your face in place.

“No, sir,” you mumbled.

Taehyung gave your lips a featherlight kiss in approval before he stood up. He unplugged the lights on the curtain railing before grabbing his camera again. He wanted to make sure the only light that was in the room was coming from the strands around you. He took a few test shots and adjusted his settings accordingly.

“Just pose however you feel comfortable, baby,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir,” you said before leaning back on your elbows, eyes on his shirtless body as you picked your first position. You kept your legs closed and tilted your head back. The angle had your back arching in the air.

Taehyung’s eyes followed the shape of your body. His heart raced in excitement seeing you tied up. The way the soft glow from the lights illuminated parts of your body while the darkness in the room hid others was a beautiful contrast. He couldn’t help but admire how enchanting you looked. The sight was enigmatic and alluring.

Seeing your body wrapped in the light strands had stirred his creativity. He felt jittery as the overflow of ideas blossomed in his mind.

Taehyung snapped a shot and moved to another side of the room to get a second angle.

Like before, your positions changed with each click of the camera. Some had your legs stretched out while others had you bent over. Taehyung had adjusted your positions at times—moving your arms in specific placements or tilting your chin a certain way.

Each new position of your body had Taehyung’s blood rushing between his legs. His pants had begun to feel too tight, however, he tried to ignore the feeling as he continued to take photographs. It felt great to be on this high of creativity. This was the feeling he was searching for for weeks. He didn’t want it to disappear.

This all changed when he caught sight of your arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. Taehyung’s grip on his camera tightened as he tried to calm his pounding heart. You were being so good for him to ignore your desires. You were so patient with him as you allowed him to capture as many photos as he wanted. His heart swelled at your devotion.

Taehyung grabbed a pillow from the couch before tossing it in front of him.

“Baby,” he called and gestured for you to come over. You came and kneeled on the pillow, looking up at him. You could see the way his pants were straining against his hardening cock. You squeezed your legs together when you felt a gush of arousal from seeing how turned on he was.

“You’ve been so good to me,” he cooed and moved some of your hair from your face. “Do you want to take a break?”

If taking a break included wrapping your lips around his dick, then yes.

You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Taehyung gave you a small smile before he let the camera hang around his neck to unbutton his pants. You placed your hands on top of your thighs as you waited for him to undress.

“Good girl,” Taehyung murmured when he noticed you waiting.

Your sights were fixed on his crotch, watching with greedy eyes as he tugged his pants and underwear off. Your gaze trailed the vein lining the length of his dick up to his leaking tip. Your lips parted in anticipation.

Taehyung held the back of your head and brought his tip to your lips, lining them to spread his precum across your mouth.

“Pretty,” he husked as he observed your lips. “Go on.”

Your tongue darted out to taste him while you brought a hand to his shaft. Taehyung inhaled a breath from the simple touch and tangled his hand in your hair. You brought your mouth to his tip, giving his slit a few kitten licks before sinking your mouth around him. You closed your eyes as you began to bob your head slowly. You took your time to feel every ridge of his cock as you sucked him off.

“Fuck,” Taehyung panted above you, hand tightening in your hair when he felt his dick hit the back of your throat.

You moaned around him and lowered yourself more. You breathed in through your nose as you tried to fit him all in your mouth, gagging for a second when he went deeper. Despite your efforts, you weren’t able to sink all the way down and pulled back with a gasp.

“You’re doing so good, bear,” Taehyung praised. “Always sucking my cock so well.”

The compliment had you leaning forward again to take him in your mouth. Taehyung chuckled and met your eyes as you looked up at him. The way your lips parted around his thick cock while you stared at him had him twitching in your mouth.

He quickly raised his camera and took a photo.

Even though you have modeled for Taehyung in the past, you had never been a part of something like this. It made you nervous that someone was going to find the photos, however, you were too aroused to worry about that now.

You pumped the part of him that wasn’t in his mouth, mouth hallowing around him as you slid up and down. You could feel your inner thighs become wetter from your arousal. Taehyung’s moans were becoming more frequent with each movement. You thought he was going to finish in your mouth until he suddenly pulled away.

You whined and tried to pull him back to you. He placed a hand on your arm and shook his head.

“Not so soon,” he commented and lowered himself on the floor with you. “Gotta take care of my baby girl, too.”

You smiled at his reply and kissed his lips. Without breaking the kiss, you moved so both of you were sitting on top of the rug in the living room.

Taehyung held the camera with one hand so it didn’t swing and hit you as he leaned over. He lowered you back against the rug, pulling away from you. He glided his hand down your chest, fingers bumping against the light strands you were still wrapped in. His hand moved lower until they grazed your dripping cunt. Your legs trembled at his light touches, and you reached down to grab his hand. When you tried to pull his fingers closer to your core, he pushed against you.

“What do we say?” he questioned.

“Please,” you begged, getting needier by the second.

“What do you want?” Taehyung pulled away from your grasp and ran his fingers along the inside of your parted legs.

“Your fingers,” you said. “I want your fingers. Please, sir.”

“Better,” he said and slid a slender finger down your slicken folds. He suppressed a moan at how wet you were. He coated his finger in your wetness before pushing it inside. He pumped it for a while before adding another.

You moaned at the feeling, hands coming up to grip your breasts. You rolled your nipples between your fingers as Taehyung continued his movements. It wasn’t long before he added a third and started increasing his speed. Using his other hand, he retrieved his camera.

“Lift up for me, baby,” he instructed. You did as you were told, planting your feet on the rug and pushing your hips upward. Taehyung hummed in approval at the better angle.

“Shit,” you whined when he spread his fingers, stretching your walls while he took a photograph.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” Taehyung said as he pulled his fingers from you.

“Please sir,” you cried.

Taehyung held the camera again as he leaned over and placed a chaste kiss upon your lips—contrasting his sinful actions and words. The kiss didn’t last long and he was pulling back before you could wrap an arm around his neck.

Taehyung spread your legs wider as he nestled closer. He rubbed his dick between your wet folds, causing you to buck your hips up. One of his hands came down to pin your hips still as he continued the motion a few more times.

“Need you inside me,” you pleaded.

“You’re forgetting your manners a lot tonight, huh, baby girl?” Taehyung chuckled dryly.

“S-sorry sir,” you stuttered when his tip rubbed against your clit. “I need you inside me, sir. Please.”

“You’re only getting off the hook because you’ve been so good to me,” he said and aligned his cock with your entrance.

“Thank you, sir,” you said, holding your breath as you waited for him to push inside.

Taehyung slid in slowly. You leaned your head back with a moan as you felt your walls stretch to fit his size.

Taehyung’s eyes focused on how his dick disappeared inside your pussy. His lips were parted as he pushed himself all the way. He took a moment for you to adjust before he began rolling his hips into yours. His pace was steady yet powerful.

You had forgotten about the music until you noticed his thrusts were in time with the melody. The music added to the atmosphere as Taehyung kept with the tempo of the song. You gripped onto the rug as he snapped his hips roughly as a deep bass part hit in the song.

“You feel so fucking good. Taking me so well. Looking so beautiful,” he rambled, not caring how choppy his sentence was. His eyes flickered from between your legs to your breasts. They bounced with each sharp thrust. The strung lights had made the sight more arousing. He quickly took another photo.

Suddenly, he pulled from you and rolled you onto your stomach. He placed the pillow from earlier under your hips and pressed your face into the rug. His hands grabbed your ass roughly as he rubbed it, watching keenly as your ass spread to expose your wet pussy.

Taehyung gave your ass one last harsh squeeze before he lined his tip and pushed inside again. He took a second to admire the way the lights outlined the curve of your ass. He couldn’t help but take another photo before removing it from around his neck. He hastily placed the device on the floor near him and grasped your hips.

His pace was quicker this time, not caring to follow the beat of the music anymore as he chased his high. He reached around and started rubbing your clit. You were a moaning mess as he rammed into you while stimulating you.

Your legs began to shake as you neared your climax. Your walls squeezed his cock as you tried to keep your orgasm at bay.

“Close,” you panted. “Please let me come, sir.”

Taehyung smirked when you remembered your manners this time. He circled your clit faster when he felt your body shake.

“Go ahead,” Taehyung granted.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you cried, gripping the rug as you came around his cock. Taehyung’s movements against your clit slowed as your body started to relax under him. Your walls were still hugging him so well and you were whimpering his name so sluggishly beautiful; he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Where do you want me?” His breathing was harsh as his thrusts were becoming rougher and irregular.

“Inside, please,” you said. Your response had Taehyung falter in his movements. It wasn’t often when you let him come inside. Despite being on the pill, you were still cautious… Most of the time.

“Really?” he gasped, biting his lip as he forced his orgasm away for a few more seconds.

“Yes,” you slurred and started to grind against his hips in an attempt to get him to come.

“Fuck. I love you,” he hurriedly replied, granting him a weak laugh from you.

Taehyung snapped his hips against yours a couple more times before he pressed you into the pillow as much as he could. Your name fell from his lips as he emptied his load inside your cunt. He stayed like that for a moment, planting soothing kisses against the skin he could reach.

You whimpered when Taehyung gradually pulled out. As you felt his seed spill out of you, you heard a familiar click. You glanced behind you to see Taehyung holding his camera to his face—one eye closed.

“You’re not going to use those for your assignment, right?” you asked. You knew the answer would be no—they were definitely too inappropriate to submit—but you still wanted him to confirm with you.

“Hell no,” he said and switched the camera off. He shuffled over and unplugged the lights that held you. “They’re for my eyes only.”

“What about mine?” you huffed and started to sit up. Taehyung helped you stand up then scooped you into his arms.

“You weren’t the one taking pictures,” he teased as he carried you to the bathroom.

“No, but I was the main focus. I deserve to look at them just as much as you,” you argued with a pout.

“I’ll think about it,” he replied, a smile on his lips.

Taehyung set you down in the middle of the bathroom and grabbed a rag, damp with warm water. As he cleaned between your legs, you started to undo the light strand around you. It was much more complicated than you expected and you ended up waiting for Taehyung to finish cleaning you up so he could untangle you.

True to his word, Taehyung did not use those photos for his assignment. He also didn’t use the photos where you were in your hoodie since he believed you were showing too much skin. After all, his classmates would be viewing these photos along with his professor.

Though all that tying up with Christmas lights was not in vain. It had given him the eureka moment he was searching for. You had stayed up that night and recreated some of the photos—dressed more conservatively this time. Taehyung was still fascinated with how the light and dark contrasted each other. He loved the unique take of silhouetting a body.

Thanks to your Christmas decorating, you aided in Taehyung’s assignment, which he was able to turn in before the deadline.

The scandalous photos hid on an SD card that was buried in one of his desk drawers. You both had looked them over once his assignment was submitted since he could take a rest. The sight made your body warm as you looked upon the photos that were taken from his point of view. Some of the photos captured his dick halfway inside your soaking cunt, giving you a clear view of how his dick stretched your walls. Needless to say, you both didn’t sit idly after viewing the photos he took.

I hope you have smiled today. You deserve to be happy. Happy holidays, again! 💜