#another mini chapter yay! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taegularities · 4 months

Text

candles & flames: air | jjk (m)

bonus chapter I: air

Summary: Voices over the grapevine murmur that somebody has been yearning for you who certainly shouldn't. Jungkook is agitated to the core – reacts immediately until something far sweeter overshadows the envy and turns his and your life upside down.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: so much okay let's see; jk is jealousss, mention of a dead parent, daddy issues, pregnancy, birth (no details), kissing, insecurities that are resolved, worries and tears, somebody faints :'), 19th century culture/beliefs/society, short mention of the struggles after birth, a guest appearance!, and a cute baby 💕 jk loves the kiddo so much that his affection makes him cry; explicit sexual content: making out, muchhh teasing, fondling, biting, he loveees her tiddies, oral (f. receiving), he touches himself/masturbation, manhandling, soft dom!koo, big dick!koo, he threatens to tie her up lol, "fck me like you hate me", both hard and soft s/x moments, love spanks, delaying of orgasm, hair pulling, he's roughhhh, fingering, multiple orgasms; pls spot the lil references to the other parts hehe 😁 ➳ wc: 24.4k yay! ➳ a/n: hi hi hiiii. it's been literal months, but we're here again and sharing another piece of our soul. hope y'all like this one, whether you've just arrived here or been here for a while. love you all and as always, let me know what you think!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The quiet hysteria starts with a whisper.

It echoes off the walls that Friday afternoon, seemingly insignificant at first. Most of the whispers are — a cacophony of hisses and sharp tones and hushed nodding.

Uttered between members of the staff, Jungkook catches the conversation coincidentally. He never means to eavesdrop, but these accidental occurrences have revealed one or two things to him before.

Like, what they ate for dinner last night. Or how their sons had learned to read. Jungkook would laugh at stories about neighbours, pout at tragedies of lost family members. But what he hears today is worth neither of those reactions; just mild yet growing confusion.

He wouldn’t have registered a word if he’d left his office a minute later. Wouldn’t have known if he’d opted for his meal thirty seconds earlier.

No. He had to step out now. Cross paths with the staff in this very moment as if it was supposed to happen, coming to a stand in the hallway, mind instantly whirling and eyebrows furrowed.

The two women, startled by the sudden appearance, freeze at their spot a couple feet from Jungkook’s body. They stare at him as though met with a ghost, eyes trailing from his uncurling fist to the Lord’s unmatchable face — puzzled at the moment.

Abandoning curiosity and the hint of amusement, sudden respect spreads over their countenances, and once they have made sense of the situation, they straighten their backs. Bow a little. One of them a little deeper than the other.

Their eyes are as wide as his; the scene couldn’t be more comedic in the afternoon sun shining through the wide window. Three baffled figures fighting the awkwardness; growing by the second until one of them murmurs, “Lord Jeon.”

Her tone is timid, as if she fears he might’ve heard — which he did, alright. But they don’t dare make an attempt at asking about it, perhaps finally realising that things like these aren’t really their business.

So they only nod again, waiting for the man to react in kind, and then rush past him and down the hall. Jungkook isn’t stupid, though — he knows they won’t stop talking.

And he could confront them. Call them back and demand an explanation, lay out every word he just heard and analyse it with what they know. But he doesn’t. He lets them approach the end of the hallway, turning left at the end of it just a few seconds later.

His body’s balanced weight shifts to his left leg, and he puts both his hands on his hips, curling his lower lip inward and tracing it with his tongue. He knows better than to believe rumours mumbled in the gardens or halls of this place.

Maybe it’d be foolish to overthink just yet. Guess he’ll need to ask you yourself.

But he can’t help but replay the conversation in his mind, gaze wandering out of the window and to the blue sky above. He soaks in the summer, lowers his eyebrows, appetite forgotten as he simply voices—

“Huh.”

Existing in this world with you as the love of his life isn’t easy.

There’s magic to how you move. To the way you slip under the blanket with that enchanting smile. To how you reach for the back of your head, undoing the bow.

For a moment, he can’t keep his eyes from the locks that fall over your shoulder; how you sigh in relief as your scalp finally breathes. And when you lean against the bed frame, pulling your legs up and knees close to you, book in hand, you look endlessly cosy.

Warm and inviting, soft hands holding the novel. Your side profile is tender, lips always a perfect curve. Your mouth moves with the words you read, and you smile whenever a description delights you.

You always live in a dream. You are one, too.

Loving you isn’t easy because you’re a constant source of healthy insanity. Of the burning in his chest, the odd feeling in his stomach, and the yearning in his fingers.

But especially tonight, you evoke something he only ever experiences with you. He did it when he saw you dancing with somebody else two years ago. And feels a sliver of it whenever he catches men staring at you at gatherings.

The emotion boils green inside of him, and somehow, you’ve managed to elicit it more than once. He could swear he never knew of it before he met you. You’re truly a spell; only right now, he wishes he felt something else.

You shut the book suddenly, keeping a finger where you stopped, and look up into his eyes without a warning. He flinches just a little, as if awakening from a dream, and you laugh.

“Will you speak what’s on your mind or just keep staring?” you ask; the tilt of your head is sickeningly sweet.

He improvises — nods towards the novel and wonders, “What is it about?”

“Oh,” you look down, holding it up, “secret affairs. Princess to be betrothed is in love with someone else.”

The situation lacks so much humour that he can’t help but find it funny. He suppresses the sarcastic smirk and the shake of his head, keeping the facade upright as he admits, “That is very brave of the author to thematise.”

Your eyes narrow a little, drenched in confusion. “Well, I mean. A lot of them are. But it’s just words on pages. How many secret affairs do you think happen in actual life?”

More than you’d know. Jungkook has seen enough to understand that lovers often reunite in shadows; or that they betray loved ones when the world goes quiet.

You believe in people, though. You romanticise the world. Assume that cruelty is rare, and that most human beings strive for loyalty and flawlessness.

But he doesn’t say any of it; only shifts closer to your optimistic, angelic warmth, craving your scent. He says, “We were the opposite, weren’t we? Made everyone think we were in love when we still despised each other.”

You cock an eyebrow; he instantly regrets his words, realising how harsh they truly sounded. You might be gentle, but you can be just as fierce, too — so he prepares for some scolding, lips parted.

But you only puff out a breath, freeing the finger trapped between the pages, and put the book aside. Then, you say, “I still despise you.”

Jungkook stares, pausing for a moment, and you let him ogle for another second before you laugh. You grab the still hand on his thigh, lifting it to your lips and press the feather lightest of kisses against its back.

You keep the palm against your cheek, inquiring carefully, “Is something troubling you?”

“No,” he immediately shoots, “no. I just wanted to ask about your novel.”

“Just about the novel?”

“Mhm. Yes.”

“Hmm. Well, yes, that one,” you grace it another glance, “it’s good. A typical story about a royal princess mingling with the stable boy and rejecting the prince.”

Jungkook nods, but you think his pupils widen. Is he imagining a scenario of his own? Not enjoying the storyline? Perhaps.

Because he states, “Disloyalty is quite something. I would,” he pauses, blowing a raspberry, “die if I was the prince.”

He emphasises die with all his tongue’s strength; you huff at the dramatics of the moment, puzzled by the sudden shift in mood. In truth, this is not such an unusual behaviour.

Because more often than not, Jungkook displays interest in your little hobbies. Novels render you sentimental, and you’ve pulled him into the whirling storm of emotions that those stories made you feel before.

Like,

“They won’t accept him because he’s an artist?”

“So he decides to leave instead of fighting for her?”

“Alright, tell me about the first time he tells her he loves her.”

He’ll lean forward, turn to his side, eyes wide, indulging in the narrative. Mirroring your emotions, a sucker for tales and sentiments, albeit barely ever picking up a book voluntarily.

Just today. Today something seems off. The issue he has with the feelings prevalent in the book seem to reach far deeper — to a personal level, it seems.

You start slowly and patiently, shaking your head once before you say, “But you won’t die. I chose my prince wisely, and I do not care for our stable boys,” you pause, lifting a finger with a laugh, “wait. In such a way, I mean. They are actually very kind.”

Jungkook doesn’t appreciate your joke — your suspicion grows. Although he does turn to the side again, elbow digging into the pillow, body closer to yours.

“What about lords?”

Huh. What?

You echo your thoughts, “What?” You wait for only a moment before the space between his eyebrows morphs into a crease, and you mimic the expression. “Alright. Now you’re not making sense anymore.”

It takes another second or two for his drying eyes to blink. The movement is slow, a little frustrated; he looks to his hands. Then up to you; to the wall behind you and back to you.

Then, his Adam’s apple bops, swallowing thickly before he finally reveals, “The maids were talking about some neighbouring man. Lord Jeong or something. Would you happen to know him?”

Jeong?

Hm…

You think for a moment.

Of course you know him. The town isn’t too far from yours, and the people around here never speak ill of him. In fact, one of your cooks was just praising him a couple weeks ago as you dined without Jungkook during his busy working hours.

The cook kept you company for most of the time, speaking of his pre-Jeon adventures in other towns, with other lords.

You hum before you respond, “I know of a Jeong Yuno. But I have never spoken to him.”

The sigh of relief that Jungkook heaves is immediate. You stare bewildered.

“Good,” he answers, “they were just…”

He scratches his scalp before the hand drops to the mattress with a dull thump. For a distracted moment, he smoothens the already flat baby blue surface, drifting from his original thought.

The light tug at the sheet creates new wrinkles; you watch intently, relaxed and calm. Only, you aren’t sure he feels the same way. Especially when his fingertips shift to the back of your hand, a ghost touch looming over your thumb.

He must have thought about this a lot.

“They were saying that a lord was spreading rumours about how he used to want you and would still not hesitate if you could be his.”

Oh.

“That’s… not a proper thing to announce for a lord,” you sympathise, gaining an instant nod, enhanced by the round, big, brown eyes.

“Yes. It is not. A very outrageous statement to give about a married lady anyway.”

“Mhm…”

You are in full agreement that the words shouldn’t have fallen out of a presumably respected man of the country. Someone as loved and cherished by a community shouldn’t comment on a married couple, even less on the wife of a well-known man.

Jungkook’s father was celebrated around towns and villages — the head of the capital.

It’s just that in this case — you can imagine what occurred. The lord in question relishes a far lesser known reputation than Jungkook. If it’s who you imagine it to be, he must be reigning over a tiny village now.

You remember that back when you knew him, he was still young, uninterested in his parents’ legacy; seems he has made it far. Though, it seems he hasn’t quite understood the responsibilities that come with royalship.

Shit.

Jungkook notices your fog-shrouded gaze; you probably haven’t blinked in a while. He touches and taps your wrist, pulling back your attention, possibly still tense as he asks, “What?”

When you look at him, he resembles a curious, frightened puppy, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He’s pouting, waiting for an answer, lips parted. He lifts his head off the propped up hand, alerted, and repeats—

“What?”

Waving his concerns off would do nothing, right? You swore to always be transparent — and this issue isn’t big enough to be postponed. In fact, it might only grow if you do choose to stuff it in a chamber.

“You are not talking about Jeong,” you explain, carefully wrapping your fingers around his, “but Jung. Jung Hoseok.”

The curtain of relief falls and gives way to a dark, gloomy night. You know he expected this conversation to be over, for his misunderstanding to turn out as just this. But there’s more behind the maids’ whispers — and he hates it.

“Who?” he asks.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you feel displeased with it.”

“Why would I feel displeased?” Jungkook prods, slowly sitting up. “Is there a reason to?”

Absolutely not. But you also know your husband isn’t the most patient of men when it comes to envy and poison green feelings alike. You still remember the night you confronted his uncle — slivers of jealousy found their way through him even then.

“No,” you admit, “but it is absurd, and I knew you would react like this.”

“Like what? I am calm.”

That he is.

At least the rapid breathing, the voice gaining on pitch, the manner in which he squeezes your hand — they indicate a form of calm unknown to you, alright.

“Jungkook…” you mumble, wiping over the back of his hand with your thumb, trying to calm the grip.

You move on the bed, butt bumping against your book and nearly knocking it to the ground. Tired from the day, you grunt as you get on your knees, watching him follow your body before you finally straddle him.

Jungkook gets into a proper position, heaving himself up until his back is pressed to the bed’s railing. He holds onto your waist to keep your balance, and you shift properly onto his lap.

Once stabilised, your hands hurry to his face, squishing his cheeks just a little as you speak, “I shall make you wiser then?”

“You shall stop teasing me.”

The fiery eyes could throw daggers at you on any other day, but the pout he talks through just makes him look… sweet. Thick eyebrows kiss, and he pulls at one of your hands to lighten the cradling grip around his face.

You angle your head, fond of the soft care, albeit hiding behind an insecurity. There’s flattery in the way his mind created a nonexistent rival — at least, he thinks you’re worth the worship.

You surrender when he blinks, letting out an exasperated breath, “Alright. Remember when I told you I have only fallen in love very few times?”

“At the orphanage.”

His answer shoots out of him as if scripted, and you dare a subtle chuckle. Your thumb brushes against his lips and the mole underneath them; you think that despite his agitation, the gesture soothes his soul.

“Jung Hoseok was one of those people,” you say.

A few buttons of his linen shirt are open, so you see his sun kissed chest heave at the admission. You move a hand down to touch the sculpted skin, warm and immediately comforting under your touch.

“He was the only other Lord I ever dared to mess with, but he wasn’t too important back then yet. And Hoseok… he caught me at a time when I was not yet ready for bigger commitments. Despite my feelings for him.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glistening. Helplessly observing your every move and expression, lost for words as he digests yours. There’s an ego in men that you haven’t understood just yet; fragile at times.

So this piece of information must be activating a thorough thought process in him.

It’s odd. How those once roaming around town are usually the ones affected the most when they actually fall in love. Protective and dedicated to an exceptional degree.

Maybe, however, because his escapades never meant anything at all. And you… You put your heart in someone’s hands once.

“What happened?” Jungkook wonders, puppy stare intact.

You don’t think there’s more to tell — or more for him to know. But a curious mind is a curious mind.

So you tell him, “He wanted more right away. Dedication, marriage, for me to leave my house. And,” you shrug, uncomfortable with memories of a past lover; you want to keep loving and touching your current one, “I couldn’t.”

You’re not sure whether his nerves are calming at all; but you’re satisfied and relieved when he lifts a palm to the small of your back, gaze warm. You keep playing with the collar of the soft linen.

“And now I am happy I didn’t. In hindsight, we were so incredibly different. I mean, people are different, but… we didn’t match at all.”

“Were you…” His voice is so unbearably quiet. So sweet and lovely; the cocky boy from years ago has a delicate heart, and you want it pressed to yours. “Ready when I asked you to marry me?”

Ready? In fact, your skin was tingling with joy; every moment of the day.

You soothe his worries, “I would not be here if I hadn’t been. This,” you raise your fingers to his cheek again, brushing his face with their back, “you. I won’t ever want more. You’re all the dreams I’ve ever dreamt.”

Are you referring to nightly images conjured by a dreamy mind? When you’re fast asleep, barely ever tossing beside him? Because as far as he’s concerned, you follow him even into his daydreams, in your presence and in your absence.

If he told you now, he fears you’d dissipate; you’re a soul with its head in the clouds, and you’ve always appreciated a gesture of romance here and there.

You’re a force of nature, and someone to be desired greatly.

But.

Perhaps that’s what’s troubling him the most right now. And it never has before. He knows you’re captivating, and he’s proud that somebody loves him who’s easy to love, but this time… this time the whispers prevail, and they do something odd to his mind.

He matches your smile, giving into the relief you bring; yet, distressed by his own intrusive thoughts and memories of conversations he’s gathered, he can’t help but let his gaze fall. It floats over your bare neck and clavicles and then drops further to your lap.

A hand on his neck, you opt for a question — he knows by the way you suck in a soft breath, knows every of your motions and their meanings. But before your inquiry tumbles out, he murmurs, “They were saying he wants you back.”

And the worst thing is that you don’t hesitate, immediately nodding. “I heard about it. I uh… the other day I went down to the village and one of them told me her sister was part of the staff over in his town. And they heard others in his mansion say it, apparently.”

Jungkook doesn’t like the ugly, searing hot feeling spreading beneath his chest. It differs entirely from anger or disgust; pure fire burning up his insides and extending to his head.

That you talked about the still rather yearning lord with somebody else isn’t Jungkook’s favourite thought, admittedly. Worse even when you proceed, “He’s unmarried, I’ve heard.”

But what could you do with what you heard? Do you even care?

Jungkook swallows the balls of flames until the vexing sensation burns in his stomach, nearly afraid to ask, “What do you think of that?”

He shouldn’t be, though. Because you’ve proved time and time again who you stand with — yet, it feels like a wanted relief when you, with absolute certainty unmatched, assure, “Nothing. How could that affect my life? I’m here, with you.”

“I…” Jungkook tilts his head, and when he stares back up to you again, you could swear a piece of your heart detaches itself from the rest. Shoots right into his chest. “Am I being stupid?”

And how could it not if the man of your dreams, yours in this and the next lives, usually so composed, wordlessly declares you his kryptonite every single day?

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in unending adoration and worship, and you sigh, touching his cheek, wishing there was a far superior way to showcase affection and love of such tender sort.

“A little,” you admit.

“But… you’ll forgive me for it?”

“Nothing to forgive you for.” You match the tilting motion of his head, but in the opposite direction. You blink slowly. “Except maybe for the fact that you provide so much love without giving much of it to yourself.”

When he downs the knot in his throat again, it feels and looks different. Not the insecure envy from before, but rather a truth spiking his heart.

“…Darling,” he whispers, “why?”

“You know as well as I know that you trust me. That’s not why you’re afraid, right? It’s because you don’t trust yourself.” You remove a strand of dark tresses off his forehead. “We’ll change that.”

You don’t judge him for it, huh? You could. In truth, you could absolutely distance yourself from such an unwanted trait, but you don’t. Combatting it seems easier to you.

Yet, he can’t find a better answer than, “I’m sorry.”

Your husband is a jealous man, but he’s also a fragile man. You’re not allowed to leave him; not because you regard it as a duty to serve as his remedy. But because you made a vow to love him regardless, regardless of fate’s cruelty.

And.

You want to show him what you see through your eyes; what he doesn’t notice through the looking glass.

“Thank you for forgiving me, though?” he then speaks, forming it as a question rather than a statement; though he finds himself pretty soon. “Albeit, I have to say, if you hadn’t, I would’ve found ways for you to do it either wa—”

His promise is broken by your yelp when he presses you in, tickling your waist. He grits his teeth, cuteness aggression kicking in when you call his name, holding onto his face. Your nose inches close to his as he squeezes your hip.

Eyes closing before they open again and he says, “I will never let you go. Never. And let nobody ever have you but me.”

“Aren’t we a little more obsessed tonight?” you jest, watching him shrug his shoulders. “But. I would be mad if you did.”

“My princess…”

There’s something about the breathy tone, filled with growing desire, a not too subtle hint to how the night will inevitably evolve.

It’s insane, how the breathing stagnates when you’re in love; crazy at just the prospect of lips touching.

And once they do, your lungs dry out right away, and you lean back, slowly losing your grip. But he holds you and holds you tighter, eyes aflame with sheer willpower, and then holds you so tight, it hurts…

The kiss is breathtaking, in the truest sense of the word. Goosebumps covering all your flesh, you raise your shoulders, hands in his hair as his wander along the lines of your body. He moves just a little underneath you, but you feel the change so obviously.

Harder, stirring, hot and heavy. And you enhance the effect, continuing the sloppy kisses until he, impatiently, breaks away from the kiss with a quiet moan and opts for your neck.

The break between the change, he uses to focus on his hands. Raises your dress at light-speed, brushing his palms over the curves of your ass. And he doesn’t take too long before he’s snuck his digits further in this complicated position, winding his arm to find your aching heat.

You move forward a little, helping out, so his limb can wrap around you easier, digits floating to the hole. But your decision distracts him; you laugh.

“It’s amusing to you, yes? Having your tits in my face,” he teases, as shameless as ever when he bites and misses your nipple by an inch over your gown.

The free hand pushes the clothing down, freeing one side, reluctant to practise restraint when swollen lips engulf your hard nipple. You whimper immediately as his teeth gently nibble at the nerves, and you tighten your grip around him, head falling back.

“Cannot say it’s not,” you admit, unconsciously toying with the hair in the nape of his neck until you start pulling, barely noticing. He does, however, gasping with a mouthful of your tits. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, an indicator that he doesn’t care; that he enjoys the pleasurable pain if it’s you inflicting it in a moment like this. As a masochist and a pet at times, you won’t disagree.

But you don’t hold the power for too long when he continues with his intentions, finger pressing against your pussy, desperately longing for the garment to disappear. Wanting to sink into you with all his might.

But… endurance. Patience.

You nearly suffocate him in your tits as he caresses your cunt, and then your ass again, only managing to resurface to say, “Pretty girl… weren’t you tired?”

“I was,” you tug at him, wanting him much, much closer, “make me more.”

“More tired?”

“So I sleep better tonight.”

“Sweetheart… you will. I promise you.”

It’s vows like these that stir the last stage of lust in you, so unbridled that it leaks out of each of your pores. You want his trousers off, want them to magically disappear. But sorcery doesn’t exist, and your wish will be impossible to fulfil in this position.

And he notices, reads your thoughts as if floating above your head. “Lift your body?” he kindly demands, holding you for a second until you’re inches over his crotch. He uses the moment to lower his clothing along with the underwear, suddenly half bare.

Oh so bare…

When you look down, you’re met with protruding veins, a length twitching slightly, wanting to lay against his stomach. And you don’t hesitate as you lower yourself again, dragging your clothed pussy over the hardness so recklessly—

But the harsh material of your clothes rubs him wrong, literally, and he whimpers. Should you do it again? You fucking love it when he whines and writhes… but not in such a way.

You don’t want to hurt him. So you oblige. Stop when he digs his nails into your waist, ordering, “Get off, so I can—”

You don’t know what for, but you can imagine, and the thousand possible pictures are more than enough for you to lift yourself off immediately. Carefully, you move away, expecting for him to let you know how to continue, but instead…

Within the blink of an eye, you find yourself flat on your back, flipped over and caged in. Only rising again when he aids you in doing so, just the upper body, just a little. To remove your dress, pulling it over your head and stuffing it in a corner.

You swear the time passes in slow-motion, yet simultaneously paces faster than usual. Because it’s a leisurely blur when you see him discard the last piece of your bed-attire. But a rush when he bares his golden chest and back, laying next to you and starting to kiss your tummy.

It’s so funny because…

You sigh. Nevermind.

You put your attention solely on how he kisses his way down, still next to you, further down until you only see his back and his mane, and somewhere far beneath, hands caressing your thighs. Then spreading them. And then, working up… up towards…

“You’re defeating me today…” you happily conclude, not one to reject a night with him winding under you, but also not one to decline… whatever he’s doing right now.

“You are very welcome.”

Cheeky jerk. You’d snort and roll your eyes if you had the energy and power to. Although, the latter does not stay absent after all, even if the roll of your eyes occurs backwards, mouth open when he parts your folds and touches your swollen nub.

Gauging your reaction, he throws a stare back, just briefly and quickly. He barely flinches when you pierce his skin with your nails, scratching him, biting your lower lip with desperation in your pupils.

And it’s enough for him. Boosts his keenness. You see it in his smirk, and see the desire, the devotion, the appetite in his lost eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow at you, never bothered by your frequent love-wounds, yet sly when he warns, referring to your nails, “Stop it. I will tie you up if you keep going.”

Is that… a threat or a promise? You’re tempted to test him.

But for now, you wish to indulge further in what he’s initiating, and if you said something right now or provoked him into a pace of change, you’d lose the moment. So you remain still. Or, as much as you manage to.

Not quite when he moves over you, turning the back towards you once more, and—

Is that… oh. No doubt that he just spat right onto your clit, wet, warm and enhancing your greed. And then the damned finger. Touching your thighs as if to tease you, advancing to your cunt slowly, as opposed to the ball of frustration building in your chest and tummy.

“Could you move that up?” you mutter, barely registering how nonsensical you might sound.

But Jungkook knows you inside out, and reads your words as well as your body. Uses the knowledge to torture you some more, sneaking to your folds before he finally touches them, but doesn’t dig in.

Okay…

“Why?” you ask, not expecting an answer. “I’ve been good these days.”

“You’ve been great,” Jungkook retorts, tugging at one of your nether lips as if busying himself, “but I’m just kidding. Who am I to deny you anything?”

“In this situation? Perfectly Jeon Jungkook…”

The unsteady breathing accompanying your statement adds to the comedic aspect of the moment, and he doesn’t hold back when he laughs. Only briefly stopping when he leans down, delivering a chaste kiss to your aching bud.

And then he does the unforgivable, and lifts himself up. Away from you. Entirely.

“What—”

“It’s alright,” he ensures, nodding as if to make it believable for himself, “I am right here. See?”

He crawls — crawls! — towards you, very briefly until he reaches your lips, kissing you with the same filthy mouth that touched your intimate part just a moment ago. His mouth moves against yours just a little, then retracts and then comes back for another shorter kiss.

“Want me to do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Tie you up?” The constant head tilts are killing you, not well for your heart or mind. Even less combined with the sickly sweet smile, so awfully in love. “You didn’t reject the idea and,” another kiss to the corner of your lips, “you’re being so terribly cooperative tonight.”

He says it as if it’s news to him. As if you’re not true-blue every second of the day.

Jerk wants things spelled out to him. Waits as he plays with a lock, face hovering inches from yours, and the tip of his tongue so visibly touching the spot behind his front teeth.

As you refuse to answer, however, solely for the purpose to gauge what he might do next, he chuckles quietly, inhaling before he says, “Alright. Different idea, then.”

He gets back on his knees, straightening his upper body for a mere moment only before he opens your legs. Positions himself between them. Distances himself from you before finally getting into the desired stance. Stomach-down, hands touching your thighs, parting them with his mouth close to you.

It takes everything in you to not shut your limbs again when the warm breath mingles with your sloppy centre; and you already feel wasted when his tongue darts out. Opens up your pussy a little. Tickles you so lightly.

“Put your hands over your head,” he uses the pause for, haphazardly gesturing into your general direction with his chin, “no touching allowed. And if you endure until I’ve tasted you till the end, I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the night.”

The image his words conjure is mesmerising. Yet, you don’t know if that’s the outcome you’re wishing for, or rather the absolute opposite, submitting to him and letting yourself go entirely for his pleasure.

There is no time to think. Your mind isn’t capable of thoughts at all.

Of course not, not if he attaches his mouth to your cunt, wrapping gorgeously soft and swollen lips around your equally soft and swollen ones. He kisses your pussy, drawing back with a smooching sound.

Goes in again, repeats. Then, slowly, adds his tongue. Swirls it around your clit, making your right leg twitch, your body react. A strong hand holds your thigh down, breath falling against you so hotly; the sensation is unlike anything else.

You don’t know how he does it; but you don’t just feel the tickling, endlessly lustful phenomenon where he causes it, but across your body. On your warm skin, in your stomach, in your chest.

You’re light-headed when his tongue flicks over your clit again, and then moves back to your hole; you curl in your toes. For the first time after a long while, you think this won’t take very long.

Digging your nails into your palms, you wet your lower lip with your tongue, uttering, “I’m almost there…”

“Mhm,” he muses with his mouth still licking you up, spreading the warm feeling all over. Then detaches himself to say, “I thought so. I can hear it.”

Knows you too well…

You recognise that he wants to take his time. Your pleasure is his sole purpose, fully focused on your reactions, your sounds, your winding body. But as the two of you deduced, you’re closer to the end than ever.

He kisses your thigh, provides little love-bites, tongue tasting your skin before he dives back in. Breathing in and out through his nose, he buries himself in you, bringing a thumb under his tongue and pushing in just a bit, but not entirely.

At the same time, his other thumb shifts its attention to rolling over your clit. Apparently, he trusts you enough now to not pin your legs to the mattress anymore, doesn’t expect you to give in and touch him, even if you want to. The way you’re holding yourself back, seeking your pleasure and obeying his orders floods pride and immeasurable greed through him.

As he French kisses you thoroughly, you notice when he smiles against your pussy. Even laughs a bit in amusement. Your body moves and lifts when his light but calculated touch toys with your nerves; he follows the insane writhing, glued to you.

And then he pushes a finger inside, pumps a couple times; moves his tongue to your clit. It’s crazy. Crazy. The saliva dripping off his chin when he eats you up, so diligent and powerful, executing this as perfectly as ever.

But it’s neither of these things that make you topple off the edge; not just the fingers or his tongue or how worryingly good he is at this.

But the damn eye contact at the end.

The immediate connection between you, the way he wants to see you, understand your reactions, but simultaneously keep going.

And all that knowledge helps you feel it all over. The contractions coming in waves; the pleasure radiating to every other part of your body. The sense of warmth and tingling experience.

Shit, and the euphoria. The profound relaxation while perceiving the increased heart rate at the same time; your glowing skin and the sweat.

And once you’re done, throat dry from not speaking, only yelling, you breathe, “That was… quick.”

“I am sorry,” he responds, still exhaling against you; you still feel the waves inside your cunt, so it’s hard to listen. “I needed to let my frustration out somewhere.”

You half-roll your eyes, as much as manageable.

“But in exchange… I’ll hold my promise and let you do anything,” he repeats, rubbing your leg and then your sides softly. Slowly moves up to you until his length presses against your heat and his lips align with your mouth. “Can I just first…”

“Love,” you interrupt, “you don’t need to. You don’t need to hold your promise, because I don’t want you to. Not tonight.”

“What?”

“I want you to let it all out,” you confess, ”claim me.”

Because frankly, you see it in his eyes. That he wants to release the beast, too. Of course ready for your ministrations, but yearning to wreck you so desperately. Already in the headspace, affected from the moment he licked you dry and wetter.

“I promised,” he tries, but you shake your head, still breathing stagnantly.

“I… So I… May I?” he still inquires permission, stuttering, so gentle, polite and tormented. “Goodness. I might die.”

You chuckle at the hyperbole, though the sound comes out weak as you still breathe through your craze. As you stare up at him, you think you recognise pure anguish reflecting in his gaze, made visible by the candlelight. Eyebrows kissing, mouth open.

You feel similar, so you’re not one to turn down the plea.

“Yes, but… I mean it. You don’t need to submit entirely. I want you to do what you want to do.”

Because that’s when he’s the most authentic. And because the statement never poses a risk with Jungkook. Any other man might forsake you, but you could say such a thing a thousand times; even as he seeks his own pleasure, he won’t forget about yours.

And unleash all desperation on you simultaneously.

You want this. You want this.

“Fret not,” he assures, “I will. I am not neglecting either of us.”

Lining himself up, he sits up properly, starting a languid movement of the head of his length up and down your pussy. He means to tease you just a bit longer, wanting to test your reaction to the thickness rubbing between your folds.

But you see the surprise in his face when his cock threatens to slip in the moment it reaches your hole, even though there is no reason for his bafflement. Doesn’t he know what he does to you?

“Oh…” he murmurs, trying again, once again watching just a few inches disappear inside you before he pulls back. “That is… nice.”

In, then out again. Once more, in. Once more, out.

Then a tap of his heavy cock against your pelvis, stroking it in the process for further hardness, and you observe. Fully undisturbed and entirely amazed by what you’re seeing. Every single time.

You let him touch himself, and then close your eyes to listen to his sounds. But he soon leans into you again, whispering to keep them open, and when you do, he uses the proximity to kiss you again.

Harder this time. Moaning as he jerks himself off. A second longer until he brings it back to your pussy, and you raise your back off the mattress a little when he pushes the head in. Whimpering into the kiss, never having him back away.

You grip his shoulders for safety, trying not to go insane, and right before he parts from you, he nods. Asking, “Yes?”

“Please.”

“Shall I?”

“Please start.”

“Start… if you want me to fuck you numb, I will. Right until your mind is vacant of everything else. Will fuck all of me into you. Yes?” You take a shaky breath, barely nodding, but he sees and laughs quietly. “I need every lord to know to keep their hands off just by the way you walk.”

The nod turns into a shake of your head, and as he presses in further, you try to whisper, “That would be… incredibly scandalous, my love.”

“Oh? What difference does it make? The entire house always knows when I do these things with you.”

“Do they—”

“The staff always whispers. And they pay extra attention to you. Always lurking and trying to see if something changes about you. I’ve heard them, you know?”

Oh… oh, you know what he means. Of course you do. Perhaps you’re not the only one dreaming of a blooming future with him, of seeds being planted and growing into this family of yours.

The entire place must be waiting for the announcement to arrive one day.

Right…

“Then…” you start, interrupting yourself to press your lips together, muffling your moan when you feel him bottom out. “Then do not hold back now either. I want you to.”

“To hold myself back?”

“No.”

“Want what then, darling?”

“To fuck my mind numb of thoughts. And my legs of any feeling.”

Abruptly, he pulls out. Then, all of a sudden in again, all at once. You’re cross-eyed when you moan, and he more or less falls onto you as you pull him in, resisting the urge to bite into his shoulder as he nuzzles your neck.

A hand settles under your knee, raising one leg over his waist, starting to move. Messily, he licks and kisses your neck, continuing at your jawline, and then down to your clavicles. Fucks you lovingly enough to light a fire in you.

His hanging strands tickle your skin, damp from the sweat much like his forehead. His greedy sounds are crazy against your collarbones, and then decrease in volume when his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters.

“Mhh…”

“This is not enough, is it?” No, it isn’t. He barely needs to speak on for you to momentarily shake your head, but he does, and it adds to your madness. “Not enough to disable straight walking…”

“Yes. No, yes—”

You mewl embarrassingly when he slides his cock out again; you see so much more of him outside of you than fucking necessary.

And God. God, you hate it when he presumably accidentally retracts it fully. Silently complaining, you sigh with worried eyebrows, but he finds his way back to you easily. It’d be odd if he didn’t. You suck him in effortlessly.

And he seems to enjoy it. Seems to seek an end to his goal, still keeping his previous question in mind, and then—

Your thighs quiver when he pushes in with all his power, all at once and as deeply as physically possible, and your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

“Would you look at these tits…” you hear him say, forcing yourself to look at him again, fluttering your eyelids open.

And as sassily as your foggy brain allows, you respond, “I am looking, as well.”

At small, brown, constantly hard nipples. You want to touch them, kiss and bite them. Want to destroy him as much as he’s intending to destroy you. But you can barely move.

How could you if this time, when he returns to his ministrations, he turns entirely, irrevocably, positively merciless.

He gently falls forwards, holding you as he did before, but this time, when he hammers into you, the entire bed shakes. You raise your arm over your head, holding onto the railing for a second, inspecting how far away your head remains from it.

But Jungkook is attentive, and you only notice a second later that his palm is covering your head, keeping it from bumping against the railing. So you remove your hands from it, letting it glide over his smooth back again, sweat-covered and hot now.

He’s a monster, this man. Or perhaps, you make him a monster. You want to believe you’re the sole reason he forgets the universe like this; pounds into you, causing your body to move up and down the mattress, just because you’re the weakest spot he has.

Of course you are. Of course.

So obvious when he confesses for the millionth time, “I love you.” Muffled, but clearer when he moves to look at you, expression beyond words as he repeats, “I love you so much.”

“And I you, my love.”

Strange. So strange how you never would’ve imagined yourself saying such a thing just a few years ago. How you avoided him, took a different path than him, never voluntarily meeting his eyes.

The words floating between you urge him to slow down for the moment; he attempts to take you in, to memorise you. Lets his eyes flit from your mouth over your nose to your pupils. Touches your cheek.

And the slower pace allows you to speak a bit more properly, even though you can’t help but feel distracted when he drops his head some to peck your skin.

“It… it has not been more than two years, has it? When we still despised each other.”

His kiss burns scars into your shoulder, hotter than hellfire. A raspy voice murmurs, “The world changes in mysterious ways.”

“Mmmh—”

It does. So does your mind. Because why is it that the most utterly sweet romance births the wildest of desires?

“And… Maybe that is what you need to unleash tonight, Kook. Perhaps I need it, too—” You shudder when he hums. His digits are still restless on your face, sliding up and down; not knowing what to caress. “What if you fucked me like you still hated me?”

“I… would that… You want that? I cannot even act as if I hate you, though.”

“Try it. I want you to.”

Jungkook remains speechless for too long, still comprehending your words, clearly torn between adhering to your wishes and worshipping you with the same adoration as you give out.

But as you so faintly mouth a hushed Please, you diffuse something in his brain. Inexplicably, because the rush of sensations, while never absent, feels new each time he touches you.

Perhaps that’s why he never gets enough of you; you hang a new star onto the sky every day, a new moon every night. Alternating every moment and refusing to leave a single one bland.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give the same excitement back to you.

Pushing his body up, he kneels above you, slipping out of you bit by bit as he grips your left knee. He shifts your limb, changing the position until you’re laying sideways, somewhat twisted.

You see the fleeting glimpse of pride as he slides back home and you mewl, soon squinting your eyes shut because shit — whatever you were doing before doesn’t compare to the tightness the shift allows. How your legs are nearly closed, allowing for much more friction.

You’re wrapped around him so fucking well, reminiscent of old key-to-its-lock-metaphors; and he feels infinitely closer to you. Possibly having a harder time than you, even.

The drag of his cock is endless as he begins, still too gentle, but effective enough. Your hands seek a place to hold onto, immediately opting for his leg; but he doesn’t seem to dig the idea as much.

“Let go,” he orders, not quite waiting for you to oblige before he’s captured your arm harshly and removed your touch, pinning it to your hip. “Same as before. No touching or I’ll stop—” The thrust he delivers isn’t quick, but relentless and hard; deep to the hilt. “—this. I don’t care if you cry or complain then.”

Shit…

He’s started. And he’s playing the act well. In your drowsy idiocy, you can’t help but wonder how the two of you would’ve fared if you’d turned your hate into lust much earlier. If you hadn’t used the time to despise each other, but transform it into this kind of energy.

Of course it is stupid to retort to such fantasies. Back then, you were disgusted by his personality, irritated by the way the two of you treated each other. There would’ve been no scenario in which he would’ve landed balls-deep in you.

But fuck, does the image prompt something in you.

You don’t bother for an answer, reckoning that the quiver of your lower lip might suffice, but… seemingly, not for him. Because he presses into your wrist harder before moving it to your back.

Yelping, you nearly stuff your face in the pillow, not entirely realising his next moves until you open your eyes again. See his mouth floating right over your ear. So close to you, pushing your damp hair back, whispering ominously, “Are you not fucking hearing me? Do you not understand?”

“I…” Goddamn it. Is he gritting his teeth? Playing his aggression so well? Or does it derive from the sheer lust he can’t contain? “I hear you. I understand.”

“What did I say?”

“No touching.”

The fingers stroking your strands back are more tender than his words, rewarding you with caresses as he continues just a tad softer, “Was that so difficult?”

He leaves you with another squeeze of your tits, moving his knees on the mattress to draw closer to your body. To bury himself further into you, leaving no spot untouched. And then, perfectly in character, claims, “Looking as pathetic as years ago, aren’t you? Probably dreamed of fucking me then, too.”

Wow—

Regarding the assignment with absolute diligence, it seems.

Even more cruel when he slips out of you so casually, so easily, despite adjusting to the position a mere moment ago. For a good purpose, however — because his digits replace his rock hard, soaked cock not soon after, testing the situation with languidly slow pumps.

They feel so different from his length; so… inadequate. You desire so much more. Back to where you were a minute ago. It’s… so hard not to touch him.

But if you begged for it now, would he give in? Or rather hold onto your previous idea?

You can try.

“Kook…” you whisper carefully, albeit immediately noticing how his breathing overshadows the word. You attempt again, “Kook.” This time, he hears. “Please. Need more? Please.”

“Asking for mercy all of a sudden… you cannot be serious.”

“I…”

“You’re lucky I do, too, you see? Need more.” Firmly, he lets a heavy hand fall to your ass, moving it up before your surprised squeal leaves you, and pushes at your back; your body flat on your stomach. “Or you’d long be sprawled over my lap.”

One of your dangerous traits is that you’re constantly tempted to test him. To act out, to follow his little warnings. Then again, he already provides enough; already at a hundred percent.

Like now, when he returns with the intent to wear you out. Wrecking you from the moment his cock intrudes again, falling in so smoothly that it’s almost embarrassing.

He starts right away. Pants a couple seconds later, matching your squeaks, probably delighted by your desperation as you hold, nearly rip the sheets.

Tired, he leans in, chest closer to your back, and uses the nape of your neck as leverage to move easier. Wrapping a hand around it, pressing you down, hearing you whine and sniffle against the pillow.

You cannot recall the last time he fucked you this brutally. Snapping against your ass, letting all of the massiveness he sports disappear inside you. You don’t know what surprises you more — his stamina or the fact that you can take him this well at all.

But even Jeon Jungkook has his limits. You hear the approaching end in the way he sounds, breathing irregular and words incoherent. How broken his sounds are, high-pitched and absolutely unhinged. How his thrusts are slower now, indicative of his fatigue.

You know he’s close. But when he doesn’t slow down but stops altogether, you know he doesn’t want to be.

Refusing the orgasm, he pulls out for the nth time, much, much to your chagrin. With a dry throat, perspiring skin and droopy eyes, he delivers a harmless smack to your ass, and says, “Get up. Your turn to work on this.”

And with that, he means making himself comfortable against the back of the bed; letting the muscles of his arms bulge when he lifts them; using both hands to card through his hair, bringing some order into his messy mane.

Then, watching as you sit up, crawling on all fours and nearing his awaiting body.

Your gaze falls to his lap right away as you inch closer. To the shiny, wet member, secured in his fist, moving in it just a little, so as not to explode prematurely. Reserving it for you, and you only.

Such a giant. Towering. Thick enough for you to once again wonder if you can truly fit this inside you. Jungkook is gifted in every way.

And it’s not just the package he’s so proudly touching right now; it’s all of him. The golden skin, the thick thighs, the firm chest and the moles across his body. How his plush lips part further, the more your warmth nears.

Ready for you when you don’t take a seat right away but instead, steer straight towards his mouth, seeking a kiss you so hopelessly need. And for a second, he falls weak to your actions.

Only, until he suddenly yanks you back by your hair, probably reluctantly because…

Even now, his face draws to yours like a magnet, wanting more. Resisting. Extending the misery.

“Sit down,” he instructs, hitting your hanging tits. “Now.”

You do.

You do as quickly as you can; even rolling back your eyes, throwing back your head, unconsciously submitting to the reflex of gripping his shoulders. Bad idea — because he snatches your wrists, working to bring your arms behind your back again. Away from his body.

“Without this. Start.”

You try. You drag your pussy along his cock, up and then back down again; give yourself time to actually take in every little bit of him and how he makes you feel. The muscles of your legs and upper body are in full swing, exhausting your capacities.

But you’ll admit that it’s hard; not because your limbs have turned as wobbly as is usual with this beast, but because you’re awfully out of balance.

As he holds you captive, you’re struggling with the stance, even when he pulls your chest to his, melting the two of you. You don’t voice the difficulty yet, keen on observing his reactions; enduring the tremble of your body.

“So incredibly cooperative,” he repeats, “we make a strong pair, don’t we?”

Tease. Tease. Taking advantage of how much you crave praise.

You cannot pinpoint whether you’re coveting his appetite particularly strongly these days, or whether he’s just now awoken desires unknown to you so far — but his advances leave you salivating. Make you hunger for more.

Odd how you didn’t know you’d enjoy it if he gripped a patch of your hair as he is now, shaking your head, face close enough to you to repeatedly graze his lips against yours. Or that you could tighten around him like this the moment his fingers dig into your cheeks, holding you like an enemy.

“Mmmmh, you are pretty,” he hums, delivering two light slaps to your cheek. He hisses when he feels you constrict again, trapping his cock between your drenched walls, only able to whisper multiple fucked-out, “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

His fitful breathing doesn’t allow for much interruption of his air flow; his chest is heaving and he seems far more spent than he did in the beginning. But he’s never ready to stop or wave the white flag.

Still succumbing to said hurdles when his lips dash forward, instantly blending his taste with yours as his tongue snakes around yours. His lips move against yours with ferocity and determination. Teeth bite your lower lip softly, giving his aggression a soft outlet.

And it seems to you that he might not pull his claws in again tonight, unleashing all the savage fierceness his lust and envy combine into. Perhaps this will turn into the most ruthless night just yet.

But you’re wrong.

And for once tonight, you don’t mind the 180 turn.

Because the moment he surfaces from the kiss to catch his breath, you use the pause to whisper his name. With a gentle shudder, kissing eyebrows and half-open eyes, you bring your forehead to his, and all of a sudden, he lets you go.

You don’t understand why until you look at him again. Blinking innocently, still not touching him properly, but carefully bringing your fingertips to his legs. The crease between your eyebrows vanishes, allowing them to rise, and you echo, “Kookie…?”

That’s all it takes. You might be hallucinating, but you think you see something in him break. Something shifting back into place, as if he’s going through a change, returning to himself after separating from his mind for a bit.

And he slows down. The dizzying brutality of his pounding leaving you drooling turns into something friendlier. A welcome alteration but…

The change in pace surprises you. Not even inspecting his expressions helps you understand what he might be thinking, what he might be intending to do next. He’s unpredictable in moments like these.

He might turn the tides. Or he might return to his demonic self.

What you don’t realise is how your eyes affect his thumping heart so badly; how you emanate sweetness with all of your being, and how you make this played aggression nearly impossible.

Rendered hypnotised, he understands that’s enough for tonight. This isn’t the true nature the two of you share. What was it again in simple, human words, never enough to describe the celestial feeling within?

In love. Devoted. Ready to do anything. And so, so beautiful.

Jungkook cradles your face, gently massaging the back of your head. His thumb touches your cheek as if you’re fragile, careful to keep you together now and forever. You’re tenderness personified; the object of all his desires.

The definition of a treasure to be protected. And you are—

“You’re the kind of person to kill for.” His warmth breathes into your face when his lips ghost in front of yours, words sugary when he admits, “I cannot do this like I hate you. Because I don’t.”

…If there is one thing aside from you that your husband will remain loyal to forever, it’s his feelings. Not only towards you, but everything he regards the world with.

He always claims he hid most of himself before he met you, but you’re convinced he never stopped being the person he is. That he was merely believing in what others wanted him to believe.

That’s all.

Even now, as his touch falls to the small of your back, he refuses to deny the fondness and care that has grown in his heart, right around your name sheltered in there.

You swallow thickly, touching his waist, and shake your head, “Then don’t. Do it just how you mean it.”

He nods, bringing his fingers back to yours and lifting them as he asks, “Would you like to touch me again?”

“Will you let me?”

A kind laugh meets your curious, yet genuine question. He places your hands on his shoulder, jesting, “Imagine… having the power over you to decide whether to let you or not.”

Bringing his own fingers to your ass, he moves you a bit, and with that, his hardness inside you. “I love it when you are desperate like this, my love. But.” You moan when he urges you to move. “So am I.”

“Jungkook… I’m yours. You can do whatever you want.”

“I can, right? And— in return, I can be whatever you need me to be, too.”

Yours — that’s all. All of him.

The arms you finally touch, up to his shoulders, neck and jaw. The soft lips he’s kept parted ever since you started. The mole on his nose, under his mouth, near his jawline. The kiss he shares with you and the hands clamping at your body.

How he fucks you with a passion you’re certain is reserved for nobody in this world but you. You’re selfish like this; you don’t believe anybody loves like that.

It’s all yours; that’s what you need him to be.

You murmur his name repeatedly, and he pecks your neck dryly. Your sounds change as you near the end, feeling a bubbling sensation in your stomach pleading to be released. Impatiently, you lean back, planting your hands to the mattress, face towards the ceiling.

Jungkook uses the position to latch onto your nipples, fucking you harder now, even if not with the same craze as before. He knows your body; he knows it so well. So you’re not surprised, yet gasping when he brings a finger to your clit, hitting and touching the right stops over and over and over again.

Your body winds on top of him as the chaos inside you unfolds, your shoulders sinking, eyes in the back of your head, upper body so fucking weak. And as he massages circles onto your clit, never rough, and murmurs against your jaw, you lose your mind.

“You’re my love. Gorgeous, beautiful sweetheart. I want to see… this every night.”

Doesn’t he know he will all his life? Doesn’t he know you’ve surrendered every piece of you to him?

Fuck. Fuck—

The knot uncoils the moment he utters the last word, voice dulcet and hazy, so loving and breathy. Your arms give out, threatening to let your body fall, and you rush to find an anchor in his shoulders, holding him, embracing him within a second.

Without a single thought ahead, you blurt, “I’ll— I’ll never want anyone but you. Never.”

“You’re all I know, baby,” he responds in kind, holding you the same, a confession between each kiss to your neck, “I love you. D-did you know? I love you. Love you. Love you so much.”

And God, do you love him.

The waves crashing over you are metres-high, and they’re drowning you ocean-deep. Why does this feel new and crushing every single time? He’s helped you experience this a hundred times. Nobody ever has before.

But you never get used to this. Not to how hard your pussy tightens and loosens over and over again, how your body becomes weightless, needing to be kept upright. How your stomach feels much more free, like you’ve gone through an epiphany.

The world sparkles. You feel ridiculous, alone in your head with these thoughts, but you’re above clouds, and the stars sparkle. What the hell…

“H-how much?” you ask, gripping his black hair, dizzy.

“You cannot ask me. I have no fucking idea,” he curses, “I wish I could measure it, you see? Wish I could show you better. Tell you. Write it in a book.”

You’re fond of books; but he doesn’t know there’s no need for him to create a story, because he’s one himself. Isn’t he? A chapter after another.

He lifts your face from his shoulder, making you look at him. Pushes your hair back, his stare fond. Crashes his lips against yours again before it’s his turn to let go.

Affected by your contractions, he moans against your cheek, closing his eyes before he’s shooting all that he kept back into you. Hot, wet and sticky, loads of it, requiring multiple pumps until he’s drained.

Then, falls back against the railing with you in tow, hiding in your chest as you keep him close to your heart. You touch his tresses, caressing his scalp, matching his breathing until your bodies wind down.

It takes endless minutes in each other’s arms until the burning sensation all over your skin diminishes.

The room has grown darker now, candles burned halfway through. When you allow yourself a glimpse of him, the shadows are dancing across his features, hiding half his face. The light is so faint where it hits him, a gorgeous weak golden that still doesn’t do his own teint justice.

You can’t believe you get to keep this for a lifetime. That this is the very being you have the honour to wake up next to every single morning. That you’re the only one holding his heart, and that he’s the only one matching your soul.

Is this what it means to share everything with someone? To indulge in something far greater than love.

Which… reminds you…

“Jungkook,” you call, and he hums quietly, smiling through it. Eyelids falling, he listens as you ask, “Kook, do you think I feel— or look different?”

There’s a pause in your hushed conversation, a rise of eyebrows. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d sound a lot more concerned, you reckon. Immediately question your thoughts.

Instead, he sounds weaker, yet confused when he mutters, “…Why?”

“Do I?”

Another break in thought. This time to take you in. To lean in just a little, regard you carefully, to let his eyes drag over your being to detect the change you speak of.

But maybe…

“I think you were quieter these days. In thoughts? I assumed it was the Jung thing. But,” he eventually says, “responsibilities didn’t allow me to be around much either. Did I… miss something?”

Were you quieter? Possibly.

Saying you were trapped in your thoughts is an understatement; if he’s figured something out without being around, it’s this much. The utter truth, a successful deduction. But was it the Hoseok rumours?

You can’t yet say for sure. So you choose to not say anything at all.

Only, “That might be it.”

“Other than that, however…” he speaks, moving with a grunt. The hands on your hips are gentle as they instruct you to get up; and unbothered by the seed soon flowing out, he urges you to your back, face soon levitating above you. “You’re still the same.”

A creature of habit, he wipes the drying locks out of your face, kissing the tip of your nose. You’re almost entirely sure that you look like a proper mess — but it’s impossible to not believe him when he claims, “Still the same beautiful woman I fell in love with two years ago.” Another kiss to your eyelid. “Stunning darling.”

“Are you still in love with me the same?”

“No,” he immediately blurts, and if you didn’t know him so well, you’d panic, “of course never the same. Always a little more.”

“Mmmh. And I love you.” You touch the smooth surface of his back, drawing figures over the defined muscles. “So. Does this prove that I wouldn’t run away with some lord?”

He puts on the act of a thinker, purposely teasing you until you hit his bicep. Then, “Yes. But does it prove you won’t run away with a stable boy?”

“…I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The laugh he emits is genuine, so different from the troubled voice you heard less than an hour ago. His old jesting self, he refers to your awkward idea before, mentioning, “I know. You surely got that across tonight. And oh, how you kept looking at me. Pure hatre—”

“Shut up. I gave myself to you tonight or you would’ve begged and whimpered—”

“Oh? How so? Tied me up, hm?” he mocks, fingers cautiously following the veins of your arms before he’s caught your wrists again. He lifts them over your head, trapping you again. “Like this?”

You laugh as his lips trace your neck, the tickling sensation not quite the same as the lust spreading before. Helplessly, you surrender, begging, “Alright. Okay. I apologise for saying that! If you keep going, I will be crawling tomorrow.”

“Is that so bad? Not having to tend to so many things?”

“You’d make it worth it, I’m certain.”

He lets you go the very next moment, sighing before he asks, “Do you feel alright? I was worried about going overboard.”

“No, I am more than alright. Dog-tired but… this was perfect. I am a little happy you got jealous. Do you feel better, too?”

“I feel extraordinarily well.” He keeps his mouth open, pondering on saying more, but as you see his mind whir, you reckon another thought has replaced his previous statement. “I was not jealous. Merely worried.”

“…You yourself have said you are a jealous man.”

“Have you got any evidence? I thought so.” Another snicker in a joyous night, setting the mood for your dreams. “But. You are loved by many, and I admire you for that. And objectively I know I will always love you the most, but… it’s scary.”

“Ah… what is, Kook?”

“Knowing that somebody might want to overtake me. To try better or make you reconsider.”

“They couldn’t. I do not have to tell you… you know me and you know I will be here.”

“Good. I know,” he assures, countless infinitesimal sparkles of yearning in his eyes. They glow even in the shadows of candlelight, even without flames. “I really want this with you.”

“What is that?”

“…Everything.”

Everything.

His thoughts are a repetition of your own. A confession of a forever. Which is why you understand so well what he means, not a single explanation necessary. Because you want it all, too.

Of all the facts existing in your realm and universe, this remains one that you could never doubt. And you’re trying to provide him with the same amount of everything, as well. You are.

Which is why the thought of disappointing him is so unbearable for the time being.

So for now, you’d rather avoid it by keeping your mouth shut just for a little longer.

For all the longing touches revealed last night, Jungkook was certain he’d meet a glowing face the next morning. Sparkly, familiar eyes, taking in all hallways despite already knowing them so well, pointing out a new detail each time as you love to do.

For all the affection revealed last night, he was sure he’d eliminated all doubts and sorrows, every piece of thought and afterthought left of the conversation about other lords and past love.

In such a sense, he finds himself cheerful in his office the following day, enduring the staff’s playful ridicules. Grateful about the comfortable atmosphere, the lightness of the morning. His humour runs off the charts and he catches himself snickering about his own jokes.

You left him bright at least. Hopeful and joyful, with a heart filled with so much love and craze that is barely comprehensible for a mortal mind.

When you stroll into his office with your hands folded, his dark gems glitter, lights dancing in his pupils. He didn’t see much of you yet, despite from the tiny moment he left you sleeping in bed, kissing your shoulder and removing the lock off your face.

Tending to his duties, only torn away from you when he was urged to do so.

“Good morning,” you say in your sweetest voice, so small and soft.

And he hears the alteration in your words, so vastly different from last night. But your eyes look somewhat swollen, sleep still apparent in them, so it’s easy to give into the first instinct and blame a short night for your fatigue.

“Good morning, my love,” he responds, silencing as he nears your body, tenderly aligning your fingers and raising yours to his mouth.

As he kisses every knuckle, you ask, “Working so early?”

“Did not choose to,” he murmurs in between pecks. He concludes the gesture with rubbing a thumb ever-so-gently against the back of your hand before he leads your palm to his face. “I can come back to you any moment, though.”

You smile, but the blinking of your eyes is slow, and your reserved stance grows. He finds it odd when you hesitate, but you’re faster than him when you speak, “No, no. I didn’t want to disturb you, please do what you need to do.”

“Then… keep me company?”

“I will, but later, yes? I was thinking of a brief outing.”

It’s not unusual for you to seek fresh air or promenade along a nearby waterfront. Ever since you left town, you’ve grown even fonder of nature. The blossoming flowers, the sun, the summer rain and the rainbows afterwards match your energy.

But your usual light is missing; you don’t look quite downcast, but moreso worried about something. Your chest rises a bit too hard when you breathe in, and the nerves burn hotter when he asks, “Where to?”

“Just nearby. Picking flowers.”

Maybe he’s thinking about it too hard. Maybe you’re honestly just drowsy and opting for the crisp air, hoping for it to clear your mind. And maybe your demeanour will have changed by the time you return.

Might at least just be worth the wait, right?

So he doesn’t intervene with your thoughts, merely nodding. He leans into your tender palm, still resting on his warm cheek, and presses a careful kiss into it, as though a mistake could make you run away.

“Sure,” he concurs at last, “rush back to me. And show me the flowers you collect, alright?”

Which you don’t really oblige to, keeping a safe distance from his yearning, worried heart for an hour or two.

It becomes increasingly difficult to focus on work with you away; inquiring about you doesn’t do much, because how could the staff within these walls know more than he does? Would you confide in them but not in him?

Are you afraid of something?

When the attention drifts off his work eventually and his gaze keeps switching to the view out the window, to a path that you might be walking, he plummets into his chair. Waits. Fiddling.

“Dojoon,” he calls, immediately met with a guard outside the room, speaking to the stiff, polite form, “has my wife returned yet? Have you seen Aza around?”

Denying his lord’s questions, Dojoon shakes his head, causing Jungkook’s chest to deflate, and informs him that no, he has neither noticed the presence of you nor of your chaperone.

Fitting, a timing so appropriate, because the guard has only nearly finished his sentence and increased Jungkook’s concerns when footsteps echo through the hallway outside. Jungkook cranes his neck momentarily, hoping for an end to his perturbation.

And at last, some deity seems to have heard his prayers, even if, in hindsight, he knows he’ll probably have nothing to worry about. You’ve been away for longer, albeit usually announcing your departure more cheerily and with less uncertainty.

Which, to his pleasure, doesn’t torture your expressions as much anymore as you finally enter the room. The hands are still folded, a shawl wrapped around your back and gracefully falling over your arms.

You’re always so pretty; so stunning that he nearly forgets the issue on hand.

That your folded fingers don’t carry anything.

Which is not too suspicious, it shouldn’t be. You might have handed the flowers to somebody, might have hastened back into his room without thinking of his prior request.

But his paranoid mind has been wreaking havoc lately, and he hates, hates, hates it — yet, can’t stop it.

So he despises the feeling in his chest when he asks, “Where are the flowers?”

“I…” you unfold your hands, inspecting your fingers as if you forgot they were vacant of said bloom. “Staff took them.”

Of course. That’s the most logical option, one he considered. So why…

He inches closer to you, nodding towards Dojoon and signalling for him to leave. As the guard exits right away, Jungkook lightly touches a strand of your hair, tucking it back as he so gently wonders, “Where did you go, baby?”

“Just out for a while. I told you before.”

“But…” You swallow as he talks, nervous about something and suddenly fidgeting with your way too warm cashmere shawl. Only looking up when he breaks his barriers and asks, “What’s the matter?”

“What?”

“I do not know. You tell me. What’s the matter? Is it because of something we said last night? Or because of…”

There. He said it. Stupid unease that might prove wrong and oh-so-utterly and truly stupid soon.

Of course he’s had this in his mind. But somehow, he’s started to wonder… do you feel okay? Are you ill?

“What?” you echo, shaking your head. “No. What are you saying—”

“Something must be bothering you, I reckon, and you…”

“No, I think I just,” you start, pausing, tonguing your cheek until you turn your body a little. Almost facing the door. “I probably only need more rest. I feel tired and you wore me out so much, you see—”

It’s meant as a joke, and he’s sure he even recognises a smile — but the mood won’t allow for otherwise very welcome jests. Before you can even reach for the door handle, he places a flat hand on the surface of the door, ensuring that Dojoon didn’t leave it ajar even a tiny gap.

Half caged in, you look at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted as you say, “Won’t you let me go out?”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” The genuine distress in his expression hurts you; just because you’re so fearful of disappointing him, or putting him under more anxiety. No reason, no reason. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You want to. It’s just — he’s been forlorn before. You’ve seen his lows and seen the reasons for it. Waded through parts of his pain with him. The news you want to deliver are merry and colossal, but you don’t know if he’s ready.

And fuck. You’re taking too long to answer, aren’t you?

You are. You see it in his eyes. How they start to burn, how frustration grows so apparent in them. Never replacing the care and worries, but certainly furrowing his eyebrows the way he often does when irritated.

“What’s troubling you?” he tries again, keeping himself from snarling. “Where did you go? Did you… did you see him somewhere? I apologise if I said or did something wrong last night. If I hurt you.”

Keeping himself from snapping. Because your eyes are so big, and your stare so innocent and you look so concerned for him rather than for yourself, and… and…

Other than every reason in this universe, he can’t bear to be mad at you.

“Hm?” he voices.

“No,” you finally reveal, “it’s not him at all.”

“I know… Of course I know. But what is it?”

You blow out air. “I am…”

“Yes,” he interjects when your pause proves longer than a moment, “are you ill? Oh goodness, this is nerve-wracking. I think I might fai—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, both hands dashing to his arms. He’s out of breath, unfiltered craze in his eyes, as if expecting the worst. So you free him of his misery, taking a deep breath, and then, outrightly, reveal, “I’m expecting.”

…The world stills.

You hear it and you feel it; are certain that all movement has ceased, that the birds have halted mid-flight. That the wind has ebbed down. That the people down in the village have frozen in whatever state they were in before.

Selfishly, you believe that the centre of the world has shifted from the sun to right where you’re standing, right where the love of your life has paused. Where he’s looking at you and you only, barely blinking, out of words, lungs as dry as yours.

“My lo—” you start at the same time as he mumbles, “What?”

So you speak on, “I have not been bleeding. I went to consult the doctor and—”

“Outside? Where?” he asks, the memory and logic in his mind so disrupted that he finds himself in a state of utter bafflement and insanity. “Why didn’t you go to the mansion’s—”

“He went to his family for the week. Do you remember?”

“Right… right. What did you… You just went?”

You nod. “Spoke to him about all the things I have been experiencing and he’s certain those are all signs for me expecting… it seems.”

“…You didn’t tell me.”

“Because I wasn’t sure. And I… I know how much this scares you, so I didn’t want to stir chaos in case it turned out to be nothing.”

Which is a truth you weren’t sure you’d be able to spell out. Jungkook has wanted children; he has mentioned it on several occasions. But ever since you fathomed his deepest fears, laying in a fatherless past and a sorrowful childhood, you’ve been careful.

He’s affected. He always has been. And perhaps you’ll see glimpses of those very worries the more your pregnancy advances; let’s see.

For now, however, they don’t seem to roam his mind.

Instead, he shakes his head, hints of an expression creeping onto his face that you know too well. The first sign of approaching tears; of a swelling heart. Of love growing so fondly and fast that it overflows.

Every single tongue-tied reaction gathers in eventual words when he summarises, “I barely know what to say.” And right there it is; underneath his eye, on the apple of his cheek. One single tear. And with it, a breaking voice. “I do not know what to say.”

But he knows what to do. And what he does is tilt his head, sighing into the stuffy air of the office, not bothering to wipe away the tears — and you can’t either as he grips your hands. Smushes them in his. Calls forth your own liquid affection, blurring your vision.

And then you’re pulled off your spot, crushed in a long-overdue embrace. Before you know it, you’re safely secured in his arms, one a snake around your body, the other hand holding the back of your head as if you could disappear.

He hides his lips in your hair, still not able to put his thoughts into words. But he cries silently against you, leftover panic subsiding and giving way to raw sentiments.

“Jung— kook—” you hiccup, and he shakes his head, possibly keeping you from sobbing; yet, not faring better. “I apologise for— for keeping it from y—”

“No. No, you…” he takes a deep breath, and you know without looking that he’s closing his eyes. Putting his chin on top of your head. “You’re the only one who’s ever cared like this. And shielded me like this. How do you care so much? No, I know. Because I do, too…”

His words turn into a murmur, and he swallows a syllable or two, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his heart, and it speaks volumes without him needing to.

You could cry all your life. And you could love all your life.

“So,” he adds, “we are finally growing, yes? You and I and another. The only another we need, right? Fuck the rest of the world.”

You nod against his chest with a broken laugh, palms wandering further up from the small of his back, and you try to hold him as tight as he’s holding you.

There is no need for words and confessions anymore. There is no need for anything at all; just this very thing. And this very touch. These tender sounds of your sobs, ongoing until they turn into a light and quiet mingling of smiles and tear-filled laughter.

“I promise to you,” Jungkook finally says after a minute, his voice calmer, steadier, “I will do anything. Everything.”

Pause. Waiting to collect his thoughts. All those of lords and kings knocked out within a moment.

And then—

“I will do so much better.”

Over the course of the one year you have spent within the same walls as your husband, you haven’t just learned how to share the same home but the same habits, too.

Some are deliberate — reading the Friday newspaper together in the morning; craving eggs on Saturdays; taking walks to wind down from the week on Sundays. They have become a reflex; unspoken activities you indulge in without the other pointing them out anymore.

Others developed accidentally — like, unconsciously counting the windows you pass in the long hallways, because you caught him doing it before. Or, not being able to sleep well unless you have bid each other a good night. Or — in such a case, seeking each other out once the other side of the bed feels too cold.

It’s not rare for Jungkook, who’s still learning to handle responsibilities, to overwork himself deep into the night. At times, you find him at the edge of the bed, still reading a document. On other days, you tap blindly along the walls of the mansion, meeting him in the library.

Tonight, it’s neither.

The place looks eerie, somewhat haunted in the dark. Still adjusting to the darkness, you stroll from room to room idly, trying to make out a light, or a shadow, a sighting of the man you woke up without.

It must be late; or incredibly early. You can’t say when he awoke and skulked off; the sky is still pitch black outside, but sunrise might break in soon.

A few minutes later, akin to an eternity, you finally push the unlocked door to the study, lit by faint flames. Jungkook flinches when it squeaks open and you step in with featherlight steps. He nearly throws the book into the air, catching it as it threatens to slide off his knee.

The gentle heart only calms once it recognises you, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. He isn’t angry; rather delighted to see your figure standing in the dark, in a long, white nightgown and big, worried eyes.

As much as he’s able to perceive from his spot, you look relieved, fingers fiddling, and he doesn’t think he could love anybody more than you, ever. Not when you’re here steering towards your goal, obviously having scoured the mansion to find him.

“You’re so light on your feet, love,” he faux-complains, tutting, “thought you were a ghost.”

“Oh. A pretty ghost?”

“One I’d let haunt me any day.”

You let out a gentle laugh, stepping closer until you’re towering over him, “They say one glows when with child.”

“If you glow any more, then…” he whispers as you take a careful seat on his lap, simultaneously securing you there with an arm and covering his eyes. Charading being blinded by the light.

How dramatic.

Shaking your head, you take a look down to his fingers, following his touch until you’ve opened the shut book to the page his thumb serves as a bookmark for. The cover isn’t particularly telling, a mere title on it too small to read.

The chapter he was reading is an advanced one, the page starting in the middle of an ongoing sentence. but as most stories beloved to dreamy poets go, kindness prevailed in the end.

You don’t ask for the content right away; rather, you wonder, “Jungkook, why are you still up? And here of all places.”

The golden candlelight highlights the fatigue in his eyes — but it makes his heart-stirring smile evident, too. A note of pride resonates in his voice as he lifts the book, holding it towards you as if that doesn’t worsen the lighting drastically.

“It has lullabies and bedtime stories,” he says. You lean in, staring at the right page, and recognise colourful, faded illustrations. “Father used to read them to me. I remember how they shaped me, so I— I wanted to practice, too.”

No matter how many arrows Cupid shoots into your heart, Jungkook always seems to outdo the beneficent god. He’s diligent in watering and growing the affection in you. Tending to your heart — just like that, effortlessly.

Despite your tired mind, your emotions are on overdrive; because of your tired mind, you, in the tone of a statement, repeat, “You were preparing.”

“Is that odd?” he immediately blurts, a little too loud for the room. When you shake your head in denial, he nods in comfort. “I was afraid I was doing too much. This book helped. There is another one on parenting, but,” he reaches for his desk with a groan, putting another, smaller piece on top of the other one, “but I feel like this advice is a given. Look.”

He flips through the pages, halting at one that outlines tips and tricks in imperatives. The first you lay eyes on is already one that proves his point, odd as you read aloud, "An affectionate household works wonders upon a young mind. Remember to, uh— cultivate a serene and harmonious family atmosphere!"

“Fair enough, is it not?” Jungkook jests, shutting the book again.

The smile he flashes, the one you never hesitate to join is a peculiar one. Utterly sweet, undeniably handsome; yet, strange, considering the history the two of you share.

You wonder once again.

When did he become this tender? The boy you knew, smirking so slyly, evil words shot towards you in a group of fellow pals — none of the damaging energy remains today. Today… sitting on this very lap, going into raptures.

Carrying his child.

Then again, people change, but never thoroughly. A basic foundation, the core that one is made of always healthily and steadily remains. Jungkook’s traits, the ones you have learned to love and cherish, were always part of him.

He just needed an outlet. Somebody to practise them on; a lifelong companion to pour the softness onto.

And things never end there. No, they go on and on, a flood of sparkly emotions. Like, when he gets into a more casual conversation now, never quite realising that his little statements are pulling you above clouds.

”I asked some of the staff about their experience with their children. Did you know some of them have young toddlers themselves?”

”Mihee gave me a list of things to be careful about once birth comes around. It sounds painful, darling. You can do it, right?”

”You can. I’ll be there, too. You can certainly do it better than I will, possibly.”

He tells you he has been working a little less these days; having struggles forming a clear thought. Informs you about his spontaneous and perhaps too early decision of planting a tree just for the child. Explains to you how to not hold a baby, the information courtesy of Mihee.

And then, he kisses your forehead, sucking in a breath as if shivering. He adjusts for a moment, never pushing you off his lap, and then eventually, quietly, admits, “It is so frightening, as well, though, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

“This… this whole thing.” You gaze at him with gentle worry, suspecting what’s to come, but he misinterprets it for doubt. “I am not anyhow indicating that I don’t want this. Not at all. I wouldn’t want it with anyone but you.”

You nod understandingly, clarifying that you never assumed such. But he continues, “Still, I can’t help but wonder how well I will do.”

You could tell him that it’s a valid and often occurring worry. That no parent-to-be will ever dive into this with full confidence and a pure lack of insecurities. But you know why he’s saying this.

Not everyone has a dead father. Not everyone deals with an abusive household growing up. And not everyone was fed with doubts and deep-rooted issues that provoke such hesitant thoughts.

“Is that why you are reading books on parenting, my love?” you inquire, speaking slowly.

“I would guess so,” he answers, “I want to be there. I’d hate it if I had to leave… you never know what might happen, you know? Or maybe, if I was here, yet tried too hard and then failed in the process—”

“First of all,” you interrupt, “do not make me imagine a life without you. Second of all… we are thinking about it in such a theory. I reckon that… once you hold someone in your arms,” you put your head onto his, keeping him close, the free hand seeking his, “it feels more natural. Love happens naturally.”

“Does it? I have never been a father before.”

You chuckle, “So I hope! But. What was it like to love me? A process? Progress? Were you scared of loving me?”

“I was.” The answer is unexpected. Then again, it’s not. Certainly rapid, though. “You’re an unstoppable force. Of course it is scary to love you. What if one messes up? That’s nothing that can be forgiven.”

“You always speak too highly of me.”

“I am not blinded. I see it clearly and I mean every word. Loving you was frightening, but it developed…” He removes his touch from your fingers, instead tracing up the skin of your arm until his digits skim your elbow; echoing, “Naturally.”

“Mmmh. And does it ever feel like you’re trying too hard?”

“No. You’re right, it doesn’t. It just happens.”

“So,” you whisper, “who’s to say this will be different? And to tell you a secret: You’re doing so amazing loving me. If you can give this one the same amount as you give me, we will be fine.”

He hums, nodding instantly. This must boost his confidence.

He’d be a fool to ever doubt the sentiments he houses for you. He knows he loves you well, because he regards you as worth it. Because he vowed to provide to you what you deserve; the intensity of that adoration will never be subject to confusion.

“I will share another secret with you,” you clear your throat, shifting. “Can you imagine how terrifying it can be for a woman to leave home after so long? How, considering the role of the woman, the thought of living with a man can be intimidating?”

Jungkook’s head sinks in thought. Big eyes fixate on a random spot and a plump, rosy lower lip curls outward, pouting. Another hum before he does a head tilt and confesses, “I haven’t thought about it yet. But… if I had a daughter and she left, I would be scared to death for her well-being.”

“Yes. And she would be, as well. It can be difficult. But to tell you something… Despite my fears and the adjustments I needed to make here, I didn’t fear for my well-being. I knew you’d take good care of me.”

You swallow, sighing when he leans in, lips close to your chest, “And if this is what you consider your nature, Jungkook… Then I do not think you have to worry about anything.”

“Hmmm. This makes so much sense. You are such a bright woman, did you know?” he says, rubbing your arm, then your back. Buries his face in your breasts; his voice vibrates against you as he speaks, “You are everything good. And incredibly smart.”

That’s what he’s saying. The true feelings run much deeper than that; you understand.

The sudden affection that washes over one on the best days. When it overwhelms the senses and dips the air in vibrant shades of pink. Feelings of invincibility and eternal happiness.

Yet, hard, or even impossible, to grasp into appropriate sentences. What Jungkook is doing is merely spitting the most harmless of his love confessions, because his true thoughts cannot be constellated into actual words.

“I love you. I do love you. So, so much,” he mutters, scattered kisses between words a habit now, “and I want to take care of you forever. I will bring you tea. And carry you to bed. I will even cook for you, I do not care about the intensity of effort…”

He’s said that before — delivering whatever you crave, whenever you crave it. To your surprise, the royal you thought spoiled previously has a knack for bringing delicious creations to the table. You know because he gets bored sometimes. Takes some work off the staff’s overworked shoulders.

“Speaking of,” he soon inquires, just as you foresaw, “are you hungry? Are you eating well? We should sneak into the kitchen.”

You shake your head immediately, telling him that eating before sleep does not do well to the stomach. Tell him that it is far too late to hide in the corners of the mansion the way you hid around town when engaged.

That now, it might be much easier to stroll back into your room. Slip under the covers. Smile and talk and drift into sleep.

And you promise that you’re already well fed as long as he fills you with the care your dreamy youth would always read about.

But the clouds you float above dissipate and drop your body into a fall, from heaven to absolute hell.

You’re not sure what you expected from this entire affair; perhaps you should’ve known that carrying and leading a full human being into the world wouldn’t occur so blissfully as the pregnancy itself was. And yes — compared to this, the pregnancy was a bed of roses, no matter how often you whined.

Damn the society around you. The only knowledge you had of this moment came from the few books Jungkook brought you every now and then, his gentle warnings that this might hurt, and the brief conversations you had with your mother about the existence of people.

One or two comments from your doctor here and there.

Oh, it will be all good!

But that’s it, isn’t it? Women do not get informed properly; you do not fully understand the concept of such things until they finally roll around.

And the day you wake up once again with the highest expectations, you finally speak those hopes into existence. As you walk up the stairs shortly after dinner, you feel a liquid drain your legs; confused until your stomach so agonisingly twists.

A punch to your guts.

The moment it happens, your heartbeat accelerates, its sound echoing in your ears — for the very first second, you fear the worst. Did something go wrong? Is something bad happening?

But it doesn’t seem the case, because the tumult around you suggests otherwise entirely: the royal mansion breaks into an immediate excited bustle. You don’t know how they do it, but word spreads like a wildfire.

As soon as the world starts spinning and you let out one or two groans, slowly turning into yelps of pain, you’re escorted to the empty bedroom. Barely minutes later, you’re accompanied by the doctor residing in your mansion these days.

Jungkook’s doing.

Ordered the physician Sang and the midwife Yumi — yes, both — to spend their days here because this is the time they predicted for the baby to arrive at. Nine months… plus, minus a couple days.

The skies have darkened and the seasons changed. It’s colder now, but you feel hot, tortured by your body temperature as staff members drape more blankets over your body, comfortable pillows under you, water and cloths beside you.

And among the blurring faces you perceive under the growing pain, you don’t see his.

Not now; not a couple minutes later; not even more than half an hour has passed. Have they not informed him? He went out for a stroll, but he couldn’t have gone this far.

Your pleas were whispers before, asking for him, yet somewhat ignored, as if you never uttered them at all. So when the light contractions turn moderate, threatening to worsen over time, you raise your voice, “Where’s my husband?! Are you being serious? Get him o—”

“Lady Jeon,” Yumi calmly starts; your possibly irritated mind perceives the probably neutral tone as condescending, and as such, your title makes you internally cringe. “We cannot.”

“What?”

“Husbands aren’t allowed at childbirth. But—”

“What?!” you repeat, rage redirected from the pain to the person only trying to help. You’ll feel guilty later, you know. “This is his child, too. He’s a goddamn part of th—”

The blunt curses are unlike you, and your brain understands; they understand, too, because they have seen and appreciated your true nature for the past few days. Maybe that’s why they don’t take your outbursts too personally; or maybe because they have done this before.

And you know, you know that whatever bond you share with Jungkook, you probably can’t breach society’s rules and the things it deems inappropriate. You weren’t aware that he wasn’t allowed in here; the books didn’t teach you that.

But you should’ve known.

“The Lord will be with you the moment this is over,” Sang promises, preparing whatever he needs to. You’re barely looking, only praying to the ceiling. “He won’t miss a moment with his child. Now, listen to what I say.”

You do. You are.

It just gets so hard with time; the pauses between the contractions seem to shorten and then they vanish. The intensity grows, each time a little more than before; and every other minute, you’re sure you’ve reached the peak, but you never have.

Then, everything starts spinning, your skin soaked in sweat and the little one moving inside, your vision blurring… have hours passed already?

You don’t know. You don’t care — you want this to be over.

But the warm liquid between your thighs, the urge to push, along with the midwife’s words and reassurances, indicate that you’re almost there.

And that’s when it happens. Not the end of it all. Not the appearance of whoever you’ve been anticipating for so long.

But the aggressive thump at the door, repeated and rapid. It hurls your heart from your chest into your throat, your breathing a little more arhythmic than before and you nearly cannot imagine who might be provoking chaos so close to the end.

Then again, could it truly be such a surprise?

Because when the door opens a slit, a familiar face peeking, something in you stirs so hard that you nearly jump into a standing position, pain be damned. Adrenaline rushes through you as a hand pushes you back again; you must’ve risen a couple inches, calling a name.

“You can at least tell me how she is,” Jungkook’s shaky voice inquires near the door, louder than he probably intends. His words are filled with anxiety, and you know he cried before. “I deserve to know.”

Sang hesitates; even in such an advanced state, you still hear his composed words, as calm as he’s been taught to be. “She’s been bleeding a little. We are, however, taking care of it.”

“…What is a little?”

“Bleeding is a common occurrence. It’s just…” The man clearly leans in, because you hear him a bit worse now, yet well enough to understand why your thighs feel so oddly wet and warm, and you so weak. “Somewhat more than it should be. But she’s nearly done, so it’ll be—”

“No,” Jungkook resists, “this is unspeakably stupid.”

Not the man speaking to him, and not anything about what you’re going through, what so many women a day must be going through.

But the distance — you know. And when you move your head towards the open door, meeting his eyes at just the right moment, almost hidden behind Sang’s figure, they widen. Once again, you know why.

Because he’s snapped.

“Jungkook—” you murmur, and it’s enough.

With a combination of impatient aggression and respectful care for the physician, he pushes past the arm blocking the entry to his own bedroom. Someone in the room catches onto Jungkook’s sleeve, but he shakes it off without ever averting his gaze from you.

Yumi follows her responsibilities without a moment of hesitation, nearly leaning over your body as she warns somewhat shyly even, “You are not allowed to be here, I apologise, but…”

But her message is sharply cut in the air before it even reaches Jungkook, because he finally breaks eye contact with you, instead redirecting the flaming pupils towards her.

You don’t see much else than the bottom of his jaw, but you’ve seen the stare before.

When he manages a business that irritates him. When he gets into a rare but bad argument with you. You saw it when he met his teasing friends again, way after your engagement, ready to mock you. And when he faced the idiocy his uncle committed.

Intimidated, Yumi leans back, nodding just once, probably accepting that should whatever myth about childbirth come to life, it’d be your problem. But Jungkook has always been careful; doesn’t believe in the warnings of infections and other unspeakable things that apparently occur when the husband joins the birthing process.

“You are almost ready to push. Just a bit more,” she informs you instead, taking her place at the end of the bed, taking a glimpse under the blanket over your legs.

You feel it, too. Your body is telling you to.

“This is so stupid,” Jungkook repeats, taking a seat on the chair shoved behind him. His hands seek out yours, clutching it immediately. “Hours of waiting and hoping you’re alright? Incredibly dumb, isn’t it?”

“I know,” you say, faintly nodding, only noticing how much you’re crying when he wipes away a stray tear, “I told them. It’s taking so long, Jungkook…”

“Yes, I figured it might, but… but,” he starts, waterline shimmering, bangs already damp — where did he run from to you? “It will be over and so worth it.”

“Read it in… a book?” He nods, and you chuckle as much as possible. “You’ve been reading so much.”

“More than ever! I have never read so many books before, you know?” He sniffles. “And still nothing prepared me. Do you know what happened, darling?”

He’s fighting tears until he can’t. A single one rolls down his cheek and over his mouth, his smile remaining intact, even if somewhat damaged by the profuse emotions. His lower lip trembles like yours.

You’re in no mindset to answer, but his voice, his words, his touch soothe your heart. Lessen the pain, even though in reality and in theory, they don’t.

How does any woman do this without her beloved?

“Two hours in, and I fainted.”

Immediately, your eyes shoot open, your fingers squeezing his, but before you can utter your worries, he shakes his head and continues, “They kept me in there and guarded me like a child. I was scheming how to escape… climbing out the window.”

He smiles when you laugh again, sniffling again, and concludes, “Then they told me they had heard you were struggling and that you were screaming more often. And the room was so hot, as well — it is winter, for Heaven’s sake! And I just…”

Shaking his head, he emphasises the embarrassment of the moment, aware that you cannot talk much, but guiding you through it nevertheless. Speaking his mouth wound, “You’re the one doing this. I did nothing.”

“You did,” you manage, “it is not the same, but you were there.”

“I was there. But you’re doing this, yet I fainted. I would’ve been with you so much earli—”

His soft conversation is soon interrupted when you scream again, your chin quivering, head thrown back when another excruciating contraction catapults you almost into unconsciousness.

Somebody wipes the sweat off your hot forehead for the millionth time, and finally, finally, you feel something happening.

But Jungkook can’t contain his concerns, an observer who can’t feel any of this, only seeing the love of his life sobbing, yelling, squeezing her eyes shut until they hurt. You hear him ask, “What?”

“Just… blood,” Yumi’s voice answers at the same moment as another pair of hands start massaging your stomach for whatever reason, “just…”

“Is that bad?” Jungkook wants to know, out of breath.

“It’s not great, but it won’t be fatal.”

“What? Is she…” He stops for a second, and you see him looking at you through half-lidded eyes, then back at the headless body, covered by the blanket, “God. Then do something!”

You rub a thumb over the back of his hand, fully breathless, already feeling veins pop as you push. And once more. Then say, “It’s alright. It…it will be alright.”

“I should be telling you that! Is that why they mock men? Huh?” He looks back and forth, and you want to laugh, barely managing to listen as you focus on the pushes. You hear his words faintly, but they help. “I am guessing you are feeling it quite a bit as opposed to me, yes?”

You’re crying harder when you shut your eyes again, back arching, yelling out sarcastic words, “No! N–not feeling a thing!”

Your upper body is killing you. The pressure is unbearable, the sensation burning. Through it all, as you near the finishing line, wishing to skip these minutes, he keeps encouraging, “This is so amazing. Just a little more. Almost… almost do—”

The last word is swallowed, quiet, barely spoken. Maybe because his voice is breaking, too. But maybe, because it’s interrupted by another, much shriller cry of change. Entering a world so new is surely scary.

Somebody knows it even better than you, because the first ever sounds of the baby once it finally emerges heal and break your heart. How can that be? You haven’t even touched it yet.

Then, how are you already caught by such an… odd feeling? Floating somewhere between reality and a dream, not quite realising that you’re actually hearing the crying. Isn’t a child just what you were a while ago, too?

You remember the moment you first met Jungkook so vividly. In the rain, attempting to soothe his sorrows, trying to figure out what misery had ambushed the disconsolate boy.

You were a child back then, too. That wasn’t long ago, was it? Are you really married to the same being now, sharing your all with yet another existence that is yelling away in this very room?

Overwhelmed by someone you only felt and cherished through your own skin, without ever touching, without ever speaking to it?

“Is it… a girl or a boy?” you want to know.

Jungkook takes a stand, leaving your hand for just a moment, but Yumi and the rest are busy tending to the bloody and fresh child. Wrapping it in a blanket. Holding it carefully. Cutting off the umbilical cord — a relatively young term Jungkook told you about.

“It’s… a girl, Lady Jeon.”

A girl.

Oh God. The father’s beauty. The mother’s wit. A lion-heart and a strong-willed mind. If the two of you are combined, that’s what comes out, doesn’t it?

And all of her, all of what she is is yours. And you’re hers.

Jungkook doesn’t get to inch too close to his flesh and blood, because Yumi turns away; you’re too tired to be angry, albeit a little relieved when she lets you know extra gently, “We’ll just clean her up and get her back to you immediately. You can hold her then.”

You let your arms sink, and Jungkook comes rushing back to you. Instead of grabbing your hand again, he places a palm to your forehead, wiping at it, moving back the hair. The calming gesture helps you wind down, even though you’re nowhere close to being yourself again.

The aftermath of the pain remains, but you’re eternally grateful for the end of the contractions. For the ceasing of your screams. For the temperature coming down, your breathing calming just gradually.

And for—

“Thank you, my love,” you mutter absent-mindedly, noticing when his movements slow down. You’re so dizzy. “For being with me through all this nevertheless. I do not know how they expected me to do it without you.”

“Well… they did not know I read all those books. I mean, you heard it. I’m more or less a certified royal midwife now.”

You can’t help but let out an unexpected snicker, still too exhausted to open both eyes. You crack one of them a split apart, teasing, “My midwife fainted.”

“We have bad days, too. No?”

You hear the actual midwife’s voice jest something in agreement, widening your smile, and state, “Then. In that case, you need to redeem yourself, yes? How— about a crown for our baby?”

When you look at him properly, you see new tears emerge. He’s trying his best not to cry — but with you so close, alive and courageous, and a child weeping away a couple feet from your bed… how could he hold back?

“Well, I was thinking of a nightdress with a tiny crown print. A real crown might be a bit much, don’t you think?”

The counter-jest is already forming on your tongue, something about toys and humility and joy combined into some type of coherent sentence. But as Yumi turns towards you, holding the vulnerable, now calmer baby in her arms so carefully, you lose track of your thoughts.

Even from afar, you hear the tiny sounds. Noises of comfort, remainders of the crying. You see a miniscule hand with petite fingers curling and uncurling before they disappear close to her face, hidden behind the blanket.

You can’t see much more from down here on the bed, sinking into the mattress. You attempt to get up a little, but you still feel faint, taking it step by step until someone from the staff rushes to your side. Helps you sit up.

In that time, Jungkook has already taken upon the offer to hold her first, his stance unbearably and sweetly cautious. As if he’s holding freshly crafted glass. No… much more careful than that.

He draws a breath in, and you see the furrowed eyebrows. The shine in his eyes. How he looks at her with utter, pure, unfiltered, raw affection until he can’t bear it anymore. Averts his gaze for just a second to blink the tears out of his eyes, trying not to let them fall on her face.

His lips remain parted, focusing on breathing, cradling her. You see the knotted ball of a dozen emotions in his stare, each string made of a different sentiment.

Like a fierce protective instinct, surging through him as it does through you. Awe and wonder, marvelling at her delicate features. And a smile, a little laugh, an obvious sign of endless elation. Speechlessness.

Without words, he says—

I’ll keep you safe.

You’re so perfect.

I would die for you.

All summarised in a quiet, “I can’t believe it.”

He’s close to you, and you reach out to him, touching his knee softly with a palm, rubbing until he looks at you. Shooting a curious look, he shakes his head, barely any reason behind, before he says, “She’s curled up. Touching her face.”

“Is she… looking at you?”

“Barely opening her eyes. Just a slit, and… it’s all dark pupils and nothing else, you know? But…” His next breath is shaky, his upper body trembling; the baby with him. You wait patiently, expecting anything but what he says next. “She’s even prettier than you.”

“Shut up,” you immediately blurt, laughter mixed with relief. It’s hard to speak; there’s a clump in your throat. “Yet… it’s so easy to believe you.”

“See?”

He leans in, moving naturally, gracefully, and you widen your arms, ready to welcome her in the first embrace, and once she settles and you get comfortable and lean back again, you realise—

He’s so right.

The slight crack she opened her eyes to. And the small tongue darting out every now and then. A hand on her face, arms close to her body, as if guarding herself. No weight on your arms at all; cheeks that remind you of some fluffy pastry.

You don’t know her yet, but you already know her name. You haven’t spoken to her, but you’ve already internalised the shrill voice. And the face is new to you, but you do already treasure it.

Does she feel the same? It’s crazy… This is crazy.

In theory, you know most newborn babies look similar. You know they sound the same and act the same. You’re aware that they need to be cleaned thoroughly, and that they need to grow into more than this little bundle in your arms.

But, perhaps as a mother, you can’t deny how gorgeous she is.

You already know — already pronounce her the diamond of every season and every year to come.

They say that love opens your eyes to new colours. Unlocks a path to brighter sunrises and clearer nights. They say in every second of loving somebody another star is hung into the sky, shedding more light onto the world.

There’s utter truth to these fairytales and supper anecdotes; but they never quite mention how draining a life as a mother can be, too.

That it’d be torture to your once bright mind; that you’d wake up in pain and beg for sleep and never quite receive it. That you’d realise how mean your mind could be to you after experiencing such heart-shattering worship the moment you saw her first.

The nights are difficult, but Jungkook exerts an effort equal to yours. You’re grateful when he takes a few days off as needed. Constantly shows his appreciation for your hard work and refuses to let you do this alone.

And you both agreed. You want the nanny to interfere as little as possible; want to keep the child’s attention glued to you for the most part, but with a balance that allows her to never shy away from other people, either.

Like, when your and Jungkook’s family visited a while ago; not once did you feel like she couldn’t handle a moment without you. Was switched from one hold to another, moving towards whoever was ready to provide affection.

She’s a social butterfly. Doesn’t fear strangers. But you still help her familiarise herself with you, independent from a nanny who’d enable more of your time to yourself, but less time with your baby.

And neither you nor Jungkook urges for that distance.

It’s never easy.

You’ve cried more often than your fingers can count, on your last legs as you wept into Jungkook’s clothes. Feeling a palm wiping at your tears a dozen times. Motherhood always sounded so gorgeous, but it hurts, too.

Then again…

See, then again, it’s easy to circle back to the metaphor of the sun and the stars, the fresh start to your life that cannot be replaced by any other experience. A million little moments that wrap you into your own bubble. The three of you and nobody else.

They render each of those troubles worthless; you cherish them with an unspeakable vigour, aiding yourself as your exhaustion fades once faced with warm, sunlit afternoons as today’s.

Jungkook offered to watch over her as you wallowed in the breeze and the walk you desired for so long. It’s been too long since you enjoyed the miles outside; steep hills and green fields, accompanied by the sound of birds you yet need to study.

Then down to the village, then another stroll back up again. You sought out tranquil moments, escaping your chores. But when you come back, nothing compares to the sight that meets you.

Damn all these walks.

Because only a fool could resist such an image of your husband lying on your bed, on his back and with his legs crossed, head facing sideways and away from the window. Away from the descending sun. Suhana sprawled right on his upper body. Cheek above his heartbeat, her fingers on Jungkook’s sharp jaw.

A pocket-sized hand holding him close to her.

His proportionally large palms rest on her back and under her little butt, both of them dozing peacefully. She moves with him as his chest rises, but she looks so undeniably at peace — as if there’s no better heaven. And mouth open, like no thunder could wake her.

Suhana’s bangs have grown longer now, hair covering some of the nape of her neck and her forehead. Her lips are rosy; the same shape as his. Even if reluctantly, you have to admit that she looks a lot like him.

You act offended when people remind you of that. Because you vehemently claim you want to see more of yourself in her, and Jungkook always calms you with the forecast that she’ll grow up to be as beautiful as you.

Something he thoroughly fears, however, judging the world’s intentions.

But you must also confess that seeing two pieces of the same gentle soul makes you feel lucky.

You drape your shawl over the chair at the large, wooden desk and step closer to the royal bed. Rest your legs from the excessive walk, laying down right beside him — facing him directly.

Gently, you reach out and graze the apple of his cheek; soon repeating the action with his miniature version before you tuck your hand under your temple. Then, you wait.

She doesn’t stir — as expected. But the tickling touch you left along his face elicits a sigh out of him before he lets out a small sound. Voices something like a harmless groan, along with a quiet smack of his lips that reveals the tiny dimples at the corners of his mouth, and a barely-there crease between his eyebrows.

His hand slides over her mini-body as a protective reaction, an immediate reflex. His eyes flutter open so slowly, just a slit; and when they do, you’re not the first thing he sees. Because they drift straight to her, ensuring that she’s still right where he left her and alright.

And only once he’s gathered that she’s still asleep, he blinks into your direction. They also say that priorities change with a child, no matter the amount of love for the partner; and you can’t blame anybody for this.

He smiles when he realises your presence, only lightly nudging you with his elbow. You move closer as he deduces, “You’re back. Was it…” Loving yawn. “Was it long enough for us to fall asleep?”

“It seems so. What were you two doing?”

“Talking.” Of course. Not an absurd answer by now at all. You nod. “She was explaining to me the existence of the pillow and the sun. Pointing at them. I was listening.”

Jungkook doesn’t ever describe her curiosity as exploration. To him, she’s talking, conversing. Your heart swells as you ask, “Ohhh, yes? What else?”

“I made her toy talk and she liked it, I reckon. Giggled so much that she fell off my lap once.”

The fantasy of the moment makes you break into laughter; you have a handful of questions. Did she get hurt? Did she keep laughing as she fell? Was she out of breath as much as you are when you observe her shenanigans?

You quiet down when she moves, fingers curling in. Shushing yourself and grimacing, you shift your attention back to your husband, taking in his freshly awoken expression before you state, “Your eyes are so swollen, though. And your face is dry.”

As if liquid dried on it.

Attentive assumption, because Jungkook instantly discloses, “Uh… I might’ve cried a bit.”

Oh? Oh no. Not him, too—

You wonder, “Why did you cry, my love?”

“Because she was crying…”

“What? Why?”

“Mmmh…. She’s always touching her face, you know?” You do know. You keep her from squishing her cheeks all the time. “I think she poked her eyes at some point and I mean… it didn’t hurt her at all.” Of course not; you make sure to keep her nails trimmed. “But it was a new sensation for her and her baby brain must’ve thought it hurt. So she started crying.”

“Oh no… and then you cried, as well, huh?”

You reach out to him, clearing his right eye and temple as you swipe away the strands of hair. By now, your language and manner of talking are mixing; you feel the same protective instinct towards both.

He sighs before he continues, “The parenting books said not to. I was supposed to stay calm, so she doesn’t interpret the situation as worse than it was. But I hate seeing her sad. So stupid.”

The position doesn’t allow him to shake his head properly, so he settles with a slow blink of his eyes. Then, he says, “But that made her stop. Look how hard she’s sleeping now. So deceiving!”

“Oh, baby…”

You don’t know what it is; maybe the permanent, lingering, overwhelming fact that this dream is actually your reality. That the three of you are alive and together and undoubtedly part of each other.

Whatever it is, it looks as though he is about to cry again.

“She is so feisty. Reminds me of you,” he whispers. “Right?”

He’s not talking to you, but to her — because she’s opened her eyes and he noticed before you even saw it.

Upon hearing his voice, she moves. Tiny fists stretch out, and she starts kicking slowly against Jungkook’s stomach. Her body winds restlessly, put off by his reaction just for a second when she hits against his body again and he utters, “Owwwh!”

And then, shamelessly, she yawns.

Coos and gurgles, croaks and caws. The sounds are small and high-pitched, sweet and tender. Curious wonder rests in her eyes as they crack open entirely, adjusting to her surroundings and you suddenly being here when you weren’t before. Not that she remembers.

And…

God, your heart jumps out of your chest, bloody and beating.

Because the very moment she sees you, she smiles in joy. She so often does. Sometimes, as you walk over to her crib at night, shining the candlelight into the space between you, she smiles with barely open eyes, too.

She squeals a little, reaching out for you, and you bring her fingers to your face for a fleeting moment before she retracts them again with a tired giggle. But when she registers her father’s breath, his voice sounding against her ear, she stops again.

Cuddling back in. Right where she wants to be.

No matter how much she loves you, she will never feel the same towards anybody in this world as she does for him.

He settles his hands on her more firmly, and then sits up with an encouraging, “Aaaand, here we go. Let’s take a look at you.”

He stares at her as he holds her in front of him, and she laughs again, seemingly amused by floating, held by two strong hands. Meaty legs kick in the air until he seats her down between the two of you with a shielding hand on her back.

She can’t fully sit on her own yet, but she always tries. Doesn’t wiggle too much anymore, though. Hits the mattress with her palms playfully.

“I swear… I will die for her,” Jungkook proclaims, moving until he meets her eyes. She looks up in a sudden movement, snickering again when he tickles her a little. Then, he repeats through gritted teeth, “Do you know, hm? I will die for you, I will!”

Before you know it — probably even before she, with her limited attention span, knows it — she’s back at playing. Then, another shift to you; a touch to your cheek. Leaning in, almost falling onto you when you scrunch your nose and kiss the air, communicating with her silently.

As her body attacks your face, an open, amused mouth drooling onto your cheek, you protest. Sitting up, you help her into your lap, and she has the audacity to yawn again.

With a shake of your head, you declare, “Sometimes you act spoiled, alright. Haven’t acted up yet, but I think we should probably feed you now, shouldn’t we?”

“Probably before she starts crying again,” Jungkook agrees.

“Can’t have that. Or you will, as well.”

“Ha-ha. But you know what, I might as well. It was insane.” He tuts, cocking an eyebrow as you prepare to bare your chest. “But if that’s what being with this tiny little thing means, I’ll take it,” leaning in, he returns to his talk with her, “alright? Listen up.”

Somehow, she does. No matter what he says, he manages to flood happiness through her, because she coos again, inhales sharply as she perks up her ears, “I’m serious. I’ll die for you, but only if you do not grow up. Stay like this, yes?”

“Stop it. I need her to grow into a woman like me and save the world.”

“Is that right? She can’t even say Dada yet. Give her some time.”

“Or Mama.”

“Yes. But you know as well as I do what word she’ll start out with.”

Standard banter between parents, you assume. You wouldn’t want it any other way. You prepare for a counter-tease, but then you fare better. “Of course. Something distinguished and eloquent like crown princess, probably.”

Jungkook blows a raspberry, and when tiny Hana mimics the action, spitting in the process, he roars with laughter. His usual child-like, sugary sweet titter, head thrown back and a hand under his chest.

This right here.

This is worth the pain, you think. Despite the hurdles, you think you’ve settled in this job, understood its responsibilities and set goals that will probably enable the life you desire.

Nothing can break this. Right?

As if diving into your thoughts or seeing them floating at the surface of your eyes, Jungkook reaches out, placing a warm palm on your neck. You look into his eyes, half his face dark as he covers the sun falling in from behind him.

If she wasn’t still on your lap, you’d jump into his, cuddle in and stay like this until the hot ball outside sets and rises again. But instead, you keep staring until he says, “We’re doing well. Really, really well.”

You are.

You have made yourself at home with the most tender of men, have gained luxuries and a noble style of living, still sporting a kind and generous heart. Yet, you’ve never been prouder of yourself.

“We are. And you are! See?” you agree cheerfully, touching his knee briefly. “You were so worried. And now— I’m losing her to you. God, just look at this—”

Her eyes must have followed your hand when it caressed his knee a moment ago. Because she crawls out of your lap, squeaking in joy as she targets his. Climbing it until he helps her up and settles in the way you wished to do just a minute ago.

“Mmmh. I guess I’m great at this, yes,” Jungkook concurs, “seems that bad traits aren’t learned after all, hm?”

The environment might be crucial in many cases, but if one inhabits a strong heart and a solid will, nothing can sway you.

Your chest feels as warm as the weather; your mind is as fresh as the breeze. And staring at his set of cheeks as flushed as the roses planted outside, you can’t help but be flooded with inexplicable magic.

You tell him, “You got into this role very easily. And I’m happy you’re happy.”

And he, the effortlessly fitting, second part of your soul, answers without a moment of hesitation and doubt—

“You make it easy to be.”

The bright, opulent room you enter floods back bittersweet memories in soaring waves.

It has been a while since you attended a noble ball like this. They’re cosier where you live. Smaller, the names less known; differing rigorously from events in the main city, in the capital, in the centre of your country.

Your seethingly beloved lorddom where you now reside has a humble and warm note to it; but no matter how thoroughly you might seek quiet peace, it will never bring the same nostalgia your former home does. Where you grew up.

Where you come from. And where Jungkook comes from. That one connection, indicating where the two of you started; your family; the crowds. This is all your life, playing out right in front of you.

As two of the most noted royals entering the hall, all eyes flicker to the two of you. Their gazes are brilliant and their attire posh. His brother, the host of the night, invited the best of the town; or rather, his wife did.

It’s wedding season again, which means that courting and heartache, confusion and intrigue will come back in all the glory you remember. Even now, you see a sliver of all the drama already.

Because no matter where you look, somebody is whispering. Somebody is eyeing another. Mustering the courage to dance with the object of their affection, or hatching a plan how to go down as the most desired of the year.

And from an outsider’s perspective, it’s fun to watch. In hindsight, you wonder if the crowd noticed the tension between Jungkook and you all that time ago; if they tittle-tattled about you, making up rumours or silent bets on what might transpire between you.

They probably did. You don’t recall much of the reactions as much as you do the touches, gazes, the butterflies his existence brought along.

And just as well, you remember the time before — when you’d hide behind your sister as she sought out a partner. Never did you think that the two of you would come out of the season with a beloved like the ones you now cherish.

And never did you think it would be the man who’d stand near those very pillars you’re now passing, a mere boy, keeping his eyes on you, but never saying anything particularly nice or productive.

It was events like these that you attended with him after he posed the question that changed the two of you.

“Let me court you.”

Sleepless nights. Rainy evenings. Swirling on dancefloors, bonding at orphanages, teasing in carriages. Locked rooms, secret conversations, broken hearts. Unexpected secrets and reunions.

Was that your life within a few months?

When people grow bored or notice the indecency of staring, they drift back to their old conversations. Jungkook and you conclude your entry, soon moving to the side. Fearing upcoming talks with people curious about the two of you.

You sigh as you listen to the strings, stress dropping off your shoulders as you say, “I love Hana so much, but… it’s so nice being here with you again.”

“It is,” he agrees, though hesitating, mouth open as if to add something. And then he does, “I do miss her, though.”

You laugh. Of course. “I know you do. I bet she does, too.”

Of course.

She could barely contain herself from babbling constant Dadadadas before you left. And yes, she said it before she learned to pronounce Mama. An insult, considering that you were the one who tended to swollen feet and a weight hanging off your tummy. Building to the moment she’d call for you.

But no! A daddy’s girl through and through. Then again, you are, too.

You do adore her to pieces, as well, but… it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to a night without a single obligation. Thankfully, the nanny took it upon herself to take care of Suhana tonight, so you are free to roam.

Despite, she’s already two years old now.

She’s been articulating herself clearer these days, so it’s gotten a little — a little! — easier to explain things to her now. She didn’t whine much when you told her you’d be out for a bit, but come back soon.

She must be asleep already anyway. And you hope you can keep your husband’s yearning in bay, too. You understand; it’s hard to leave. Especially as she stood ogling at you before you bid her good night, muttering a teeny tiny, “So pretty,” to you as you presented your gown.

“Mine?” she uttered.

You squinted, puzzled; you spoke her language, but couldn’t decipher this just yet. “…Yours?”

To explain, she nodded, making you understand when she patted her chest with a flat palm. Eyebrows cocking, you voiced, “Ohhhh. Hmmm. Darling, shall we go tomorrow and get you a pretty new dress for the summer?”

She was unspeakably delighted.

“Do you want to dance?” Jungkook asks, a hand already lifting.

For a while, you’d rather watch. It’s custom to dance, but… you’d rather observe the world from a different point of view, see what they used to see. Besides, you don’t enjoy Galop as much, and that’s what the piano is pulling out of the guests right now.

“You want to exhaust yourself already?” you laugh as he shrugs his shoulders. “Hmm. Am I allowed to decline?”

“Well…” he starts, lightly gripping your wrist, thumb touching it sweetly. “Do you have a card that you need to fill?”

“If you were courting me, yes. But I’m already shackled to you, and can’t escape even if I wanted to.”

“Ahhh,” he draws closer, mouth inches from your ears. Acting as if forwarding gossip, but only driving you insane in reality. “So you want to escape?”

“Something’s telling me I should try and see what you’ll do.”

“I mean, go ahead. Not opposed to going full-courti—”

Your laughter overshadows his last syllable, and you push his chest away, careful not to risk a scandal after coming out here after so long. He’s unabashed and would kiss you right here, if you let him.

So you move away, still giggling, and the moment your eyes lift to the guests, you silence. Right there, among the faces, you recognise one in the distance that had long dimmed in your memory.

You haven’t seen him in such a long time. And you didn’t expect it to happen today, either.

The man must have noticed the presence of a direct stare, because he soon looks into your direction at the very same moment. Squints his eyes, the smile adorning his mouth dropping as he spots you and understands who you are. Eyebrows raise. Features always expressive.

You want to grab Jungkook’s arm and flit away, but the man excuses himself from the conversation, idly strolling towards you and not leaving a way to escape anymore.

“Oh shit,” you quietly curse, and Jungkook hears, alarmed instantly.

He widens his doe eyes, so sweet as he looks at you, fingers coming up to pinch your chin as he asks, “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Certainly, just—”

“Oh… I won’t ask if it’s you because I know it is.”

The smooth greetings are accompanied by a surprised call of your name, and when you look back at the person matching the voice, your expressions move to kindness. You don’t want to appear awkward, and you don’t, but you wonder what Jungkook might be thinking.

Smiling, too, as you observe. But this one’s definitely awkward, the friendly kind that can’t do anything else but wait until the question marks have cleared up for him. Right there in his eyes until you enlighten him.

“It has been ages,” the man in front of you chimes.

“It has been. Years!”

You turn to Jungkook, an introduction sitting on your tongue, but he beats you to it. Still weirdly smiling, as amiable as ever, he asks, “Do you know each other?”

And the man, heart-shaped lips rising back to a smile, apologises immediately, “Ah, yes, yes, yes. My manners. I am Lord Jung. Jung Hoseok.”

He bows, missing the way Jungkook’s mouth parts, eyes blinking nearly unimpressed until— his features become defined all of a sudden, jaw far sharper than usual. Akin to a razor.

He’s not liking this.

“Ah,” Jungkook mutters, returning to the sociable expression that households drill into their children for years. “I am Jeon Jungkook.”

If anybody knew him as well as you do, they’d realise much sooner than later that he’d rather switch the situation with an easier one. But you can’t say any of it yet. You only listen as your past flame says, “You settled so well.”

Of course he knows. You guess after the craze over two years ago, he soon found out what the truth really held. You only reply, “I did.”

“Married life suits you!”

“Thank you, Hoseok! What about you, have you—”

“Oh, actually I—”

He seems much more cheerful about this than you imagined. Then again, what did you think? His life has probably changed now and the sentiments his heart once tended to evaporated. Everyone moves on at some point.

And he sounds genuinely happy for you.

But that’s not how Jungkook seems to perceive it. Because to your chagrin, he interrupts the man facing you, and you immediately hold your breath, already preparing a couple warning words when he starts—

“It is rude of me, but may I perhaps interrupt?” Hoseok silences upon Jungkook’s words, listening attentively, and you ready yourself for more teeth-grinding. “I apologise for being so impudent and straight-forward, but… this is uncomfortable to me because—”

“Jungkook—” you cut, trying to save the situation.

“I know, I just do not wish to let feelings out on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Hmm…

“Uncomfortable?” Hoseok repeats, watching Jungkook’s Adam’s apple move as he swallows. Ponders over the words hanging in the air, and when none of the two of you speak on, Hoseok finally understands. “Oh! Ohhhh…”

He snaps a finger, and you resist the urge to slap your face. You know you’ll laugh about it in a couple hours; in truth, you don’t care if it might get odd for you because in all pure honesty, the situation has the potential to turn into comedy gold.

But Jungkook has an envious fibre; one to occur rarely, but when it does, he doesn’t hide it. To him, you’re the most striking creature to exist; in his opinion, everybody should be in love with you.

Yet, the thought of you with someone who he might consider better than him is unbearable.

For a second, you consider lifting your frock and storming to the entrance, or a room upstairs and to squish Jungkook’s cheeks between your palms. To make crystal clear who your heart thumps for, to bring back the confidence he’s built in the marriage with you.

But you restrain yourself when Hoseok speaks, “I understand. Back then, I actually hoped to see you at some point because I know what you are talking about.”

Jungkook reacts, “You are?”

“I think so. Is it not about the shenanigans people crafted a few years ago?”

Two and a half years now, to be exact.

“Yes, I apologise,” you chime in, “they shouldn’t have spoken about you or your personal feelings. But I thought you knew I had married and—”

“No, I,” he says, flushing, raising a hand in objection, “I— this is what I wanted to explain, so the two of you never find yourselves despising me.”

Oh god.

“The thing is that,” he hesitates. If you didn’t know his heart better, you’d assume he’s teasing you. But he scratches his temple, scrambling for words. “One of my staff came to my mansion with me as we settled there. He lived in this town before as well. Like you and I did.”

He looks to the side as if he could find that friend here, but then soon lets his eyes drift over you and Jungkook again, continuing, “He had heard stories about… what we used to be.”

“Right,” you add.

“He asked me about it. And my best guess is that somebody must have heard and interpreted that I was still yearning for those sentiments. But I wasn’t. I had a secret fiancée for the longest. I never told anyone until the wedding day neared. So…”

It takes a moment. Then another.

You think back to the reactions each of you had two years ago; how it spread throughout the mansion and spawned chaos in your bedroom. In any good or bad way, and yet.

And when realisation finally trickles in, a big of course ghosting through your minds, Jungkook and you both voice a simultaneous, “Oh.”

You should’ve known. Then again, didn’t you? Didn’t both of you doubt the truth behind the rumours, yet believing what a collective of people said? You guess, once more than one person claims a thing, it becomes more plausible.

No matter that it never was.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” Hoseok emphasises, “it’s not how I felt. Certainly not. I just never thought you’d believe it, or,” God, how stupid, “as a happy married woman, care. So I never bothered reaching out. We both have our homes, right?”

His fingers touch almost shyly, another smile flashing to defuse the situation. You’ll definitely laugh about this later. But right now, you only feel heat in your face, desiring to chase your staff throughout the mansion until they tire out.

Damn it.

“We did. We do.” You put an ashamed hand to your stomach. That feels funny. Weird. “I actually have a daughter now.”

Good change to lighten the moment. You shoot Jungkook a look; his cheeks are as flushed as you expected. But Hoseok does well in playing along, latching onto the new topic effortlessly and naturally.

“Oh, you do? I have a son as well. Maybe yours and he could be friends.” You nod as he talks, grateful for his kindness. “Another’s on the way for us, and Soo swears she can feel it’s a girl this time.”

“That’s so lovely, Hoseok,” is all you need to say. You might not feel towards him as you used to. Whatever flame the two of you ignited all that time ago has long been extinguished, but you always wish the best for him. “That is honestly so lovely. I’m happy for you.”

One single nod, smile reaching his eyes. Then, no more beating around the bush, the end of the conversation already overdue when he says, “Enjoy the night. Don’t ever trust anyone but your own eyes and ears, yes?”

“Yes… you as well, Lord Jung.”

And then he walks away. Leaves the two of you in silence.

Lips tight, eyes on the ground, nearly dissociating until you nod. Then you raise your lips. And then laugh. Chuckling with a shaking head and a hand lifting hand. Touching your hot forehead as you say, “I feel stupid.”

“And I feel stupid…” Jungkook finally speaks, his first words after a while.

“Did we really argue about this years ago?”

“Well, before you reprimand me, I need to defend myself and remind you that the argument worked for us that night, not against us. Did Suhana come from it or what?”

“Do the math, Jungkook! I told you about the pregnancy already a day after. Suspected it that night, too.” You giggle again, amused by his dumbfounded expression. “You know what? Maybe I could use that dance now.”

“Ah? Thought the lady would be rejecting me tonight. That would’ve robbed much of my honour.”

“Shut up, you envious fool. Either you’ll come and sway with me or I’ll never let you forget it.”

“You won’t. Either way.”

You don’t respond with much other than another beam and an accepting palm in his. You don’t need to.

In the end, Hoseok didn’t make a difference. Guess you would’ve lived either way, just the way you are, content and in love and eternally blissful to all obstacles. The evil of the word and sorrow fear you, not vice versa.

Because it’s him. It’s you.

And her. The three of you; three pieces of the same heart.

Or perhaps— perhaps it’s you who’s doing the math all wrong.

yoooo!! it took a while, but we're finally back. as summer and vacation near, i will have a lot more time to write again, so sit tight and look forward to more content, like entertainer and cmi (ofc these two, as well). i really really hope you liked it. some parts were written under a bad migraine and exhaustion, but i hope i could still deliver the emotions well.

and love you all!! thank you for still being here with me :') and stay healthy and happy, don't overwork yourself! hopefully this one could serve as a bit of relaxation. if you liked it, don't forget to let me know as always, no matter if you just arrived here or have been here for some time. and like, reblog, comment as well! you knowww how much i cherish all the words ever sent hehe <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook series

694 notes · View notes

owliellder · 1 year

Text

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Yay!! New multi-chapter fic in honor of 800 followers!!

I'm a sucker for tropes and mean Leon is one I can't keep out of my head. If you're not good at math then this is the fic for you! (also don't mind me slipping some Sky lore in here...)

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 1

Growing up, college had always been a big dream of yours, leaving you fantasizing day in and out about all the possibilities that would open up, along with actually getting to live through the renowned “college experience”.

In reality, college was a lot harder than you were expecting. Your parents had told you to jump right into it after high school, fearing taking a gap year would ruin your good streak. The stress was starting to get to you and it was only a semester into your freshman year. All the tests, projects, and general studying really wore down on your mental health, not to mention you were failing the one math class you had.

You couldn’t tell your parents, no, they’d probably have a heart attack, especially since that math class was a prerequisite to another class that you needed to take. They were already worried enough that you hadn’t picked a major yet, so who knows how they’d take the news that you were failing right off the bat.

It was hard enough that you were feeling homesick. This was the first time you’d ever been this far away from home, studying at a university when you would’ve been perfectly content going to a community college closer to home. Your roommate was nice, but the two of you weren’t growing any closer than mere acquaintances, so it always felt awkward to just exist in your own dorm room.

Your eating habits worsened with the lack of any real food within five miles of campus. Sure there were a couple fast food chains on the campus itself, but they closed incredibly early. By the time you finished studying, which was around six in the evening, it had already closed. Not to mention that when they were open, the lines were comically long. University food was out of the question after you got violently ill from their “chicken nuggets”, so you were left with the little money your parents provided once a week to order takeout or make quick trips to the store to buy a frozen meal. Only one, since the mini fridge in your dorm was almost always occupied by your roommates stuff.

Everything was so exhausting and you were way out of your comfort zone having to use the community bathrooms for all your hygienic routines. Walking in always made you feel like you were interrupting a meeting in the president’s oval office with how many nasty looks you were given when all you were trying to do was brush your teeth.

The first thing you saw whenever you opened up Canvas was a massive F staring you down from the little box that comprised the majority of your math assignments and tests, making you feel less than worthless. This one semester alone helped you understand why so many people dropped out, this was hard.

By now you’d already gone to your math professor multiple times asking for redos or extra credit work. He was probably sick of seeing you since you showed up after almost every single assignment’s grades were submitted.

“Heeeyyy, Mr. Lebovic..” You said after knocking your knuckle against his open door to grab his attention. “Listen, about that last quiz, I-”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand before gesturing towards one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. You hurried to sit down, watching nervously as he slowly pulled his eyes off his computer and onto you. “I get it, you don’t need to explain yourself.” His relaxed tone and faint smile was enough to ease your nerves a bit, letting your shoulders slump with a sigh. “You’ve been trying really hard, I can easily recognize that.”

You nodded eagerly, licking your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off again. “I’ve been looking into studying options that might help you. Resources are scarce for this material, but I think I finally have a tutor to help you out.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the mention of tutor. Maybe you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of your parent’s disappointment after all! “Oh.. o-okay…” you stuttered, eyebrows furrowing as you silently beckoned him to continue.

“I teach another math class, it’s higher level, but I have a student in there that’s just taken up tutoring the material you’re learning.” Your professor seemed just as happy as you were about the opportunity. “His name is Leon Kennedy, he’s got one of the study rooms in the library from three to five in the afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

It took you a second to process everything Mr. Lebovic was telling you before you scrambled to pull out a sticky note and a pen to write all the information down on. You heard the older man chuckle softly, looking over at him when he held out a small piece of paper to you. “I wrote it down already for you, don’t worry.” You wished you could’ve thanked him tenfold, but his office hours were closed for the day now, so you said a quick goodbye and hurried back to your dorm, holding onto the piece of paper like a lifeline.

Contrary to what your math professor thinks, you knew the name “Leon Kennedy”. You had a couple friends that you hung out with occasionally out in the grass in front of the science building and they’d brought him up before. The few vague bits of info that you’d heard weren’t flattering, painting this Leon in quite a bad light; the stereotypical jock in a frat flying by on a full-ride scholarship. However, he was your saving grace now and you needed to develop more of an unbiased opinion of him if he was going to help you raise your grade from an F.

“Yeesh, sorry I’m not better at math or I would’ve helped you.” One of your friends, Sky, spoke up as they read the piece of paper your professor gave you yesterday from over your shoulder. “Even if you were better at math, I still wouldn’t trust you.” Ella, your other friend, laughed out.

“Ha ha, yeah, Sky failed math four times. Big whoop.” Sky waved their hands dramatically before walking over to sit down next to Ella in the dead grass. “Seriously though, you’re better off taking a failing grade and dealing with your parents. Kennedy is the devil incarnate.”

“The devil incarnate sounds easier to put up with than my parents, so I’ll take my chances..” You grumbled, taking a seat on a medium-sized rock close to the pair. “Maybe he’s turning a new leaf? Deciding to tutor?”

Sky crossed her arms and rolled her eyes which made Ella elbow them in the side before giving you a sympathetic smile. “Maybe so, but please just be careful. I don’t want you having to put up with some jackass that has an ego bigger than Texas.”

You nodded with a slight frown, moving your foot side to side lazily to push the grass blades around. You didn’t even think to consider the repercussions of studying with some random junior. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. Besides, just tell Sky and I if he’s giving you any trouble. I know damn well no man likes to put up with two women yelling in his face.” Sky nodded and pointed to Ella for added dramatics. “Yeah, and I bite. My top six teeth are porcelain so that shit hurts. Trust me.”

Your friends never failed to make you laugh, a slight resolve in a pool full of worries, you suppose. “Don’t worry, you guys’ll be the first to know if Leon is mean.”

“Good. Now, when’re you gonna go see the guy?” Sky rested their arms on their knees before looking up at you. “Uh.. in a couple hours I guess. I already made the appointment.” Your response seemed to surprise both of your friends, giving them a confused look in response to their shocked ones. “Is that.. Is that not a good time?”

“No no, just.. I thought you would’ve maybe taken a little longer to go and see him.” Ella shrugged, reaching a hand up to scratch behind their neck. “Proud of you, taking the initiative like that.” She then looked at her phone before pulling herself off the ground with a small groan. “I got class in a couple minutes. Good luck with the frat boy.”

She patted your shoulder as she walked off towards the larger building on campus, leaving you and Sky alone for the rest of the time. Part of you wished both of your friends could walk you to the library when the time came, but having Sky was enough. “So.. Leon’s bad bad?” You needed a bit more clarification on the guy you were going to spend one-on-one time with, something to calm you down after running through countless scenarios in your head.

“He’s not all bad, 'least I don't think. I’ve exchanged a few ‘hello’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ with him here and there since we apparently frequent the same building.” Sky scooted over to the rock you were sitting on, placing the back of their head on your legs. A couple brown leaves blew over from a nearby tree which they grabbed and crunched with their hand. “I haven’t personally experienced any bad happenings around him, but he is part of a pretty notoriously rowdy frat, so you have to promise me that you’ll only study with him on campus and never go to that frat house or any frat house in general, alright?”

Sky pointed up at you, poking the underside of your chin which made you laugh again and swat their hand away. “As much as I rave about wanting to have the stereotypical college experience, going to a frat house was never part of my daydreaming.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” They switched their fingers to give you a quick thumbs up before letting their arm flop down into their lap, eyes closing with a sigh. “Anyways, besides all that, wanna go get some food? I don’t have another class today and you’ve got about an hour and a half to spare, so actually you have no choice. Get up.”

You stood up with a shake of your head once Sky pushed off of your legs who stood up as well with a small stretch. “Don’t burn me at the stake, but I kinda want grocery store sushi. I’m feeling lucky.”

“Please don’t.” You sighed, pocketing the piece of paper before beginning to follow behind Sky as they started to walk across the grass.

After the two of you shared a sandwich from some random shop not too far off campus, Sky walked with you up to the library, stopping just before the front desk. They agreed to not wander in with you under the condition that you’ll go to their dorm straight after to discuss details.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Most of what you heard about this guy meant he was bad news, though you really didn’t have much of a choice when it came to seeing him. Like your math professor said, there weren’t a lot of options when it came to studying the material you were learning. Sure you had the internet and other students in the class, but you preferred the idea of a tutor since you’d already exhausted yourself trying to follow along with various youtube videos. You needed the in-person teaching, it just stuck better in your head that way.

Slowly starting to walk, you made your way over to the study rooms lining the back of the library. The rooms seemed pretty private with the only window being on the door, which had glass nearly top to bottom. Thankfully the rooms were numbered and Leon had texted you which room to go to when you made the appointment with him, you had no idea what he looked like and you didn’t want to look like a creep eyeballing people through the door until you hopefully found the right person.

Standing off to the side, you could see the number you were looking for sitting above the door, taking a brief moment to collect yourself and hype yourself up to talk to someone who didn’t have the greatest reputation. Set aside everything you’ve heard and just hope for the best..

You took in a deep breath as you strode over to the door, glancing inside through the window before knocking to let him know you were there. The table was angled off more to the left so you didn’t immediately see him until he leaned over the table to see who had knocked. Confidence left you as soon as you made eye contact with Leon due to the groan you could hear through the door. It took you a couple seconds, but you eventually managed to get your body to work with you, hand turning the handle to let yourself in.

“-the last thing I need..” You caught the end of his little rant to himself as you opened the door. The saying “fake it ‘till you make it” is harder than it sounds since your entire body decided to betray you, deciding that shrinking in was the best move. Quietly, you shuffled over to sit across from him at the table, placing your backpack in your lap in some weird way to provide comfort in this situation.

“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Leon grumbled, sitting far back in the tilted chair as his feet lifted the front end of the chair slightly. His arms were crossed and he was giving you probably the nastiest look you’ve ever seen, next to your parents, of course. All you did was sit there giving him a blank stare. It was obvious what he’d said, yet the sheer forwardness of that snide comment had you more than confused. “What?-”

“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Apparently he felt the need to repeat himself with some added bite, barely letting you get a word in. “No one ever shows up to these shitty tutor- whatever the fucks.”

Wow. Okay. “Uh..” You didn’t even know what to say to that. It completely caught you off guard. You’d run through countless ways this interaction would go in your head, but this wasn’t one of those ways. The two of you sat in a very tense silence with Leon just glaring at you from across the table, continuing to rock back and forth in the chair.

Without uncrossing his arms, Leon lifted a hand and waved it around slightly while shaking his head. “Are you actually still gonna sit here orrr…?” The sound of his voice finally snapped you out of shock, causing you to shoot your gaze down to your backpack, fumbling with its partially broken zipper. “I-.. Mr. Lebovic recommended you..?”

You pulled out a few of your failed assignments from your bag before setting them down on the table with shaky hands, keeping your eyes glued to the papers to avoid that burning stare the man in front of you has. “I need-.. I need help..?”

“Do you?” Leon let the chair fall forward, his sarcastic tone starting to make your whole body tremble. “You don’t sound like you do.” He snatched one of your assignments from the table and held it up, pursing his lips as he studied the various red marks made on it closely. You chose to not respond to that, letting your hands rest on top of your backpack so you had something to squeeze.

He turned the page around, the sound of the paper wobbling the only thing you could hear right after the sound of the central heat blowing through the vent in the room. Suddenly, Leon started chuckling to himself, shaking his head incredulously as he flipped the paper back and forth a couple times before letting it fall back to the table. “This is terrible!” His laugh grew louder as he tilted his body to the side to pull out his phone, taking a picture of the assignments you’d put on the table.

How on earth were you supposed to react to that other than just sitting quietly? He was actually making fun of you right to your face. Hell, he might as well point and laugh if he’s going to be this brasen.

The most you could muster up was a quiet yet high-pitched “... huh?” in response to him. This whole ordeal was spiraling a little too fast for you to keep up with. You were expecting to put up with some grown man with a bratty attitude or even just a very uninterested, not all there jock with how Leon’s been described to you, not blatant bullying.

“Huh?” He mocked, taking one last look at his phone while loudly sucking on his teeth before pocketing it again. “Anyways, this is actually sad. How are you managing to fuck simple math up like this?” He roughly grabbed all the papers on the table and stacked them before partially tossing them back at you, some slipping onto the floor. “You’re too far gone, even I can’t fix that.”

You let out a gasp when the papers were tossed at your face, scrambling to catch some of them. Pushing the chair back, you leaned over to grab the few that fell on the floor, desperately holding back tears. “Please, you don’t understand.” You pleaded, voice cracking as you tried your best not to start crying in front of him. “I-I need to pass this class. I’m passing everything else, I just can’t keep up with this one!” You were speed-talking to try and argue your case, sitting back up with the small pile of papers that you struggled to stack properly.

Leon started rocking back in his chair again, arms back across his chest as he watched you with squinted eyes. The corners of his lips soon turned up into a smirk, taking in your sorry state before rolling his eyes with a dramatic groan. “Alright, alright, stop whining, jesus..” He cleared his throat, letting his head fall over the back of the chair. “I’ll help you only because I feel bad for you.” It’s not like he was going to admit that he was being forced to be a tutor, no one needs leverage over him like that

You couldn’t help but give a small smile despite his implication. It was a start. “And I’m not gonna do it today, either.” Well, the sooner the better, but still, it’s a start.

He then stood up from the chair, fixing his jacket with a sigh. “If you show up even a minute late on Friday, I’m not helping” and before you even had a chance to reply, he walked out of the room, the door shutting with a slam which made you flinch. Luckily, you were a very punctual person when it came to this kind of stuff. This was important, so if you had to show up early, so be it. You hurriedly shoved your assignments back into your backpack, not even fully zipping it up before rushing out of the study room, back through the library, and to the dorms.

“He said that?!” Sky yelled, quickly wiping their hand over their mouth to quiet themself once you shushed them. “I don’t really feel comfortable with you going to another ‘study session’ with that guy if he’s just gonna bully you.”

“I wouldn’t call it bullying-”

“He was bullying you.”

“OKAY! So what if he was?!” You fell back onto Sky’s bed with a sigh, arms splayed out with your legs dangling off the side. “I can handle it. As long as I get my grade up, who cares?”

Sky sat down next to you on their bed, giving you a sad look as you sat yourself up with your elbows. “I care. So does Ella. You shouldn’t put up with that just for a grade. I’m sure if you explain to your professor and-”

“And what? Tell him that I’m a grown woman getting bullied over something I should know by now?” You sat yourself up fully now, leaning forward to place your elbows on your thighs as your head rested in your hands. “It’s only until finals are over and we’re already halfway through October. Maybe I won’t even need that much time, maybe I’m just missing one simple… math move and it’ll get the gears in my brain moving again.”

You tilted your head to the side to look at Sky, head now resting only in your right hand as you took in their annoyed look. “Trust me. I can handle this.”

“If you say so.” They ran their fingers through her hair before looking away from you, directing their attention forward to stare off at nothing. “Just remember that I bite and I’m not afraid to use my fake chompers on that no good-”

“I don’t wanna think about escalations right now, but thank you.” You chuckled, playfully nudging Sky with your free hand before moving it back to hold your head up with the other. Though you were trying to convince Sky on this, you were mostly just trying to convince yourself that you could handle this. Handle Leon and his.. alluring charm..

Only until finals, maybe even sooner.

2K notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 28 days

Text

⁂ 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 + 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 || a mini series || eddie x you

“soul ties” based but with a spin — part 1

part 2: i’m your dream, make you real

chapter summary: back story on reader and the history of the ‘souls’, the girl sadly wonders why she suddenly can't stop thinking of eddie munson; eddie spends the night nursing a migraine and trying to remember what that girls name was… the same girl who he can’t seem to get out of his head. oddly enough, both eddie and the girl feel terribly ill— a symptom of rejecting the soul tie. also WAYNE! Yay!

[series summary: reader and her lover are souls bound to one another for eons and eons, they always find their way back to one another no matter how long it takes or what bodies they might be in, but when reader feels the magnetic pull of her other half and wills the girl’s body she is in to find her lover— the body her lover belongs to is a boy— none other than the meanest boy in hawkins, eddie munson]

trigger warnings: 18+ smut, bisexual! eddie, mean! eddie, shy! girl, smut. etc eddie the girl are both 18 in this story, drug use, talks of addiction, prison etc.

reader (you) are a “soul” in this story, meaning you are only bound to the body you are inhabiting during this lifetime. The girl will have features mentioned— but again— you (the reader) are a soul, which i imagine to be a flame of all colors.

You had no control over how, when or where you would appear in a new body. It was never the same timeline. one minute you were floating in a sea of stars on a blackened canvas, the next you were viewing their world from the way they envisioned it.

The body could be brand new, shiny and soft skinned, no marks of life on its petal-like skin. Sometimes the body was weathered, having seen many moons and decades and you arrived when they needed you most. Years before you had come here, the body you lived in was impaired, seeing nothing but marooned eyelids, navigating the earth with the four other senses.

Shapes and colors could vary from one body to the next, but inside they all remained the same. The only difference were the souls.

Some of the souls you had encountered weren’t pure. They had a darkness rolling through them that made the bodies they live in do unspeakable, horrific things.

The malum, as they were known were tainted with vile evilness. Instead of being made with licks of pretty sparkled flame, the malum were created with sharp edges, a singular dark hole in the center showing their emptiness. Compassion was lost from them, all they knew was destruction and how to use the body to their own advantage.

They could change their appearance, tricking others into loving them. And although it had been awhile since you’d come across one, you were always weary. Hence, the boy with the fast car from last year.

You were even thankful to come to this girl, the sad lonely girl who just wanted to be loved… her heart tie within reach…but then he rejected her!

That stupid boy and his dumb hair was ruining everything! This was wrong— this was all wrong! It never went this badly before. All it took from the others before this girl and this boy was to feel the “special” pull. The tug of that tiny invisible string that was nearly impossible to ignore.

Different species, different sex, it didn’t matter! The pull always worked. You sat and stewed in the girl's brain, running laps around her mind, showing her images of the boy, the one she was destined to be with.

It was deeper than love, stickier than the cotton candies of a carefully woven fate, her heart belonged with his! Plain and simple. You hoped your other half was doing the same with that long haired boy, making his head split and pop like a sunflower seed.

You could bet that he didn’t know how sad she was. He wouldn’t know that she had cut her tutoring lesson short with Max because the concentration for basic algebra just wasn’t there.

You could do this, you could make them both see how they belonged together, that they fit like a puzzle and complemented each other like the stars do the moon, despite their differences, or walks of life.

Time was all you needed, and thankfully they both were guaranteed to be in the same building for almost eight hours a day, five days a week.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie had been staring at his mac n cheese for nearly ten minutes. Each tick of the clock squeezed his head like a vice. He had been fixated on something he couldn’t quite grasp. As if he were in a fuzzy dream where punches didn’t land and he coincidentally had the winning lottery ticket.

A name.

It’s all he was trying to think of, but he couldn’t for the life or death of him remember it.

Beth? Kay? Maybe… Yeah.. Kay sounds right—nope Kay was that smokin’ hot foreign exchange student last semester. Jesus Christ, who the hell is that girl?

Wayne watched with his bushy eyebrows raised into the sparse bits of hair left on his head as his nephew drug his spoon counter-clockwise then clockwise through the cheesy valley of noodles, not saying a single word other than the occasional grunt or mumbling a series of consonants and vowels through the entirety of supper.

His head had spun all day. A loose paper boat down a sewer drain to awaiting clown claws had a better success rate in survival than the absolute collegiate level of nonsense he was trying to get his brian to spark. No matter what he did he couldn’t get that girl out of his head.

Maybe if he could put a name to her face—he had thought that would settle it. Then he could finally fucking move on. But alas, it was as if his brain left on vacation… or maybe those drug scare ads were right and his brain cells were actually fried.

“Something wrong with the food, Ed?” Wayne asked around a mouthful, “thought you loved dogs with mac n cheese.”

Eddie went class by class in his head imagining the seats of every girl who occupied them. In Geography there was Tiffany, Alice, Wheeler, Robin, Barbara, and Chrissy.

This is fucking stupid, he thinks. She could be a year or two below him in school, but goddamnit what was her name?

He could memorize DnD manuals, a whiz at math especially percentages for his.. hobbies. But a simple name to a girl he’s seen a dozen times falls short.

Dropping the metal spoon with a loud clunk, he groans, throwing his head in his hands. “I’m fine, Wayne.”

He wasn’t, along with his head pounding like the hammering tune of a chainsaw, he had felt nauseous all day. Like a hangover that never seemed to end, or that time he had the stomach flu last year and missed a week of school.

But this wasn’t the flu, and it wasn’t a hangover. It was a nagging feeling in his head and a rip to his gut.

“You sure?” Wayne tested cautiously, “Y’ know I don’t have many rules here.. and I don’t care that you smoke in the house, but son if you’re doing something… more than that… I…” Wayne shakes his head, his voice growing earnest, “I just don’t want you to end up like your old man ‘s all.”

“Jesus, Wayne,” Eddie groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face, he hadn’t touched that shit his dad was caught with, and was currently serving a sentence for, ever.

“I’m not doin’ anything like that, okay? I just… GOD—” he ran thick ringed fingers through his hair and cursed again when the rings got tangled, huffing through his nose like a bull, “I feel like shit!”

Wayne relaxed a bit in his chair, a chuckle in his throat at his nephew's theatrics, “eat then, you’ll feel better.”

Eddie shoved his plate away, synchronizing the metallic dragging scuff from the chair’s legs across the cheap linoleum floor with a grumble of ‘m not hungry.

His long legs seemed to tangle under themselves as he stood and he caught his shoulder hard on the wall, the drag of soft cotton down a plywood wall muffling his curses as he headed to bed.

Face first he landed into the worn and spring heavy mattress, the smell of weed and spiced deodorant engulfing him. Leather scuffed boots still on his feet from when he drove to Rick’s for his weekly supply. The pounding against his skull was dull, twisting like a knife and it just wouldn’t quit.

Nose crushed in the misshapen pillow, Eddie throws his hand out hazardly to the nightstand. His fingers skid around the scattered DnD dice, a crusted half eaten sandwich from the night before and the sharp foiled edge of a ripped corner from a Trojan from when—yeah, whew…that was a great night.

Finally, his fingers wrap around the cool steel of his zippo lighter.

Without looking up, he flicks the pad of his thumb against the wheel igniting a flame to be sure there’s enough fluid. Groaning again he slides a hand into his jeans and pulls out the little bag he had gotten from Rick.

Movements that were taken for granted were now causing sweat to pool in the middle of his back, his temples dripped as a tickling bead of sweat wove a path down his chin.

Whatever illness that was currently plaguing him was one like nothing before, and he only hoped his last vice of getting out of his mind with the sweet burn of a joint into his lungs would help.

Slotting it between his lips he flicked the lighter and inhaled as much as his lungs could take.

The girl drove home in silence. A salty drip of steady tears stinging her cheeks from the bite of the breeze that seeped through the cracked open car window. She didn’t understand why on this particular day he had burrowed so far under her skin, and even though he was rude, per usual—she couldn’t let it go.

A horn honked behind her at the stop sign before she realized she had been staring at the steering column, foot pressed on the brake. Tears dripped onto the apples of her cheeks and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her cream colored cardigan, leaving flecks of mascara behind.

Blowing out a blubbery sigh she eased her car forward and drove along the wet pavement of Hawkins, vision blinded by traitorous tears for the boy who didn’t deserve them.

She ate her supper in a sad silence— fork balancing green beans gone cold. The girl sighed with a hand resting into her palm, watching the fall leaves plucking themselves free in the front yard.

Her mind played that scene at Eddie’s trailer over and over. The way he practically bit her head off, how easy it was for him to dismiss her as a nuisance. She could feel the heat blossoming on her cheeks, how it had practically burned like his eyes did when they looked at her.

Eddie was like that with everyone at school, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. But it was. And tears started again as she thought of why he was so mean.

“…see Mom! She hates green beans so much she’s crying about them!”

The girl shook her head and blinked back the tears, “‘m not crying you little turkey,” she bites back, shoving her younger brother with her elbow, “just.. had a long day, ‘m tired.”

“Well,” her mother protested, pressing a cloth napkin to the corners of her mouth, “why don’t you run a bath and go to bed early?”

Nodding, she excused herself quietly from the table and walked the plush carpeted path to the upstairs bathroom.

More tears began to roll down her cheeks as she climbed each step, a tingling in the nape of her neck made her skin feel boiling hot. The further up she went the worst she started to feel.

I’m probably getting the flu. She thought to herself, Hawkins High had more than fifteen students out with it last week, and it would make sense that she too would fall victim to it. But the flu wouldn’t make her cry for no reason, no— a sickness wouldn’t have her feeling like she was nothing.

But those dark brown eyes could.

Thinking of her encounter today just made it worse, but she couldn’t turn it off. She welcomed the warmth from the water to seep through her bones after the tub was filled and she slipped gingerly into the water.

Hoping the steam would will away the awful empty feeling in her stomach, she let herself fully submerge, her wet brown hair feeling like the bottom of a silky moss covered lake.

She laid under the water for what felt like hours, no sound, just her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Maybe I’m getting my period? She thought after taking a few winded deep breaths and sitting up in the water.

It would explain why she was so irrationally upset about all of this. It was plausible. And maybe the burning flames of hell's butterflies in her stomach was because she had barely eaten anything for supper.

It definitely wasn’t the fact that Eddie seemed to radiate like a neon light in space the second he opened that door, and she was like a moth to his flame. One that was quickly swatted away.

Eddie Munson.

Standing and wrapping a towel around herself she hit the drain and stepped from the tub onto a peach colored bath mat.

His face played like a movie in her head. A montage of him and only him. The cocky gait he strutted down the hallways, hollering at the jocks to get the fuck out of his way. The jingling swish of that chain linked wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, a soft black bandana in the other.

Eddie.

Wiping condensation from the mirror she shakes her head. What the hell? Never. Not once in her entire life had she thought about Eddie Munson. Even thinking his name made her stomach lurch like she might be sick.

Wait. No, she was going to be sick.

She makes it just in time to lift the seat on the toilet before she vomits violently into the bowl, tears leaking from her eyes with every retching heave her body produced.

She hears her name buzzing in her ear. Once, twice, three times and she knows her mother is behind those calls on the other side of the door.

“‘m okay, Mom,” she gasps, “just the flu, it’s been going around—”

And normally where her mother would have come in to rub her back, ask if she needed anything— she doesn’t.

Flushing the toilet she looks over her shoulder, “Mom?”

No answer.

Rising from her knees she walks to the door and opens it, “Mom?”

Nothing.

Maybe she was hearing things, but she swore her name was said loud and clear.

Smoke billowed around Eddie’s room, hanging like dense clouds from an oven fire. Either his tolerance was higher or the bud from Rick was skunked— because after smoking three joints back-to-back-to-back, he still couldn’t feel anything.

Not even a tiny little buzz or the hazy droop of his eyelids forming into slits. That sickening pounding kept its beat along his chest and into every vein in his body, unrelenting in its ravage upon him.

He thought of the times he had seen her. Where was he standing? What section of lockers was she shoving books into?

Sandra? Beth… no he already said that. Fuck.

It’s not until he laid flat on his back a few minutes later, the short remnants of paper flickering from the last bit of the joint burning close to his fingers. Eddie closed his eyes in complete solitude, and that’s when it clicked.

Shuffling on what felt like broken legs to his closet, Eddie wedged the door open on its broken track. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, he felt as if he had ran a marathon, backwards.

His tongue was out between his lips as he concentrated on his task at hand. Rifling through heaps of clothes, old shoes, playboys with dog eared pages. He was elbows deep in the depths of his closet, searching for what he had tossed in here at the end of last year.

The pads of his fingers feel the textured cover under a halloween mask and he yanks it free stumbling backwards and tripping over his amp, landing hard on the floor.

He doesn’t wait to be in a more comfortable position on his bed or even sitting up straight before he holds the book over his face and flips open the cover of Hawkins High 1985 Go Tigers!, his yearbook.

Pages and pages he skimmed through. Freshman class, Sophomore class, pictures of every sport from Fall to Spring, Band, Choir, The school newspaper… he was about to give up after he saw his own picture staring at him from Junior year.

And he would have missed it if his thumb hadn’t suddenly stung. As if a bee or a strike of lightning went through him and he had to adjust his hold on the book. Where his thumb had been pressed into the page, was the girl.

Just a few down from his own school portrait, she sat smiling shyly at the camera with closed lips, silken voluminous dark hair, a sparkle in each eye.

Eddie’s stomach plummeted, his pulse speeding up as each letter of her name danced behind his irises, and his lips tingle when he finally says her name.

Mickey

thanks for reading💋

taglist: @cinemabean @findmeincorneliastreet @pleuviors @boltonbritreads @nailbatanddungeon

@what-the-jams @aprisher @bbygh0st18 @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson

178 notes · View notes

smartkookiee · 12 days

Text

Wounds We Never Show // Ch. 1 War on the Horizon — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭ ❥pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits, these two really do hate each other

❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, drinking, Jungkook just being a little shit, small angst (squint)

❥word-count: 13.1k

❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter

fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list, .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

“Hi, checking in.” You set your bag down next to you on the ground. The front desk person took your info and handed you a key to your room. You admittedly arrive later in the day than you had intended, as it was already evening.

You noticed the sign had been placed at the entrance ‘Welcome friends and family for the Kim and Abel wedding.’

You had finally made it to this weekend. Namjoon and Melanie were getting married.

You as the maid of honor had spent many months planning out every step of this wedding with Melanie. The hotel she always dreamed of, the food she insisted on having, the music down to the minute. Every detail was planned from top to bottom.

You finally could get some sleep after today.

You headed up the elevator to the floor Melanie said they were staying in. Her and Namjoon had elected to stay in separate rooms for the weekend. She took the honeymoon suite and Namjoon is in another room on another floor. A quick ride up the elevator basically led right to the room.

The door was creaked open so you pushed the door open to let yourself in.

“Hello?” You dragged the word looking into the room, You immediately spotted Melanie and Ash. Sitting on the couch immediately inside the door.

“You made it my love!” Melanie jumped to her feet. A little bit of champagne spilling from the glass she had in her hand.

You set your bag on the ground and rounded your way around the couch to hug her.

“Your knight in shining armor has arrived.” You do a dramatic bow.

“What am I then?” Ash laughs a little at your gesture.

“The jester obviously.” She gets up and you hug her as well.

You had immediately noticed that they were both in matching pajamas and you could only assume that a pair was waiting for you in this room somewhere as well. Melanies had bride on the back of the top, you could only assume Ash’s had bridesmaid on the back. Which meant-

“You need your pajamas!” Melanie ran into the other room where the bed was and emerged immediately with a pair of the same silk blue pajamas. Yup, yours had maid of honor written on the back of the top.

Ash put a glass of champagne in your hand.

“I love them.” A little cheesy but you were happy to make her happy.

“Yay!” Melanie bounced, she was rather red in the face, so you could only imagine she has had a bit to drink.

You began to shed your clothes from your work day. Ash and Melanie cheered at your mini non sexual strip show.

“Stop.” You laugh at them. Throwing the pajama top on.

“I didn’t want strippers for my bachelorette party.” Melanie teased.

“Should have paid for a better one.” Ash giggled.

You kick her ankle, and she winces but was still laughing.

“200 bucks and I’ll give you a real show.” You fully dress yourself now.

“Oh, sounds like a really good deal.” Melanie laughed and winked at you. You rolled your eyes, you do a little spin to show off the pajamas.

“They looked great!”

You sit yourself down on the couch with both of them and take a sip of your champagne. Finally letting the weight of the day come over you, Ash rested her head on your shoulder.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask, looking to Melanie.

“I just wanted an easy night in with you guys. Nothing crazy because the next three days are going to be extremely busy.”

She was correct. Although the day tomorrow would be easy, you were having the official Bachelorette party. Melanie had never done a bar crawl before so you and Ash set that up for you guys. Then Saturday was going to be mostly spending time with the guests and family outside of the wedding and the rehearsal dinner.

You would barely have time to yourselves really. Let alone Namjoon and Melanie will be in entertainment mode the entire time.

Basically, the lay of the land tonight was, have fun but not too much.

“Good, I’m exhausted from the travel.” You dramatically huff out.

“Didn’t it take you like half an hour to get here?” Melanie raised an eyebrow at you.

“Exactly, I’m exhausted.” Throwing an arm over your eyes.

A knock on the hotel room interrupts you guys. Melanie was about to get up to answer it but you shot up in protest against her.

“Uh the bride does not answer the door to anyone. Allow me my lady.” You push her back down, and give a little bow.

“Stop.” She whines but also laughs.

You trot on over to the door, and an amusing smile on your face. You swiftly open the door, only to be met with the groom himself.

“Who is it?” Ash calls to you.

“It’s the actual stripper!” You open the door wider so Namjoon could enter the room. He gave you half hug when entering the room.

“Oh I can get down with this strip show.” Melanie props her legs up on the couch, taking a sip of her champagne.

“I’ll get the bills.” Ash runs to the next room to get her bag, causing a little laughter amongst you and Melanie. Namjoon was blushing and red from ear to ear.

“Sorry to disappoint.” He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m only here to say goodbye for the night.” Namjoon rounds his way over to Melanie and gives her a short kiss but then Melanie begs for another one so he complies.

“Hey, I think that’s extra.” Ash comes back in the room, she has her wallet instead. She pulls out a couple one dollar bills. “Here Namjoon for your time.”

You and Melanie are giggling again as Namjoon shoves the money back to Ash. He was just smiling but you could tell he knew he needed to get out of here fast.

“Any big plans tonight, Namjoon?” You ask and find your way back on the couch next to Melanie. Ash follows just next to you.

“Not sure yet. Jungkook planned the evening so I’m at his mercy.” Namjoon didn’t seem to bother but just the mention of Jungkook left a terrible taste in your mouth.

“Ugh, good luck with him.” You take a sip of your champagne, Melanie does bump your leg with her knee, signaling to be nice.

“You promised.” She gave you a pointed look.

“Technically I only promised I would be nice to him. Never said I wouldn’t be mean behind his back.” You try your very best, but he just always manages to just push your buttons.

“Well I’m making it a rule starting now.” Melanie pats your shoulder.

“Okay, I will be nice the whole time. Namjoon I hope tonight is very fun.” Your raise your glass to him.

“Thank you.” He bows to you slightly. “I should get going before he comes looking for me.”

Namjoon and Melanie kiss one more time and Namjoon excuses himself.

“Bye, Namjoon,” you and Ash sang in unison, waving dramatically as he quickly exited.

You both giggled.

Eventually the three of you moved into the room with the king size bed and all settled in. Drink champagne and turned on some random rom com that was available through the hotel.

Settling into this very long weekend.

At some point the three of you dozed off. You woke up to the room dark, but you felt like your mouth was completely dried out. Very carefully you tried to worm your way out of the middle of the bed. You grabbed the ice bucket because there was no way you were going to drink room temperature water.

The ice machine wasn’t too far, scooping out some ice and heading back to the room, you were stopped once up the hall you heard the elevator ding. Watching two people stumble out of the elevator into the hall. The second person catching the first.

“I just want to see her, it’ll be so quick,” Namjoon slurred, barely able to stand on his own.

“Dude you will have the rest of life to see her, let’s get you back to the room.” The second guy, who you can clearly see now is Taehyung. Also slurring his words. Holding onto Namjoon like his life depended upon it.

“Guys.” You made your way over. Both of them immediately take notice of you. They both stood up straight, trying to act sober. “Go back to your rooms. We have such a long weekend ahead of us.”

“You’re right,” Namjoon sighed, but then he perked up. “Not after I do this!” He suddenly made a dash for Melanie’s door, but before you could react, someone else stepped in, pulling Namjoon back.

“Okay, that’s enough for you Casanova.” Jungkook spoke, patting Namjoon on the back.

Your entire body physically repulsed away at the site of him. Your face immediately falling into a displeased look at him. Jungkook noticed, and scoffed under his breath. Thinking, what could I have possibly done now?

“Aw what’s with the grumpy face? ” Taehyung comes to you and tries to poke your cheeks to make you smile, it makes you laugh. You grab both of his hands before he gets a chance.

“Nothing, you need to get some sleep my dear Tae, you too Namjoon.” You pat Taehyung on the cheek.

Before you can react he gives you a hug before he then breaks away and grabs Namjoon and pulls him over to the elevator pressing the button a thousand times. Jungkook stays where he was, looking at the two of them. He didn;t have any intention to get Namjoon Drunk tonight, but one too many at the hotel bar got too him. He should have been making sure he had food as much as he had drank. He paused his mental scolding to look at you.

“Yes?” You say dryly to him. Waiting for whatever retort he’s to give you.

Jungkook lingered, his eyes sweeping over you as if sizing you up. “Nice pajamas,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He very well knew these were Melanie’s pick and he really had no issue with them. He had an issue with one particular person in them.

“Thanks? Anything else?” You couldn’t be less amused.

You walk to the door which he was standing somewhat close too. Just close enough for you to catch a cigar smell, not his usual stink of cigarettes you were used too.

“God you reek.” You couldn’t help but get one punch in before the weekend started officially started. After this, according to Melanie's request several months ago, rainbows and kindness.

Jungkook had gotten a similar lecture form her as well. Bring the whole unicorn or something like that. He also wanted to get one last punch in before this all started.

“Hmm tell that to your perfume, Eau de Desperate. Seems like you wear it by the gallon these days.”

“Desperate, huh? At least I smell nice, unlike you, who’s one cigarette away from the grave.” You unlock the hotel door. You stop before you step all the way in. Melanie’s words bounced around in your head, “Listen, I’m willing to be nice this weekend if you can. Melanie made me promise, so that will be my last dig of the weekend. Deal?”

You were being genuine but it did kill you inside to have to offer something like this.

“I can’t make you any promises, since I’m aware how unreliable you are.” Jungkook pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, putting one between his teeth. “Deal. That was my last one.”

You took in a long breath. Hit right in the nerve he was aiming for.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” You closed the door on him.

Letting the door slam in Jungkook’s face, you didn’t see the subtle twitch of his jaw as he sauntered back to the elevator, trying to shake off the lingering irritation. His encounter with you had already grated on him more than he wanted to admit. You always had a way of getting under his skin. This was pretty light compared to previous spats.

As the elevator doors slid open, he found Taehyung struggling to keep Namjoon upright, the two of them stumbling in. Jungkook sighed, stepping in after them, hitting the button for their floor.

"Hey!" Namjoon suddenly yelled, his voice echoing in the small space as he pointed a wobbly finger at Jungkook. "Don’t bug Y/N this weekend."

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at Namjoon’s sudden outburst. "I won’t," he replied, though the agreement felt more like a reluctant surrender than a promise.

“I’m serious! They worked really hard on this wedding, so you be nice.” Namjoon’s words were slurred, his head lolling as he leaned heavily against Jungkook, who had to push him back gently to keep him from collapsing entirely.

"I’ll try my very best," Jungkook muttered, more to himself than to Namjoon, as the elevator doors opened. He really was going to do his best, this was a really important weekend for him too even though he hasn't been around to help. He tightened his grip on Namjoon’s arm, pulling him out of the elevator and into the hallway.

Taehyung dragged his feet behind them, fumbling for his room key with clumsy fingers. "What is the deal with you two, anyway?" he asked, his voice curious but also tinged with the laziness of someone who’s had a bit too much to drink.

Jungkook’s expression dropped, and a bitter taste filled his mouth at the thought of everything that had happened between him and you. "Long story. Maybe another time," he said curtly, not wanting to delve into the messy history between you both. Taehyung knew the important stuff already. No one knew all the details.

Jungkook snatched the room key from Taehyung's hand, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. He opened the door to their hotel room and flicked on the lights. The harsh brightness made him wince slightly as he helped Namjoon over to one of the beds. Namjoon collapsed face-first onto the mattress, immediately out cold.

"Do not let him leave," Jungkook ordered, pointing sternly at Taehyung, who was in the process of kicking off his shoes.

"I won’t!" Taehyung responded, holding up his hands in surrender, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

Jungkook lingered for a moment, watching as Taehyung struggled to pull the covers over Jungkook glanced at Namjoon, who was snoring into the pillow, the room heavy with the scent of alcohol and the weight of unspoken words. He knew he should stay, sober Namjoon up, joke around like they used to, but he was too worn out. Work had been relentless, his personal life a mess, and every time he tried to help with the wedding, something pulled him away.

Jungkook made his way to his own room, guilt twisting in his gut. Namjoon had always been like a brother, always there, and Jungkook hated feeling like he’d failed him. Which meant that knowing every detail of this weekend was so important to him. And now, as if things weren’t complicated enough, there was you—always clashing with him.

He sank onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shut out the noise in his head. This weekend was going to test him in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He checked his phone one last time, then tossed it aside, determined not to let his thoughts run wild tonight.

But the next morning, the tension was thick, and the silence between you was impossible to ignore.

"Okay, everyone should be seated! Namjoon’s at the front. First bridesmaid and groomsman, you’re up!" the wedding coordinator called out, her voice echoing in the mostly empty hall. Melanie’s sister and one of Namjoon’s friends? Brother? You weren sure, exchanged a quick glance before stepping forward. They’d only arrived today, missing the previous festivities, so they were clearly trying to get their bearings as they moved down the aisle.

“Next pair, let’s go!” The coordinator’s shortcut through the mild chatter.

Ash looped her arm through Taehyung’s, her confidence obvious even in a casual practice. You were jealous of her walking partner. She wore a small, mischievous grin as she sauntered down the aisle, adding a bit of flair that drew a few chuckles from the small group.

You barely registered it, though, because you were preoccupied with the awkward tension between you and Jungkook. Your arm rested on his like a dead weight. The idea of touching him—even for a rehearsal—made you want to squirm. The distance you both kept was almost ridiculous, but neither of you was willing to close the gap.

A hand landed firmly on both your shoulders from behind, shoving you together. Bumping your shoulders together harshly. You stumbled forward in sync, groaning under your breath like rebellious teenagers.

“You two look ridiculous standing that far apart!” Melanie hissed, shooting you both a glare. “It’s just practice, guys. You can fake it for five minutes, right?”

Before either of you could snap back, the coordinator’s voice rang out. "Maid of Honor and Best Man—go!"

You both moved forward, managing to match each other’s pace despite the obvious discomfort. The silence between you had held all morning, which at least made things less unbearable—but having him this close was testing your patience. His mere presence gnawed at your mood, a constant irritant you couldn’t escape.

As you reached the end of the aisle, you split directions, the tension in your shoulders finally easing. You shuddered in revulsion, rubbing your arm as if you could erase the feeling of his proximity. Jungkook caught the gesture and rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide his irritation.

"Alright," the coordinator said once everyone was back in place. "After this, the music changes, everyone stands, and then Melanie will walk down the aisle." Melanie does a quick run-through, smiling as she walked toward Namjoon at the front, playfully grabbing his arm when she reached him.

“Perfect. I just needed everyone to do this once before Sunday. Does everyone get it?” The coordinator scanned the group, getting nods in response. It was simple enough.

She moved on to speak to Melanie and Namjoon, while you stepped forward to join the rest of the wedding party in a small circle.

Namjoon and Melanie had the whole weekend scheduled down to a T. It was Jungkook’s and your job to mostly help get them from point A to point B. Today was just the parties but tomorrow they had a family breakfast, extended family pictures, lunch with the parents, some other activities and then the rehearsal dinner. With how busy tomorrow was going to be, the easier you were going to make today.

“See easy peasy.” Ash bumped your shoulder, knowing your disgust for Jungkook.

“I feel like I need a shower.” You shiver, folding your arms over your chest.

“Well now we just get to have an easy day, and party hard tonight.” She placed both of her hands on your shoulders and rocked your forwards and backwards in excitement, you smiled.

Which reminded you that you did have to talk to Jungkook about making sure he got Namjoon up and going in the morning. Namjoon and Melanie had both agreed they could get super drunk at their respective parties but that someone had to make sure they made it to breakfast in the morning. The breakfast started at 9.

Jungkook was across the room preoccupied with Taehyung telling him something about the last wedding he had gone too. Jungkook had a similar feeling, your perfume lingered and he felt like he needed to get clean because it was giving him a headache. Your presence doing just the same, almost like you had heard his thoughts. He felt a pat on his shoulder.

Turning to see you, “Yes?”

“I need to talk to you about tomorrow morning. Now the breakfast starts at 9 so we need to make sure that these two get to bed as soon as we get home. I can come down and help get Namjoon up in th morning if you need.” You were rambling really quickly and Jungkook felt like he could barely keep up.

“You worry about your guy and I’ll worry about mine.” Jungkook nodded, wanting to get an excuse to get you to go away.

“I’m just suggesting it, Jungkook. Offering help is not a crime.” You steady your breathing, fighting the urge to punch him.

“I’ll get him there in plenty of time, promise.” Jungkook not wanting to cause a scene leaves you just with that, he figures keeping his responses short will keep either of you from getting too riled up.

Although a part of his mind wanted to make some retort about you actually arriving on time in the morning. He kept it to himself.

“Great. I’m trying to get Melanie there by 8:45. So you don’t have to worry about being too early.”

“Sounds fine.”

You didn’t say anything and you just walked away. He could tell you were annoyed by his lack of enthusiasm and to be fair he didn’t care to grace you with better responses.

“Wow I think that was the most normal conversation I have ever seen between the two of you.” Taehyung nodded, patted Jungkook on the back.

“I would have rather stepped on a nail but, this weekend is about Namjoon. I want everything to go well.” Jungkook huffed, looking at Namjoon and Melanie who were having a quiet conversation just the two of them. You took a moment before you ended up joining them.

Taehyung's face was twisted in confusion. Your feud had always confused him, since he loved Jungkook and loved you. Made no sense to him why you two shouldn’t get along and yet here we were.

“So tonight…” Jungkook started

They discussed the plans for tonight. They had a similar plan to do a bar crawl, unbeknownst to you having made a similar plan. After the little practice everyone split off. Spending the hours in whatever ways every person needed too.

After a while everyone started getting ready for the evening. Melanie really loved the idea of wearing cheesy bridal party outfits, so she had a classic little white dress and a crown that said bride across it. The rest of you had matching short black dresses, you got a sash saying made of honor and Ash and Serena had ones that said bridesmaids. It was cute, and would make for good memories later. You had taken a few polaroids in the room once everyone got ready.

It felt like the night had arrived so quickly because before you had known it your crawl had begun. The first bar was just a little irish bar that ended up being super lame, the second bar you thought was a theme bar but ended up just being a sports bar so you guys ran out of there quick. The third stop on your location was more club than bar, but you all had a few drinks now.

You were ready for some dancing.

“Oh dude they host an emo night!” Ash points at a little flier they had posted in the hallway into the club.

“Oh we are so going to that.” You cheer, catching a glimpse of the flier to make note of the date.

The club pulsed with blinding lights and a bassline that shook the floor beneath your feet. Bodies crowded every inch of the space, and the noise was almost overwhelming. Melanie led the charge, her excitement spilling over as she flashed her “Bride” crown to anyone who glanced her way. You, Ash, and Serena followed closely behind, weaving through the throng of people with linked hands to avoid getting separated.

Ash tugged you toward the bar, quickly ordering a round of drinks. “To Melanie!” she laughed, raising her glass.

“To Melanie!” you all echoed, clinking glasses before downing the drinks in unison. The alcohol burned pleasantly, warming you from the inside out and washing away the lingering annoyance from earlier.

Melanie pulled you onto the dance floor, her infectious energy pulling you in. The music thumped around you, loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and you let it take over, swaying and spinning beside your friends. Ash was laughing as she attempted a ridiculous dance move, nearly knocking into Serena, who shoved her back playfully.

“I love this!” Melanie shouted over the music, spinning in her white dress, her joy radiating like a beacon in the dark, crowded room. She grabbed your hand and twirled you around, almost causing you to stumble. You couldn’t help but laugh, getting swept up in the carefree moment.

“Only Melanie could turn a random club into her own private party,” you teased, still holding her hand as you both moved to the beat.

As the night wore on, you found yourself momentarily breaking away from the group to catch your breath. The room was a blur of colors and sound, and you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Your job had gotten more intense lately, that on top of the wedding had gotten you completely wound up. You leaned against the bar, looking to get something a little stronger.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender leaning over the bar to you. You took a glance at his nametag then back to him. He was seriously attractive.

“I don’t know Felix.” You flirt, “Something sweet and strong. Surprise me.”

He started on something immediately, you pulled out your card and watched him. He had long blonde hair and a cute face. You tried to hide your obvious stare but the alcohol already in your system was getting the better of you. To your surprise he put two down in front of you.

“Two?.”

“One for the bride. Miss Honor. One is on the house.” he grinned, you tilt your head.

“Which one?” You tease. Tapping between the two drinks.

Felix chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the music. “The one for the cuter one, obviously.” He shot you a wink, and you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a rush of confidence bubble up. It wasn’t often that you found yourself in these kinds of playful exchanges, especially with all the stress you’d been under lately. Tonight, though, it felt good.

You picked up one of the drinks, the fruity aroma already making your mouth water, and took a sip. It was sweet with just the right amount of bite, exactly what you needed. “Damn, you’re good at this. What’s it called?”

“Midnight Kiss,” he said, resting his elbows on the bar as he watched you taste it. “Perfect for someone who looks like they need a little midnight magic.”

You humm, “Cute. Can I get two more? For the other bridesmaids.”

“You got it.”

Felix steps away to make those and you take the opportunity to look back out to the girls. Melanie and Ash were screaming and jumping up and down at the change of the song. You laughed and were eager to get back. Felix brought over two more of the same cocktail. You began trying to figure out a way to manage to get them over to the girls. In your deep thought, you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings. You end up getting bumped in the shoulder by someone trying to pass by.

“Sorry.” The familiar voice buzzed in your ears, there it was again, the headache.

Jungkook stepped up, Taehyung trailing behind, a faint smile on his face as if he already knew this was a bad idea. Namjoon’s other groomsmen who you didn’t know the name of was also present. “Well if it isn’t the wicked witch of the west?” Jungkook said, his voice dripping with annoyance.

You crossed your arms, and give him a snide smile. “Funny, all I see is a cowardly lion.”

“I knew those flying monkeys we past by earlier were yours.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a challenge in his gaze, one that prickled under your skin.

You crossed your arms, squaring up to him. “What are you guys even doing here anyways?”

Taehyung tried to cut in, keeping things light. “We are on a bar crawl. Funny we all ended up in the same place”

“I planned the same thing. Melanie had never done one.” You trace the rim of the drink Felix had given you.

“Jungkook’s original plan ended up falling through, so we decided this at the last second.” Taehyung added, he was doing anything to diffuse the tension between the both of you.

You forced a smile, trying to keep things civil despite the tension buzzing between you. “Great minds think alike I guess.”

Taehyung nodded, eager to steer things in a lighter direction. “Exactly. Fun coincidence.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. “Coincidence or bad luck? Still figuring that out.”

You shot him a smirk, refusing to back down. “Well, if it’s bad luck, at least you’re consistent. Haven’t seen you get anything right in a long time.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitched, his frustration momentarily overshadowed by amusement. “Yeah? Well, I’m just here to collect my prize for putting up with you. Maybe they’ll name a drink after it—‘Annoyance of Honor,’ bitter with a dash of drama.”

You snorted, raising your glass. “Better than ‘Pathetic Man’ watered down and pointless.”

Taehyung stifled a laugh, stepping between the two of you before things escalated. “Alright, alright, you two—enough with the drink menu! I’m pretty sure the bar doesn’t serve ‘Petty Martini,’ but I’ll check just in case.”

Jungkook bit back his retort, the moment of humor cooling the tension a bit. You glanced at Taehyung, feeling a grudging sense of relief that he’d managed to cut in before things got out of hand.

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the shoulder, flashing an easygoing grin. “Come on, let’s get back to the table. I’ll buy the first round if it keeps you two from turning this into a bar brawl.”

You exchanged one last look with Jungkook, the challenge still lingering but softened by the brief, unexpected exchange. For tonight, the battle would wait. Instead, you huffed and turned away, joining Melanie and the girls again, your mind still racing from the exchange. You could have definitely come up with a better come back but your inebriated mind didn’t have the patience for it.

“What took you so long?” Ash asked, raising an eyebrow as she noticed the tension in your expression.

You forced a smile, passing out the drinks. “Just dealing with a little headache,” you said, brushing off the encounter with Jungkook like it was nothing. You filled them in on Felix, the flirty bartender, hoping the distraction would lighten the mood.

Ash let out a dramatic sigh, already halfway through her drink. “I swear, you’ve got a magnet for chaos.”

You laughed, but it was hollow, the tension from earlier still simmering beneath your skin. You took a long sip of your drink, letting the sweet burn linger in your throat. Tonight was supposed to be fun—a chance to unwind after everything.

Across the bar, Jungkook tried to shake off the encounter as well.

“Your betrothed is here.” Taehyung nudged Namjoon with a playful smile.

Namjoon glanced up, his expression brightening as he looked around for Melanie. His smile was enough to momentarily lift the mood. “Where?”

“She’s with the rest of them on the dance floor, We saw them when we were at the bar.” Jungkook, trying to dance around the scene you two caused.

Taehyung shot a sideways glance at Jungkook before answering. “Not without a little confrontation first.”

Namjoon’s smile faltered as he turned his attention to Jungkook. “What happened?”

Jungkook shrugged, taking another long sip of his drink. “Had a run-in with the maid of honor,” he said, his tone dismissive, but his eyes betrayed the frustration still bubbling beneath the surface.

Namjoon’s brow furrowed, a hint of disappointment creeping into his features. “Small spat, nothing to fret over,” Taehyung cut in, trying to diffuse the situation before it spiraled.

“Small spat?” Namjoon’s voice was laced with disbelief. He turned to Jungkook, his tone sharper than usual. “What did you do this time?”

Jungkook bristled, his annoyance flaring up as he met Namjoon’s gaze. “Why do you always assume it’s my fault?”

Namjoon’s expression was unyielding, a mixture of concern and frustration. “Because I know you, Jungkook. And I know how you two are. You don’t need to prove a point every time you’re in the same room.”

Jungkook bit back a retort, swallowing down the urge to argue further. He knew Namjoon was right, but admitting that would mean facing the uncomfortable truth about his own behavior—and the fact that fighting with you felt almost like second nature now. Comforting in a morbid way.

“It’s not like I go looking for it, nothing happened. We were very… civil considering.” Jungkook took another sip of his drink.

Taehyung nodded, “He’s not wrong, they have been very normal. It’s strange.”

“That is not something I’d ever think you two would be described as.”

“Enough about Y/N.” Jungkook would use any excuse to not have to talk about you anymore, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Namjoon leaned back, trying to relax as Namjoon's brother threw an arm around Taehyung and started chatting animatedly about some old story. The conversation drifted back to lighter topics.

Namjoon, trying to reset the mood, raised his own glass. “To tonight. And to the people who keep us on our toes.”

Jungkook smirked, a bit of his usual bravado creeping back in as he clinked his glass against the others. “To Namjoon.”

The group erupted in cheers, but beneath it all, the unresolved animosity lingered. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, the laughter ringing in his ears as he tried to shake off the encounter.

******************************************************************************

Not too long after your little group ended up moving to one more bar. That is where the night took a little bit of a nose dive. Serena and Melanie had drank one too many and the night devolved into tears. Melanie talking about how in love with Namjoon she is that she couldn’t hold herself together anymore. She was a lightweight so it didn’t take much to get to this point.

You and Ash decided it was time to call it at this point, getting the four of you back to the hotel.

You actually ended up sleeping in your own room last night. Making the morning much easier because you had set several alarms to make sure you and Melanie could both make it down to breakfast in time. That included making sure Melanie didn’t look extremely hung over. Melanie threw curses at you every so often, most of which just made you laugh as you got her down to the lobby.

“I’ll make you a plate.” You whisper to her as you both make it into the room. She gave you a thankful smile as you made your way over to the breakfast buffet that had been set up.

You decided to keep everything light, Melanie didn’t throw up last night but she was not feeling great this morning. So you kept the plate to fruit, and some toast. Easy things. You continue down the line, when Jungkook comes up and starts filling a plate as well.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” He spoke behind you, you didn’t dare turn around to look at him. Your face twitching up in annoyance. A familiar sentence coming from his mouth.

“It’s 8:45, right when I said I would be here.” You continue down the line, stepping further away from him.

“And we were here at 8:30. Since I know how Namjoon’s family are all early risers. So sad they had to wait for the bride to arrive.”

It actually annoyed you, you looked around and sure enough Namjoon was sitting with his family.

“I’ll have you know we were up and moving at 7. Either way, Melanie is the bride. She can arrive whenever she feels likes.” You turn to him now.

“Well I was certainly worried. Since you have a habit of sleeping through important things.”

“Let’s not do this. After all, this isn’t about us.” You give him a flat smile, biting back your disdain.

He couldn’t help but agree. “Fine.”

“I have today planned down to the minute, so if we just stay out of each others way maybe that would be best.” With that you leave him. Letting that be satisfying enough.

You made your way to Melanie, who was deep in conversation with her parents. As you handed Melanie the plate you’d prepared, her grateful smile said everything words couldn’t.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abel, it’s so good to see you again,” you said warmly, shaking her father’s hand before her mother pulled you into a tight hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Abel gushed, squeezing you affectionately.

“I hope you’ve found everything alright, and your check-in went smoothly,” you smiled, glancing between them.

“It’s been wonderful,” her father replied. “Everything’s gone off without a hitch so far.”

“You and Melanie really outdid yourselves with the schedule. It’s so thoughtful—there’s something for everyone,” Mrs. Abel added, her enthusiasm contagious. You and Melanie had spent countless hours planning every detail of the weekend, and hearing it appreciated felt like a small victory.

“Oh, I barely did anything. This was all Melanie’s vision,” you said, squeezing Melanie’s shoulder with a smile. It was true; Melanie’s dream wedding came to life with the help of a meticulous coordinator.

“You’re being too humble,” Melanie chimed in, her voice playful. “I couldn’t have done it without Y/N. They planned this entire day, down to the smallest detail.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to the pickleball match this afternoon,” her father said, chuckling. “I’ve got a rematch with Melanie’s grandpa.”

You laughed, appreciating the lightheartedness. “That’ll be one for the books.”

Just then, Jungkook appeared behind you, his presence immediately setting your nerves on edge. “That sounds like a game that I cannot miss.” he said, his tone light but with a familiar, teasing edge. You faltered for a second, your smile stiffening as Jungkook stepped closer, and you could feel the victory in his eyes.

Jungkook saw you falter for a second and took it as a small victory, “Nice to meet you, you must be Melanie’s parents. I’m Jungkook, we hadn’t had a chance to meet.”

Jungkook shakes both of their hands. Giving his brightest and warmest smiles between the both of them. You would think it’s fake but he is genuine in his greeting.

“Oh you’re the best man!” Melanie’s mom beamed, “I’ve heard so many stories from Namjoon and Melanie about you. It’s nice to have a face to the name now.”

“Hopefully all good things.” Jungkook grimaced, looking to Melanie and completely avoiding the daggers you were staring at him.

You laugh to yourself, probably only bad stories with his track record. Melanie catches you and gives you a pointed look. You mouth a sorry to her. Neither of Melanie’s parents caught what you said, as Jungkook was going on and impressing them and answering questions about himself. You just kept a tight smile on your lips.

“Anyways, I am just here to help everyone get from point A to point B today.” Jungkook bloated and put a hand over his heart. “Any questions you have you can ask me or Y/N.”

He looked at you, you almost couldn’t hide the surprise you had. If anyone had any answers to any questions about the day it was you. You planned this day down. He couldn’t answer any questions.

Mrs. Abel smiled, completely unaware of the tension between you. “It must be so easy to manage all of this with a great team like you two.”

Melanie bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the statement. “Oh, you have no idea,” Melanie said, patting your back. “Right? A dream team.”

You paused a little too long, “Yes… uhh Jungkook and I will be available for anything anyone needs today.”

You really stumble through your words. It's painful for you, but funny for Jungkook. Watching you force the words out even though if he was asked the same thing, he would struggle as well.

“I just remembered,” You clear your throat, finding the first excuse to speak to Jungkook, “Namjoon’s parents wanted to meet the two of you before your joint lunch today. They are just over there.”

You point between them close to the window where Namjoon and his brother were in a small huddle together.

“Oh that would be lovely.” Melanie’s mom pulls her husband along over to them. Melanie decides to follow close in tow. Turning back to the two of you and wiggling her fingers between the both of you like she had her eye on both you and Jungkook. You waited until they were out of earshot.

“What's wrong with you?” You ask, keeping a smile on your face and looking at Jungkook. He feigned innocence in his smile.

“What?” Jungkook tilted his head, wondering what you could have a problem with now?

“Since when did you decide to be so helpful? And since when were we a team?” You kept the smile up but your voice dripped with your rage.

“I wasn’t able to help with any of the wedding planning. Believe it or not I love weddings. Namjoon is my best friend so I made sure that I knew today and tomorrow's schedules in and out. So, I could help this all move along as smoothly as possible.” He sounded genuine, but you still weren’t buying it. Weren’t buying that he was blowing smoke out of his ass.

“Oh really?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “What’s happening at 2?”

“Wine tasting for the family or a drawing class for the artsy types,” he recited effortlessly.

“4?”

“Pickleball and the extended family photoshoot with the bride and groom in the garden.”

“11:30?” you shot back, expecting him to slip.

Jungkook smirked. “Nice try. Nothing’s planned at 11:30 because that’s when Melanie, Namjoon, and their parents are at lunch. The rest of us are on our own until activities resume at 2. Just like you scheduled.”

He didn’t just know the schedule—he’d nailed every detail. Your irritation simmered beneath your carefully composed expression, but Jungkook’s smirk told you he knew exactly how much this was getting under your skin.

“Guess I underestimated you,” you finally muttered, the words bitter in your mouth.

Jungkook leaned in just a touch, his voice low and smug. “You usually do.”

You sigh for a moment, you felt awkward because you were fighting every instinct in you to say he looks like trash or something.

“Rainbows and kindness,” you mutter under your breath, the words a futile mantra against the frustration simmering inside you.

“What was that?” Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow, already catching onto your annoyance.

“It’s what Melanie told me to be. So, that what I’m trying to do.”

He chuckles, the sound smug. “Yeah, well, Namjoon said something similar.”

“Again, let’s just stay as far apart as we can.”

“Easy.”

From that point on, you’re both doing your best to stay in your own lanes, but it’s impossible. As the maid of honor and best man, your roles keep intersecting, forcing you into the same space over and over again. Family members keep approaching, asking questions, and every interaction feels like another round in a never-ending battle. It’s not enough to just help; you and Jungkook are determined to outshine each other at every turn.

When a minor crisis breaks out over the seating arrangements, you step in, taking charge and fixing the issue with quick, efficient adjustments. You’re feeling proud—until you turn around and see Jungkook guiding the servers with a charm that has them hanging on his every word.

“Make sure the champagne is properly chilled before the toasts,” he instructs, his tone smooth and authoritative. The servers nod eagerly, clearly impressed.

You sidle up to him, maintaining a smile for the benefit of the guests nearby. “Didn’t know you were the expert on bubbly now.”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, flashing you a grin that’s equal parts irritating and infuriating. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it’s perfect.”

“Oh, please,” you say, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I’ve been coordinating this for weeks. I don’t need a last-minute savior swooping in.”

He raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “I’m not trying to save anything, just making sure Namjoon and Melanie get the day they deserve, remember? You should try it sometime—teamwork.”

You don’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to head off to the room where the drawing class is happening.. But even as you’re leaving, you can feel Jungkook’s presence on the other side of the room, always just a step behind or ahead, always in your orbit.

Later, you’re guiding Melanie’s extended family through a lineup for the family photos when you catch sight of Jungkook doing the same with Namjoon’s side. He’s charming, attentive, and he even manages to make the grumpy uncle crack a smile. It’s infuriating how good he is at this, and the worst part is that you know he’s doing it on purpose—to get under your skin and, maybe, to prove that he belongs here just as much as you.

As the day winds down, you both end up at the drinks table, refilling your glasses with water. The quiet moment feels like a truce, but not a comfortable one.

“You’ve really been busting your ass today,” you admit, your tone begrudging as you sip your water.

Jungkook leans against the table, his smirk never fully leaving his face. “Told you. I take this seriously.”

“You’ve memorized the schedule almost as well as I wrote it.” you say, half impressed, half annoyed.

“What can I say? Namjoon’s my best friend. I wanted to be ready for anything.” He shrugs, but there’s pride in his voice. “Besides, I figured you’d be busy enough handling the details. Someone had to pick up the slack.”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from retorting. “Still doesn’t mean I find you any less shitty, you know that?”

Jungkook laughs softly, a rare moment of genuine amusement. “Right back at you.”

For a brief second, the tension between you eases, replaced by an understanding that you’re both here for the same reason: to make sure your best friends have the perfect wedding. It’s fleeting, though, gone as soon as it arrives when Jungkook straightens up, that competitive glint back in his eyes.

“See you later. Let’s see who cracks first,” he says, holding out his glass in a toast.

You raise your glass to him in a challenge, your smile more determined than ever. “Don’t hold your breath.”

As you part ways, you can already feel the simmering rivalry gearing up for another round. But deep down, there’s a tiny, begrudging respect forming—though neither of you would ever admit it.

Finally you all had made it to the rehearsal dinner though.

Which luckily was more casual and the bridal party and all the guests got to come and say hello to the happy couple. Melanie had coordinated a lovely dinner for tonight, and they kept it light so that everyone could just take time to meet each other. This was the first time most of the family would be meeting.

Jungkook disappeared at some point in the afternoon. Which made you feel a little lighter and you felt like it was easier to focus on talking with family members and help people find the rehearsal dinner.

“Feel like you have been a ghost all day.” Ash came up to you and handed you a glass with some cocktail.

“I could say the same for you.” You take a sip. “I feel like I just floated here. So, ghost is accurate.”

“I’ve been trying to pick out the wild card for the weekend.” Ash said this in a quieter tone and you laugh.

“Oh yeah? Who’s giving you the vibe?” You glance around the room.

“Right now my number one is Namjoon’s uncle.” She points over to the bar, “He has taken full advantage of the open bar. He gives me the ‘takes the mic and gives his own speech’ type, I kind of want to see it happen but I’m also ready to take him down.”

“Strong contender.” You nod your head in agreement.

“What about you, anyone giving you a vibe?” Ash leaned against you a little bit, keeping your conversation close to yourselves.

“Hmm…” You look around the room, “Definitely Melanie’s divorced aunt and uncle. She’s basically a child to them since they had none of their own. They keep trying to one up each other all day.”

Sounds familiar.

“Oh that’s solid. Well if it’s neither of those, maybe it’s you and Jungkook.”

“Over my dead body.” You roll your eyes, “He’s insufferable but we made a promise to be civil. Although trying, I think we did really good today at keeping it casual. I'll take the win.”

“Speaking of, where is he, and Tae, where are our groomsmen?”

“Smoke break?” Wouldn’t be the first time, as much as you scrolled Jungkook for smoking. You scolded Taehyung even harder.

“Actually I was talking to a cute little thing, but I don’t think she’s interested.” Jungkook appeared behind the both of you, then he points to Namjoon’s great grandmother. You had met her earlier, she was very sweet.

“I think she can do better.” You take a long sip of your drink.

Jungkook gives that same annoyed look he’s given you a thousand times before. Something about the air around him now felt different than earlier. His cool and cooperative demeanor seemed to have dropped. You knew when Jungkook was starting to get things riled up. He probably had a couple of drinks and now he was going to come over and cause a stink. Get you to embarrass yourself somehow.

“Don’t worry I looked for a date for you as well. I did see a snake outside earlier, asked him if he could be your date for the weekend.” Jungkook met your action in turn, also taking a long sip of whatever venom he had in his cup.

“Okay.” You keep it short and don’t look at him. You were right, you’re not sure what happened but now he was looking for a fight.

Ash could feel the tension rising, she wanted to escape before this bomb went off.

“Hmm… so you were serious about being nice. Shocking.” Jungkook places himself right next to you.

“I’m going to regret this. Might I ask why you think that’s shocking? I have been doing just fine at it all day.” You sigh, but continue looking around the room, anywhere but at Jungkook.

“Just surprised is all. I had to do it too.”

“Yeah, barely but I appreciate it.”

“Looks like you can keep a promise after all.”

Keeping your voice level. “Any reason, you’re trying to make it difficult now? I don’t get you.”

Jungkook smirked, leaning in closer. “Because you make it so easy.”

You took a deep breath, don’t let him get to you. “I’m not doing this with you tonight. Not here.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like anyone cares. They’re all too busy fawning over the happy couple.” he said, waving a hand dismissively towards Namjoon and Melanie.

“Still doesn’t mean we should pull attention to ourselves at all.” You tap your glass.

You both stay silent for a second. Ash was nervous standing so close to the both of you. It’s like you were two stars about to collide into each other.

“Let’s just stay away from each other again, okay?”

“To be honest, I’d rather not be anywhere near you,” Jungkook replied, taking another sip of his drink.

“Great. We agree on something.” you said, turning away from him.

Ash grabbed the opportunity to interject. “So, uh, have you guys tried the appetizers? They’re really good.”

“Yeah, the appetizers are great,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Maybe you should eat some more,” Jungkook said, a wicked glint in his eye. “Might help with that attitude of yours.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back.

“I’m done.” You turned on your heel and started to walk away, but Jungkook followed.

You had to get away, you were going to be nice but you weren’t going to take his abuse. The two of you had been doing really good, did you step on something of his and now he wants to fight again? Getting to another part of the room was the smart and sensible choice right now. To your surprise he stays in toe with you.

“Oh running away? There’s the y/n I recognize.” He came close to your ear, and you push him away from you lightly.

“I don’t need this right now Jungkook.” You were making your way to Melanie and Namjoon. Their presence would maybe force him to be on his best behavior.

They were with Melanie’s parents though, you didn’t want to interrupt. You needed to retreat to another place of solitude. Saying polite hellos to people you recognized and family you had met earlier in the day. Jungkook doing the same as he continued to follow you.

“Jungkook. You promised.” You turn to him suddenly and it makes him almost fall over, reminding him of something you can only imagine Namjoon made him promise. “Please go somewhere. Take your snake venom and use it on someone else.”

“I’d rather not.” He shrugged and placed his cup on a nearby table. Jungkook couldn’t help himself, he wanted to fight with you.

“Why?”

Jungkook thinks for a moment,“Because I’m waiting for the moment that your façade finally drops. Then everyone will see what you are truly like.” He words dripped with disdain, and he was serious.

His goal was to see you fall.

“My facade? Really? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Must be taxing for you.” You look directly into his eyes now.

“What?” He tilted his head.

“Being around a couple who is successful, must be taxing, knowing you will never have anyone like they have each other.” Because how could anyone ever want to be around someone like this.

“At least I never let the same person make a fool of me over and over while I let everyone watch the wreckage.”

He spoke about David, your college ex. Again, David cheated on you and made everyone believe that you were the crazy one. You forgave David one too many times before the end.

This was enough though and ancient history. Your anger washed through you, this was not the time nor the place. You didn’t care. He was throwing this in your face again. After so much time. How childish could he be? He would stoop so low again? What was wrong with him?

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You scoff.

“What? Can dish it but can’t take it?” He clicked his glass against yours.

“Come here.” You basically bark at Jungkook and grab the sleeve of his jacket. You rush him out of the reception into the hall. Making it so you can keep whatever fight this could possibly turn into just between the both of you.

“Ow!” He rips his arm away, almost looking disgusted that you even touched him.

“You know I have gone over this in my mind again and again…” you pace from left to right shaking your head, disbelief running through you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Because I thought maybe that just for one day you could put whatever problem you have with me aside. For one day we could be civil and pretend to be friendly. So Melanie and Namjoon could have a special day. I guess I was fucking wrong about you again. You simply can’t help but pick a fight.” You were spitting your words with pure disdain towards him, he had really set you off this evening.

“Hold on, I’m perfectly capable of being on my best behavior.” His words were just as angry as yours, he had his arms crossed over his chest. Defenses up, he was ready to break you down.

“You’re fucking joking right? It’s just like you to shift blame away from yourself again. You said all of that intentionally to get some rise out of me. To get me to embarrass myself. What were you just too bored? Had to pull focus onto yourself because you couldn’t stand it being on someone else? ” You run both of your hands through your hair angrily, eyes darting all around to look at anything but him.

He scoffed at you.

“Trust me, I spare you zero thoughts enough to do that on purpose and I was not pulling focus to myself.”

“Please you and I both know this was damn well on purpose and now we are causing a scene.”

“Oh shut up” he dragged out his words in annoyance, “You really think I wanted this to happen? To be in a screaming match with you instead of having a good time?”

“Jungkook this is all we do! Are you fucking joking? That’s why we are never in the same room together because you’re a self-centered asshole! And I can’t stand you! No one can!” Your blood felt like it was on fire. What you were saying may not have been all true but you didn’t care. You wanted to stick him where it could hurt. Your face was completely red and your breath heavy in your chest.

“Yeah I’m the asshole. Fucking grow up, get off your high horse, and realize you are just as bad as me!”

You were moments away from actually grabbing him and throwing him to the ground. Maybe this would be the time you actually hit Jungkook.

Namjoon stepped between the two of you right at that second. Surprising the both of you and it was like you split like magnets.

“Hey!” He looked between the two of you, he was fuming, “What the hell is wrong with you two? Everyone can hear the both of you. You seriously couldn’t hold it together for me or for a few fucking days?” Jungkook tries to say something in protest but Namjoon shuts him up, “Not another word. Yelling about this shit right outside the rehearsal? Get your fucking acts together and take this bullshit outside. If you can’t figure this out, you both won’t be welcome tomorrow.”

“Namjoon I’m—.” You start and he gives you an almost similar look he gave Jungkook and you stop.

He never really spoke like that ever. He looked more worried than anything but he was serious about us not being able to come back. You heard him whisper ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath after leaving the both of you in the hallway. How embarrassing though, getting kick out of your own friend’s celebration. Jungkook felt the same, but neither of you looked at each other or said anything for a moment.

“Just awesome.” He said as he walked outside and you followed. Figured he made the choice for both of you to finish this outside.

You fully expect a punch will be thrown by the end of this. Your rage had certainly been drained by Namjoon breaking you and Jungkook apart though.

You both stood in silence outside in the cold. It was dark out now. It was still damp on the ground from a shower you hadn’t even known happened. The smell filled you with a sigh. Your skin was hugged by the cold and it made you shiver a little. Jungkook was shuffling through his pockets, looking for something. He suddenly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Do you really have to do that right now?” You huff and rub your arms.

“Do you really have to bug me right now?” His voice dripping with disdain, and he places a cigarette between his lips. Lights the end of it.

“We weren’t exactly done talking in there.”

“With Namjoon’s entrance, seemed like it. Can you leave me alone now?” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“I don’t fucking know where I thought we would end up coming out here. Embarrassing enough getting kicked out basically .” You rub your hands together to try to warm them up a little bit.

“That makes two of us. I don’t know why the fuck you came out here either.”

You didn’t look at each other. Only acknowledging each other in your peripherals. You feel like looking at his idiotic face you might just get angry. You wanted to at least come to a truce to be able to get back inside and have a good rest of your night. You didn’t know how to fucking talk to this guy. Even after all this time, he still just bites back at you as much as you bite at him.

He sighs heavily and a rather large puff of smoke makes its way into your vision as the wind moves it in your direction. Jungkookw was trying to blow it in another direction, he didn't like you but wouldn’t blow smoke at you. Guess nature had a different plan.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you, you know smoking is horrible for you.”

“Oh suddenly you give a shit about what kills me and what won’t?”

“Jesus what is your problem with me? I just said you shouldn’t smoke and you told me to fuck off. You clearly have some big fucking problem with me that you need to fight all the time.” You stand square facing him now and he does the same. Matching up to your energy as best as he can.

He holds his cigarette between his fingers and blows out another puff of smoke into the air above the both of you.

“I think you should take a hard look at yourself first, what is your problem with me? Seems I piss you off more often then you piss me off.”

“My explanation would make no difference. Oh wait you refuse to listen anyone other than yourself, my bad.” You roll your eyes, it probably wouldn’t.

“No I seem to have done something else to you, but from where I stand. I didn’t do anything.”

“You're just a dick okay? Your personality sucks and you seem to have little care about the people around you and you don’t give second chances because one mistake is the end for you. Having zero regard about the things you can say or use against them.” You shifted your weight back and forth.

“Last time I checked what I said or did had little meaning to you.”

“Doesn’t mean that the things you say or do aren’t hurtful.” You march up to him and poke him in the chest and push back a little, he takes a small step back. “Doesn’t make getting called an asshole, a bitch, annoying, or anything else hurt less. Your words do mean nothing. Less than that even... It can still hurt though.”

You stare into his eyes, the fire behind your eyes must have been bright. His mood seemed to shift in front of you. Jungkook was puzzled but at this point it’s like he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help just pushing that one last button to get you into a fight, you were no better. Neither of you were like this with anyone else you knew.

By everyone’s else accounts, the both of you were very kind and considerate people. Almost always putting others above yourselves. Except when it came to each other, fighting was all you knew. It was easy, maybe almost comforting for Jungkooks heavy heart. A thousand pound weight on yours. It was slowly going to kill the both of you.

You realized what you had said and retreated back, holding your arms around yourself.

For one second you looked almost sad. Which Jungkook chocked up to being in his mind quickly.

“Just forget it.” You turn around and decide to drop the whole thing, go back inside. You were tired and you wanted nothing more than to go back inside and have a good night. Jungkook jogged around in front of you and brought you both to a stop.

Nothing had been solved, Jungkook thought. This would just happen again, god forbid it happen tomorrow.

“No. Namjoon told us to take this outside. We are outside, and you said something real to me for once. So spit it out. Say what you and I both know you actually want to say.” He backed you up with several singular steps. His cigarette hung from his lips. The smell of it filling your nostrils. You eventually felt the cold wall meet your back.

“You stink.” You basically spit at him.

He gives you a not so amused smile.

“Really had to throw one more punch my way huh?”

“What can I say. You piss me off.”

He was much closer in proximity to you than you had realized. This was probably the closest you had ever stood to him, willingly. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Your eyes are flickering in between the cigarette in his mouth and back to a blank stare into his eyes.

“Yeah, well you get on my last nerves.”

“Anyways none of it matters anyways, I won’t forgive you just like you won’t forgive me.”

The distance stayed the same between the both of you. It became more and more comfortable the longer he kept the proximity. He’s wanting a specific answer from you, but he probably figures with how annoying you are you will not be giving it up.

“Fine.”

He blows another puff of smoke away from you.

It was silent as some water droplets that came off the building's roof hit the ground, echoing around the both of you.

You were going to smell like cigarettes too after this exchange. Gross.

You both sat in silence for a while, you glance over to him every so often. Mostly examining his arm, you remember a time when he had no tattoos but now his arm had a complete sleeve. He had several tattoos that spanned down his arm. Some of them were exposed with his sleeves being rolled up. They were rather beautiful, for being on someone so vile.

“You’re too uptight you know that?” he interrupts your thoughts.

“Better than a loose cannon.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sounds like you need to relax.”

“I was relaxed before your existence came into my life,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Jungkook chuckles, not missing a beat. “Oh, come on. If I’m the one ruining your peace, then maybe the problem isn’t me.”

“Yeah?” you retorted, crossing your arms. “What’s your brilliant diagnosis, then?”

He leaned in just a bit, his smirk sharp. “Seems to me someone who was being satisfied correctly wouldn’t be so goddamn annoying.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Then you must be a virgin.”

And just like that, you were right back where you always ended up with him. The insults, the jabs—it was a fight you’d both played out countless times before. You knew the script by heart: digs at each other’s sex lives, accusations flying, and the inevitable fallback of calling each other assholes. It was exhausting, predictable, and you were painfully aware that neither of you would gain any ground this way.

Same old, same old with Jungkook.

“Trust me, I’m well taken care of.” Jungkook took in a sharp hit from his cigarette.

“I’m sure you are. Easy to stick your dick in anything when you lack human emotions.” You could cut your sarcasm with a brick.

“All talk but it seems to me no one has taken a good dip into you in a while.”

“What am I? Ranch?”

“See I would laugh but I think you know I’m right.”

It hadn’t been that long but it was disappointing the last time you slept with someone. Just a one time thing, your usual routine. You hadn’t really had time to properly date these days but weren’t really look that hard. Just needed some easy flings, and men are disappointing in bed most of the time.

“This is some major fan behavior thinking about my sex life Jungkook.” You tease.

“I’ll become your fan when I’m dead.”

“Oh can’t wait.”

“For my fan favor?”

“For you to drop dead.”

He was quiet. Didn’t make a retort back. Just stood there, staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t his usual glare; it was something else. Almost like he was lost in thought. The silence between you stretched out, the usual banter gone, replaced by an unfamiliar tension that made your skin prickle.

“What if…” he finally said, voice barely audible and laced with uncertainty.

You gave him a confused look, waiting for the punchline or some snide remark, but none came. He stayed quiet, just staring, his eyes drifting from your face to the ground and back up again. The silence was starting to make you itch.

“What if...what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Spit it out, or are you trying to communicate telepathically now?”

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “Just—hypothetically, okay? Don’t make this weird.”

“Oh, sure,” you snorted. “Because you being weirdly introspective isn’t already weird.”

Jungkook shot you a look, somewhere between exasperation and nerves. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at the ceiling like it might give him the right words. “Just hear me out. You and I...we don’t get along. We clash. Constantly. And it’s...annoying.”

“Wow, Jungkook. Stunning revelation,” you deadpanned, giving him a slow clap. “What’s next? Gonna tell me water is wet?”

“Just shut up for two seconds?” he snapped, but his voice lacked its usual bite. “We’ve tried talking—well, shouting—and we’re still stuck in this...thing.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Nothing gets better, and it’s just the same shit on repeat.”

“So, what? You want to, like, go to therapy together?” you joked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are we about to hug it out? ‘Cause I’m warning you, I do bite.”

Jungkook let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “God, no. I’m not...I don’t know, looking for some emotional breakthrough. I’m just saying—talking isn’t cutting it, right?”

You squinted at him, still not catching on. “If this is your roundabout way of trying to be friends, I’ll save you the trouble. Hard pass.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to get the words out. “Not friends. Not...ugh, okay, screw it.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “What if we try something different? You know, like...a different kind of release.”

Everything about him right now felt so out of place and it made you uncomfortable. He was boyish, reminded you of how he was in college a little bit.

Your brows furrowed as he avoided your gaze, looking almost embarrassed. “What? This guessing game is not working for me.”

He took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know...what if we, like...”

You stared at him, expecting another insult or some nonsense, but he just kept hesitating. His hands fidgeted, and his eyes darted between your face and the ground. It was so out of character that it almost made you laugh. Jungkook felt so out of place, and almost wrong for even thinking of the idea. Reminded him of a stupid theory Taehyung had.

“Jungkook, seriously, whatever ridiculous thing you’re trying to say—”

He finally looked up, meeting your eyes, and blurted it out, sounding almost relieved to get it off his chest. “What if we just...you know, slept together?”

There was a beat of silence between he two of you. you blinked at him. You weren’t even sure if you had heard him right but you before you could say anything you were laughing. A little too hysterically in his face. Until you actually looked at him, he was serious. He was serious?

“No way you want to—” you started, stifling a laugh, but his serious expression didn’t waver. “On no planet or universe are we having sex, Jungkook. That’s a horrible idea.”

He clicked his tongue, shifting his weight, trying hard to appear nonchalant even as he fidgeted. “Could help relieve some tension between the two of us. We keep fighting, but maybe we just need to, I don’t know...get it out of our systems.”

“You’re actually serious?” you asked, waiting for the punchline that never came.

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ with a confidence that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his bravado thinly masking the nerves underneath. “It’s a stupid theory Taehyung has. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides, you know...you realizing I’m right.”

You squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was just screwing with you. “Back up. What theory?”

“Sex fixes everything,” he said, deadpan.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, the sheer absurdity of it catching you off guard. “Wow, and you’re taking that guy’s advice here?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, visibly regretting even bringing it up.

He sighed, remembering the countless times Taehyung had rambled on about his foolproof ‘solution’ back in his serial playboy days. It was the kind of theory only Taehyung could concoct. Fighting? Bang it out. Unrequited feelings? Bang it out. Stress? Bang it out. Stub your toe on the way to the bathroom? Well, bang it out. The list went on and on, a never-ending stream of inappropriate fixes for any and every problem.

And now here Jungkook was, standing in front of you, actually considering it.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you said, still laughing, your sides beginning to hurt. “You’re seriously standing here thinking Taehyung—Mr. ‘I slept with half the city before breakfast’—knows what he’s talking about?”

Jungkook let out an awkward chuckle, half embarrassed, half defensive. “I know, okay? It’s insane. But like...nothing else has worked, right? And it’s not like you’ve got any better ideas.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised, fully enjoying watching him flounder. “So your grand solution to us hating each other is to do exactly what Taehyung would do. What’s next, you gonna get us matching bathrobes and a mini bar?”

“Hey, don’t knock the mini bar,” he retorted, unable to hold back a small smile. “But yeah, pretty much. Look, it’s stupid, but it’s Taehyung logic. He swears by it.”

You shook your head, still incredulous. “He also once swore he could cure a hangover by eating an entire pizza in one bite. The man’s not exactly a genius.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect advice,” Jungkook mumbled, his ears turning slightly red. “I just thought...I don’t know. It’s different from whatever the hell this is.”

“Are you even attracted to me?”

He shrugged, “You don’t physically repulse me. It’s just your personality that’s the worst.”

“Says Satan’s spawn,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your words, more shock than anything.

Jungkook let out a small, awkward laugh. “So, what do you say? For science?”

You shook your head, more bewildered than angry. “Jungkook, this is not a science experiment.”

He stepped forward, doing a small, ridiculous spin like he was modeling for you. “Come on, you gotta admit—I’m at least a solid seven. Maybe eight on a good day.”

“You’re not... ugly.” you mumbled, suddenly finding your shoes incredibly interesting.

Jungkook smirked, but it was softer, less confident than usual. “Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Look at us, making progress.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the weird buzz of adrenaline mixed with tension in the air. This was unfamiliar territory, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh, scream, or maybe—just maybe—consider his ridiculous proposition.

“It’s’ like I said. Talking seems to get us nowhere and doesn’t make us any friendlier.”

He was actually considering this.

“You don’t actually think that could help?”

“It’s up to you. It doesn’t hurt to try. After all we have tried every other way imaginable to get along”

“You just want to get your dick wet.”

“Sue me. I’m human.”

The ideas swirled around in your head for a while. That shit doesn’t actually work? Sex can be too weird and too emotional for people. It wouldn’t actually relieve tension between you two? He never really seemed like the hook up type, even though you were. He’s serious though, you can tell by his expression that he wants to.

You stared at him for a second though, letting the thought sink in. What would it be like? To kiss him, to hold him. To feel– okay woah. Your skin was getting hot. The thought was exciting, you had never hate fucked someone. You hadn’t really looked at him in the eyes this whole time but he kept his sight on you to try to determine your answer on your face. Just letting you decide.

“I’m just offering the idea. You can say no.” He places a hand on the wall beside you, “I can see you seriously jumping hoops in your mind right now… I also wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I would kill you if you told anyone.”

A beat of silence.

“So… is that a yes?”

“I-…” Your mouth was moving before your mind could, “Okay.”

143 notes · View notes

mint-yooxgi · 1 year

Text

{9} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Jongho)

Words: 12,135

Warnings: Violence. Arguments and verbal fights. OC gets some sense slapped into them by Reina, literally. Mentions of blood and of small cuts being inflicted to a wrist to draw blood. Mental Illness: mentions of anxiety, depression, and PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Not me staying up to post this when I have work in a few hours lmfaoooo anyways, this chapter turned out much longer than I expected! So, yay!! I'm quite happy with how it turned out, cause I feel like the stress of the situation is a sort of catalyst to the argument that ensues. I'm just glad I was able to get in everything that I wanted. It definitely starts off a bit tense, but the ending is quite light and happy. Also, potential smut next chapter anyone? 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

The moment Yeosang feels you brush against his mind, he’s appearing in Reina’s apartment.

“Sweet baby, Jesus.” Reina places a hand over her racing heart as he now stands across from her in the living room. “You weren’t kidding when you said they can just appear.”

“I told you,” you chuckle, moving over to stand beside him.

You notice that she rests just a tad bit shorter than him as she looks him over, her arms crossed over her chest.

“So, you’re Yeosang.” She takes a moment to look him up and down. “The musician.”

“And you’re Reina.” His brow quirks slightly in amusement. “The best friend.”

“The one and only.” She grins, tucking the tome further beneath her arm. “Though, you had longer, blond hair the first time we met.”

Yeosang spares a glance at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That I did.”

Briefly, you lean into him, explaining lowly what Reina remembers of the incident.

He nods in understanding.

“So,” Reina’s voice draws both of your attention back to her, “you play the violin.”

“I do.” Yeosang confirms with another brief nod of his head.

“A little birdie told me that you learned a specific melody for her.” There’s a knowing lilt to her voice as she says this. “Well done.”

The corners of Yeosang’s lips quirk upwards. A certain pride begins to fill his chest seeing as he cannot get a read on Reina’s thoughts anymore. There seems to be a spell blocking her mind from his, keeping her opinion of him secret. Though, from what she’s implying right now, he assumes that he’s gotten her approval. Or at least, some of it.

“You can do your best friend interrogation later,” you step over to playfully nudge her shoulder. “We’ve got another pressing matter to attend to.”

“Right, right,” she waves you off as the two of you step back over to Yeosang. “Sorry, I can’t help it. Now that I know, I need to make sure they pass my inspection and everything. They may be Kings, but I’m still your best friend.”

You snort out a laugh just as Yeosang places a hand onto each one of your shoulders.

“You know that your approval of them won’t change how I feel.” You grin. “Also, brace yourself: bend your knees, and close your eyes. It helps with the nausea the first few times.”

You barely make out the confused furrow of her brow when Yeosang is teleporting the three of you back home. Once the foyer is in view, you notice Reina stumble forward, and you immediately move to steady her on her feet.

“I warned you,” you chuckle, helping her straighten back upright.

“I don’t think there’s a proper warning for that.” She grumbles, brushing some stray flyaways out of her eyes. She blinks a few times after that, further clearing her vision.

From down the hallway, you notice a few of the other guys file out of Jongho’s room. The commotion must have drawn their attention, and you watch as Reina tenses ever so slightly as the commanding presences of the Kings of the Realm washes over her. The worried pull of their brows could definitely be mistaken for looks of irritation.

Only, she doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it all that much for Sudaem is stepping out of the room.

A gasp of awe escapes Reina, bypassing all of the males to walk right up to the gorgon.

“You must be Sudaem.” She extends her hand out to the female. “I’m Reina, baby caster. Nice to meet ya!”

Sudaem seems taken aback by Reina’s forwardness, and you can only chuckle fondly as you lightly push your best friend into the room.

“We can do proper introductions later.” You finally step into Jongho’s bedroom, seeing that he hasn’t moved a single inch since you last left him two hours ago. Stella seems to be absent as well. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”

“I’ve prepared everything that I could,” Sudaem addresses you. “There are a few things left that the spell requires, other than the caster’s performance.”

“What else does the spell need?” You inquire, watching as Sudaem moves over to the side to grab her own spell book that has been resting open on top of the dresser this whole time. Wordlessly, she hands it to Reina.

“It will need your blood, since you are connected to him in such a way currently.” She says, bringing a brass bowl filled with ash root, along with a few other things, over to you.

Carefully, Reina places her own tome down onto the dresser, balancing the other spell book effortlessly in her hand. You can see her eyes darting over the words on the page, and you just know that she’s taking in all of the instructions with excruciating detail. Her mind is practically racing behind her eyes, suddenly feeling the pressure of this moment building on her shoulders.

“This is a complex spell.” She comments, worried gaze darting over to you.

“It is.” Sudaem is the one to answer, a nod to her head as she holds the bowl beneath your wrist.

You turn to look at the males standing at the side of the room. “I’m going to need a blade.”

You can see the hesitation on their faces even before they say anything.

“If this is going to work-“

“We know, Dearest,” Yeosang grimaces. “We just don’t ever like seeing you injured, no matter the context.”

“I understand that,” you incline your head. “But-“

“I’ll do it,” Hongjoong steps forward, a small dagger appearing in his hand and glinting beneath the candlelight that illuminates the room.

The curtains have long since been drawn, blocking out any and all natural light. Even the door to Jongho’s room has been closed since you’ve all reentered it, only the faint flickering of the flames causing shadows to dance over the walls.

Carefully, Hongjoong grabs your wrist in his free hand, thumb gently stroking over your unmarred skin. He glances upwards briefly, noticing how you nod subtly at him. A small, reassuring smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“How much blood is needed?” He directs his question towards Sudaem, not even bothering to break eye contact with you.

“At least five drops.” She replies instantly, holding the bowl steady all the while.

Hongjoong nods his understanding, and you can sense the tension in the room radiating off of the others as he brings the edge of the blade to your skin. A flick of his wrist and blood begins dripping into the bowl beneath you. Yet, as always, the pain of such a wound never comes, and from how intently he seems to be staring at your wrist, you know that he has something to do with it.

Not even ten seconds later, Hongjoong’s thumb is tracing over the small incision. Smooth skin replaces the open wound as he heals you without another word, turning his sharp gaze briefly to Sudaem. She scurries away, moving beside Reina with the bowl after hearing his silent command loud and clear.

This should be plenty of blood, anyways.

“All that’s left is to cast the spell,” Sudaem says, and you notice how everyone’s gaze suddenly turns to Reina.

She blinks. “No pressure, or anything.”

“If you can summon the Eight Kings without knowing what you are, you should have no issues with this spell.” Sudaem comments, and you sense the slightest bit of reassurance leaking into her tone.

Your brow quirks slightly.

Taking a candle into her hand, Reina holds it just above the brass bowl that Sudaem clutches beside her. Lightly, she tilts it, allowing the wax to begin dripping into the mixture periodically. Steam begins to rise from the bowl as Reina begins chanting, focussing her energy into casting this spell for the time being.

The bowl bursts into flames, Reina’s voice echoing throughout the room and commanding your attention. Faintly her eyes begin to glow, the whites taking over every visible colour as an intense wind kicks up inside of the room.

You hold your breath, feeling Hongjoong place a comforting hand onto your shoulder just as you reach for Jongho’s own. You can tell that you’re not the only one holding on to another as a lifeline in this moment, worry clear on all of your features as you glance between Reina and Jongho continuously.

The blaze within the bowl begins to die down, along with the wind. Not even a moment later, all of the candles go out, and the room is shrouded in darkness.

Subconsciously, you tighten your hold on Jongho’s hand.

A blink, and both Mingi and San have relit the candles, bathing the room in a warm amber glow once more. The bowl still smokes, but no longer are Reina’s eyes glowing. The only difference seems to be the rise and fall of her chest as she desperately fills her lungs with air.

“Did it work?” She meets your gaze, a sort of hesitance to her voice.

Some complicated spell that was, there weren’t even multiple components to it.

Quickly, you turn your head to face Jongho, noting the steady rise and fall of his own chest. You don’t notice any physical changes, so you lean into him, lifting your free hand to caress the side of his face.

The whole room goes still, anticipation lingering throughout. Not even the flickering sound of the flames can be heard as you all watch Jongho intently, waiting for that tell tale sign of movement beneath his lids.

Except, it never comes.

Your whole body freezes, heart suffocating painfully inside your chest.

“It didn’t work…” your voice is small, words nothing more than a whisper on your lips.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as your throat tightens. You were betting everything on this spell, not even bothering to think of the consequences of it not working. You had faith in Reina, and you had faith in him.

“You must have done something wrong.” Mingi rounds on Reina, a stern frown pulling at his features.

The gorgon shakes her head, devastation clear on her features. “She didn’t.”

“Did we have all the proper ingredients?” Yunho directs his question towards Sudaem, stepping in beside the stunned gorgon.

Sudaem stands there, hands trembling as she clutches the bowl in front of her. Her lips part periodically, like a fish out of water as her snakes begin shifting restlessly over her head. Her slate grey eyes shine with unshed tears, fear freezing her to her spot.

“It should have worked,” she whispers, whole body beginning to shake. “We did everything right: the ingredients, the preparation, the caster.”

“We knew there was going to be a possibility that it wouldn’t.” Seonghwa keeps his voice low, though you can still hear the panic seeping into his tone.

“Are we sure it was the right spell?” San begins pacing, his hand coming up to support his chin as his mind races with what to do.

“It has to be,” Sudaem answers lowly, blinking a few times to clear her vision. “There’s no other spell he could be under, and this is the only one I know to bring him back.”

You opt to remain quiet, mind reeling with all of this information, and lack there of around you. Desperately, you attempt to come up with a solution for a problem you don’t know all of the variables for, drawing a blank each time.

Hesitantly, Reina shifts over to the dresser. She places the spell book in her hands gently on top of the wood, pulling her own tome closer to herself. Slowly, she begins flipping through the pages, skimming through the words until she finds the section she’s looking for. Once she does, her eyes dart over the lines quickly, brain scrambling to comprehend everything going on around her.

A call of your name from her draws your attention.

“Don’t dissociate just yet, and get your ass over here.” Reina states, quite firmly, without taking her gaze away from the book.

Wordlessly, you move over to her side.

“Dissociate?” There’s a hint of worry to Wooyoung’s voice.

Reina points to the page for you to read before turning around to face the others in the room.

“She’s about to get into her own head again,” she blinks, crossing her arms as she leans back against the dresser. “Can you not see the signs?”

A low warning growl escapes San’s lips.

“Don’t growl at her.” You turn your head to look at him from over your shoulder, brow tugging downwards disapprovingly. “She’s only trying to help.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn back around. Reading the words on the page explaining the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ spell keeps you grounded for the moment, head spinning with what you can do to save Jongho.

“You all need to keep talking.” Reina instructs. “I’m still new at this whole witching thing, but tell me everything you know about this curse he’s under.”

The several males all share a brief look, but it’s Sudaem who speaks first. Calmly, she explains all that she knows about the spell to Reina. Everything that she’s already told you.

Your body goes still, mind churning as you hear the details once more.

“So, he’s stuck in a plane between this world and the next.” You state, blinking blankly down at the page before you.

“Every second lost he could be straying further from his body.” Sudaem confirms, fingers nervously wringing together. “Not to mention what else creeps through the veil.”

You swallow thickly, lips pursing into a thin line. Softly, you begin to nod to yourself.

Reina spares a look at you out of the corner of her eyes. “I know that look.”

“We just need to bring him back to his body.” You’re somewhat just speaking out loud at this point, but you do not shift your eyes away from that page open before you.

The words ‘connection’ and ‘high emotion’ practically glare back up at you.

You turn to look at Reina.

A silent conversation seems to be happening between the both of you. She tilts her head in inquiry, to which your eyes widen exasperatedly. A moment later, her brow furrows in concern while you begin to nod quite eagerly.

“No.” Her tone is firm as she shakes her head. “No way in hell.”

“What?” There’s an even bigger look of worry pulling on Wooyoung’s face as he looks between the two of you.

“Three-hundred and fourteen seconds.” You say. “That’s all you need to give me.”

“That’s just over five minutes.” Hongjoong’s brow furrows in confusion, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Read the page and tell me that that’s not what it’s implying.” You practically slap your hand over the tome open on the dresser beside you. “I can bring him back."

“There is no way I am putting you under the same curse as him just so you can, what? Stumble your way through the veil and attempt to find him?” She replies, her eyebrows practically raising into her hair as her voice rises in pitch. “I am not killing my best friend. That spell hitting you is suicide.”

A hushed understanding passes over the room and panic immediately seizes each male.

“You’re thinking what?” Seonghwa’s eyes look about ready to bug right out of his head, needing to rest a hand against the wall for support.

“Not if I’m prepared for it!” You counter.

“We’re not putting you under to lose you, too.” San’s voice is firm, a hint of desperation shining through as he looks to you.

“Petal, we need to think this through.” Yunho’s worried tone comes through, his heart pounding restlessly in his chest.

“I have thought it through.” You turn to them. “If this is the only way we can get Jongho back-“

“It’s not the only way.” Sudaem cuts in, her eyes somewhat glazed over as she stares at the ground in thought.

“It doesn’t matter!” Wooyoung is frantic, crossing the distance between the two of you in an instant and holding you at arms length. “We just got you back! We can’t lose you again.”

“This is my choice, Woo.” You reply, placing your own hands gently atop of his own and sliding them from your shoulders.

“No,” San shakes his head. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“This is insane.” Mingi begins pacing, pulling at his roots once more.

“I’m thinking perfectly fine.” You reply calmly, turning meeting Hongjoong’s wide eyed gaze. “Wasn’t it you who told me that the first step to sanity is embracing the insane?”

“Now is not the time to be arguing about this.” Yeosang crosses his arms over his chest. “Dearest, you can’t say something as reckless as that right now. We might lose our brother, don’t make it so we lose you, too.”

“You won’t lose me.” You shake your head.

“You don’t know that!” There’s genuine fear in Seonghwa’s eyes as he falls to his knees. He looks about ready to start pleading with you in a moment, genuine desperation clear on his features.

“The spell didn’t work when we tried it on Jongho to bring him back,” Hongjoong attempts to keep his voice calm, levelheaded. “What makes you so certain it will work to bring the both of you back this time?”

“I’m connected to all of you, aren’t I?” Your gaze darts around the room, and you notice how Mingi, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung have all started to cry.

“Starlight-“

“Hold the fuck up!” Reina cuts in, furious gaze locked on you. “Are you negating the fact that I will not be casting such a spell on my own fucking best friend?”

“Reina-“

“Don’t you, ‘Reina’ me! I’ll admit, we’ve done some stupid fucking shit before, but this takes the cake!” She slams her hand on top of the dresser beside her. “Do you realize what you’re fucking asking of me? In front of them no less?”

Her free hand points in the several male’s direction, clear panic on her features.

“I understand-“

“I don’t think you do!” Her eyes blaze with an unrivalled fury, the whites of her eyes beginning to glow.

“Um, excuse me-“ A timid voice attempts to cut through the thicket of booming arguments being thrown around the room.

“They would be doing the exact same thing for me right now if I had been the one to actually get hit!” You counter, arm flinging out in the direction of the bed Jongho rests upon to point at him. Briefly, your gaze darts around the room. “You’re telling me that none of you would be thinking any differently if you knew that this was your only option left?”

“There’s a difference, Dearest,” Yeosang grimaces. “We are not human.”

“Excuse me-“ The voice is a little firmer this time, but still gets ignored.

“Don’t you dare play the entities card on me right now.” The tears of frustration you so desperately attempt to hold back begin to streak down your face. “What happened to us being equals?”

You fail to miss the side-eyed glance Reina gives you, backing away slowly from the rising tension in the room.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.” Mingi’s voice is low as he freezes in his spot.

“No, what’s not fair is the double standard you all have when it comes to doing things for me.” You counter, voice rough with the rawness of your emotions. “So, you all can risk your lives for me whenever it pleases you, but when I wish to do the same for one of you it’s suddenly not okay? I’m the reason Jongho is in this godforsaken mess in the first place. Am I not allowed to want to right my wrong? Am I not allowed to want to save a man I love?”

“You know we’ve never blamed you for this, Baby.” San states, wiping away his tears using the back of his hand.

“Petal, we’ve talked about this,” Yunho grimaces slightly, taking a half step towards you only for you to avoid his reach.

“If this is the only option we have, then I will gladly sacrifice myself for someone that I love.” You see the devastation on their faces as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“But, what about us?” Wooyoung’s voice is small, probably the quietest you’ve ever heard him.

“What about you?” You cross you arms over your chest, a slight frown pulling at your features.

“Are you that desperate to ignore our own feelings on the matter?” San meets your gaze, and you can feel your throat tighten.

“Of course not!” You immediately reply, shaking your head.

“We swore that we would always protect you, and now you want to risk your life for a plan that might not even work?” Mingi shifts restlessly from foot to foot, his hair sticking out in odd ends.

“We don’t know it won’t work.” You reason. “Besides, I’ve survived much worse than some measly little curse.”

Collectively, their breaths hitch.

“Don’t go there.” Seonghwa’s hands brace himself on the floor, his tears spilling freely onto the hardwood beneath his palms.

A low, warning call of your name sounds from Reina.

“We have already almost lost you more times than we ever thought we would,” Hongjoong states, keeping his voice low. “Don’t add another mark to the tally.”

“Then, what are we supposed to do, Hongjoong?” Your hands desperately run over the top of your head, fingers digging into the skin of your skull.

He remains silent, the others offering no other solutions, either.

“This is my choice,” you breathe out. “A choice I know all of you would be making if that were me on that bed right now.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Wooyoung replies, quite exasperatedly. “Your guilt is blinding you from reason!”

“You think I’m doing this solely out of guilt?” You turn your gaze to the younger demon standing near you, your eyes blazing with a sort of pained fear. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Do you think that we don’t know exactly what you’re going through right now? That we don’t understand exactly how you’re feeling?” Seonghwa’s voice is strained, glancing up at you through tear filled eyes. “What’s not fair is you making light of the worst night of our lives.”

Your breath catches, and you swear your heart stops. A second later, and your hands are balling into fists at your sides.

“Do you really think that night was any better for me?” Your eyes are bloodshot from all the crying you’re doing, voice cracking as your whole body shakes. “You only got to see the aftermath. I had to live through it! I’m still living it. Every time I close my eyes, if I don’t watch my every goddamn thought, she is there. She is everywhere I look, and she continues to torture me even in death. She has woven herself so deeply into my life that each time I think I pull a thread loose, another appears to take her place.”

“Petal,“ Yunho takes a concerned step towards you again, nothing but sorrow pulling at his features.

“Do you think I’m not terrified to wake up every morning, only to discover that this has all been some elaborate fabrication that she has made in my mind to continue torturing me with?” Your admission has them all freezing in their spots, tears beginning to fall freely down all of their faces. “I never want another person to experience even an ounce of pain that she made me suffer through, and now Jongho could fucking die because of my mistake!”

“Don’t make his sacrifice into something horrific.” Mingi shakes his head, voice barely above a whisper as he attempts to reign in his emotions for the moment. “He would have done what any of us would have in that situation.”

“That’s exactly my point!” You raise your hand a bit exasperatedly in the air. “You cannot avoid the truth that’s always been right in front of you. That’s not fair at all.”

“You think that it’s fair to Wooyoung that you avoid the dance studio because of what she did to you in it?” Yeosang’s voice cutting through the darkness of the room surprises even you. He keeps it steady, watching you with a cautious gaze the whole time.

The aforementioned male remains quiet, a new sense of stillness travelling through the room as Wooyoung suddenly avoids your gaze when you look to him.

“Do you think it’s fair to Seonghwa that you do the same to his tailor shop?” Yeosang adds lowly. San places his hand onto the elder’s shoulder in worry, but Yeosang just shrugs him off before continuing. “You haven’t even looked at the art room or the garden since everything happened. Do you think that’s fair to Yunho? To Hongjoong?”

“Yeosang-“

Yunho’s own worried protest gets cut off by the aforementioned male.

“You haven’t even touched the piano since that day at your parents house,” he continues, keeping his tone steady as he watches you physically trembling before his very eyes. He can tell that you’re doing whatever you can to hold yourself together at this point in time, but you’re simply a moment from falling apart. “Do you think doing something this reckless will reclaim those parts of yourself that you lost? Have you even tried getting them back?”

A brief silence.

“Maybe I don’t want them back.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet you fail to realize exactly how your words sound to everyone in that room.

Reina’s eyes are wide as she watches the crestfallen expressions overtake each male’s face. He gaze darts around the room, noticing how nearly all of them barely keep themselves together, whole bodies shaking as the two tallest males fall to their knees.

The sound of the slap reaches your ears before you feel the harsh stinging on your cheek.

A gasp of surprise escapes Sudaem, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in shock as she stares at the scene before her. Reina’s hand still rests in the air, your head turned harshly to the side as several low warning growls resonate throughout the room.

No matter what the circumstances might be, you are still their Queen, and they will do whatever they can to protect you.

Little do any of you see the way Jongho’s fingers twitch subtly in his sleep.

“How dare you fucking say that in front of me.” Reina’s voice is low as she pulls you upright and holds you firmly at arms length. “Do you even know how that sounded? Directed at them of all people? Pull yourself together. Now is not the time to be arguing about this. You said it yourself, time is of the utmost essence! Sudaem has been trying to tell you all something for the past ten minutes. So, pull your head out of your ass, and stop being a selfish, heartless crab!”

This seems to snap you out of your angry stupor, blinking at your best friend a few times to clear your head. Only, just as you begin to nod along with her words, Reina is torn from you, being pinned to the wall by her throat.

“Don’t you ever speak to My Divine like that again.” Seonghwa’s voice is low as he leans into her, nothing but a harsh whisper on his lips. The eldest looks completely crazed right now, tears streaking down his cheek as his eyes flash in warning.

“Raise your hand against Our Queen like that again, friend or not, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” Wooyoung seethes, gaze pitch black as he stands just behind the eldest for the moment.

“Seonghwa, Wooyoung,” you manage to step over to them, pulling them away from Reina in an instant. “She’s right.”

Your best friend crumples to the floor, coughing slightly as she attempts to catch her breath.

Turning to face all of the males once more, your shoulders deflate. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“We can talk about it later,” Yunho’s voice is soft as he helps Mingi back to his feet. “Okay, Petal?”

A small nod is all he receives in response.

“Geez! You weren’t kidding when you said they’re extremely over protective.” She wheezes, using you as a support as you help her back to her feet.

“You were the one brave enough to slap me in front of them.” You chuckle, feeling all of their eyes on you.

“More like stupid enough.” A weak smile tugs at her lips as she leans on you for the moment. She lets out a chuckle of her own, teasingly nudging your side. “Well, stupid is as stupid does.”

“She’s slapped you before?” There’s a hint of irritation in Mingi’s voice when he says this, head tilting forward the slightest bit in disbelief.

“We’ve been roughhousing since we’ve been young.” You shrug. “She’s the only one allowed to slap me, and I’m the only one allowed to slap her. Only when we’re being ridiculous, of course.”

“She still hurt you.” San stands tense across the room, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Because I was hurting you.” You meet his gaze briefly before turning back to face Sudaem. “My apologies, you were going to say?”

The gorgon straightens a bit in her spot, clearing her throat as she feels everyone’s eyes on her. Nervously, she shifts from foot to foot, her snakes falling silent around her as their tongues flick out to scent the tension slowly dissipating from the air.

“I was just going to say,” she looks to you, “this isn’t our only option.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s another spell that will put you under, and enable you to walk through the veil without having to use the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ curse.” She explains.

“Then, what are we waiting for?” You take an eager step forward.

“Petal, we need to talk about this,” Yunho’s worried voice reaches your ears, the events of the past ten minutes still swirling through his mind.

“Hang on a moment, I’m not done,” Sudaem raises a hand in the air in a halting motion. “This one does indeed have a time limit, and you cannot wander too far from your body lest you actually wind up lost in the veil forever.”

You swear you see Mingi pulling out his hair again just as Wooyoung turns around with an exasperated huff.

“There’s no winning with this, is there?” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head.

“How does it work?” You motion for Sudaem to continue.

“Well, again, since you’re connected, you would have the best chance of finding him if put under.” She begins. “Your mind would essentially be transported to the space between realms and set to wander freely for about five minutes. Then, we’d have to pull you and whoever you’re holding on to back out. At least this way we guarantee you won’t die on contact from the initial casting of the spell.”

“And if I can’t find him?” You spare a glance at all of them around the room. “What then?”

“Then, we’ll take it from there.” Seonghwa sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Your lips tighten into a thin line, turning back to face Sudaem as your thoughts race. Shifting, you rest a hand on top of the dresser to support yourself with as you look down at the ground. Blinking a few times, you think everything over.

“This all has to do with the mind being separated from the body, right?” You spare a glance at Sudaem.

“In a way, yes.” She confirms. “The body cannot live without the mind.”

“What if the mind had a physical attachment to this realm? Would that give me more time? Would it make the spell easier?” You meet her gaze, and you know she can see the gears turning in your mind.

“It’s possible, but I’m not sure.” Sudaem replies honestly. “It might make it easier when you get called back to your body, though. You’d have a direct path back to it, no matter how far you were.”

You nod your understanding, turning to face the several males standing off to the side once more. One brush against all of their strings lets them know exactly what you’re thinking.

The several males share a look.

“We don’t like this, but at least it’s a better option than the other one.” Yunho crosses his arms over his chest.

“We’d rather it be one of us that goes under.” San adds, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“There are things worse than just mist floating around inside the veil.” Seonghwa breathes out, somewhat shakily.

“Then, I’ll be quick. If anything happens, I’ll tug back so you know to pull me out right away.” You state rather firmly, turning back to face Sudaem. “What do I need to do?”

Sudaem spares a glance around the room, the faintest hint of apology on her features as she meets the King’s gazes. Then, taking a deep breath, she begins.

Which is exactly how you find yourself sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, his hand held tightly in yours not even five minutes later.

“We’re going to need more of your blood.” Sudaem holds that brass bowl in her hands once more.

Mingi, Wooyoung, and San all curse under their breaths.

“I will gladly bleed again,” you state, rather firmly. “I will bleed as many times as it takes to ensure that this works, and he comes back to us. It’s what I would do for any of you, and I know you would all do the same for me.”

Any words of protest that had been building on their lips fail, frustrated looks of understanding passing over their features. You’re right, and even though they don’t particularly like this, they’ll deal with it. They have to.

Again, it’s Hongjoong that gently slits your skin, taking your pain and making sure to heal you as soon as possible. This time, though, Sudaem paints a symbol over the back of your hand, mirroring it on Jongho’s as his is still held firmly in your own.

Softly, you brush up against that maroon string in your mind before grabbing ahold of it as tightly as you can. This string will be your lifeline to him, and you hope beyond everything that your theory of it guiding you to him is correct.

A second later, you feel the rest of the guys doing the same to you. You don’t even need to look at any of them to sense the worry and slight hesitation that they all have lingering in their thoughts, for you sense it loud and clear through the mind links.

They move in closer.

“You’ll have just over five minutes if this all goes well.” Sudaem tells you, moving over to stand beside Reina who holds the one spell book in her hands.

“Angel, are you sure about this?” Wooyoung’s frantic voice reaches your ears, and you can see the concern still clear as day in his gaze as he looks at you.

“Positive.” You nod, and despite the shakiness to your breath, you believe that this will work.

“Any sign of danger, and you immediately contact us to pull you out.” San reiterates, cupping your cheek and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Okay, Baby?”

“Okay,” you nod your understanding, briefly leaning into his touch before turning away from him.

“We’re right here, Petal.” Yunho steps closer, sitting beside you on the bed and placing a hand onto your back in comfort.

You smile. “I know.”

Lovingly, you brush against their strings. Although it’s slight, you can just tell how much that simple notion helps them to relax.

Lifting your head, you turn to glance at both Sudaem and Reina. “I’m ready.”

Two nods from either female greet you in response.

“Remember, send a pulse through the bond after every minute that passes so I know how much time has elapsed, and that I have left.” You spare a glance at them out of the corner of your eyes. “After the fifth one, if I don’t tug back immediately, wait fifteen seconds, and then pull me out.”

Nods of understanding are seen around the room from all of them, and you notice how Yeosang comes to kneel beside you. A blink, and he’s grabbing your free hand into his own, clinging to you for dear life. You don’t even have to look at him to know how worried he is. Not only that, but how remorseful he is for the way he spoke to you. The sorrow is written all over his face.

He will never forgive himself if they can’t pull you back out. The last thing he wants is for your final memory of him to be his harsh tone reminding you of your own trauma responses. He knows it wasn’t right of him to say those things and make you feel worse than you probably already do. Especially right now.

“Let’s do this.” Determination shines in your eyes as you look down at Jongho resting on the bed. Silently, you tug on that maroon string connecting your mind to his, sending reassuring thoughts his way.

I’m coming, Baby Bear. You swallow, somewhat nervously. Wait for me.

Not even a moment later, Reina begins immediately focusing on the page before her, while Sudaem holds that bowl close by. Softly, Reina begins chanting, her eyes beginning to glow white as power surges through the room. You can feel the mark on the back of your hand beginning to burn, and when you look down, it begins to glow a deep red. Again, a breeze picks up throughout the room, shifting the flames as shadows dance along the walls.

Then comes the silence, followed immediately by the darkness of all of the candles going out once more.

A blink and the flames are reignited.

“Did it work?” Hesitantly, Reina glances around the room.

All eyes are drawn to the bed where they see your limp body resting in Yunho’s arms. Your eyes are closed, and the symbol drawn in your blood glows faintly. Luckily, your chest seems to rise and fall steadily in even breaths. Faintly, all of the males in the room brush against your mind, holding onto that connection for dear life.

Your five minutes start now.

The first thing you notice when you go under is how light your body suddenly feels. It’s as if you’re floating upon a cloud, swaying gently with the breeze.

Your brow furrows, and groggily, you begin to blink your eyes open. Slowly, you begin to stand.

Fog surrounds you on all sides, a bright light shining from behind you. Turning reveals a faint archway, multiple colours streaming through the pale golden light. Familiar colours which seem to stretch out and attach themselves to you.

Sparing a glance down, you nearly jump back in surprise.

There, resting peacefully on the ground, is your sleeping body. You notice your arm stretched out to the side, and following the path it makes reveals Jongho’s body laying directly beside yours. Your fingers are intertwined, a faint red glow emanating from your hands.

At least you have a marker to make it back to.

Backing up slightly, you watch as those colours stretching out from the archway move with you. A moment later, and they seem to pulse with movement.

Your eyes widen in understanding. A minute has already passed.

Turning around to face the vast expanse before you, you attempt to peer through the fog. The faintest outlines of a maroon line can be seen in one direction, and you cling harder to that string in your mind.

Gently, you give it a small tug.

Something roars in the distance, and you feel your blood run cold. Whipping your head from side to side, you fail to see anything close by. Yet, that doesn’t prevent you from putting one foot in front of the other quickly in order to begin following that faint maroon line further into the mist.

The only sounds that reach your ears are that of your breathing, and the constant repetition of your feet scraping along the ground. Frantically, your eyes dart around you in search of any signs of movement, or shapes through the mist. You have a creeping feeling of being watched, and you know to trust your instincts for the moment, especially when in a place like this.

Feeling the second brush against your mind, you quicken your pace. Again, you tug lightly on that maroon string, and this time, a low growl sounds in the area, much closer than before.

You follow it.

“Come on, Baby Bear,” you mutter, eyes desperately scanning the mist for something. Anything. “Where are you?”

With every step you take, you notice that faint maroon line becoming brighter and brighter. The fog seems to be thinning too, and you can begin to make out faint shapes in the distance. One seems to be much large than the three surrounding it, and as you get closer, you begin to see corpses of… things lining the ground.

Limbs are twisted in odd angles, black blood splattered against the pale grey ground. These things appear creature like in shape, some having leather wings like bats, while others are more dog like, but they’re all about the same size. Not to mention they all seem to be that same pale grey colour as their surroundings.

Just as you feel that third brush against your mind, you see them.

A large brown grizzly bear fends off the last three of these creatures. One gets trapped in his maw, while another is torn apart by his claws. The last creature manages to jump on his back, sinking it’s own claws into his skin as he cries out in pain. Only, the bear manages to roll over quickly, crushing the smaller creature beneath its tremendous weight.

He stands back to his feet as he shakes out his fur, starting with his head.

You’d recognize that movement anywhere, and before you can stop yourself, you begin sprinting towards him. Another frantic tug is given to that maroon string and you watch as that bear lifts its head in your direction almost instantly.

Warm, brown eyes meet your gaze, and you swear you see that maroon line leading directly to him light up with a vibrance unlike ever before. In a few bounds, he’s reached you, nuzzling his snout into your neck and stepping in as close to you as he can.

What are you doing here? His voice sounds a little frantically inside of your mind, and you physically breathe a sigh of relief.

I came to get you. You brush your hands over the top of his head tenderly, wrapping your arms around his neck and practically sinking into his soft form.

It’s dangerous here. You shouldn’t be-

Neither should you! You immediately cut him off, pulling away to stare deeply into his eyes.

The fourth brush is felt against your mind.

We need to hurry back, I only have a minute left before they pull us out. You motion behind you with your head.

How do you know which way you’re going? I’ve been lost in here for days. The furrow of his brow is clear, even while in his bear form.

You smile. I’ve got my lights to guide me home.

Instantly, you picture connecting his string to all of his brothers inside of your mind, and the way you feel the land around you begin to tremble lets you know that they’ve all felt it. Only, you have less than a minute to make it back to your bodies before they’re pulling you out.

Subtly, you notice Jongho’s eyes glance over to the low glow of the colours attached to your form. Bending down, he motions for you to craw onto his back.

Hop on.

Without hesitation, you do.

Jongho immediately takes off into the fog, chasing those colours that drift through the air and connect you to all of them back home.

A warning screech echoes in the distance and you hear Jongho curse lowly.

Stay low to my back, the ones with wings are ruthless. He instructs, picking up his pace the slightest bit.

You do as told, clinging to his fur for dear life as Jongho races through the mist and back to that bright archway that begins to shine faintly in the distance. Luckily, you don’t see anything chasing you, but you know better than that. The faint flapping of wings, and pounding of feet upon the ground behind you lets you know that more of those creatures are giving chase, and they don’t seem to be relenting anytime soon.

With each passing second, you can see that archway getting closer and closer. Faintly, the outlines of your bodies can be seen laying on the ground, not having moved a single inch since you left them there about four and a half minutes ago. In fact, you’re positive that fifth brush will be coming at any moment now. You just hope you can both make it in time.

The second you feel that fifth brush against your mind, you go tumbling from Jongho’s back mere feet away from your body.

A frantic call of your name is heard above the hissing surrounding you, feeling pain erupt on your arms as claws dig into your flesh.

Blinking up at the creature, you see a sight that tears a shriek from your lips. It has no face, except for a jagged slit of a mouth where its chin should be. Rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth greet you as its lips pull back in a what appears to be a gleeful grin. Leathery wings protrude from its arms, it’s claws pinning you in place on the ground as your blood spills from your wounds.

The faintest hissing of the word ‘human’ on the air draws your attention. A horrid hissing that is filled with excitement the more it echoes around you by varying creatures, all of whom begin to step out of the fog and surround the two of you endlessly.

A blink, and the creature is swiped from above you, being torn in half by Jongho’s claws.

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, blood rushing through your veins as you roll over quickly to avoid another dog-like creature pouncing on top of you. Luckily, you roll right into your own side, eyes wide as you see Jongho a mere foot from you.

A frantic call of his name escapes your lips as you reach out to him, knowing you only have mere seconds before you’re pulled out of this veil and back to reality. So, you fight with everything that you are to hold on for as long as you can. Until you can feel his hand in your own.

It’s as if the word around you moves in slow motion. You begin to feel an unfamiliar tug at your mind, pulling you backwards through the archway by your head. It’s as if a hook has been placed right behind your forehead, jerking you backwards unforgivingly as Jongho shifts back into his human form. Desperately, he reaches out to you and his own body with each of his hands, fingers just brushing against your own.

At the same time, the creatures surrounding you all lunge. Snarls sound all around you as they attempt to reach you before you can escape, hissing about not letting such a delicacy leave.

The last thing you see is a wall of creatures swarming you as you pass through the veil. You experience a brief feeling of falling, your hand tightening around something warm as you sink into the abyss surrounding you.

You close your eyes.

A gasp escapes you as your whole body jerks upwards in Yunho’s arms. Blinking a few times, you clear your vision, noticing how you seem to have slid off of the side of the bed and onto the floor. Still, Jongho’s hand in held in your own.

Your breathing is frantic as you heave air into your burning lungs, head turning every which way to gather your bearings. Yeosang rests beside you, clinging onto your opposite hand as he presses it to his forehead. The chest your back is pressed against belongs to Yunho, and you notice the others surrounding you with looks of complete worry on their features.

Your whole body aches, but you force yourself back onto the bed, much to their discontent.

“Dearest,” Yeosang reaches out to you, brushing one of his thumbs near your chin.

You shrug him off, glancing a hint of red now lining his skin.

Breaking your hold on his hand, you wipe at you nose. Pulling away reveals your own blood, and you begin to wonder just how long your nose has been bleeding for.

No wonder they all look so worried.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong kneels in beside Yeosang, placing a gentle hand onto your thigh. Though, with how badly you feel him shaking against you, you cannot tell if it’s more for him or for you at this point.

You nod, turning to face Jongho on the bed.

“I had him.” Your voice is no more than a whisper, tears leaking out of your eyes as you look down to see him still in that calm state of sleep. “He was right there.”

You practically collapse on top of him, sobs wracking your entire body as you pull your intertwined hands up to your chest. It’s faint, but you swear you feel his fingers tighten against your own.

The room is quiet around you, but it seems somewhat brighter than before. Someone must have opened the curtains to let the natural light of day in around you. It’s warm, and you swear you can feel a ray of sunlight shining directly onto your cheek as you keep your eyes closed for the moment. Warmth of which is mirrored in the way a hand tenderly caresses the back of your head.

“My Darling,” a rough voice, strained from lack of use over the past day and a half, reaches your ears. “Why are you crying?”

Your whole body freezes, breath catching in your throat as your heart skips a beat inside of your chest. Tentatively, you shift your head, peering up at him through tears which blur your vision.

A blink, and they clear, falling upon your cheeks like rain against a windowpane.

Your lower lip quivers as you watch him sit up with you in his arms, his warm, brown eyes searching your face carefully. His hand that had been gently cradling the back of your head shifts to cup the side of your face tenderly, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

A moment of stillness travels throughout the room.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve fully collapsed into his arms, a fresh round of sobs tearing from your throat. Your whole body shakes as apologies fall endlessly from your lips, hands desperately clinging onto him as if he may disappear again at any given moment.

Softly, he shushes you, cooing gentle reassurances in your ear as he rocks you back and forth while in his arms.

“I’m okay.” He keeps his voice low, holding you to him as desperately as you cling onto him. “You’re not at fault.” Your breath hitches. “You’re not at fault.”

You sob harder.

“We’ll be in the foyer.” Reina’s soft voice reaches your ears, and you assume she’s guiding both herself and Sudaem out of the room to give you all some privacy.

More apologies fall from your lips a you bury your face into the side of Jongho’s neck. With your void down for the moment due to the requirements of the spell, they can all tell that you’re no longer just apologizing to the youngest anymore, but to all of them. Yourself included.

“It’s alright, Darling.” Jongho strokes a hand tenderly down your spine as his brothers all come to sit around the edges of his bed. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s good to have you back.” Yunho nods once, quite firmly, at his younger brother. His voice is strained, and it’s not just from seeing you in such a fragile state yet again.

Jongho smiles faintly. “It’s good to be back.”

Desperately, your hands cling to the front of his shirt.

“I should have listened to you,” you’re babbling at this point, but you don’t care. “I didn’t think-“ a sharp, stuttering inhale, “you almost died because of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Jongho grabs you gently by your cheeks, pulling you away from him so you can meet your gaze. “Stop that right now. I know how worried you were about your sister. Do you not think I’ve experienced that same worry when you are threatened?” He rests his forehead against your own, staring deeply into you eyes. “It is not your fault.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s!” He places a finger against your lips, soon beginning to wipe away the dried blood with the edge of his blanket. “I wanted to help you, to protect you, and I would gladly do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

You fall silent, fingers curling the slightest bit tighter against his shirt.

“I thought…” you squeeze your eyes shut.

A brief look is shared with his brothers around him, and his heart squeezes painfully as they divulge with him their memories of the final moments before, and shortly after, he succumbed to the spell.

Jongho’s grip tightens around your body, his voice low, “My Darling, you know I could never blame you for this.”

Your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“You are not at fault.” He breathes. “I sincerely apologize that I ever made you believe that you were.”

You shake your head, sniffling all the while.

“But I did, Darling.” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “I hurt you when you were in such a fragile state, and now you won’t stop blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control. If anyone is to blame, it’s that fucking bitch.”

Low growls of agreement sound from around the bed.

Slowly, you begin to calm down, yet all you can do is nod your head.

“What-“ Jongho’s breath catches in his throat, “what happened while I was out?”

The whole time his brothers share with him their memories of the past thirty-three hours or so, Jongho sits on his bed completely still. You swear that he’s stopped breathing all together, his chest barely rising and falling as you continue to cling onto him for dear life.

The second you feel something wet land on your shoulder, you pull away to stare into his eyes.

Tears stream endlessly down his face, a look full of nothing but painful sorrow resting on his features.

“You-“ his voice trembles, and he can barely get the words out. “You fell.”

Again, you attempt to shake your head, “no-“

“You fell because of me.” Utter devastation suffocates his very soul, guilt beginning to rise and crush his heart from the inside out.

“It was a misunderstanding.” Your hands now rest on his shoulders as you sit in his lap, your legs resting on either side of him.

“My Darling, I am so sorry-“

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Your voice is firm as you cut him off.

“Neither do you.” He responds without a second of hesitation.

You fall silent for a moment, blinking shamefully as you avert your gaze. “Yes, I do.”

Finally, you turn to face the other seven males still in the room with you. Luckily, Jongho settles you between his legs, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you to his chest for support.

Glancing upwards, you look around at the males before you.

“I apologize for what I said earlier.” Your voice trembles the slightest bit with the weight of your emotions. “I didn’t mean those words to come out the way they had, but they did. I shouldn’t have kept everything bottled up for so long inside. I should have told you, and I should have considered your own feelings towards the matter.”

“Baby,” San’s worried voice reaches your ears, his eyebrows drooping as he watches you avert your gaze to your hands.

“I should have been more honest with you all about how I was feeling.” Your thumbs begin to nervously rub over one another. “I never meant to hurt any of you.”

The males all share a brief look.

“We were all in the wrong.” Hongjoong says, words barely above a whisper. “We should have known you were barely holding it together all this time.”

“How can you know if I don’t tell you?” You exhale a low breath, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Dearest,” Yeosang goes to reach out for you before stopping himself. Almost shamefully, he retracts his hand. “I apologize for what I said to you. It wasn’t the time, nor place to dump that on you, nor was it right of me to do so.”

“But you were right.” You spare a glance upwards to see Yeosang staring down at his own hands. “By avoiding reminders of her, I had inadvertently been avoiding all of you. That’s not fair to any of you, or what each of those spaces mean to us, and I apologize that it took me this long to realize that.”

“We weren’t lying to you when we said that we would get through this together,” Wooyoung cracks a small, hesitant smile in your direction.

Softly, you nod, wiping at your eyes all the while. “I was so focused on my own trauma, I neglected your own.”

“We all deal with things in different ways.” Mingi clears his throat, bringing a hand up to dry his tears.

“That’s no excuse for what I did.” You reply. “For what I said.”

“You were right, though.” Seonghwa swallows thickly. “If that was you, we would have done whatever it takes to get you back. Consequences be damned.”

Jongho squeezes your waist slightly, assuring you that his brother speaks nothing but the truth.

“Aren’t we all a great pair,” you chuckle teasingly. “Letting our emotions always control us.”

A snort is heard from Wooyoung. “Maybe not always.”

Even his brothers shoot him playfully incredulous looks.

“Only when it comes to each other,” Hongjoong sighs, somewhat wistfully as he finally stands back to his feet.

“If you start having doubts again, or anything of the sort, you tell us right away, Baby.” San meets your gaze, a somewhat firm look shining behind his eyes. “Okay?”

“The same goes for me with all of you,” you take the time to look around at all of them once more, seeing them smile softly at you in response.

“You do not have to suffer alone, Petal,” Yunho smiles assuringly in your direction. “Your worries do not burden us at all.”

You nod, shifting off of the bed with the help of Mingi and Seonghwa.

“I guess some habits are just that hard to break.” You sigh.

“Baby steps, My Love,” Hongjoong moves over to the door, a gentle smile tugging at his features as he looks back at you. “Baby steps.”

Wiping at your eyes a final time to ensure there’s no more evidence of your tears, you begin to exit Jongho’s room. You don’t even need to look their way to know that they all follow closely behind you.

Breaching the foyer, you see both Sudaem and Reina conversing softly on one of the front couches. Both spell books rest closed on the table before them. However, as soon as Sudaem senses you, she’s hopping up from the couch, he snakes shifting almost bashfully over her head.

Her gaze darts to Jongho just off to your left. “I’m glad to see you well again, King Jongho.”

Reina stands, a small quirk to her brow.

Without wasting another moment, you walk directly over to the two women and wrap them in your arms.

“Thank you.” Your voice is low, nothing but raw gratitude seeping from your tone. “For everything.”

Softly, you feel Sudaem rubbing your back while Reina pats you gently.

“I’m glad I could help.” Sudaem whispers, pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

“I appreciate that,” you smile, nodding as you step away to give them both some space. “Know that the sentiment is shared.”

“Anyways, I best be going now,” Sudaem shuffles slightly on her feet, reaching over to grab her spell book from the coffee table that rests beside her. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Wait, how will I be able to contact you for lessons?” Reina’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and you recognize that almost desperate look shining within anywhere.

The corner of your lips quirk upwards knowingly.

“If you ever need me, send word with Stella.” Sudaem smiles, and you watch as Reina nearly swoons.

“Okay,” she nods, quite enthusiastically.

“It was lovely meeting you!” Sudaem directs the comment towards your best friend as she waves goodbye, her snakes hissing happily.

“You, too!” Reina waves back as Sudaem walks over to the guys for the moment.

“Uh, would it be okay if one of you-“

“Already on it,” Yunho smiles lightly at the gorgon, teleporting her back to her own domain in an instant. In a blink, he’s returns, straightening out the front of his shirt slightly.

“So,” you wiggle your brow teasingly at Reina, “Sudaem, huh?”

“Shut up.” Reina grumbles, pushing you playfully.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” A knowing smirk tugs at your lips as you watch your best friend avert her gaze somewhat bashfully.

“So,” Reina clears her throat, composing herself a bit better for the moment, “introductions now, or later?”

You motion to the guys with your hand, letting them decide for themselves if they’d like to introduce each other to your best friend. Your void has long since been back up, so you take the time to brush against their minds now.

Immediately, they all brush back.

“I think introductions are a great idea,” Hongjoong says, a small quirk to his lips. “After all, you helped save our brother.”

She nods, a kind look resting on her features as they all incline their heads to her in thanks.

“Hang on a second,” you lift a hand once more in a halting motion as you look at Reina. “How did you know that Yeo was what he was when he dropped me off?”

“I’ve seen portraits,” she shrugs, “but I didn’t know their names. My gran was adamant about not,” she clears her throat, nose scrunching as she prepares to imitate her grandmother, “incurring the wrath of the Eight Kings by invoking their names.”

You can’t help it, an amused snort escapes you.

“So, I recognized him, but I didn’t know which one he was until you told me his name.” She explains, to which you nod your head. “I am very interested to learn which ones are which based off of what you told me.”

Just then, a loud mewl is heard from the hallway leading to your room. A loud gasp is escaping Reina’s lips as a black cat struts into the room, tail flicking back and forth eagerly in the air.

“Is that Kuroo?” Her lips part, an excited smile pulling at her features.

Softly, Kuroo weaves his way through all of your legs, brushing languidly against both yours and Mingi’s the longest. A moment later, and he’s trotting over to Reina who bends down to extend her hand out to him. Cautiously, he sniffs at her fingers before beginning to rub his face all over her.

Giggling, she begins to scratch at his head, Kuroo beginning to purr loudly all the while.

“Well, aren’t you just the handsomest man of the hour.” She coos, chuckling as Kuroo chirps back happily in response.

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” Wooyoung sighs, almost exasperatedly. “It’ll go straight to his already overinflated head.”

“But he’s so cute!” She coos, picking him up to hold him in her arms. “And fluffy!”

A content mewl greets all of you in response.

“Kuroo is Sammy two-point-oh.” You say, watching as understanding passes over Reina’s features. “Just less of a troublemaker.”

“Ah,” she nods, rocking him gently in her arms, “I see.”

Softly, she begins cooing at him once more, and you can just tell that he’s just loving every second of it.

“Okay, so,” you quirk a brow, “introductions?”

“Oh, wait,” Reina’s lip quirks mischievously in the corner, “can I guess?”

You snort out a laugh, gaze darting to the males beside you who shrug nonchalantly. “Be my guest.”

“Hang on, there’s actually one of you who I’ve been dying to know whom is who since she told me.” She admits, eyes scanning over all of them. “I know him,” she motions to Yeosang with her chin seeing as she holds onto Kuroo for the moment, “but which one of you is Yunho, the painter?”

Said male’s brows raise slightly in amusement, waving his hand to indicate that he is who she’s looking for.

“I would give you a thumbs up, but my hands are full,” she chuckles. “Either way, nice.” An approving nod is sent his way. “So far, you’re my favourite.”

The looks all several of his brothers send him in mild disbelief has a laugh falling from your lips.

“It was the portrait, wasn’t it?” You turn to look at Reina, a grin tugging at your features.

“Literally, why isn’t it hanging right there?” She shifts Kuroo over to her one arm, motioning to the central wall behind the front desk. “Guy paints what is presumably the most beautiful portrait of a gorgeous lady you’re all in love with, and you can’t even display it in your front foyer?”

Reina tuts, shaking her head teasingly.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” you whisper lowly.

Mingi tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment. “She does have a point.”

“See!” Reina replies, somewhat exasperatedly. “The cat dad understands!”

“Cat dad?” Mingi quirks a brow.

“Are you not Mingi? The one who got this little rascal for her?” Reina pats Kuroo lightly on the butt, receiving a small whine from the cat in response.

“I am.” He confirms. “How did you-“

“He rubbed against you the longest out of all of you,” she blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. In the next moment, she pulls the cat away to brush her nose against his own, a teasing lilt to her voice, “besides his mommy.”

A hand comes up to muffle your laughter as you hear Kuroo complaining loudly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed. He jumps down from Reina’s hold quite quickly after that, strutting away back down the hallway and towards you room.

You walk over to Reina, flinging an arm around her shoulders as you lean on her teasingly for support.

“Okay, so,” you grin, “You technically know four of them.”

“That I do,” she hums, gaze briefly darting over to meet Jongho’s. She sends him a polite smile, noticing how he nods briefly back. “Let’s see, we’ve got the cook, the dancer, the tailor, and the one who should have told you he liked playing with knives sooner.”

At her words, Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches.

“Ah-ha!” She points at him, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “So, you’re the one she got with the steak knife.”

A snort of laughter is heard from Wooyoung at this, and even Yeosang, San, and Mingi all have a hard time suppressing their chuckles.

“You’re lucky, then,” Reina continues, a devious look shining behind her eyes as he quirks a brow. Despite your attempts to stop her, she holds you off from covering her mouth. “Normally, she just threatens to stab you instead.”

“Reina,” your voice is a bit exasperated as you whine out her name.

Despite the fact that they all quirk their brows in some way, Wooyoung looks the most visibly eager to learn more.

“What else does she threaten to do to people?” He leans the slightest bit forward, excitement gleaming in his gaze. Though, he knows that he’s not the only one dying to know.

“Well, not so much actually threaten, but she has very vivid rants about certain people.” Reina hums knowingly. “My ex is one of them.”

“Yeah, well,” you turn to look at her. “He deserves to get his dick ripped off and shoved down his throat for what he did to you.”

“Case in point,” Reina chuckles knowingly, motioning to you beside her with her hand. “Though, I’d say that was one of your more tamer ones. Wouldn’t you?”

You shrug lightly, a slight hum escaping you.

“Anyways,” she turns her attention back to the three remaining males she’s yet to identify. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re the dancer,” she points at San, “he’s handsy,” she points to Wooyoung, “and you’re the ‘pretty boy’.”

Seonghwa’s eyes look as if they’re ready to fall out of his head for the second time that day as both Wooyoung and you burst out laughing.

“Oh, you were doing so well, too.” You pat her on the back.

Lowly, Seonghwa begins to grumble about being referred to as handsy once more, crossing his arms over his chest. A large pout tugs at his features all the while as his brothers all chuckle around him.

“It was one time!” He frowns.

“Oh, it was more than once,” the corner of your lips quirk upwards in a knowing grin. At the way his pout deepens, you’re quick to add, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Ew!” Reina slaps your arm teasingly. “There are children present!”

“Children?” Yeosang quirks an amused brow.

“Yeah,” Reina snorts. “Me!”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. “Who was it that called me to drive her to the ER because she got her-“

A hand is slapped over your mouth quite suddenly, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. Not even a moment later, her face is contorting in disgust as she pulls her hand away, wiping her palm on your sleeve, seeing as you licked her.

“You are gross.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“You love it.” You playfully bat your eyelashes at her in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” teasingly, she gives you a light shove while rolling her eyes.

None of the males across from you can prevent the way loving smiles pull at their features as they watch you interact with you best friend. It seems as if the more time you spend with her, the more you relax. A fact of which they could not be happier about. Besides, you seem to be having fun.

“Anyways, you’re half right about Woo being handsy number two, though,” you motion to the aforementioned male with your chin.

“Hey!” He whines, a dramatic pout tugging at his features.

“You’re still in second place, Sunshine.” You grin fondly, mirth dancing behind your gaze as you meet his own.

“Oh, damn,” Reina says. “I really screwed up at the end there.”

“You were off by one each, if you rotated them to the left,” you pat her back assuringly.

“My bad,” she smiles somewhat nervously.

“At least you didn’t say Mingi was the cook,” San grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Hey!” Said male whines.

“To be fair, I thought he was handsy at first,” Reina shrugs.

Yunho immediately bursts out laughing, slapping Mingi on his back as the younger male begins to turn bright red.

“He definitely could be,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head somewhat fondly.

“If you think I’m bad with my fantasies…” Wooyoung trails off, immediately taking off down the hallway as the elder male begins to chase after him.

Reina laughs, looping her arm around your waist. “I can tell it’s never a dull moment with these guys.”

“You have no idea.” You smile lovingly at them, seeing the way Kuroo now chases after Wooyoung, too, with Mingi in tow.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” she turns her head to you, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Wanna give me a tour of the house?”

451 notes · View notes

stew4 · 3 months

Text

My one concern for Rlainarin in Wind and Truth, is that like-

yes we are getting more time with Renarin than ever before (which I will forever be ecstatic about) but he is, Yk, still a side character at this point. He’s getting more, but the bar is pretty damn low.

So, I think Sanderson has a difficult thing to balance here. He has to pull off the romance in as satisfying a way possible, while not letting it consume their entire characters in this book. (Take time to note here that while RENARIN is getting more time than ever, Rlain is only promised to be in the Renarin segments. Tbh I’m expecting him to get sorta the same time as in ROW or a bit less.)

so I kind of think, with the time we have, there are two likely options. And I’m probably wrong, but here’s what I think:

A; They have a well fleshed-out (for side characters) romance, that is decently well-written but absorbs their POV chapters a lot and while great, will be a little disappointing because we want them to be doing their own things as well. This is the less likely one.

B; The characters get their own stuff to do with mini-arcs probably, and then get the occasional chapter progressing their romance, which is otherwise kinda background. Bad news with this one is that it may mean we don’t get full closure…. But hey that’s what fanfic is for. Probably more likely.

I think most people would prefer B, and it is more likely, so- yay!

As much as I’d love both options, we have to admit at some point that they are not the main characters (for some reason-) yet at least. Hang in there for another decade Renarin, we’ll get there.

anyway I did not really think this through a whole bunch and I’m not expecting to be right but hey. That’s just a theory.

A GAAAY THEORYYY

#Please accept my humble apology for being cringe #It’s too late we can’t uno reverse this one #renarin kholin #Rlain #rlainarin #idk #the stormlight archive #stormlight archive #wind and truth #analysis #brandon sanderson

33 notes · View notes

mattsturniololoverr · 5 months

Text

~The after party~

A/n: guys this is my first fic please correct me on anything wrong and request ideas!Summary: y/n finally meets the triplets a week before her best friends birthday party , let's say alot happens.....

Warnings: a series - definitely smut in the next-chapter -drinking - smoking - m/f receiving - Dom!Matt - p in V - unprotected sex - degradation - praising - use of y/n - getting caught

pt2 pt3

-------------------------------------------

I was getting ready for my best friend Laney's 21st birthday. I didn't really know anyone except Laney and a couple other people , but it was mainly an influencer get together cos nearly everyone going had at least 1 mill on YouTube or tiktok or something at this point.

All I knew was that the triplets would be there and what can I say , they're hot and they know it. I've only collabed with a few people once or twice and with the triplets once and let's say it went quite well. Well I would say so....

*- Last week -*-

I was sat at my desk putting on the last finishing touches of my make-up. Then suddenly my phone bussed and bussed and bussed until I answered.

"Hello?..."

"Hey! It's me nick I got your number of Laney! Hope you don't mind , I should have texted you first but just wanted to ask if you wanted to come round sometime you seem fun!!!!!"

"Omg nick you scared me I thought this was some random freak! but yeah of course I would love to come round some time!"

"Okay girly sorry for scaring you *he laughs* , is tomorrow okay I could get Matt to come get you?"

"Yeah! Okay that sounds good , should we say 2pm???"

"Yeah! That's perfe- CHRIS SHUT UP. I am so sorry Chris ran out of Pepsi I'll see you tomorrow bye girl!"

"Byee!!"

Once he hung up , I texted Laney straight away.

Me: LANEYNICK RUNG SAYING HE WANTS ME TO COME OVER TOMORROW AT 2

Me: LANEY ANSWER RN

My wife🤍: WHAT OMGG YESSSS

My wife🤍: maybe you'll actually get recognised on YouTube now 🙄🙄🙄 BUT YAY

Me: IKKK AAHHHHH

I was so excited to meet them , especially Matt. Ever since I started watching their videos when they started all the way back in 2020 which is crazy , It feels like I've known them for years but realistically I know them they just don't know me.

It feels weird to say that but it's true and I feel so excited that I'm actually going to be meeting them! And of course I'm excited I'm meeting them all but I just have a thing for Matt , well I mean who wouldn't look at the man he's stunning.

-*- tomorrow -*-

I slowly opened my eyes to the blaring sound of my alarm , I had to set off extremely early because otherwise I would be waking up at 7pm. And of course I can't be late with meeting them that would be so embarrassing , so instead I woke up 7 hours earlier than I needed to so I have extra time to be prepared , who knows what's gonna happen. ( Little does she know a lot is gonna happen )

-*- 2 hours later -*-

Ive just finished in the shower I used my favourite shampoo to make my hair look shiny and blonde and my strawberry body wash. After I felt fresh and clean , I realised that I had taken 2 hours in the shower which was longer than I thought but that's okay because I have another 5 hours left. I sat down and tied my hair in a towel and started doing my skin care , I was just about to put on my toner until my phone bused.

Nick💜: is it okay if Matt picks you up in like an hour?? Chris decided we all need to go mini golfing. It was his idea not mine don't blame me 😭.

Me: that's okay haha and yeah that's fine I'll be ready in an hour!

I had an hour to get ready and I didn't know if I was gonna make it. I had to skip half of my skin care and get straight to my makeup with my primer and then foundation and then the rest. I had just about finished my makeup now just drying my hair but I looked at the clock behind me on my wall above my mirror to find that I only had 15 minutes left until Matt was here , and I didn't have time to dry and curl my hair , I haven't even picked out my outfit!?

I rushed with drying my hair so much that I forgot to buy anti frizz spray so I quickly sprayed it on hoping it would work.

.5 minutes left okay that's not too bad , I nearly tour my whole wardrobe apart trying to find the perfect outfit , I had found out a blue Bandana type tube top and some baggy black jeans and my converse and I had my silver Vivienne Westwood earrings in and my silver horse necklace what my dad gave me before he moved states.

Once I put on my outfit and the finishing touches my phone rang , it was Matt , well I presumed it was since it was bang on 11 o'clock and an unknown number.

"Hey it's Matt , nick gave me your number and I think I'm outside"

"If it has a white door then yes that's my house lol its in-between to house with black doors"

"Oh shi- wrong house hold on"

I could hear Matt drop the phone and the car reversing.

"Ok now I'm here"

"Okay I'm on my way"

Once I hung up I opened my door to Matt outside greeting me with a hug.

"Hi sorry about being really early It was Chris's fault".

He said with a small hue of pink in his cheeks.

"Haha don't worry about it , I love mini golf anyway" i smiled at him.

He started heading to the passenger door and opened with the kind words of

"lady's first".

I gave him a smile and couldn't help but blush that the boy I have been crushing over for 4 years is opening the door for me.

During the car ride Matt seemed stressed , I could see him fiddling with his rings every time we stopped at a red light. I didn't realise but I was also really nervous , so nervous I started playing with the horse on my necklace.

He seemed to pick up on it maybe 5-10 minutes into the drive to get nick and Chris.

"If you're nervous , me too I hate when nick just asks people to Collab without asking me and Chris , I think he knows I'll love it once I get to know the person but it would be nice to ask you know" he said with slight anger in his voice."I didn't mean that I don't want you here cos I do- but not in that wa- unless you want it to be- I'm gonna stop now" he said cutting himself off after a couple words.

"Matt it's okay I'm nervous too , I've been watching your guys videos since you started , it feels like I'm meeting someone like Justin Bieber right now like a full on celebrity" he chuckles at the end of my sentence.

"Hey we have the same necklace" I said trying to change the awkwardness as I turned my head towards him.He looked to the right to see what we did.

"Ha I didn't realise , I got this from my mom".

"Mines from my dad before he moved states".

The only difference with our necklaces was that the horses were facing opposite ways to each other.

-*-time skip-*-

It's been a couple hours since we all got home from mini golfing , let me just say Chris is a very sore loser , I think Matt won then nick , then me and lastly chris.

We were all sat together on the couch , watching ru Paul as me and nick loved it.

Only Chris and Matt were on the phone.I was starting to move around cos I was sitting in an uncomfortable position but Matt's phone flew out his hand when I accidentally knocked his arm.

"I'm so sorry!"

I whispered in embarrassment as I picked his phone up only to see him on my Instagram and all my pictures were liked. I turned my head towards him only to find him looking right back at me with the most red cheeks I've ever seen. Once we made contact he looked at the floor immediately.I slid his phone back to him on the couch , and sat back in my seat trying to forget what just happened.

-*- 1 hour later -*-

My mind was racing , what if Matt liked me or was he just being a nice friend? No? Yes? I don't even know anymore.

I tried everything I could to stop thinking about it but now could I until I got a message

Matt: come to my room after? We need to speak.

I just looked at him and turned back to my phone and nodded trying not to make it to obvious to his brother what was going on.I was just thinking about what's gonna happen before nick interrupted

"Chris I'm hungry let's go get food , Matt show y/n around the house properly shes only seen the living room for Christ sake"

Once nick and Chris left Matt stood up almost immediately. He grabbed my hand and dragged me to his room and slammed the door behind me.

"Look I'm sorry I didn't mean for it to happen like this".

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

20 notes · View notes

not-a-seagull · 4 months

Text

Prison · Riot · Revolt Masterpost

Hello! as the name suggest, this is a masterpost, where all my transcrips for the "Prison · Riot · Revolt" event can be found.

It also doubles as a masterlist of all the sources i've used in every chapter. Big shout out to the nukani wiki, since that's where most of my sources come from.

Another big shout out is to user RauTOI on yt; they recorded the chapters for "Prison · Riot · Revolt" and uploaded them. Without those videos, i would've been unable to transcript the chapters.

You can find a link to the playlist they've made with all the chapters separated into two videos in the "source" part of this post, however, if you click on their name, it should take you to their channel.

I hope everyone can enjoy the story now!

(also, if you find any typos or errors in any of the posts, please say so! i will correct them as soon as possible.)

Note: as of writing this, I haven't put this transcrips up in the NU Carnival wiki yet, but i promise i will do so soon.

240615Edit: Helloooo... I've just finished putting up all of the chapters in the nukani wiki! Yay :D! I hope this event can now be enjoyed by everyone ^_^

Here is the link for the wiki article.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chapters:

Prison Cell – 01: “Prison Inspection”

Prison Cell – 02: “Unexpected Criminal”

Prison Cell – 03: “Estranged Attitude”

Prison Cell – 04: “New Convict”

Prison Cell – 05: “Cracking the Whip”

Prison Cell – 06: “White Figure”

Prison Cell – 07: “Contraband”

Prison Cell – 08: “Illegal Crowcave Logging”

Prison Cell – 09: “Carpentry Operations”

Prison Cell – 10: “Manufacturing Opportunity”

Prison Cell – 11: “Giving the Game Away”

Prison Cell – 12: “Breaking the Law”

Prison Cell – 13: “Planting Operations”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Sources:

NU Carnival wiki:

Backgrounds page.

Audio Files page.

Enemies page. (Warden, Guards, and Knights images.)

Collectable Item. (Frosted Cookie, Mini magic Bombs.)

Stage List. (where I got the chapter names.)

Official NU Carnival Twitter (i refuse to call it "X"):

Vigilant Observer Edmond Image. (announcement post.)

Shackled Thug Quincy. (announcement post.)

Video reference for the transcript: RauTOI. (Playlist of all the chapters.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

idk how necessary is to say this, BUT, as you can see i don't own the story, or characters, or anything, really. The only thing i take credit for is manually transcripting it all... Even if it took me several days and caused me back/neck pains...

Fun fact: The google document i made for the whole transcripted story + a very messy list with all my sources + a list to keep progress of each chapter (like: "transcripted, posted.") is about 35 pages long. :)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

#nu carnival #nu carnival eiden #nu carnival edmond #nu carnival quincy #prison riot revolt

12 notes · View notes

pinkipeachiikeen · 1 year

Text

Mint Chocolate Curse (Sakusa x Soulmate F! Reader)

----Mint chocolate chip is a commonly discussed flavor, some swearing that it tastes like toothpaste, others swearing that anyone who believes that has obviously never brushed their teeth before because no mint toothpaste tastes like that. Sakusa never cared much for ice cream in general, he doesn’t like things that are prone to mess, after all but he didn’t necessarily dislike mint chocolate or anything.

That was until it was marked on his body for all eternity at the ripe age of twelve.

Here, it’s mint chocolate chip! Was tattooed in what could best be described as a fun, cheery, font, which was ironic because those two words were rarely, if ever used to describe Sakusa.

It was also ironic because he seemed to be the only person in the universe who didn’t want a soulmate. ---------------

Yay my first mini-series! This will be chapter one out of three, so stay tuned for the next two parts! likes, reblogs and comments are extremely appricated, especially comments since they encourage me to write more!

Warnings: tiny bit angsty (Kiyoomi isn't good with feelings yall) but overall cute and fluffy!

WC: 5000+

Everyybody has their icks when it comes to food. Sometimes it's because of texture, like grisly canned fruit or squishy jellies. Sometimes it's a food combo that turns people off, like pineapples on pizza. Sometimes people just don’t see the appeal, like mint chocolate chip.

Mint chocolate chip is a commonly discussed flavor, some swearing that it tastes like toothpaste, others swearing that anyone who believes that has obviously never brushed their teeth before because no mint toothpaste tastes like that. Sakusa never cared much for ice cream in general, he doesn’t like things that are prone to mess, after all (But when he and his cousins made the occasional bike trip to the local ice cream parlor he opted for rocky road) but he didn’t necessarily dislike mint chocolate or anything.

That was until it was marked on his body for all eternity at the ripe age of twelve.

Here, it’s mint chocolate chip! Was tattooed in what could best be described as a fun, cheery, font, which was ironic because those two words were rarely, if ever used to describe Sakusa.

It was also ironic because he seemed to be the only person in the universe who didn’t want a soulmate.

Soulmates were by no means rare, and it's estimated that about 50% of society has one of some sort. It's not particularly an easy science to study since soulmate marks tend to diffrate from person to person, some had more visible marks, like his cousin, Motoya and his soulmate Kaori with matching smiley face tattoos (of all things) on their wrists. While others, like Sakusas mom, are ‘blessed’ with gold marks where their soulmate first touched them. The former usually had indications around middle school, like both Sakusa and Montoya did. Where the ladder could appear anytime, as long as you make contact with your supposed other half.

It does’t matter if you are full grown adult.

It doesn’t matter if you are married to another.

It doesn’t matter if you already have two kids and completely normal, healthy life.

Sakusa’s mother went her whole life thinking she didn’t have a soulmate. She grew up, fell in love, had kids, all just to be ‘blessed’ one day at a supermarket when she accidently brushed hands with a stranger who just happened to pick up the box of cereal she dropped. Her hand, and her world, apparently was incased in gold.

And Sakusa’s?

His shattered.

Sakusa didn’t know until years later, after years of tears and fights and prolonged silences between him and his mother that were always laced with regret that his parents marriage was an unhappy one. His father was unfaithful and would never miss a chance to put his mother down, a stark difference to the man she fell in love with. Sakusa, of course, never saw that. Too encased with his own childish worries, like every child should be. He just thought his mother was being selfish, destroying the only home, the only family he ever loved. He didn’t understand that the family, the home he adored was only being held together by fragile threads. Ones that his mother was holding together, using everything and all that she had. Ones that were tearing her apart in the process.

His childish ignorance caused years of pain and uncertainty between his mother and him. They were finally in a secure spot, his sister looks happier than ever with her almost two year old (something Sakusa could never understand, he think kids are germ magnets, but to each their own), his father is out of hiis life (which Sakusa has grown to learn, is actually a blessing) and his mom and stepdad are living their best lives, together. His stepdad isn’t half bad either. Sakusa can see the twinkle in his mom’s eyes, one he never seen with she was with his dad.

Despite that, Sakusa can’t stand to look at his soulmate mark, or even the sight of mint chocolate chip flavored anything.

As soon as he got his mark, gone were the days of peddling bikes to the ice cream shop and the thrill of frozen, chilled delightfullness on a summer day. Hell, Sakusa even struggles going through the frozen aisles at grocery stores and the 7-Eleven. Oh and god forbid he finds something other than ice cream thats mint chocolate chip flavored. Mint chocolate chip cookies in the normally safe cookie aisle one almost took him out. Hell, he can’t even enjoy mint gum or use minth toothpaste! His stupid soulmate mark was a daily hindrance for him, and he hasen’t even met the person!

And if Sakusa had anything to say about it, it would stay that way.

Because soulmates only cause pain. Whether it be now or in the long run. He knows that thought is irrational, soulmates can be wonderful things, but he can never forget those nights his sister held him close to her side, trying to drown out the screams and yells of their parents.

He can never forget how his father spit out the word ‘soulmate’ with such malice and hatred, and now his brain refuses to think of soulmates in any way but with the same malice and hatred from his father and the same fear of that ten year old, crying in his sisters arms.

So Sakusa is fine with living with all the absurd avoidances and paranoia. Fine with all the constant anxiety that comes with walking past an aisle. He’s fine with the underlying anxiety that comes with the blooming of flowers in the Spring, because that means Summer, the season of sweet treats is just around the corner. That is all fine. He won’t go out with his teammates after school for sweet treats after gruiling hours in the hot gym and he won’t run into the 7-eleven with them to grab some Gatorade. That is all fine. Everything is safe in the gym. There is no mint chocolate chips in the gym.

Well.

There WASN”T

Not until the teams sweet new manager noticed Sakusa was out of his dear hand saanitizer and offered some of her own. Those damning five words. Said oh so politely, graced with a smile, completely aware of the toll it had on the ravenette, the devastating blow you would leave in your wake;

“Here! It’s mint chocolate chip!”

You were well aware of the….challenges being the volleyball team's manager would bring. Watching your cousin manage Fukurodani was enough to prove that managing a hearde of teenage boys was akin to being a zookeeper to a bunch of wild animals. Nonetheless, you decided you were readily up for the challenge when Motoya, your cousin's soulmate, practically begged you to be his team's manager when you made an offhand comment about how you were soon transferring to Ichiyama. Why not? You thought, Kaori loved managing her team, despite how rowdy there are and it’s a great way to get to know people at your school and in the surrounding area. ‘It gets you more in touch with the community!’ Kaori said when I asked for her opinion. ‘It's a great opportunity! You should totally go for it!” ’

Her words rang steadily in your ears as you watched Sakusa stare at you with such fear and disgust in his eyes. He slowly backed away, still maintaining eye contact, before running into the locker room.

Y’know, if someone saw his reaction they would probably think he watched someone get stabbed, not that he was offered hand sanitizer.

His departure left a silence in the room, everyone having been startled by their ace’s erratic behavior. Their trailing eyes watch his departure before they all settle onto you. Great, you think, bitterly. First day and I already fucked it up.

The team's captain clapped his hands and signaled everyone (and himself) to get back to what they were previously doing, ‘Sakusa’s gonna Sakusa.’ he said as you made your way to the corner of the bleachers, making yourself as little as possible, still reeling from your embarrassing rejection, if you could even call it that.

You’ve been warned of Sakusa’s tendencies, how he was a ‘clean freak’ (in Motoya’s terms) and not one for people in any way, shape or form. He was independent and liked his space, and most importantly he liked cleanliness. You respected that, being an introvert yourself and wanted to show him that. You were new to the team and you wanted to show that you are here to help and not impose, so you kept your distance with him and gave most of your words of encouragement, jokes and quips to the other members, while sneaking glances of Sakusa whenever you could. You waited for the right time to introduce yourself and you found the perfect opportunity to when he ran out of his hand sanitizer. So you grabbed your bag (a bit too eagerly to be natural) and unclipped your keychain hand sanitizer, offering it to him.

Apparently, that was NOT the way to go.

Your eye caught the almost copper brown of Motoya entering the gym after grabbing his water bottle and you quickly (and as calmly as you could, trying to make him not realize that his cousin publicly embarrassed you in front of his whole team) sped walked over to him, catching his attention.

“Hey, y/n!” he said cheerfully, and you couldn’t stop but notice the stark contrast between their greetings- or Sakusa’s lack thereof. “How’s your first day going?”

“Good, good!” you lied. “I just got a quick little question!”

“Yeah, what's up!” he replied, taking a swig of his water.

You take a deep breath in before spewing out, almost illegabily; “Is Sakusa allergic to mint? Or is he one of those people who really doesn’t like mint chocolate? Cuz I offered some of my mint chocolate scented hand sanitizer and he kinda flipped out? I don’t know why he would unless he was allergic or just really really can’t stand mint chocolate, although i thought that was just wit-”

Montoya spat out his water.

“YOU WHAT?!”

You subconsciously step back, thankful you weren’t in the spray zone.

“I just offered him some of my hand sanitizer?” you almost whisper, handing him the small travel sized bottle that was still in your hand from your previous embarrassing moment. It seems like you were collecting embarrassing moments like pokemon cards, now. But instead of having a mighty Charizard to show off on the playground you get sleepless nights of cringe-infested thoughts.

“Yeah uh,” he gulps. “Uh- did you just kinda hand it to him like ‘here?’’' he asks while handing the bottle back to you, reenacting what he guessed happened.

“Uh, yeah.” you say, unsure. “Was I not supposed to?” You ask slowly.

“No, no, It’s just,” he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “Just looked at me like I killed his puppy before booking it.” You share, thumb pointing to the locker rooms. “Just before you got here, too. You should’ve seen it.” you say sarcastically. “It was suuuuper embarrassing.”

Motoya’s stubby eyebrow twitched as he gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry, Sakusa is kinda flighty around new people, like a cat, y’know?” he gives you an awkward pat on the shoulder. “I’ll go talk to him!” he announces, albeit a bit too loudly, causing the very few whose attention he didn’t gather with the spit take seconds prior to be engaged in your business, once again.

What the hell did I get myself into?

“SAKUSA KIYOOMI!”

The door slams open, causing a startled Sakusa to slam his fingers against his locker door. Motoya, either unbothered or unnoticing of his cousin's pain, waltzes straight up to him and gives him what Sakusa might perceive as something just as unbearable, a hug.

“Oh my god, how insane is this?” he cheers. “Your soulmate is my soulmate's cousin! Your cousin is her cousin's soulmate!” he pauses; “Wait did I get that right?” he shrugs. “You know what I meant, regardless. I’m so happy for you!’

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you are happy about it.” he grumbles, awkwardly shrugging his cousin off.

“Oh come on,” Montoya whines. “Don’t tell me you are still all ‘anti-soulmate’.”

“I’m not anti soulmate.” he grumbles, closing his locker. “I’m just fine without one. I don’t need someone to come in and make my life all ‘special’.” he said, waving his hands for effect after the word ‘special’. “I’m fine on my own.”

Motoya groans. “No one said you weren’t, Kiyomi.” he settles on the bench next to his cousin. “I don’t know what you heard, but soulmates aren’t meant to change your life or you in any way”

“Tell that to everyone on tv. Or the media. Or literally anyone, because they’d all say something different.” he deadpans.

“Well, they’re wrong, or clearly haven’t met their soulmate yet, if they even have one. Relationships of any and every kind are different. Whether they are soulmate bound or not.”

“So what you are saying is…?”

Motoya lets out a long excgarated groan. “God, why must you have the emotional density of a cactus? What i'm trying to say is that your relationship with your soulmate is yours to figure out, not anyone else's. The only thing I can say for sure is that running away from it will only cause pain.” he informs.

Damn, when did Komori get all wise? Sakusa thinks.

“Besides, she’s our manager, whether you like it or not. You can’t avoid talking to her forever.”

Sakusa smirks, and Montoyas face falls.

“You’re right.” he said, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “But I can for now.”

“And how, please tell me, are you planning on doing that?”

“Sakusa has damaged his throat and won’t be able to talk to anyone for 2 weeks or so. Until then, he will be using a mixture of his notepad and the text-to-speech app on his phone to communicate. Thank you and no further questions.” Montoya states to the team an uncharistical lack of enthusiasm that one can usually only find in an unamused Sakusa.

“What is this, a press conference?” the captain asks before sighing it off and ushering everyone to practice as usual.

“This is only gonna blow up in your face, y’know that right?” Motoya murmured as they set down their water bottles on the bleachers.

Sakusa ignored him, or at least didn’t care enough to write out a response.

“I bet this is great for you, avoiding your soulmate and limiting human interaction even more so than you already do.” he sighs. “Damn it Sakusa, I thought taking those two sick days would’ve knocked some sense into you. I’m guessing Auntie doesn’t know?”

This made Sakusa stop in his tracks.

Sakusa quickly scribbles on his notepad,

And she won’t find out, right?

Even without those words being verbally said Motoya knew that the question he wrote was more of a statement, a threat, if anything else.

Motoya raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I'm not gonna tell her anything! Sheesh.” he shakes his head in disapproval. “Just know that she’s gonna find out one way or another, and she’s gonna tell you the same thing I did. Probably more aggressively, cause I doubt she’ll appreciate you leading your soulmate on like that, giving everyth-”

Sakusa stops him with a cold glare. Fiery words sat on the tip of his tongue, You have no idea what happened, what she went through. What I went through. But Sakusa could tell that Motoya knew he overstepped.

“I’m sorry” he sighed. “I’m just worried for you, okay? I know I wasn’t there when everything happened, but I was there for the fallout.”

Oh really? I’m sorry I kind of forgot we moved into your family’s house when my father kicked us out due to my mothers new ‘golden’ addition to her skin. Apparently, having a soulmate mark was the epitome of unfaithfulness, and father would definitely know, since he was screwing the neighbor’s barely legal daughter.

“I just don’t wanna watch you hurt again over a soulmate, yours or not.” he references again, to his mothers past. Can’t he just drop it? And they say I'm bad at reading social cues. I’m clearly uncomfortable.

“The mere thought of having a soulmate shakes you up so bad that you adjusted your entire lifestyle, man.” he states. “You shouldn’t have to live in fear of the frozen aisles!”

Sakusa’s eye twitches. He reaches for his notebook again before Motoya stops him.

“I know that you don’t wanna talk about this, so I won’t force you to. I just want the best for you, and I'm gonna be here for you, no matter what dumb decision you make. Got it?”

Sakusa stays quiet, both slightly annoyed and slightly thankful. It pains him to admit, butespite how annoying he thinks Komori is, he can’t deny that he makes up a large part of his support system.

“That being said, it looks like Y/n’s on her way over here, so good luck and don’t fuck it up!” he whispers before dashing away to join practice.

That piece of-

Sakusa takes back his inner thoughts complimenting his cousin as you shyly walk up to him, hands hiding behind your back.

“Hi, Sakusa!” you greet, a tad too cheerful for Sakusas taste as he takes a small, almost unnoticeable step back. “I- um,” you stutter. “I’m sorry to hear that you hurt your throat, we missed you the past two days! Practice wasn’t the same without you.”

Sakusa pulls up his text to speech app and presses one of the prerecorded answers.

“Thanks.”

She nods in acknowledgement. “So we took the big test yesterday,” you share, revealing the notebook that was kept behind your back. “And I wanted to know if you needed the notes I took the day prior? We took a ton of them the day prior and without them you probably couldn’t get more than 50%. Why our teacher thought loading us up with important info the very day before a test that large was a good idea, I couldn’t tell you.” Sakusa awkwardly accepts the composition notebook from you, mentally questioning if you always shared that class. “ But I can tell you that the test is open notes, and these,” you tap the top of the composition notebook. “Are the best in the class. Guaranteed.” you promise with a smile. Before Sakusa could type anything out in response, you’re out the door. Sakusa only understood ‘called in to work’ and ‘babysit’ before you were out the door, leaving him dumbfounded.

Since when did we share a class?

When did the teacher announce this supposed big test, and why wasn’t I informed?

And why the hell is she being so nice to me? From what I heard I embarrassed her in front of everyone the last time she attempted to talk to me.

Brushing off the questions for now, Sakusa notices the neon sticky note stuck to the cover of the notes, decorated with a series of digits and a little note reading;

Text me if you have any questions! Good luck, I believe in you!

Followed by a small smiley face.

Sakusa’s eyes kept reading it over, his mind trying to rationalize his slight flutter in his chest. Stop that. He tells himself.

Luckily, he gets called out to the court by his teammates, making him push both the notes and the questionable feelings aside for the time being.

As much as Sakusa wanted to steer clear from any possible occurring thoughts about his soulmate, he needed to look over the notes you gave him if he wanted to keep a decent grade. He gave an over dramatic sigh as he plopped down in his desk chair, digging into his backpack. He grabs the composition notebook (eyes strategically avoiding the pink sticky note on the cover) and flips through it to roughly find the section he needed to study before placing the notebook on his desk. Eyes flicker over the neat text, decorated with highlighters and multicolored pens in places stating important information. He can’t deny, the notes are pretty good. His eyes continue scanning until they meet… a volleyball? It seemed so out of place compared to the pristine notes. Yes, there were a few illustrations, but most of them were related to the subject, not anything random like a volleyball. He was going to just shrug it off before he realized that the volleyball wasn’t the whole illustration. Connected underneath to the volleyball was… no way.

Directly under the volleyball was a little chibi, who seemed to be spiking the volleyball. Normal enough, he supposed, but that's not what really caught his eye. The chibi had a number ten on its little jersey, and more noticeably, a mop of curly black hair.

He squints his eyes, bringing the notebook closer to his eyes. “Is that…..me?”

Sakusa tries to internally debate the possibility of the chibi volleyball player being him, but what other volleyball player wears a mask while spiking? He’s the only one he knows, and he bets that he’s the only one you know too.

Against his better judgment, he pulls out his phone.

You would love to say that you weren’t sitting around mindlessly scrolling through your instagram feed hoping that Sakusa would text. You would love to say you were being productive, whether that meant studying or finishing that anime series you told your friend you would finish. But, no. You were laying down on your bed, head over the side, hands in the air holding up your phone that has been remotely silent for a good while now. Trapped in an endless cycle of likes in saves, drowning in the shame of worrying over a boy. One that isn’t even bothered to give you the time of day.

That of course, changed when your phone buzzed from an incoming text message, and all shame went out the window.

For the time being at least. You were pretty sure you would be feeling pretty embarrassed later looking at the red phone shaped mark you obtained on the bridge of your nose, but that's a later issue.

After picking up the phone and inspecting it for any damage, you quickly opened your messages to find an unknown number. Finger ready to click on it, you have to physically restrain yourself. Wait. What if he thinks I'm clingy or something answering too fast?

You groaned and threw your phone on your bed. Stupid social rules.

Deciding to busy yourself for five minutes or so by cleaning your room, (cuz hey, at least that’s productive and you can’t say you spent the whole evening waiting for a text from a boy who you thought wouldn't actually text. ) you hurriedly grabbed piles of clothes from all throughout the room, and righteous decided if they were clean and to be folded, clean enough to be thrown on the chair and which ones needed to be banished to the dirty clothes. Once the clothes were away you sorted out your bed stand, threw out all the trash that littered the floor, and sorted out your nightstand to only hold the essentials needed, you finally allowed yourself to check the clock.

Damn, only 12 minutes past.

Maybe Sakusa should text more often. You think as you plop down on your bed to a now 90% clean room, one which you’ve been putting off for far too long.

Opening the text, you are greeting with a curt;

Hello.

This is Sakusa.

From the volleyball team.

You didn’t know if you were gonna outwardly cringe or keel over laughing. This man texted with such awkward straightforwardness, the only person you could compare it to was your grandfather.

Thumbs ready to type, you start your sentence, before readily erasing it.

One

Two

Three times.

Ugh why is this so hard!

You sat there silently debating what you could type that doesn’t make you sound like a complete dweeb before you realized, there's a chance he saw you type,

then untype,

then type again.

Internally groaning, you throw caution to the wind and reply with a simple;

Hey Sakusa!

What’s up?

Wow. It really took you that long to write four words. Cringing, you put your hand to your upper face, partially shielding yourself from the embarrassment, and partially facepalming yourself.

Through the cracks in your fingers you see the little chat bubble appear, gluing your eager eyes to the screen.

I have a quick question.

Waiting an appropriate fifteen seconds, you reply, Shoot. I’ll probably have an answer.

I’ll probably have an answer?! Who the hell says that?!

Before you could chastise yourself further, a reply pops up.

Is this supposed to be me?

Followed by a picture of a familiar sketch.

Everything then moved in slow motion. Heat flooded to your face and ears as you dropped your phone and hid your face in your hands as if it could shield you from the embarrassment of your crush finding your little doodle of him.

Without looking away, hoping that if you kept staring at the photo it would suddenly combust from everyone's memory, you slowly fumble around for your pillow,

put it to your face

and screamed.

Rocking slowly back and forth in his desk chair, Sakusa stares at his phone, waiting for a response. It said seen, was she just staring at it .He swats down the irritation laced with the tiniest bit of worry. Why should be getting all upset? You probably had to go to the bathroom or something. There's a ton of reasons why a person would be left on seen.

Right?

I mean Sakusa does it all the time, usually because he couldn’t be bothered to respond.

His eyebrows furrow.

Is that why she isn’t responding? Does she not care?

Before Sakusa’s thoughts could really start to spiral, his phone dings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

It was practically vibrating as Sakusa scrambles to pick it up.

AHsu;wdfsdhkkasjhjfsb

Sakusa wasn’t one that could be described as ‘chronically online’, but his cousin was, so he could easily identify that the random bunch of letters cluttering his screen was a ‘keyboard smash’ and not you having a stroke.

OMFG I AM SO SORRY

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED tO SEE TJAT

I TOTALY FORGOT THAT WAS IN THERI MEAN ITS NOT ANYTHING BAD

JUST FUCKING EMBArASSING

Sakusa chuckles. He’s never heard you swear before, but he suddenly has a strange need to hear you curse in real time. He can picture you frantically typing, not caring for the typos. I bet she’s all flustered. Cute.

I tend to doodle in class, it helps me focus, its a mindless thing really.

Recently ive been doodlin a lot of volleyball related things bc im the new manager and its on my mind a lot.

So that includes you.

Please please PLEASE dont find it creepy.

If you look at the other pages you can probably see sketches of some other players!

Sakusa flips through the pages, indeed seeing some chibi versions of his teammates in various poses; spiking, serving and receiving. But he cannot deny the fact that there seemed to be many more curly haired, masked players decorating the sheets than any other players.

Why are there so many of me? He replied

The phone went silent.

Well you finally respond.

It’s not my fault you outshine the rest.

Maybe try toning down the talent, maybe the others would occupy my mind more.

Sakusa's eyes float over the two texts, again and again, never quite processing them 100% as his lips turn into a goofy smile that he’d deny ever graced his face.

I’m kidding, of course.

For the most part, at least

You weren’t sure how you made it past the doors of the gym after the back to back mortification you experienced with Sakusa. Wasn’t embarrassing you in school enough? Did he really have to embarrass you at home too? I guess that one was on me, though. I gave him the embarrassment ammo with the book and the gun with my phone number. Why must I torture myself like this?

Your internal monologue was interrupted by the “Ahm.” of someone clearing their throat.

Turning around too fast for your body's liking, becoming disoriented you spot Sakusa, who like you, was startled by your quick response. “Oh hi Sakusa!” You say, hoping it wasn’t obvious that you were just thinking about him. “What’s up?”

He hands you the notebook, equipped with a new post it reading a simple ‘Thanks’

“Oh! Of course! I hope they helped!”

He responds with a simple nod before returning to the court.

Waiting a few seconds to create distance between the two of you, you dive into the notebook to assess the damage

Oh god.

You gulp. It’s so much worse than you thought.

Nearly every other page was decorated with a little doodle of some sort, with an absurd amount of them being the very boy you oh so happily handed them to. What the hell was I thinking? You racked your brain to think of any reason you would have willingly handed this notebook to anyone, especially Sakusa, but you couldn’t come up with any besides ‘pretty boy make brain go brrrrrr’

What the hell is wrong with me?

You suddenly became overwhelmed with a pleasant urge to bang your head against a wall. Maybe a nice brick one would knock some sense into me..

Your internal rambling comes to a sudden halt as your eyes flicker over a paper with a careful cut into it.

You weren’t the most neat person, despite all your attempts to make your notes aesthetically pleasing (in a desperate attempt to make you study), you tended to just rip out a piece of paper if you needed to glue it on a study guide or on another page. You rarely used scissors, especially on the margins of the paper where the doodles lay….

No…. it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t… right?

Another check through the book confirmed your fear, the doodle missing is the one Sakusa messaged you about the night prior. But why though? Why would he cut out one of the doodles? What was he planning to do with it? Knots began to form and tighten in your stomach. You began to ponder asking him what he did with it, but part of you didn’t want to know. Images of crinkled up paper in the trashcan flashed through your mind.

You grimace.

But if he really didn’t like it enough to cut it out… why did he only cut out the one? There were several doodles of him in the notebook. Hell, why did he cut it out at all? It seems much easier to just not look at the notebook if it caused him so much anger. It doesn’t make sense.

Unbeknownst to you, across the gym several of Sakusa’s teammates were thinking the same thing when they spotted their oh so cold and stoic ace typing away on his phone, showcasing his newly decorated clear phone case.

One that just happened to be a chibi volleyball player that looked a bit too much like him.

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader

142 notes · View notes