#i KNOW the Polish audience will likely get it as will the rest of the Slavic audience

[motorclit]

Actually a bit disappointed that the Fandom wiki for the Witcher 3 (which I use frequently as a walkthrough) doesn't list a bit of trivia that was blatantly obvious to me (unless it's there and I don't know what entry to find it in).

So, I've picked up the Witcher 3 again after my period kicked my ass and then covid wanted a piece of me, and I just need to complete the Blood and Wine DLC before I move onto taking a crack at the Witcher 2.

I don't know how far I am technically in the story, but I had just finished helping Regis concoct the Resonance potion thing and Geralt drank the hand-juice to find out what Detlaff did.

Well, Detlaff killed Count de la Croix in a flour mill... located next to a body of water. And I've yet to find any trivia pieces where it states how it references the famous legend of the Serbian vampire Sava Savanovich. It was believed that vampires lurked in flour mills, which was why many refused to be in there at night unless proper precautions were taken (commonly garlic was famously involved).

Of course, Detlaff probably couldn't give two shits about the flour in the mill, but where Count de la Croix was killed stood out to me, and I'm not seeing any reference to it in the Fandom wiki page anywhere about it.

I'm also speaking as someone who has very limited info on many other Slavic regions and their legends, as I'm lucky to find out anything about my Serbian heritage and what the culture and myths are like over there, as I have not learned the language and only know English. (I hope to change that, of course.) So there could be other references.

Also when you help Lambert fight an ekimmara in the main storyline, that also took place in a water mill. I just looked at the page for that and saw no references there, either.

I don't know if there is a reference somewhere and I just overlooked it or what. But it's bugging the shit out of me.

[sp0o0kylights]

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 

This is his golden ticket. 

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 

He's fucked. 

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 

 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 

Eddie flipped him off.) 

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

[aseaofyoongi]

my heart did | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: e2l | bully romance | smut | angst

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: as soon as senior years comes to an end a lot of teens shed who we were and strive to be flourish into a more polished version of themselves. although, broken hearts aren’t so quick to heal what happens when thoughts reveal all we need to know?

warnings: lets begin.. themes and mentions of bullying; brief physical violence; brief mention of blood; bickering; denial of feelings; mention of less than ideal parents; cliche high school themes (in flashbacks); foul language; oral (m. receiving); penetrative and unprotected sex; clitoral stimulation; nipple play; thigh riding; vag fingering; overstimulation; sub!jjk themes - he is a good boy; he uh.. arrives on her face.. anyways; i hate this trope ugh but miscommunication; jjk has a big d!; not edited.

word count: 25,5 thousand words

posted: wed sept. 6, 2023 at 12:28PM

notable songs: like i want you - giveon | thinkin bout you - frank ocean | like or like like - miniature tiger | war of hearts - ruelle | sunday morning - maroon5 🎧

-

-

-

The sun is now setting. 

Behind you as the last hours of the late summer evening approached the sun was beginning to finally pucker its lips against the horizon, as a result, the sky became dusted with hints of deep orange, yellow and purple. The clock finally struck nine o’clock and you couldn’t help but slump down on the palms of your hands, sitting behind the main desk on the same stool you had been since the beginning of your shift. Your pupils followed as the little hands on the clock hung on the opposite wall seemed to move slower and slower, completely freezing you in time. 

Fucking Mondays. 

You sighed. When you had initially signed up for the work study position at the library you thought things would be just a bit different. 

For example, you thought being a staff member here would get you free access to course books and materials but that wasn’t the case. Right before you’d been hired, some idiot named Yoongi who worked behind the help desk at the computer lab was caught selling copies of the course materials to multiple students on campus. 

Like—right before you were hired and now that privilege had been swiped right off the tip of your fingers the moment your member badge had been printed. 

Secondly, time behind that rotating door at the main entrance just stopped. No, more like slammed down on the brakes abruptly the moment you crossed that threshold. There were no warnings or brake lights or even a bright sign to apprise in advance. 

Another drawn out sigh escaped your lips. 

There was no exaggeration in your boredom, however, besides the ‘promises’ of saving money on school materials vanishing entirely, you still needed the monetary earnings so you hid behind a fabricated smile and immediately accepted the job offer happily. 

Well, as happily as you could be. 

God, you were jaded. Five after nine. Only five minutes had gone by yet it felt like an eternity. 

Your mind was on overdrive yet your body remained stationed in the same exact place—in the same exact position. Not a single tendon transposed and they constricted your muscles in place. You were there sort of glued to the metal surface of the stool but fuck did you wanted to move. 

Needed to actually. You needed a sort of mobile stimulation but still you couldn’t seem to get your arms and legs to comply. Not until your focus circled around your extremities and your need to just fucking. . do something. 

You crossed your legs to the left, then to the right, then you hung your legs on the wooden bar under the desk to give them a rest from just hanging on your side, then you sat with your legs spread open before realizing you wore a skirt and you quickly pressed your thighs together tightly. Shift after shift you grew more angsty, more impatient, more exasperated with the sluggish speed the hours of the night adopted. 

Slowly, you reached into your bag and unwrapped a piece of gum before sticking it in your mouth. You chewed slowly. Seven after nine, only two minutes have gone by since you last looked at the time. 

Okay, maybe if you number your chews to the rhythm of each second then time will somehow speed by. Right? You began your countdown backwards from sixty. 

You chewed down on the watermelon flavored stick of gum. Sixty. 

Again, fifty-nine. 

And, again,  fifty-eight. 

Once more, fifty-seven. 

In just a matter of minutes the sky behind you turned pitch black and finally the stars came out to play, they pranced around dancing in the sparkling delight and you couldn’t really help but envy their freedom as they lived without confinement. 

“Tell me something. .” You quickly registered that irritating tone, that very familiar and insipid, absolutely annoying and vexing tone. The same one which sent a bubbling shot of acid to course into your bloodstream every time you were faced with the disdain of hearing it, “should I reprint you a copy of the employee manual? Last time I checked skirts above the knee and gum chewing are strictly prohibited in the work place.” 

You leaned your head to the side, narrowing your eyes in his direction as he stood by the doorframe, “you’re not the supervisor, let alone the manager,” you murmured through gritted teeth, “fuck off.” 

He shook his head slowly while clicking his tongue. He was mocking you, the little shit was mocking you, “Not a manager. Just someone who likes to enforce the rules especially comes to you.” 

“Rule enforcer?” you scoffed, chewing louder and louder as you chomped down, purposefully smacking your gum in the process, “sounds a lot like you being a little bitch. I guess it’s all just the same to me.” 

“Bitch?” he guffawed. 

“Yes, that’s what I said,” you challenged. 

“Mini skirt, gum chewing, and foul language. You’re really making this so easy for me,” he mocked. 

The extent of your interactions were always, always, reduced to this. Just the endless streaks of taunting, the continuity of poking at each other buttons beyond forgiveness, and to top it all of the boiling irritation cooking up in the pit of your stomach. 

As far back as you could remember there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in the mixture of your interactions together. 

You and him met the summer before the ninth grade. From there on you knew him once classes began. Well ‘knew’ was a very loose term in this situation. The two of you were just teens, fifteen years old to be exact, in the same school, in the same home room, yet from different cliques. 

His brown eyes drank you in like he was consuming every inch of your soul—it was invasive, intimidating, and exactly what you deserved. Deep down you were one hundred-percent sure of the fact. 

“What?” you barked. 

“Just remembering the good old time,” he smirked, “the ones where words remain your preferred and deadliest weapon.” 

What transpired from that night was nothing compared to his cold gaze and punctured words. 

Faint lights of that night sparkled into memory, years have passed but you remember every detail as if it was just yesterday. 

The school bathroom was your least favorite place in the building, it was usually crowded with destined criminals, the stench was horrid and it was the obvious root of every ridiculous rumor to ever be birthed within the walls of Oakwood High School. 

You leaned against the white ceramic sink, your back faced the stained plastic mirror as you faced him sitting on top of the toilet tank. He was the personification of trouble, the very synonym of everything you needed to stay away from. 

The two of you came from two different worlds. 

He was draped and wrapped up in a black hoodie, complemented by dark distressed jeans while his rugged and muddy boots stained found camp on the toilet seat, staining it beyond repair. 

“What exactly is it that you need from me?” he asked, his tone wasn’t as stern or deep as you usually heard around the halls. There was a slight stutter; a falter. 

“It’s more than one thing,” you exhaled, your eyes flickered between him and the stall just to the right of him, “. .that I need from you.” 

He hummed, “go on.” 

The sun trickled in through the foggy windows and it embellished very detail, every feature that you had never once before noticed on the boy before you. His eyes were giant orbs almost doe like, his lips were a deep taint of roseate the same one which dusted the apples of his cheeks. There was a certain delicate look behind the dark aura he cemented within himself. 

You took paced steps in his direction feeling just a bit dizzy the closer you became. 

Perhaps, it was that overbearing piss smell. 

Or, perhaps, you just didn’t want to go through with this. You wanted to call this off but there was this fervent exhilaration burning just below your skin—you wanted to continue speaking to him, you wanted to envelop yourself in the softness of his lips. 

But this wasn’t right but you couldn’t help the guidance of your feet, until finally you stood right before him. 

Up close his eyes were prettier, shinier yet darker and you easily found yourself swimming in them engulfed in vastness simulating the bottomless sea. 

He was everything you wanted and everything you needed to stay away from. 

Two different people. Two different worlds. 

“Are you going to tell me what you need?” 

“I think,” your palm landed on his knee for support as you climbed onto the toilet seat taking a seat on his lap, “it’s much better if I show you.” 

By now, and by the radicle of his reputation you expected for him to push you right off his life, for him to gargle the disgust in the back of his throat and regurgitate it right back on you. But he didn’t instead his gaze intently followed you every move, he probably already noticed your quivering figure hiding behind your confident facade. 

There was no shaking off this nervousness, even but in your mind you reminded yourself that you were you and he was simply him. 

“Show me what exactly?” he swallowed, his Adam's bobbed distinctively, “you know this is the first time you’ve ever uttered a single word in my direction.” 

“I highly doubt that,” you hid your nervousness behind the security of your confident tone. 

“It’s true,” he continued, “I bet you have never even noticed that my locker is directly across from yours.” 

“Wait. .” You hooked your bait, hanging it low over his head attempting to reel him in once and for all, “do you spend your time in the halls looking at me?” 

“I never said—“ 

Your palms found their way up to towards the back of his neck and you inched closer to his face vividly detailing the golden tone of his glowing skin. 

You never noticed before, he was always an arm’s length away, which was probably your fault to begin with, but he was truly beautiful. 

“You did kind of imply it.” 

“I don’t think it works that way.” 

“Does to me.” 

His eyes remained on your lips as you tucked your lower lip under your upper teeth.  There was an unreadable expression ignited behind his pupils, something you’ve never seen before, not behind the frigid gaze of your best friends and it certainly wasn’t present in the way your boyfriend looked at you either. 

It held the comfort of tenderness and it wrapped you right into his warm embrace. 

“You know, you keep averting my question.” 

“Remind me, once again,” you smiled softly, “what is it that you wanted to know.” 

“What do you want to show me?” you pursed out your lower lip before licking them agonizingly slowly to almost emphasize their plumpness. While coating them in a thin layer  of the sheen shininess from your saliva. That put him in a trance, his eyes were locked on you intently. It’s working. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered, your lips hovered right over his, the waft of your paced breath fanned one another. His mouth was enveloped with the cool aromatic scent of mint. You liked that a lot—it drew you in. 

He froze against the white tiled wall behind him, his eyes were closed and he waited in anticipation of your lips finally meeting his. Instead, you took the liberty of snapping a mental picture. One you knew you would hang in the forefront of your mind for a very very long time, because after today, after the tones of both of your pink lips finally meshed together everything would go to shit. 

And it would all be your fault. 

“For someone who’s begging to kiss me you sure are taking your sweet time.” 

The pads of your fingers brushed against his velvet lips as they spread wide depicting his smile, in turn you’d notice the way that very smile trickled to everyone of his features. From the dimples impaling his honey cheeks to his scrunched up nose and brows scrunched up together. 

“I’m not begging,” you objected, laying against his chest—he was broad you could tell even under the dark clothes and he felt firm. All you wanted was to be cocooned in his heated touch. 

Even in the scorching summer his warmth is.. a solace. You didn’t mind being consumed by it burning in the flames ignited by his touch. 

“I asked. Just curious to know if you would even want to kiss me,” say no, run away, run away from me, you yelled at him in your head. 

“Curious?” 

You hummed, “So.. Do you wanna?” 

“Kiss you?” 

You hummed again, “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. It’s just one kiss.” 

“Just a kiss?” He asks a lot of questions. 

“Okay,” he breathed. 

There were many things you forbid yourself from submitting to at the expense of your insatious desires. This included consuming sweets past eight o’clock, drinking any type of soda, and even suppressing anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in return for the validation of others. Deep behind the rhythmic beating of your heart you knew this should’ve also included kissing him. You knew you should’ve backed off, said no, avoided him as if he was something you ran away from. 

But you couldn’t help but be guided here by the pure delight of getting to have this for once. You wanted to be selfish and drown in those very desires you didn’t dare act on prior to today. Not under self-induced circumstances instead something you know could hurt him right after you pulled away from his lips. 

You were a wretched person but all you think about, all you cared about was the way he inched closer towards you, rapidly closing the gap between the two of you. The only sounds bouncing off the walls were your needy pants and the thump thump which composed a song out of the beats of both of your racing hearts. 

His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, his eyes explored every inch of your face taking in every depiction of your features. And no matter how many times you could attempt to hide it—he would know. He could clearly see the birth of the flames rampant behind the tones of your eyes. 

He nudged his nose against yours, and your mouths fell together, soft and open. You closed your eyes instantly and they felt heavy, almost as if your eyelids were glued together. Though, you urged to open them, to live in every single second your lips remained connected with his, because you knew this wasn’t likely to happen again. Not after today. Not ever. 

You couldn’t help but want to bear witness to the perfectness of your lips dancing against one another. 

His mouth was silken, you found yourself melting into his body, into his lips, into his touch. Nobody had ever kissed you with the unspoken one passion he was. 

No one. Certainly not your boyfriend. 

You allowed yourself to become drunk under his trance and he fed the butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach rapidly. 

You wanted to camp in the fondness of that moment forever, and ever. and ever. . . 

Vacating the stool you stood by the large windows facing the parking lot behind the library. However, your attention was clutched by the sparkling stars, it was a form of a distraction. You wanted to stop thinking of him, his gaze seizing your figure tracing the outline of your legs, the curves and dips between your hips and waist and finally the sneaky peaks of your collar bones under your crop top. 

His eyes were hard to read making it impossible to decipher whether he undressed you or condemned your being.  

Though, you knew you deserved the latter. 

“Words were never my weapon,” you whispered the fib hoping that you would believe it if you heard it outloud. It didn’t work. 

He chuckled, “right. . your lips were the blades that pierced my heart and your words were the bullets that finished me off.”

“Jungkook. .” you trailed off. 

“What?” he spat, “can’t handle the truth?” 

Fuck, that hurt but you deserved it.  

“Jungkook, just shut up.” 

But his back was already turned towards you and his eyes no longer scanned you like you were the phrases typed on the pages of his favorite book. 

“I’m so. .” you began but you just couldn’t get it out. 

“There it is again,” Jungkook shook his head, clicking his tongue. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, collecting your thoughts why did you always manage to say the wrong fucking thing, “I’m just trying to apologize to you for. . everything.” 

“Right. . now?” he wore a puzzled expression, his eyes squinted with skepticism. Back in highschool Jungkok was quiet, shy and mysterious. He could’ve easily flown under the radar and lived his life in the seclusion of being a wallflower. But then you happened. You in that bathroom, on his lap with his lips on yours. 

Even now, years later, you could still feel their phantom softness on yours. 

You played with the loose thread on the hem of your top averting the scrutiny of the judgment in his eyes, “better late than never.” 

“You put me through hell and I’m supposed to act as if all is forgiven. Today, because you can no longer live with that guilt?” there was a smirk plastered on his face while traces of venom laced his words. 

“That’s not the reason why…” 

“Then, why… Why?” 

Words failed to roll off the tip of your tongue, and there was a cloud of shame hanging over your head but Jungkook was resentful and cold with his words and you knew that at this point your apology would do nothing to fix what was already broken. Nevertheless, you stood there like a child being scolded because the least you could do was be the receiver of his resentment. 

“Are you looking for a shot at self redemption? To feel better about yourself? Or maybe the guilt really is eating you bit by bit. Whatever it may be I don’t forgive you and I never will. You wanna know why? Because unlike others I’m not convinced that people like you can change,” he continued, there was a rampant anger burning in his eyes now, “you look back on our time in high school and feel this sense of. . relief that you were who you were. There is not an ounce of your being that would go back and change things and if we were to turn back time you would still choose to be the viper who could go around injecting your venom into others at free will. I know you just want to leap over that stepping stone and prove to yourself that you have grown-up but you can’t fool me and you will not make an example out of me.” 

“That’s not. .” you drifted off, tears swelled behind your eyelids but you blinked them away, “That’s not why I wanted to do Jungkook. .” 

“No?” he asked. 

“No,” you muttered through gritted teeth, mad at your past self for being a piece of shit, mad at him for not allowing you to speak, mad at life. Everything. 

“You want me to forgive you?” 

You remained quiet. 

“Then, beg.” 

“You know what?” You quickly wiped the tear that trickled down your heated cheek, “I actually did mean to apologize but I’m not sure that you actually deserve it anymore.” 

They say what comes around goes around and you were certain this was the circle of justice you would forever be looped in the extent of your interactions with Jungkook because, this is pretty much how they always played out.  He would never forgive you and you would never be able to form the right words to ease the pain of what you have caused. There wasn’t anything that you could do or say. 

Things would always remain this way. 

He turned away from you once again, “if I don’t deserve your apology that only proves you don’t deserve my forgiveness.” 

You looked at the clock on the opposite wall, it was now finally thirty minutes past nine and you were due to go home. To be embraced by the comfort of your sheets, to bask in their warmth, something less chilling than his frigid words. 

Grabbing your bag you slipped past him hoping that you would now stoop to becoming nothing but an insipid wallflower. 

Entirely, invisible. That’s all you wanted to be. 

Fucking invisible. 

Your cloak of invisibility was short lived because as soon as you crossed the threshold to your dorm you were met with a crowded living room. Amongst the faceless features of the random strangers spread out in the tiny space you spotted a similar face belonging to the biggest pain in your ass and roommate adjacent, Hobi. 

You trudge through the ocean of bodies, resisting the sway of the waves leading to bump to those in your way, simply wanting to get as far away from whatever this was as soon as possible. When Hobi’s eyes finally met yours you signaled him towards using your pointer finger—quickly, his smile dropped, beads of sweat adorned his temples and his head hung low. 

A party on a Monday was… Definitely, Hobiesque. 

With paced strides he stumbled towards you following you down the small corridor and into your room. Hobi’s eyes hung low, the buttons on his shirt hung open all the way down to the pit of his stomach, his cheeks were red and puffy, his hair the right amount of disheveled, and he had a tight grasp on a nearly empty red solo cup (it definitely didn’t look like it was his first or last drink). The  lights were dimmed but even under the shitty lighting there was a bright glimmer outlining his figure. 

“Now, before we begin this intervention,” his words were a bit slurred, “I had a really shitty day.” 

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you hung your bag on the hook behind the door and threw your keys on the desk. 

He slumped down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression—you weren’t sure if the shift in his usual energetic charisma was due to the alcohol but you didn’t like it. You were so used to seeing his heart shaped lips spread into wide curves showcasing the amiability of his colorful personality. 

“Okay, which one of us should go first?” he asked. 

“Don’t you have a party to get back to?” you sat by the pillows on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard, your legs pressed up against your chest as you laid your head on your knees. 

“I’ll get back in a minute,” he replied nonchalantly, “just tell me about your day.” 

Hobi laid his head closer to your legs, quickly you found your fingers combing through the dark strands with a thin layer of sweat. There was a cool draft slipping in the room through the window left slightly ajar. The bittersweet flashes of your time in that library behind the main desk played back in your mind. 

“I saw… spoke to Jungkook tonight,” your voice was soft, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. You and Hobi have been friends since your senior year in school and while he wasn’t there for the horrid days of your freshman year tyranny you confessed to everything you had done during those dark days—everything that happened with Jungkook. 

“Spoke?” 

You nodded. 

“You two have the same work study you’ve spoken to each other before right?” 

“Yeah, but our conversations are always reduced to nonsensical banter. He pushes my buttons and I push his, sometimes we even land a few jabs at each other when the other isn’t looking but today,” you felt at ease sitting there in Hobi’s company, the only noise surrounding the two of you came from the booming of the loudspeaker stationed in the living room, “…it was personal.”

“How personal?” he continued peering up at you with idle eyes. 

“I tried to apologize for, well you know.. everything,” you sighed, “and things didn’t really go as planned. Stupid of me I know.” 

“Definitely, not stupid. You tried to make things right. There’s no harm in that,” his thumb rubbed your hand softly as it wrapped around your shins. 

“There was definitely a lot of harm done.” 

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “what you did is not justified, but all that matters is that you are trying to make things right and we can only hope he is willing to forgive.” 

Jungkook’s vicious words played on a continuous loop in your head. He was not willing to forgive. He never would be and sincerely you couldn’t blame him for him. 

This guilt. 

It will eat you alive and as a result you will experience a slow and excruciating death. A well deserved demise and one that became written in the stars for you the moment you kissed him in that fucking bathroom. 

Still, a timid smile slowly creeped on your lips. Hobi’s hopefulness is your safety net, the only thing you could ever need to keep pushing forward. 

“Enough about me and my self-inflicted issues,” you cleared your throat, “what’s got you so down today, sunshine?” 

“We broke up.” 

You laid beside him on your bed, reaching down taking his hands into yours hoping he’d feel the same deal of comfort you do by him. 

“What happened?” you offered. 

“I was in my dance practice and he—“ he paused, “he just fucking texted me. Said he couldn’t do it anymore.”  

“Did something happen before all of this?” 

“We’ve been on a bumpy road lately,” he hesitated before continuing—you guessed it was because he was trying to structure his thoughts, “two dancers dating bring a conflict of interest into a relationship.” 

“Please tell me you guys aren’t just fighting over your choreography.” 

He remained silent before continuing. 

“You two are going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you shook your head, “I need details, Jung.” 

“Don’t call me, Jung,” Hobi poked out his lower lip, frowning, “makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” 

“I can’t be mad at you when you’re so adorably tipsy,” you pinched his rosey cheeks.

“Stoooop,” he swatted your hand away from his face while stretching out the letter ‘O,’ “I’m being serious though. I think it’s really over between Jimin and I, forreal this time.”

“You’ve said that every other time the two of you have broken up over dance.” 

“Right. .” he yawned, cozying up under your sheets while his eyes began to close. 

“Oh, no,” you smacked him upside the head with one of your cushions, “get up and go host your little party.” 

He brushed it off turning before turning away from you, his soft snores now a remix to the music playing just outside of your door, “who the fuck throws a party on a Monday. . Hoseok, get up!” 

“I know, you’re so irresponsible for letting me throw a party on a weekday.” 

“Bitch.” 

As it turns out, kicking people an hour after a party had started wasn’t as easy as it looked. Leaning against the front door you finally came face to face with the mess left behind. The music still played, though, much lower now and there was an array of empty beer cans, red solo cups and other waste decorating your living room. 

It was as if you were standing in front of the mirror looking back at yourself, you were nothing but a mess of a human being. It was uncanny. 

Although, this mess you could clean, and you would, you weren’t sure if Jungkook would ever allow you to pick up all of those broken pieces that you had shattered all of those years ago. 

For what it’s worth you really wanted to try. You wanted to make things right. 

It is now Tuesday and the weather is horrid. 

The last time you checked, the forecast called for scattered showers and mostly cloudy days. But, now it’s one in the afternoon and as you settle down on the bench by your bay window overlooking the narrow street, the sky was overtaken by the torrent clouds weeping viciously accompanied by the occasional strikes of loud thunder. 

Usually, when the weather looked as shitty as you felt you opted for staying home and becoming enveloped in the comfort and warmth of your sheets, today would have been no different but of course luck is never present in the deck of cards paving your life, also having an irresponsible roommate usually doesn’t help in any way.

“Please, don’t forget my ginger ale,” he coughed dramatically, running his hand through his disheveled hair, “I can’t believe I feel like literal shit.”

“You can’t believe it?” You sneered, “you drank half of your alcohol supply before I even made it home and the party had only been on for like thirty minutes.”

“Fuck, I did that. Didn’t I?” 

“You did,” you playfully yanked your covers off his body, “you drunk fuck.” 

“That was my nickname in highschool,” he smiled. 

“It was,” you zipped up your rain jacket and grabbed the umbrella sitting on your desk, “now go take a hot bath and don’t throw any more parties while I’m gone.” 

You heard his infectious giggles as you closed the front door behind you. The two of you lived on the third floor so the walk down the stairs to the lobby wasn’t too unbearable. Through the clear doors of the main entrance in the rain you saw how the downpour fogged up the path ahead. Namseok’s Kitchen is only a five minute walk, you can do this. 

Walking out you opened your umbrella and stood still for just one minute paralized by the pitter patter of the droplets meeting your umbrella. 

It was the beat to a dreadful song you knew too well. 

You pushed past the blue metal doors of the gymnasium. Your nostrils are no longer consumed by the smell of sweat and dirty laundry and the muffled conjunction of laughter, voices, bouncing balls, and whistles died out the minute the door closed behind you. 

Gym class was a drag and there was truly nothing worse than an hour long class period with sweaty kids in such a tiny space. Usually, you opted for walking on the track for the duration of class but that option became futile the moment it began to pour an hour ago. 

In fact it was still raining, but you stood under the navy awning covering you from becoming soaked. Your eyes are closed and you lean against the red brick wall inhaling the scent of petrichor, the resulting smell of the parched earth just as the pouring rain continues to beat anything standing right below it. The sweet aromas seeped into the air sweeping past your nose with the soft breeze that blew by. 

It was as if the earth had exhaled, emanating its distinct fragrance from millions of pinpoints all at once. Inside that smell, the seconds slowed and each moment seemed to dilute. It filled you with relief.  

Then, suddenly the remnants of your heaven became blurred and the walls holding up the roofs began to tumble down and with it a whiff of nicotine became tangled in your nose. 

Your eyes shot open and there he was, Jungkook. The boy you’d kissed a week ago in the boy’s bathroom. 

“Cigarettes are bad for you, you know..” You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach as soon as he turned. You heard what happened to him but you hadn’t gotten around to seeing him yet, you’d been avoiding him. 

“Yeah, I keep thinking I’ll quit and I can’t seem to make it past a couple of hours,” he was honest and he smiled, two characteristics you thought had died the moment your boyfriend’s fist met his face. He still had a soft purple bruise under his eye to prove it. 

“You need something else to get your mind off of it.” 

He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out and leaned right beside you on the wall. Up close you saw a deep gash on the apples of his cheek, it was still red but stitched up. 

“I know.” 

“Are you really littering right now?” You eyed the discarded smoke under the tip of his chunky combat boots.

“Right, sorry miss president of ‘i love earth’ or whatever,” he bent over, picking it up and placing it in the pocket of black jeans, similar to the ones he wore that day minus the rips around the thighs. 

“It’s actually called, ‘advocates for planet earth’ for your information.” 

“I love earth sounds better,” he shrugged, “should consider the name change.”

“I’ll bring it up in our next meeting.” 

“I’m surprised,” Jungkook began, his eyebrows furrowed together and you could tell he was in a mental battle to continue, “that he lets you join cute little nerdy clubs.” 

Twenty minutes before you entered the boys bathroom last Thursday, you and your friends sat in the library during study hall, your homework long forgotten and with continued complaints of loud talking all of you had settled for a game of quiet dare or die. 

The set-up was easy. 

There were two piles out in-front of you, one die, one dare. The object of the game created by your friends was to choose a dare and record yourself completing it before the end of the school day or else you’d have to do something even more embarrassing from the die pile. 

Your dare was to graffiti the side of the school. A bit excessive, compared to the other ones which only called for kissing each other, going against school dress code for the rest of the day or skipping the last period. 

Ditching the crumpled up paper you chose a die deciding that whatever it was at least it probably wouldn’t come at the expense of being expelled. 

‘Kiss Jeon Jungkook (loser)’ it read. 

You could’ve said no but you didn’t. Instead you fed into the taunts of the very boy you’d find your eyes lingering after. The same boy who occupied your thoughts day and night, the same one who kissed you like no one else has and whose touch (though, brief)—permanently marked a trail of goosebumps only he could procure. 

“He doesn’t control me, Jungkook.” 

“He doesn’t,” Jungkook nodded, registering every gravity of your words which felt heavy on his tongue. If your boyfriend didn’t control you then that meant you had also dealt a hand at the countinuously fucked-up encounters between him and your boyfriend. But this also finally cemented the idea that you had kissed him willingly; you saw it in the way his eyes sparkled even when the sun had been hibernating for the duration of the day. 

He seemed to have finally realized that both of those could be true. That love and pain could dance together hand in hand when it came to the two of you. 

Your eyes scanned his chocolate ones, slowly reaching up using the pads of your finger to caress his cheek. They were full and warm and you were careful not to inch too close to the purple and green-ish spot under his eye. 

“Will you believe me if I tell you something?”

“Tell me.” 

“I really did enjoy that day.” You clarified, “our kiss despite what I said afterwards.” 

He chuckled, “hopefully saying me too doesn’t get me another black eye.” 

The tightness in your chest squeezed tighter and immediately you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When Jungkook was around you felt as if your heart and mind collided against each other and you were left in a daze, castaway in your own body and mind. Like, right now, your brain urged you to walk away and get as far away as possible from him but your heart called out to him and down that same path it set out a route leading to his silken lips. 

Your heart beat to a deep crescendo nearly synching to the sound of the beating rain against the awning just overhead. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to class?” 

Snapping out of your daydream you replied, “uh, yeah, I should get back.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll see you around.” 

Jungkook smiled, “I’ll see you around.” 

The hefty winds blew your umbrella yet you remained in the same exact spot just a couple of feet away from the entrance to the dorm building. You were drenched from head to toe causing your gray sweats and hoodie to stick to you all while they weighed you down. Although you were inclined to move away from the droplets adorning your figure, your legs just would not submit to the command. 

The smell, the dark skies, and the feeling of the rain on your skin all ignited a sense of familiarity, contentment yet melancholiness. 

There were too many feelings jumbled into one. 

“If you stand here, like this, you’ll end up sick.”

You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed until the moment his voice overshadowed the roaring screams of the pouring rain. Jungkook’s outfit mimicked yours slightly but even you could admit he looked much better than you. He wore gray sweats and a gray hoodie draped off his shoulder over a white wife beater. His tattoos peeked through outlining the beginning of the sleeve following the length of his extremity down to his fingers. 

He’s breathtaking, he’s always been. 

“I wasn’t aware that my well-being was any of your concern.” 

Jungkook combed his slender digits through his jet black hair inching closer to you until his umbrella covered the both of you, “it doesn’t,” he said, “ I just figured you were either drunk or too much of an idiot to be out in this storm.” 

“Well, in that case that makes us two idiots standing out in this weather.” 

“I was not out. I’m not crazy,” he cleared his throat, “I just so happen to see you through my dorm window.” 

He came down for you, “yet here you are now.”

“Need I remind you, if I wasn’t, you’d still be out here getting soaked.” 

“Soaked,” you snickered.

“Grow up,” his voice was laced with annoyance but the rose tint on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know. 

“Where did my umbrella even go?” 

He pointed to your feet where your Converse swam in a puddle and there was your unbrella was looking as fucked up as ever. Immediately, you made a mental note to never buy umbrellas at the dollar store ever again. You supposed that’s the only thing you were good at; making one wrong decision after the other. 

You huffed, “ah, I’m okay. It’s okay, I got it from here.”

“Were you going somewhere?” 

“You don’t have to help me, Jungkook,” you didn’t dare look at him because Jungkook was good at one thing, it was peeling back at your layers with his piercing eyes. He made you feel vulnerable—bare. And you always feared the psychedelic enchantment wiring in your brain whenever he looked in your direction. 

Back then that was your excuse for not helping him, for not being a better human being. It was a shitty excuse, you know that now but you always feared your willingness to succumb to your hearts’ cries. 

You feared falling into him—falling for him. 

“Ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed, “just lead the way. I have nothing better to do anyway.” 

“I was just going down the street to Namseok’s Kitchen to get Hobi some chicken noodle soup. He isn’t feeling too well this morning.” 

“That’s only a five minute walk,” he nodded toward the path ahead, “Let’s go.” 

Five minutes felt like an eternity as the two of you walked towards your destination in utter silence. The street was pretty empty—only Jungkook, yourself and the rain remained. . And your thoughts, of course. They ran at record speed as you tried to relive every single moment from your past, you know; divulging in all the good times and wanting to fix every fucked up thing you’ve ever done. 

If only you could turn back time you’d make things right. 

In an attempt to skip another puddle, to prevent your socks from becoming sodden you accidentally moved closer to Jungkook and your elbow brushed against his. The feeling wasn’t foreign to you and it transported you to those nights, all of those moment when your bodies were so close you could smell the soap he’d used that morning, cardamom and vanilla, the scent still lingered around in your nose and you wondered if you were just hallucinating or if he actually still used the same soap. 

“While you order I’ll get us something hot,” he walked you to the glass door of the small diner, then turned towards the coffee shop across the street. 

“Jungkook!” You called out and he looked back in your direction, “Hold on,” you dug in your pocket reaching for a ten dollar bill, “Here.” 

“Just worry about the soup and get one for yourself. Your body will thank you tomorrow morning,” he shouted back. 

He disappeared into the shop as cars sped by in his shadow. You almost didn’t believe he was just right there. With you. Was he?

The bell on top of the door chimed as you walked into the restaurant, the squishing sound of your drenched shoes against the white tile bounced off of the baby blue walls. As you walked closer to the counter you wrapped yourself in a tight embrace to provide yourself with some warmth against the blasted AC. The place has always been light on decoration and made to feel more homey than anything else. There was a faux wall with photographs of customers hanging from loose thread, next to that there was a small circular table where the polaroid and its film was stationed. The remaining walls held all sorts of artworks in different shades of azure from Seokjin’s boyfriend, and Hobi’s brother, Namjoon. Towards the front was your favorite place, a bench stationed in-front of the floor to ceiling glass window. 

Namjoon approached the register, “oh no, what the fuck did he do now?” 

“He threw a party and woke up sick as fuck. I was just coming to get him some soup. He’s said he would puke anything else.” 

“And that little shit made you walk?” Seokjin walked up behind Joon taking a seat on the stool beside him. “Look at you…” he motioned towards you and you took a look at yourself in the circular mirror hung behind the two guys, a fucking mess, “you’re all wet. Did he make you come here alone?”

Before you even had the chance to answer Jinnie continued, “I’m going to kill him. You hear me?” He turned towards his boyfriend, “I am going to kill your brother.” 

Joon mumbled, “I might just join you.” 

“Before your two go on a killing spree…” you leaned against the wooden surface of the counter, “I kind of offered because I felt bad for his dumbass.”

“He still let you come all the way down here in this weather and that is enough to plan a crime,” Seokjin hissed, “Joonie will you get her a towel from the back?” 

Joon disappeared behind the beaded curtain. 

“Okay, so one soup for the idiot and one for you?” 

You nodded, “yes, chicken noodle soup please. Can you make that three though?”

“Who’s the third one for?” He raised an eyebrow staring you down like you had an intimate secret you were keeping from him. Well, technically, you were keeping some things to yourself but you weren’t lying just withholding the truth. It wasn’t the same thing. 

“It’s for the person who accompanied me here today.” 

“And who is that?” Joon asked, they were both overprotective, like older brothers, “you only have one friend and unfortunately I am related to him.” 

“Not a friend. . Just someone I know.” 

They hummed in unison exchanging suspecting looks between one another. Then, the bell on top of the door chimed once again, the same way it did when you walked in. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, his scent gave him away immediately. 

“Hi, welcome to Namseok’s kitchen,” Jin greeted him. 

“Hey,” he walked deeper into the restaurant until he finally stood right next to you as you continued drying off, “here. I got us lemongrass tea. I didn’t know what you like so I figured I get you the same as me.” 

Grabbing the to-go cup from his hand, you reply, “yeah, I like lemongrass tea.” 

You took a sip, basking in the heat of the piping hot liquid as it traveled down your throat and into your tummy. A tired whimper escaped your lips,  as you became entirely immersed in the flavors of the lemony taste exploding on your tongue. There was silence around you but you could feel three sets of eyes on you and instantaneously your eyes shot open. 

“I almost forgot Jin, Joon, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Jin and Joon, Hobi’s brother and brother in law.”

“Nice to meet you.” 

“You, too,” Jinnie smiled in his direction and Joon followed suit, “Jungkook..” He repeated, “why does your name sound so familiar?” 

“I went to highschool with Hobi and..” he pointed at you, avoiding even the utterances of your name. There was no disgust lingering in his face but then again his expression was unreadable and you were sure he was masking his true feelings at the expense of the two men in front of you. 

“I knew it,” he clasped his hands together but as soon as you saw the thoughts wiring in his head and connecting together you shook your head to prevent him from continuing. Thankfully, he understood immediately, “yeah, I thought I had seen you before.” 

Jungkook also connected the dots because Jin hadn’t been in high school at the same time he was. Jinnie was three years older than you guys were and by the time he and Hobi had moved into town Seokjin had already graduated. But he was now aware that you had mentioned him in passing—now he knew that you had to have mentioned something about that time. 

“I’m going to go check on those soups,” Jin announced walking back towards the kitchen, “Joon, come on join me.”  

You walked past Jungkook with the brown cup held tightly in your grasp before taking a seat on the bench by the front window. The storm still ran rampant outside and the streets remained barren. Jungkook sat two tables down, near the wall, far away from you. 

“Do I owe you anything for the tea?” You mumbled holding up the cup in his direction. 

“I told you to not worry about it..” 

“I didn’t know Seokjin would bring that up,” you didn’t look at him, eyes lulled by your dusty white converse, “I didn’t know he would remember you.” 

“Just forget about it,” he shook his head, “you don’t need to explain.”

“No, I feel like I do.” 

“You don’t.” 

“Jungkook, please let me,” your eyes watered and your voice faltered. 

He sighed, taking a small sip of the tea before continuing, “please don’t explain. I don’t need an explanation. I have buried it all, it still lives in my head but it’s buried and I don’t need to resurrect the tsunami of emotions that comes along with that..” he pointed at his temples, “it’s still here but please do not awaken them. I don’t want to brush the brush off of those memories.” 

You two were the only people in the shop but you knew Joon and Jin were behind one of the walls eavesdropping. It was silent and the only noise in the small space was the whirring of the AC. 

“Are our good memories also buried somewhere?” You knew better than to ask but you needed to know. 

“I put those to rest first,” he admitted and your heart sank, “those memories, although good, were an incitement to everything else that lingered right behind. I had to get rid of those memories to get rid of everything else.” 

“Okay,” tears were beginning to swell up in the corners of your eyes and you tried your best to blink them away, “yeah, that’s okay. I understand why you had to do that.” 

“I’m sorr—” Jungkook began. 

“Don’t, please, you’re not the one who should be apologizing to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you do that.” 

The bell at the front desk chimed, ripping your attention away from Jungkook. Seokjin stood behind the counter holding two paper bags, “order’s up.”  

Walking up you thanked him and grabbed the bags, “thanks. I’ll have Hobi venmo you for this.” 

“Don’t even worry about it,” he smiled softly, “free lunches till you guys graduate remember. That goes for you too now, Jungkook.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to,” he handed him the smaller bag, “I mean it. I better see you around here more often.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen him wear in years. It was radiant and lit up his face with warmth. The indents on his cheek were deep and they framed his rose lips like they were a work of art. Not even the silver hoop piercing his bottom lip shone as brightly as he did when he smiled. You almost forgot how good it looked on him and you couldn’t help but stand there and admire him taking mental pictures to keep forever. 

He deserves someone better. Someone who’s going to make him smile like that until the end of time. Someone who wasn’t you.  

“And thank you for coming along with her since Hobi couldn’t.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I would offer you guys a ride back home but Jin and I walked to work today. Guess we didn’t really think things through either.” 

“It’s okay, Joon,” you zipped up your rain coat and pulled the hood over your head, “it’s only a five minute walk back.” 

After thanking Jin and Joon, the two of you exited the store and cut in through the alley way before landing on the road leading back to the dorms. Once again, the two of you stood dangerously close to one another radiating off each other’s body heat and before you knew it the building came into view and Jungkook led you up the walkway leading you to the main door. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want him to leave you but it’s not like you could actually say that. 

You were a mere burden jumbled into bad memories and the worst years of his life.

“Thank you for coming along,” you pushed the thoughts although you don’t think you could ever really get rid of them. 

“No thanks needed. I couldn’t let you take the trip on your own, especially not in this weather.” 

He couldn’t let you. Your heart began to race as you tried to keep yourself from reading too much into his words. They probably didn’t mean anything… But what if he still cared? What if Jungkook still cared about you? 

“See you around.” He nodded before heading off in the direction of his dorm. 

I shouldn’t have said anything.

You turned around, but Jungkook was no longer near. His back was turned in your direction as he continued trotting down the sidewalk. Great! Now you’re hearing voices, after reaching for the metal door handle the voices reappeared. 

 Our memories are flavored in bitterness but I still can’t get her off my mind.

Jungkook was gone. 

The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfires and no matter how hard you work to extinguish that fire it is always too little too late. That’s how you felt as soon as you crossed the threshold from the bathroom and into the congested hallways. Everyones prying eyes read you so intently condemning you for the hypocrisy of allowing someone like Jungkook to permanently ink his lips on yours. The passionate dance the two of you composed left behind the imprints of his lips as he tattooed your skin with each one of the pecks he left behind.  

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out, unlocking it, quickly seeing the photo your friend had snuck of you on his lap pop up. Your mouths devour one another and your bodies pressed together closely while your hand rests on his shoulder. 

You wanted to frame it—live in the pixels of that picture forever. 

‘Death complete bitch.’ Your best friend’s text read below the photo, ‘I can’t believe you actually kissed him.’

‘I can’t believe I did it either.” 

‘What was it like?’

The worst part about it is that it had to come to an end. Your mind traveled an hour back and you recall the velvet feel of his lips as they moved against yours mimicking the softness of clouds. At the sametime his tongue was saccharine tasting of the sweetness of strawberries and maple syrup leading  you to guess he had either waffles or pancakes for breakfast that morning. 

All you wanted was to run back into that bathroom. 

‘Nothing memorable. Just glad it’s over.’ 

‘Don’t worry you won’t ever have to kiss him again.’

Yeah, that was the fucking problem. You wanted to kiss him again, preferably you wanted to kiss him forever. 

‘Yeah, thankfully.’ 

You didn’t know when that kill switch that made you a complete and utter bitch was flipped on, but all you remember were those calamitous days when you didn’t really know who you were and who you were meant to be. Those days were marked with pen squiggles, they were blurred and you chose to permanently turn the light off and lock the door behind you in that section of your brain. 

Middle school was rough to say the least. But that was the beginning of your novel and you knew perfectly well who you were now. 

You had the friends you did because they made you look good, you had the clothes you did because you had a reputation to uphold and you had the boyfriend you did because someone like you is supposed to be with someone like him. Those were the simple unspoken rules of high school and at first they  were easy to follow until they weren’t. 

Everything was simple until that summer before freshman year. The day you visited the park near your house and you spotted him, with his chunky black boots and signature black outfit matching his jet black hair. The two of you were only fifteen then but he already had a tattoo on his wrist peeking out of the sleeve of his crewneck, back then he didn’t have his lip piercing—not yet at least. 

“I thought you only hung out in abandoned buildings and sketchy alley ways,” you remembered telling him that and the two of you spent hours on those swings talking the afternoon away. Back then, you learned Jungkook was a gentle giant disguised in an intimidating disguise. He was thoughtful in the way he looked at life and dreamt about the future, he was caring in the way that he spoke about nature, tattoos, music and everything else he held a deep passion for and lastly, he was attentive in the way he listened to you thoroughly drinking in every detail you had shared.

That was the Jungkook that made you fall for him in the blink of an eye but back then you didn’t know who he was and you were certainly not made aware of how things would end up. 

 The bell dismissing you from your last period class snapped you right out of your thoughts and you dashed out the door of the classroom wanting nothing more than to escape home and be left alone to bask in your thoughts. 

“There’s a fight outside!” a few students called out running past you. 

“Let’s go!” someone else yelled across the hallway. 

You were nervous to ask but you did anyway, “fight? Who’s fighting?”

“Your boyfriend’s fighting someone,” a girl you didn’t quite recognize replied, “Jungkook, or something like that I think.”

By the time you made it to the parking lot there was already a crowd of people forming a circle around both boys. Jungkook held his bloody nose while your boyfriend clenched and unclenched his hand, likely to relieve the pain of hitting Jungkook. You ran in their direction but as you neared them you saw as the boy you called yours landed another punch on Jungkook’s face causing him to fall back on the concrete. 

He didn’t fight back, didn’t even respond to the other boy’s insult. He just sat on the ground holding his face waiting for it all to be over. 

“Hey,” you finally reached him, shoving him back to prevent another callous attack on the boy behind you, “what the fuck are you doing?” 

“I saw the fucking picture,” he muttered through gritted teeth. 

“The girls and I played a game of dare or death,” you explained, “it was only part of the death I had to complete. It didn’t mean anything.”

He lunged towards you and poked at your chest, “you still kissed him.” 

The crowd went silent and your boyfriend’s anger highlighted the very thing you’d intended to place under lock and key—your pretty little secret no longer a secret or even pretty for that matter. You felt light headed and you weren’t sure if it was the punishing rays of the sun or the mental strain this was all causing. 

You didn’t regret that kiss; you never would but you also thought that picture would stay between you and your friends.

A wave of murmurs swayed all around you and you knew your reputation was descending by the second. 

You didn’t dare look at Jungkook, you knew his hypnotizing dark eyes would make you crumble. Seeing him like that. . The way he did all helpless and unprotected would compel you to care for him and cradle him in your arms until nothing or no one else could hurt him, “It meant nothing. Okay?” You heaved, “It meant nothing.” 

Instead, you were dragged away from the boy your heart screamed out for. 

Fuck, do I still like her?

Just shut up, Jungkook. It’s too early for this. 

I shouldn’t be asking myself that. Ever. 

Presently, you’ve gotten to know Jungkook for being reserved and fairly quiet, similar to how he was in high school except back then he actually spoke to you. But now, he is quiet and he doesn’t bother uttering a single word in your direction. The only times he ever addresses you is when he throws continuous jabs at you, landing every single one—he spews spiteful words of retaliation as a result of the shitty person were years ago and although you knew it was well-deserved that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Unlike his recently reserved outer shell, you quickly learned Jungkook’s mind traveled at the speed of light and for two days now, you could hear the constant battles of  thoughts breaking out in his head. 

Words crashed against each other; phrases were left abandoned half way through and ideas were left unfulfilled. 

You groaned smacking your silk pillow over your face, your mind was exhausted on overdrive and increasingly overheating all because Jungkook couldn’t ease his thoughts and empty his mind at five in the fucking morning. Who. . Thinks this much at such ungodly hours of the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet. 

The scattered clouds invaded the dark blue sky dusted in shades of purple. 

Does she think of me? 

I do. 

Did she ever feel what I felt when we kissed?

I did—I do. I still feel it. Similar to how the sun feels on you on a hot summer day, the sparks on their ignited route as they traveled through every single inch of your skin setting it alight even today. You felt it then and you could feel it now. 

Finally, his thoughts ceased and you guessed he’d probably drifted off into a slumber. He probably looked so peaceful you thought, grabbing one of your extra cushions, laid on your side and placed it in between your legs like a mommy pillow. Sleep came knocking on your door and your eyes began to feel heavy. 

Jungkook probably looked like an angel as he slept. You could picture him laying in a sea of his messy sheets against his golden tone. 

By the time you woke up once again, it was nine in the morning and the sun peeking in through the windows ripped you right out of your sleep. 

Your room door burst open, “hey! I knew you’d be awake. What do you have planned for the day?” Hobi took a seat on the edge of your bed. 

“Whatever happened to knocking? I could’ve been naked you know..” 

“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.” 

“Fair enough,” you laid facing the ceiling, “I wasn’t going to do much today just going to check Mr. Kim’s list. He posted it on the bulletin outside his class for our upcoming project.” 

“Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.” 

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be in the dance studio. You wanna come see me later?” His heart-shaped lips did very little to cover his pearly whites as he grinned, “I’ll give the front desk your name so they can let you up when you get there.” 

“Please, don’t forget like last time or I’ll have to fight someone for real this time,” you said. 

“Won’t,” he called out as he strutted towards the front door, “I promise. See you later.” You heard the door open and shut before you began falling asleep once again but the peace and quiet was very short lived because you heard him again. 

What did I even dream about?

You wondered the same. Was he the type to dream up cute scenarios in that pretty head of his as he drifted off for the night? Did your face invade his mind in the late hours of the night? You hope you did. 

Your name echoed in the basis of his mind followed by the emission of thunderous groans. 

He seemed. . frustrated. 

Ah, fuck. Yes, Jungkook just imagine it’s her. 

The image in your head was impure as soon as  you finally realized what Jungkook was actually doing. You’d imagined his hand disappearing under the base of the pyramid forming through his duvet. Stroking himself slowly, his head lolled back against his headboard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, while his eyes fluttered closed as his eyelashes batting away all reminders of reality. 

I want her touch—need it. So bad. 

You’d become too enthralled in the symphony of Jungkook’s whimpers that you hadn’t really noticed the death grip you had on your bed sheets as your knuckles turned white and the way your legs rubbed against each other in a desperate plea for some friction. 

This was private. Jungkook needed privacy and while your mind opened a portal which prevented that, the best thing you could do was ignore him and the sensual persuasion laced in his bedroom voice, no matter how desperately he called out for you, it wasn’t right. 

Ignore. 

God, I would fuck her so good. 

Think of something else. 

With my cock buried deep inside of her. Fucking her into my mattress until she’s shaking with the overbearing stimulation of pleasure. Until, even her own name becomes a mere afterthought. 

You grabbed your phone from the night stand but your lame attempt at a ‘distraction’ was useless. His words were addictive and you were already soaked right through your panties. Your sheets began sticking to your sweaty skin while Jungkook’s ardent words continued heating you up. 

She would take me so well. Fuck! 

A shower! That’s what you’d do—just take a cold cold shower to ease those thoughts and shut him out until he finally finishes. 

You hissed as the hard pressure of frigid water hit your body from the shower head, even this wasn’t enough to mask the way your body shuddered as Jungkook continued. It was even more enticing that after everything—after his hostile gazes and cold words your face was in the forefront of his brain as he touched himself.

His alluring thoughts kept on playing one after the other and your cunt became the victim crying out to him with patterned pleas he would never hear. Your juices strolled down your inner thigh mixed in with the streaks of water and you could no longer bear the desperate thumps of aching cunt. You were going mad, honestly his stamina and self control were all to blame. The combination was torturous.  

While you weren’t one hundred-percent sure of what he was doing the way his thoughts became sporadic weathering winds of pleasure and then tranquility. It was a cycle, he would be on the verge of succumbing to his peak and then all of the sudden he would stop. Before beginning once again and again and again. 

The viciousness of his desire lasted until right around the time you turned the shower off and you couldn’t tell if for the past twenty minutes you had been in your own personal heaven or hell. 

I hate how much I still want her. 

I hate that I can’t have her. 

You can have me, Jungkook. You can have me now, tomorrow and forever.  

The heat was overbearing and you could feel the way your tank became soaked with sweat and the thin fabric stuck to your body. You heaved as you pushed open the glass door into the English building. Mr. Kim’s room was on the third floor and the bulletin board was stationed right next to his door. After opting out of climbing three flights of stairs you ride the elevator up and exit out to look at the posted partners for Mr. Kim’s upcoming project. Walking down the main hall you turn left and there it is—there he is. 

The simplicity of his outfit was composed of a plain white tee, gray sweat shorts, and over the ankle white socks tucked into black slides. The colorful ink adorning his skin still peaked under the sleeve of his shirt, his black wavy hair rested on the nape of his neck. 

The hallways were completely empty and his back still faced you so you kind of just stood there unsure of what to say or do. I mean you’d heard him masturbating just a few hours ago and while you truly did not mind even the slightest you weren’t quite sure how to even interact with him moving forward. While he seemed to despise you for the events that unfolded back in high school this morning was a complete change of events. His voice was dipped in sex as he moaned your name until he finally came. 

God, why was it so hot in here? Is the AC really off mid-summertime? 

“Hey,” his doe eyes stared at you, studying your off-putting exterior. Your eyes were blown wide, your tank was still soaked with sweat and you just stood there ogling him, “are you okay?” 

He stepped towards you with worrisome eyes. ‘Oh yes Jungkook, I’m okay. I’m just picturing the way your hand climbs up and down the length of your dick, head tilted back, mouth slightly opened as groans form at the root of your throat. You know, the way you probably looked this morning.’ 

Instead you decided on a soft, “I’m okay.” 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he placed his hand on your shoulder and you nearly fainted at the intense heat emitted from his skin to yours, “here, sit down,” he guided you to one of the lounge chairs sat opposite Mr. Kim’s class, “have you drank anything today?” 

How could you kindly explain that was not the kind of thirst you were looking to quench. 

“No. .” you shook your head.

“Okay, okay,” he grabbed a water bottle from the black backpack sitting at his feet. You hadn’t even noticed it before, you had been so focused on him the entire time, “here drink some.” 

The bottle was half empty meaning his lips were on it and now your lips would be on it too. This wasn’t really what you meant when you said you wanted to feel his lips on yours but you didn’t really mind either. 

“Yeah, sorry, I got thirsty on the way here,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I can get you one from the vending machine.” 

You must’ve been looking at the bottle resting in his grasp like an idiot, “no, it’s okay Jungkook,” you rested your palm on top of his hand, “it’s not like we haven’t kissed before right?” 

His eyes turned a shade darker than their usual brown and he cleared his throat, letting go of the water bottle right into your grip, “right.” he stepped back as if you were a cactus ready to nick him with one of your spines, “I was looking at the list for Mr. Kim’s class and we are partnered together with Jimin for the project.” 

“Okay, should we meet at my place tonight or tomorrow? This is due this Monday,” you took a sip of the water tasting the remnants of Jungkook’s strawberry chapstick left behind on the rim. 

“I have a basketball tournament due tonight but we can meet tomorrow if you’d like.” 

“Tomorrow,” you repeated, “any time?” 

“After four?” 

“See you then.” 

For the first time in forever Hoseok had actually left your name at the front desk of the studio on campus. After being left up you walked in through the double doors of the dance studio where the music blasted at highest volume and your best friend’s shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden floor as he moved throughout the room swiftly executing his choreography with perfection. Hobi was a force to be reckoned with and dance was his element. 

“You’re here,” his professional and focused aura peeled back as soon as he saw you enter the room, “I need a break anyway.” 

You sat on the floor with your back resting against the wall of mirrors. 

“I’m here and I cannot believe I witnessed such perfection,” you clapped your hands, “I still cannot believe my best friend is talented enough to finally snatch me away from poverty.” 

“You know I got us,” he sat beside you before laying his head on your lap. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, “but let’s not forget you chose to be poor.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I can’t really help having idiotic parents,” you shrugged. 

“I know baby,” he cooed. Hobi was quiet which was definitely out of his usual nature where he radiated a blinding luminescent orb around his being. He fidgeted with the strings on his sweatpants and opened his mouth only to say it again. 

“Hoseok, you’re anxious and it’s making me anxious. Just say what you need to say.” 

You combed your fingers through his damp hair, “I saw they, your parents, left a voicemail for you last week. Did you ever get back to them?” 

“No,” you sighed, “and I don’t think I want to either. Everything they tried to do and were willing to do was truly wicked and unforgivable.” 

“You never told me what happened.”

“It involves Jungkook, of course, and everything we did while in high school, Yeonjun’s party the summer before senior year.” 

“The one he threw the week before school started?” 

“Yes.”

“To this day I still can’t remember shit about that night.” 

You chuckled, “a lot of our classmates don’t remember that night at all but I do. I remember every single detail.” 

He didn’t say anything so you continued. 

Yeonjun’s lake house was like a maze. There were numerous narrow halls with an array of doors carved on each wall and it was the same for every single corner you’ve turned into so far. The little bit of alcohol you had began clouding your mind and you felt more intoxicated than you actually were. Your kitten heeled black sandals clacking against the hardwood floor sought a way out of this elaborate labyrinth and back to what you originally came for. 

The music playing just a floor below faded as you traveled deeper and deeper into the second floor, although you could still feel the booming bass vibrating right under your feet. 

You just needed a bathroom—not because you actually needed to use it but because you needed to take a minute to yourself. . to breathe. Every other corner of this house including the back and front yards and even the fucking lake are already invaded by massive seas of drunk teenagers. Their voices were too loud, the music was headache inducing and the atmosphere adopted a stench of sweat and b.o. 

After ditching the red solo cup on a nearby console table, you leaned against the off-white walls closing your to block out the dim lights making you a bit lightheaded. 

Seriously, who even had this many fucking rooms in one house. You mumbled. 

Sure, your family was wealthy but you were nothing like the Choi family. Your parents were both doctor’s devoting their time to the tiny private practice the two of them founded but on the other hand Yeonjun’s family came from a long lineage of  businessmen and they practically owned a handful of the businesses for miles and miles around. 

You weren’t jealous of all of the extra zeroes attached to his parents’ net worth, you and your own lived comfortably enough to not have any financial complaints. However, his parents were more liberal and they didn’t clip his wings. They weren’t clingy or demanding and they certainly did not push anything on him that he didn’t want to do. Your parents were not this way, they were controlling, and they told you what to do and eat, who to hang out with and date. With covetous thoughts you wondered if there would ever be a point in your life where you could feel as free as Yeonjun did. 

Maybe now that you’ve turned eighteen things would be different. Doubtful—your birthday was a month ago and nothing has changed. Unfortunately, you still lived under their roof and relied on their money. 

You removed your shoes and hesitated whether to travel back down stairs and out somewhere into the depth of the forest but immediately erased the thought from your mind as you looked down at your bare feet, mini skirt and crop top. This wasn’t really an appropriate outfit to go off exploring the woods in the middle of the night. 

The minutes continued ticking by and finally you spotted a door at the end of the opposite hallway with a vertical rectangular piece of frosted glass cut right down the middle. Your feet traveled down the heated floors before your hand reached out for the black knob; turning it slowly. 

It was a rooftop balcony. 

The railing was wrapped in garden lights, while two sets of black cushioned reclining beach chairs sat around a propane fire pit. There was a massive grill to the other side, a bar that would put a nightclub to shame and a huge patio furniture set. 

Your eyes thoroughly scanned your surroundings before landing on the boy leaning against the rail staring at the idiots swimming in the lake below. For the first time since you met him approximately four years ago his legs were exposed under the light washed knee length jorts, he wore a white t-shirt and a pair of black and white checkered vans. Still, right up the alley of what his style embodied but you had to admit you missed his signature chunky boots. 

He still hadn’t noticed you so you walked up slowly, “I never thought I’d see you at a party like this,” you whispered in his ear before jumping right beside him. 

The moon rays reflected a twinkle in his dark eyes, “Yeonjun and I are cool.” 

“So, why aren’t you down stairs?” 

“Why aren’t you?” his gaze traveled from your black painted toes all the way up to your eyes as if he was studying you intently. 

“Too crowded,” you shrugged, “and not enough room to breathe.” 

Jungkook looked ahead, his vision once again consumed by the dark green and brown shades of the dense forest once again, his side profile put artworks all across the world to shame. 

“Yeah, same,” he added, “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret but parties aren’t really my thing.” 

“No way. . I’ve seen you at every party for the past three years,” he dramatically rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice and you chuckled before continuing a bit softer, “is this your first one?” 

Jungkook nodded, “first one I’ve been invited to and the first I’ve ever attended too.”

“We’re breaking records tonight aren’t we.” 

“I guess I’m feeling a bit audacious.” 

You sneered, “audacious? Big word.” 

“Don’t tell me you think I’m stupid like the rest of our classmates. .” 

“I did my internship in the main office last year which included sealing report cards and sending them off,” he walked to one of the chairs and laid on it placing both of his palms under his head. Was he flexing? Couldn’t be. “You’ve practically taken every AP class offered at our school and aced all of them too. It’s a miracle how you have managed.” 

“What can I say?” he smiled and his cheeks rose like two loaves of bread in an oven, “I’m all brains baby.” 

“Brains and beauty,” you corrected. 

“I can’t also be ‘beauty’ when you’re here; living, breathing, being,” Jungkook is the personification of all of your desires and his aura worked hard to draw you closer and closer in his direction no matter how hard you worked to stay away, for his sake. Even when you tried to repel away from him the gravitational force he exuded called out your name and your tympanum became inundated by the wails of his being. 

Only he lived in your thoughts. 

The video-like memories you have shot of him throughout the years loop in your mind day and night. It was dizzying but you didn’t want it any other way. 

“You are beautiful,” you let your thoughts roll off your tongue freely—too tipsy to care and too enthralled by his striking features to lie about what you truly felt. What you’ve been working so hard to suppress for the past few years. You were tired of hiding, so fucking tired, “with your big beautiful eyes, and your cherry lips and rosey cheeks and all of these tattoos,” you carried on, “oh, and those piercings. Don’t you know that Jungkook?” 

He was flushed and his head became tilted down as he played around with the silver rings on his fingers, “know what?” 

“That you are more beautiful than life itself.” 

Jungkook scooched over on the chair and patted the empty space beside him inviting you to sit near him and you did. He laid on his side while his face rested on his left palm. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked. 

“I only had two sips of Hobi’s drink,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been on cranberry juice most of the night.” 

“So this is not a case of drunken words you’ll forget once the sun comes up?” he leaned in closer and you could see the faint freckles dancing on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. 

His eyes sparkled projecting bright constellations never before seen in the heavens, “I could never forget anything about you.” 

“You know I can’t believe that right?” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’ve forgotten about me for the past year,” he smiled devilishly, “you haven’t spared me the time of day. I’ve missed your sneaky glances. The way you’d drop your pencil half way through algebra just to bat those pretty eyelashes in my direction kind of like you are now.” 

“I didn’t do that just to look at you,” you clutched the thin gold chain hanging from his neck, guiding him closer to you, “I was just genuinely clumsy.” 

“I’m just saying it’s funny how the pencil always fell in my direction,” 

“Forget the pencil, Jungkook,” shivers cascaded down your back as his lips hovered over yours—his breath fanning against them. The aroma of lemon, and mint, with woody and balsamic undertones tickled your nostrils. 

Jungkook shook his head, his eyes remained on your lips as you swiped your tongue along them, “it’s not about the pencil?” 

“It’s not,” you added, tucking the few strands of hair that framed his face behind his ear. You just wanted to lay there with him forever, to be consumed by the warmth of his embrace, to lose yourself in the tenderness of his kisses, to wake up next to him tomorrow and also every single day after that. 

“So just admit you wanted to lo—”

You lips landed on his and finally you remembered just how magical kissing Jungkook was except unlike that day in school the bathroom, today, it wasn’t a game. You were there on your own free will and you didn’t care who was around to see. The only concern clouding your mind was how much more of him you craved. The way your mouths moved each other made you feel inebriated, even more than alcohol ever could and you weren’t afraid to admit his lips had you addicted. 

The silver metal hoop hung onto the corner of his lip felt cold, but so good in comparison to his heated kisses. Despite where you were or how many people currently invaded Yeonjun’s house it felt like you and Jungkook were the only two people on the entire planet. Just the two of you with your lips dancing on each other with the moon and the stars baring as your only witnesses. 

Jungkook pulled away slowly—panting slightly, “please shut me up like that more often,” he held your face, resting his forehead on yours and pecking your lips continuously, “tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll always kiss my stupidity away.” 

You nodded, “Jungkook, how about I kiss you like that always and forever. Not only because of your stupidity as you call it but just because.”

“Are you trying to confess something?” 

He sat across from you on the beach chair taking your legs onto his lap, his soft hands massaged the soles of your feet. You swallowed back the guttural groan riding up your throat melting deeper into the chair due to his therapeutic touch. His fingers moved higher and higher up the length of your extremities, halting right above your knees, yet he continued kneading his fingers into your skin. 

“Tell me.” 

You hummed. 

“I need you to be an open book with me. What are you looking to confess?” 

Your eyes remained closed as he continued touching you gently—almost feather-like, “Jungkook, I can’t really think when you’re doing that. .” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No, please,” you pant. 

He continued kneading your thighs, “tell me.” 

From the tips of his fingers currents of electricity trickled onto your skin, “ah, fuck. .” you breathed, “I like you Jungkook. I like you. Okay?”  

Hobi sat up beside you, now leaning against the mirrors as well. The sun has begun its journey towards the horizon and its rays peaked through the slightly drawn blinds,  “wait so you guys. .?” 

You nodded but said nothing else. That night had been a secret between you and Jungkook. 

“On the roof of Yeonjun’s house during our senior year back to school bash?” The surprise in his tone was evident but you weren’t taken back by it all. 

“Yes,” you smiled faintly, unwilling to hide the giddiness you felt from the memories of your time together from Jungkook, “it was our little secret. We swore to each other we wouldn’t  say anything to anyone. That’s why I didn't mention anything to you before but obviously someone saw and word got out that same night.” 

Hobi sighed, “don’t tell me another fight broke out between him and your dumbass ex-boyfriend.” 

You shook your head, “this time it was different. I wasn’t scared of what others thought anymore. In that moment I decided I would stop caring. I wanted to stop hurting him,” your clammy hands began to shake slightly and Hobi placed his palms on top of them to stop their trembling, “that night after the party we rode around all night aimlessly. Enjoying each other’s company and truly I was the happiest I had ever been all my life. Everything went to shit as soon as I made it home and walked in through the door. My parents waited for me to get in, they sat me down and began rambling about my change in behavior and how different I had become.”

He hummed and you took that as a sign to continue. 

“As soon as I sat on the chair that night they slid over my mom’s phone and there was a picture of Jungkook and I kissing on one of the longue chairs. I swear I had dejavu from freshman year.” 

“Did you ever find who took the picture?” 

“I never did but I always figured it was one of my ex’s minions or something,” you shrugged, “to be honest, trying to figure it out was the last thing on my mind. They started talking and talking rambling on about my personality change and rebelliance and how Jungkook was the cause of it or some shit.” 

“How did they even come up with that?” 

“I asked myself the same thing,” you snickered, just thinking about it even now makes your blood boil, “but it didn’t matter. Being eighteen didn’t matter; they just wanted to keep us away from each other at all costs. They made all types of threats to make me press charges and file a restraining order which I obviously refused. Then, they vowed to make his life hell if I didn’t stay away and I didn’t want to find out what they meant so I decided to comply and stay away.” 

“Okay, now I’m beginning to understand why you moved in with my family half way through senior year,” his thumb rubbed circles on the dorsal side of your hand, “were they mad when you left? I used to ask my mom if your folks ever reached out but she always avoided the question.” 

“They were livid but nothing they could ever say or do would ever make me stay in that place.” 

“Did they manage to leave Jungkook alone?” 

“Well, after the big cut-off Jungkook and I were never able to find our way back to each other,” your voice was low, almost as if you couldn’t hear yourself it just wouldn’t be true, “and I moved in with you and your mom and I completely blocked them out of my life.” 

“Good. I’m glad you ditched them,” he pinched your cheeks, “you deserve better than them and their money’s no good to you anyway.” 

“I just wish I would’ve kept in contact with him. Maybe tell him what was going on or something,” you scratched the back of your neck obviously frustrated at your lack of communication skills as a stupid eighteen year old. You were such an idiot—why couldn’t you open your fucking mouth? 

“We all make bad decisions at one point in our lives but you had no choice, baby. You were sandwiched into the wall one bad choice up against another. You made the best decision you could with the circumstances at hand,” he snuggled closer to you, wrapping one hand around your shoulder, “don’t beat yourself up over it please.” 

“I love you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would ever do without you.” 

He kissed your forehead, “I love you more.”

Today Jungkook’s highway of thoughts has eased and though you liked how calm the morning has been you also kind of missed the feeling of his lingering presence—almost as if your own shadow was missing. 

You despised waking up towards the early hours of the afternoon but today you couldn’t seem to peel yourself out of of your bed, until finally you couldn’t fathom the idea of napping your day away—plus couldn’t do that even if you wanted to because Jungkook and Jimin would be over in about thirty minutes to begin working on Mr. Kim’s project. 

Jimin had been the middle man in this entire set-up, he had both of your numbers so he took it upon himself to text the two of your separately (because he knew you and Jungkook were physically impossible of initiating a social exchange amongst yourselves), and get you both on board with a neutral territory to meet at. Of course, Jimin’s idea of a neutral territory involved a place where he could catch glimpses of his ex strutting around which meant your apartment was his ideal meeting spot and although his thoughts hadn’t revealed anything so far you just knew Jungkook wasn’t ecstatic about this whole arrangement. 

After taking a quick shower, getting dressed and setting up a plate of sliced fruits and a couple bags of snack size chips and cookies you heard a light knock on your door. 

Taking a deep breath you turned the knob before pulling the door open. It was Jungkook and as always he looked breathtaking. You were beginning to think comfort was his go-to because yet again, he wore sweats and a simple t-shirt—tattoos still peeking out at you, his bottom lip still pierced with the same small silver hoop, hair half up half down and his book bag slung on his left shoulder. 

Removing his headphones he stared back at you as you continued ogling him, “hey. .” he greeted in his deep tone. 

Why is she staring at me like that? 

Do I have a stain or something? 

He looked down at his shirt but when he saw nothing he just stared back at you tilting his head slightly. 

“Hi,” you stepped out of his way and he finally crossed over the threshold into your apartment, “you’re the first one here so we’re just waiting on Jimin to make it before we begin. Please sit anywhere.” 

He nodded. 

The apartment wasn’t necessarily big but it wasn’t small either. An open floor plan made up the space between the kitchen and living room area with a rectangular island separating the two rooms. Immediately to the right of that was the door leading to Hobi’s room, then your room sat at the end of that hall just a couple feet away and the bathroom was just across from your door. 

Yet even as you walked towards the kitchen and Jungkook made strides towards the love seat in the living room you felt like the two of you were cramped in a tiny box with the temperature hiked to the highest setting. God, there were about a million things you could say or offer him but nothing could ever mend his broken heart and that was enough to keep your lips sealed tight. 

Where the fuck is Jimin? 

I don’t know if I can be here alone with her for much longer. 

And it’s so fucking hot. I’m gonna pass out. 

Fuck, you knew it. He’s upset. Though you already figured coming here was probably  hard for him, you didn’t imagine it would hurt you as much as it did to actually know how much he despised being in your vicinity, but it did. 

Jungkook sat rather stiffly on the couch, bag still slung on his back as if he was ready to leave, staring off into the distance while his leg bounced up and down anxiously. Strolling past him silently you nearned the thermostat and cranked the AC up higher.  

That’ll literally fix nothing at all. 

You turned around taking a seat on one of the accent chairs near the row of windows on the opposite end of the living room. If it wasn’t for the invasion of his thoughts, the silence would be killing you softly. 

“Have you heard anything from Jimin?” he finally looked in your direction but not into your eyes instead they lingered lower—in the direction of your legs. The hunger displayed in his eyes took you back to the night before when he moaned your name so sweetly. 

“Nothing,” you tapped your screen to show him the lack of texts and placing the phone back on your thigh, his gaze followed almost like he was hypnotized. 

You would give anything to hear him just one more time—Fuck, just once more. 

He cleared his throat, snapping out of those sinful thoughts cooking up in your head, “yeah, same. And I’ve texted him like three times.” 

“I’m thinking that little shit bailed even though he planned this whole thing,” you were scared to form your thoughts into actual words, “do you want us to start or would you rather wait for him?” 

He breathed out almost exasperated—damn, you should’ve kept the suggestion to yourself. You were about to take it all back but then he finally spoke up, “We’re both here now. I think we can begin and then fill him in. . If that’s okay with you.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s the best we can do,” did he just willingly comply with staying alone with you, “I’ll go get my notebook. Gimme one second.” 

“Okay.” 

Right. . Okay. Just here to get our work done. That’s all. That is all. Yeah. 

You sat beside him on the couch startling him just a bit—he seemed tense, “so we’re supposed to pick a movie, and match no less than three scenes to at least one of the emotions listed.” 

“I say we do the very minimum and pick the movie I’m sure we’ve all watched,” he asked, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook. 

“Titanic?” you asked. 

“No, The Blind Side,” he scoffed, “do we really want to sit here for one hundred hours just to recap the eternity that is Titanic?” 

“But the emotions for Titanic are so easy to dissect; we have happiness, love, and jealousy right off the bat,” you argued, “the assignment is practically done for us already.” 

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to do Titanic. We need to stand out. Be different.” 

“It’s an intro to writing class. I vote for taking it easy, weren’t you just moaning about taking it easy anyway?” your tone was a bit condescending you’d admit but the way he scanned your figure was addicting. There was nothing you craved more in this world than to have his gaze drink you in as if you were his favorite drink. 

“I wasn’t moaning.” 

I was last night though. 

You swallowed hard, biting your tongue and holding yourself back from going along with begging him to moan the way you’d heard him do so the night before. His husk groans so low and sweet, so fucking sweet, “But you were.” 

“It was a suggestion. There was no moaning involved.” 

“Well, maybe if you did moan I would cave and take your suggestion,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could ever stop them. 

He smirked, “so you just wanna hear me moan.” 

Don’t smirk. 

Eternally mad at her, remember?

The internal conflict raging within him gave you at least a little bit of hope. As you mapped out the field of his thoughts you figured he wanted nothing to do with but distance himself; to be cold and standoffish but he also revealed he wanted you. He wanted you near—to hold you, kiss you, touch you. 

It was confusing and headache inducing but you liked that you still lived in his mind the same way he lived in yours. 

You shrugged, “maybe I do.” 

“Please, don’t,” his eyes finally met yours. 

Look away. 

But he didn’t and you were glad he didn’t. 

“Do you want me to beg Jungkook?” you purred low and slow—the translation intended was desperation and you hoped he understood exactly what you were hinting at. You were tired of hiding behind your emotions. 

She’s a fucking pied piper and I’m the snake hyptonized by sweet song and mindlessly slithering towards her. 

Yes, Jungkook. Come closer, come to me. If only he could listen to your thoughts, this would be a whole lot easier. 

Fucking one way telepathy. 

“Uh,” there was a mere blank look plastered on his features. His pupils were blown and a soft tint of rose dusted his cheeks. It was as if your words had sucker punched him and he was still processing the hit. 

You moved closer to him on the couch, placed your hand on his thighs to balance yourself as you drew closer to his ear, “please, Jungkook. Please, I need to hear you moan again.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck! 

He groaned and the honeyed husk tone sent a trail of goosebumps up your thighs resulting in your panties becoming moist, “please.” 

“Jungkook, I want you,” it was the first time in years you’d heard those words adjacent to his name and fuck did it feel good. 

Fuck it. 

His calloused hands were now on your waist and he began guiding you to lay on the loveseat before your hand landed on his chest to stop him. 

“I said I want you,” you sat him back down before kneeling in-between his legs. The fit of his sweats got tighter, lifting and taking on the shape of a tent, “you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment so that means I’m in charge here today.” 

Tell her. It’s easy. 

Tell her you want her too, you fucking idiot. 

He never vocalized it but you didn’t mind—knowing the thought pranced around on his mind was more than enough for you. 

“Are you okay with taking these off?” he complied, taking his sweats off swiftly, letting the pool at his ankles. Jungkook is fucking big and you were taken back by the sight, “good boy,” you cooed. 

His head fell back on the headrest while his eyes were shut tightly and his breathing became uneven. Oh! He likes that. He likes being called a good boy; you made a mental note to call him that again if you find yourself in a similar predicament. 

You raked your nails along his inner thigh, “Jungkook?” 

He hummed. 

“What do you fantasize about?” you laid your head on his thigh, his dick just a couple inches away from your face and truly all you wanted was to take him all in your mouth. 

“Alot of things.” 

You reached up, taking his length into your hold and he winced at the contact as you began moving your hand up and down once and once again, “I need more details than that.”

“I think of. .” his words became jumbled in his throat as you continued your very mellow and teasing touch, “of you doing, ah fuck, of you doing all these things to me.”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head at his semi-confession, “Jungkook, have you touched yourself while you think of me, hm?” 

Of course, you already knew. You’d heard it yourself but you just loved seeing him become so affected and so sensitive as a result of your lewd utters. 

Your palms traveled up to his pink tip and began rubbing circles with your thumb painting it white with his precum. 

“Good boys don’t touch themself.” 

Jungkook’s mouth remained agape but there were no words communicated instead he formed a sort of soft whimper, and that was the kind of motivation your body needed to go into overdrive. 

You wanted. . No, needed to rid yourself of these suffocating ass fucking clothes, you needed to touch yourself—to release that tension aching so painfully in between your legs. But you didn’t. Today was not about you. 

“I know. .” he groaned, digging his nails onto the black leather couch, “but when I have you invade my thoughts,” he paused looking for all of the right words, “I just can’t control myself.” 

“Hm, seems like I have a lot to live up to compared to your fantasies,” you kissed the head enveloped in your hand before swiping your tongue along his shaft and he hissed. 

His saccharine noises should be made into a playlist so that you could be able to replay them over and over everywhere you go but especially when  you lay under the covers of your bed in the late hours of the night. The only thoughts occupying your mind would be the compositions of his lustful cries as your fingers worked diligently to get yourself off. 

It was so tempting to just allow his hands to continue traveling down your stomach and waist, a few more inches and his fingers could be at the exact location where your body screamed out for his attention. 

You wanted it so bad. 

You tutted while clicking your tongue, “sit back, Jungkook,” you removed his warm feeling away from your lower back and placed them on his knees before patting them softly, “and keep your hands to yourself. Yeah?” 

“It’s really hard to,” he said, “nearly impossible when you’re working so hard to get me off and you’re just sitting there squirming whenever I talk about touching you. Cause the thought has lingered around in your mind, right?” 

“Jungkook, this is not how tonight is supposed to go.” 

“Then, how is it supposed to go?” 

Your hand began moving up and down his cock, pumping him once again before you felt the corners of your mouth beginning to sting as you wrapped your lips around him. It was painful. . Good painful though. With each passing second you bobbed your head on his cock working to take him inch by inch but no matter how much you tried, it was nearly impossible. 

His hand snaked around your neck aiding you, sinking himself deeper into the warmth of your mouth. With strings of saliva streaming down your chin, puffy lips, heated skin and a sort of fucked out look in your eyes you continued the repetition. 

Seeing him lose himself under the ministrations of your touch and mouth was overwhelming and drove you to the verge of nearly succumbing to the peaking orgasm lurking close by. Instead you diverted your mind to what you were doing instead of what you felt. Placing one your hand around the base of his balls massaging them into your touch, while you put firm pressure with your thumb on the perineum—and that’s when you saw the explosion of fireworks erupt in his eyes while his thighs began to shake. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Her mouth is—fuck! 

“I’m so close,” a needy whimper escaped his lips, “please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Please.” 

You complied, nearly choking on his cock. The feeling of being nearly rid of your ability to breathe was addicting and yes, if tonight were to be your last day on earth it would be a pleasure to die with Jungkook’s dick in your mouth. 

“I’ve been a good boy,” he cried out, “can I please cum?” 

Been such a good boy. So good. 

You hummed in approval right before he spilled into your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it before turning to see his splayed out body—all limp and tired. 

After wiping the corners of your mouth you sat beside him on the couch. Your knees were red and stung just a bit but honestly you could do it all over again—all night if you could. Slightly, opening his eyes he looked down, placing a kiss on each knee. 

“I never thought we would-” he paused momentarily, “we would do something like this ever again.” 

“Really?” your voice became hoarse, “because I’ve thought about it for a long long time now.” 

“You have?” 

“I have,” you continued, “and I’d like to think you do as well but if you’re ever ready to actually admit what you truly feel you know where I’ll be.” 

I do want you. So bad. 

And my feelings for you have always remained the same. I still have feelings for you, I feel everything for you. I always have and always will. 

He didn’t say a word but simply offered a sly smile before slipping away to get himself together in the bathroom. 

… But you were not disappointed. 

He needed time and that’s okay. You’d be more than happy to give him the time to dissect this peculiar relationship the two of you have. . developed. It’s the least you could do after all these years. 

In your heart you just hope he finds his way back to you. 

“So you sucked him dry and then you both continued to work on the project like nothing happened?” Jimin asked; his head laid on Hobi’s lap. Yes, they were back together. This was apparently the reason why he had missed the project session the night before.  

“We were kinda forced to when your ass was MIA from the very meeting you set-up.” 

He rolled his eyes, “nobody forced you to suck his dick.” 

“Fuck you, Jimin.” 

“Why don’t you begin by fucking Jungkook instead.” 

“Jungkook and I aren’t fucking anytime soon,” you sighed spinning around on your desk chair. The ceiling seemed to come crashing down on you even as you thought of gravity of your fucked up reality, “it’s like I can feel that he still feels something for me but he just won’t vocalize it.” 

Hobi caressed the apples of Jimin’s pink cheeks, stroking them lightly with his thumb. They were the picture perfect image of love—whenever they were not fighting of course. 

“So you sucked his dick at the expense of what?” Hobi inquired. 

“I really just wanted him in my fucking mouth,” you shrugged not really wanting to scramble for any other explanation because the truth of the matter is all of you would always calls out for Jungkook whether you wanted to or not. 

“Oh, baby,” Hobi abandoned his place on your bed and kneeled in front of you holding your hands in his, “while I support all forms of slut revelations and tendencies as your best friend it is within my obligation to require you to tend after your heart.” 

You nodded. 

“Jungkook is alluring, captivating, mysterious and absolutely handsome—” Jimin cleared his throat behind him, but he ignored his boyfriend and proceeded, “and the two of you have a lot of history both good and bad but you have to understand what happened in the past is yesterday’s event. Jungkook can break your heart or hurt you in any way and it’ll be just as fucked up no matter what happened between the two of you back in high school. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Hobi was right but how could you shut out the part of your brain which justified every single way Jungkook could tear you apart? Underneath the spark; shining bright in your eyes every single time he appeared in your line of vision you knew you deserved his wrath for every inconvenience you had a role in while inserted into his path. 

“Don’t just say it. Mean it.” 

The room felt smaller, suffocating, colder and Hobi’s words rolled around in your head in every single direction. The three of you were sprawled around your full bed watching a random movie Jimin had picked out. You sat up against the headboard while the two of them laid on their stomachs facing the television hung on your wall. You weren’t alone but your bed felt empty and as you looked off to your right you couldn’t help but be transported back to last night when you and Jungkook finally settled on the Titanic.

The tragic telling of two people who found their way to each other against all circumstances and the barrier of societal norms and expectations that stood in-between them. Of course, aside from Leo unnecessarily dying in the final act this could be a retelling of pinpoints on your relationship with Jungkook. You liked each other, your parents were against it, you lived in the moment and you let your heart lead a way here and there but as soon as the iceberg (your parents, your ex, and even you) became introduced as the antagonist the two of you found yourselves swimming in an ocean of heartbreak and despair. 

You would always assume responsibility for every single way you hurt Jungkook in the past but if one thing must be crystal clear is that you also love him. You did back then and you do now—the only difference is that back then you were looking to please all of those around you and you suppress your feelings in the deepest pocket of your heart but you wanted to liberate it all. You were finally ready to listen to your heart.

It was a composition to a beautiful song, one so loud it courses through your very being, awakening your nerves and causing your thoughts to explode into a frenzy. 

You wanted him here with you. Snuggling into you sharing longing looks and deprived touches. 

You wanted him to be open and push all of his fears away. 

You wanted him to realize that you were different now. Things were different and you would treat him so well. 

I need to talk to her. Yeah. 

Almost as if his brain and his phone were wired together you heard a ding go off right beside you. 

‘Hey, can we please talk?’

Your heart sank because in your experience that sentence never led to a good thing. Never. 

‘Sure. When are you free?’

‘Right now.’

‘Hobi and Jimin are home. You can come over if you don’t mind some company or we can meet somewhere else?’

‘Come to my apartment in 5.’ 

‘K.’ 

Jittery was the exact word you’d use to describe Jungkook at soon as he opened up the door to his apartment and stepped aside to allow you in. The length of his finger had a slight tremble and his eyes were blown wide. 

You hadn’t really seen him like that in a while. 

“Jungkook, are you okay?” 

He nodded, “yeah, just a bit stressed with everything going on plus I’ve had like five energy drinks in the past five hours.” 

“What’s got you so stressed?” you asked standing before him, you felt hesitant to sit anymore. I mean you did have his dick in your mouth like less than twenty-four hours ago but you didn’t want to push it and you certainly did not want to invade his personal space. 

“Too many things, honestly. School for one. .” he ran a hand through his hair taking a brief second to determine exactly what he wanted to reveal to you, “work study plus now I'll be co-coaching the swim team as well.” 

“You’re headstrong Jungkook,” you offered, “I’m sure you’ll do amazingly even with this hectic schedule you are so determined to take on.” 

“I went to this psychic once and she told me my ambition to take on everything would lead to my demise,” he chuckled airily, “I’m beginning to think she was right.” 

“Psychics are bullshit. Who says you can’t have cake and chocolate ice cream too?” 

“Right,” you hadn’t noticed before but casual was Jungkook’s new staple. Seems like he has drifted away from his black boots and particularly dark toned outfits. You liked that version of him quite a lot, although you hadn’t really shown it in the past. However, you also liked the version of him standing before you where he maximized comfort and migrated to mostly tones of white, gray and nudes, “of course you would make that comparison. Cake and chocolate ice cream have always been your go to dessert combination.” 

“Isn’t it everyones?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “for example my nutritionist might say it’s too sugary.” 

“Well, fuck the psychic and that nutritionist of yours too,” Jungkook’s laugh is just like the rest of him—inviting, sweet and genuine. When he laughs, it’s addictive enough to make you want to make him laugh again and again, just so you can hear that sound and see her giggly smile as much as possible, “forreal, but also just remember you gotta just live in the moment, don't worry about tomorrow or even yesterday. Today is all that matters.” 

“I definitely agree but funny enough I kinda wanted to talk to you about what happened last night..” He cleared his throat, “on the couch of your apartment. Well you and Hobi’s apartment.” 

You looked down at your dusty white converse before finding his eyes once again, “what exactly did you want to talk about?” 

Go on. Go on. 

“We’re good right? Are you okay after—well, you know,” was he worried about hurting you after you suck him off yesterday? God, you could suck his dick all over again and then once more after that or preferably until your jaw locks and your knees dissipate. Though, that still wouldn’t be enough to extinguish the burning desire in the pit of your stomach. 

“What exactly are you asking?” you took a step towards him, “shouldn’t I be the one making sure we’re good especially considering all of our history together?” 

“Forget that.” 

Don’t bring it up, please. Just forget about it. 

“I can’t Jungkook,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure we’re okay and I wanna apologize for what happened. Please, let me do it. I don’t want you to resent me for the rest of your life because of it.” 

“There’s no need to. I forgave you long ago. The cold stares and snarky comments were always just a front,” he confessed, “I forgave you the second after everything went down.” 

“And I thank you for that but I still need to do this. I need to get it off my chest,” you reached for his hand; the warmth of his hold settled your nerves and finally you were able to go on, “Please, forgive me Jungkook. For going through with that dare and kissing you in the bathroom. I did want to kiss you but I should’ve never let them take a picture; it only made things worse for you. I’m sorry for not comforting you after your fight with my idiot ex, although I wanted to. I was scared but you were too and it was my fault so I should’ve been there. I’m sorry for ghosting you after we spent the night together at Yeonjun’s party—my parents, they gave me an ultimatum and I was just a high school senior still very dependent on them and I know that’s not an excuse but I managed to make it one back then. Most of all I’m so fucking sorry for not reaching out to you sooner and making things right. I just hope it isn’t too late now.” 

His hands abandoned yours and instead he leaned over before cupping your face, “I told you already. I forgave you for everything a long time ago.” 

“I appreciate your kind heart and forgiving nature, Jungkook,” you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in the process, “but still I needed you to know how truly sorry I am.”

“Please, stop apologizing,” he sighed, “the past is the past and you have no reason to be apologizing to me right now.” 

“You keep saying that but I did and I do,” Jungkook’s stare was comforting; his eyes felt like embers burning your skin under the sun rays shining bright during the mid-afternoon sun, “and I will continue to do so at any given minute. I need to make up for all of that lost time—every single minute; every hour I’ve let you slip through my fingers. You deserve to be treasured, loved and cherished for the rest of your days and I will do just that if you allow me to.” 

“What exactly are you asking me?” 

“I’m simply asking that we allow things to ride out and perhaps the tide might just take us somewhere beautiful.” 

He giggled, “do these sonnets just live in that pretty little head of yours?” 

“My head is more than just pretty,” you challenge. 

“I know that,” this is the giddiest you’ve ever seen Jungkook be. In recent times he had adopted a sort of hard shell, which he often wore like a shield but today as he leaned on his kitchen island with his head propped up on his palms he looked elated, “I just like the way you describe the potential of there being an. . us.”

“Do you like it enough to give things a chance? Maybe even go on a date?” the tremble in your extremities gave away just how truly nervous you felt, though you tried your best to hide it. You’d never asked anyone out before but for Jungkook you were willing to make the first move. 

She’s so poetic with her affinity for love. I like the way her eyes light up when she talks about us being together. 

“How about tomorrow?” 

“I’m free tomorrow.” 

The following day was a blur overshadowed by a nimbostratus cloud which swept in a vicious squall with gusts so powerful your room was left a literal mess as you spent hours prior to Jungkook picking up frantically looking for the perfect date outfit. 

Now, you sat in your little casual red dress in the passenger seat of the car Jungkook borrowed from his best friend. Your balmy sat atop your thighs and you tapped your fingers lightly on your heated skin. 

The night sky was beautiful—drowning with a million of bright stars and a moon so illuminating it spotlighted your path. Nightlife here roared with vibrancy and the sidewalks were congested with people bar hopping or looking for dinner spots among other things.  This scene had great capability in finally claiming your attention away from Jungkook and his sinful thoughts but it was hard. Every single image Jungkook painted within the beauty of his mind blasted in your head seemingly like a framed art piece in a gallery. Except, the only difference was that roaming around a museum was peaceful, whereas Jungkook's wandering thoughts made you quiver and sent glacial shivers down your spine. 

For the duration of the ten minute car ride he’s use the weapon known as his mind and managed to peel your clothes off, re-imagining the way your mouth moved on his cock, then, within seconds he painted a picture of what it would be like to fuck you against the hood of his car. You’d admit the depiction of you against the cold metal bumper with your dress hiked up to your waist, while he pounds into you relentlessly really was more than enough to ignite (with the man sitting behind the wheel; eyes hyper focused on the road ahead; and his tattooed knuckles gripping the steering wheel), about a million fantasies you wanted to fulfill with his assistance. 

But the urge to have the heat of his touch roam every inch of your body became abated when Jungkook parked his car and you found yourselves sitting across from each other in the red booth of a seafood restaurant on the pier. The incandescent bulb overhead did very little to irradiate the space between you and yet Jungkook still looked as radiant as ever. The muffled and incessant chatter of the patrons scattered throughout the establishment became similar to the buzzing of bumble bees and truly you weren’t really too sure you could make out conversations they engaged in. 

You were kind of nervous and although you’d hope it wasn’t too obvious you couldn’t help the way your eyes scanned the room and your body failed to comply with the simple order of sitting still. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook sat up on the leather seat and looked off outside the glass window drinking in the vicious waves as they crashed against the golden shore. 

You look beautiful every single day. 

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I see your signature black boots have finally made a comeback,” you followed his eyes out to get a view of the roaring sea, “I thought you might’ve grown out of them.” 

This look—tonight was the epitome of teenage Jungkook core and you couldn’t help but savor the brief stroll down memory lane. Of course, back in high school you’d always had a tiny little crush on him and while you worked to get over it; that was not an issue today. You were gawking—practically drooling at how amazing his biceps looked under the sleeves of his white tee, his black jeans hugged his thick thighs and his hair was tied half up half down and of course those damned black boots. 

“They’re my secret weapon. I just keep them in the back of my closet for special occasions.” 

I also know they were always your favorite look on me. 

“In that case, I’m honored that a night with me is considered a special occasion enough to bring out the boots,” Jungkook finally turned towards you, his eyes shining bright like jewels even in the shitty lighting. 

“I figured it fit our little slice of history perfectly.” 

“Don’t tell me these were the exact ones you wore that day? 

“They are the exact same ones.” 

“I thought you would have gotten rid of them with everything that transpired,” you whispered; talking about the past still felt taboo. 

“I contemplated that many times,” he shrugged then proceeded in a timorous voice, “but I just couldn’t. There is an abundance of bad memories attached to them but the memory of my first kiss trumps all negatives.” 

“Your first kiss?” Your shock was evident and for a second you had to look around just to make sure you weren‘t too loud but the people around the two of you were too into their own conversations. They were oblivious to the little corner you and Jungkook occupied towards the back of the restaurant—in your own little world, “I-I was your first kiss?” 

He nodded before taking a small sip of his water. 

“Jungkook?” 

He looked at you, “what?” 

“Are you being one-hundred percent serious. . I was your first kiss?” 

Jungkook pressed his lips into a tight line causing his cheeks to become impaled by his chasmic dimples; then, he closed his eyes briefly before taking a deep breath, “I was a loser in high school. Of course, I was spared a few friends but in the ‘love’ department I was lacking severely so naturally no one was ever interested in pursuing anything romantic with me. Until, that afternoon when the girl I’d been crushing on finally walked up to me in the bathroom.” 

“If I could go back in time and embrace the feelings that I had for you, Jungkook just to tell you how I actually felt I’d do it in a heartbeat,” your heart beat rhythmically in your chest and quickly you began feeling fatigued as if your air supply would be cut off if you didn’t peel back every single one of your layers and confess exactly how you felt. 

“If I could go back in time and tell you what I actually felt despite the consequences I’d also do it in a heartbeat,” he murmured, taking your hands in his. 

“Good evening and welcome to Under the Sea, can I get you started on anything tonight?” the server approached. Her hair was tied up messily and she wore a black polo and black pants while carrying around a small notepad and pencil in her hand. She seemed friendly but a bit overwhelmed—though, you couldn’t really blame her, this place is leaning a whole lot towards chaos. 

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Jungkook said, a fib of course, the two of you had been too busy talking to scan the menu before she came over, “I’ll take the Cioppino. Anything looking appetizing to you?” 

“I think I’ll take the Paella.” 

“And for drinks?” she asked scribbling away on her notepad. 

“I’ll have a Coke.” 

“Same here,” the two of you handed back the menu, “thank you.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she smiled before walking off towards the kitchen. 

The rest of the night at Under the Sea was brief and while you and Jungkook indulged in small talk here and there the two of you were starving and more concerned about getting something in your stomach. After leaving the busy restaurant Jungkook led you in the opposite direction of the parking lot towards the small park across the street from the beach. Right under the live oak tree there was a blanket laid out with numerous flameless candles flickering their feeble light around the very spot. As you got closer you noticed the basket sitting next to the blanket on the grass and the rose petals scattered around. 

“Jungkook. .” You became stunned at the attention to detail of the man before you. Everything looked so beautiful, “you did this all? W-when did you even have the time to set this up?” 

“I set everything up before our date and I know some of the workers from the restaurant and asked them to check in every once in a while and bring our snacks out like five minutes ago so nothing would spoil.” 

“You prepared snacks for us?” 

“More like I cut-up some fruits.” 

“In that case I’m judging your knife skills.” 

“Not too harshly though,” he tittered softly and airily. It mimicked the comforting tunes of lullabies, “come one, let’s sit. I have some things lined up for us tonight.” 

You sat beside him on the velvet fabric, you folded your legs to your side and used one of the spare blankets to cover your lap. Before you there were two medium sized tabletop easels and a selection of paints and brushes. 

Jungkook removed the white button up he’d left unbuttoned and kept on the white wifebeater. For the first time you finally had a full view of his sleeve; on full display. The black traces filled in with colorful shades adorned every inch of his right arm all the way down to his wrist. You had the urge to reach out and trace every single pattern but you held back—you and Jungkook were good but this is the beginning stage; first you have to dip your toe in and test the waters. 

She’s staring at my arms. . Be calm. 

Don’t flex. . Don’t flex. 

Dammit. 

He flexed, reaching up to brush a stand of hair back and out of his face. 

You smiled, “so, what’s supposed to be our inspiration for painting tonight?” 

“Each other. You paint me and I’ll paint you.” 

“Jungkook, I’m a lousy painter,” you whined. 

“The point isn’t for it to be good,” Jungkook began brushing soft strokes on the canvas, “it’s about the creative process. . the ideas that your mind interprets into art.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” you scoffed. 

“Art didn’t always come easy to me.” 

“How did you know this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?” you finally picked up a brush and squeezed a dash of paint on the wooden palette, allowing your hands to work freely—to create. 

“The first time I drew anything for others to see was in high school,” his eyes were gleaming with thoughts of reminisce, “Ms. Julie, reached out to me sophmore year, said she needed my help designing the yearbook cover for the seniors that year.” 

“I remember the cover that year,” Jungkook looked over at you and there was a layer of joy featured on his face, “it was absolutely beautiful and I also remember every single cover after that being just as amazing.” 

“Thank you,” his cheeks were a crisp crimson now, “I designed all of the year books every year after that as well. Actually, I still help Ms. Julie from time to time even now.” 

“That’s amazing. It’s truly a gift that your hands possess and I’m so glad we get to see what they create.” 

Jungkook stopped his movements all together, his gaze no longer set on the easel, instead he looked downward, his cheeks still burned bright, maybe a little more now than before and by the paced heaves of his chest he seemed to be calculating his every breath. 

“Thank thank you,” he stammered. 

“And just so you know I intend to shower you with compliments, so get used to it.” 

He beamed, “what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“What are your passions?” 

You shrugged, “Hm, I was never really good at anything back in highschool and while I knew I had to do something. I had a really tough time figuring things out.” 

“But then. .” 

“Then, I did an internship at the daycare on campus the summer before classes started and I realized how much I love being around all of the kids,” you said, “and at that moment I automatically knew what my major would be, come the fall semester.” 

“Funny how life works right?” 

“One-hundred percent.” 

The cool draft of the expeditious night swept by softly allowing you to leave behind the once scorching afternoon. Right now, you became a resident in your very own slice of heaven and in your head the only people around for miles were you and Jungkook. For the past thirty minutes, the two of you haven’t crossed many words, you were too focused on contextualizing the perfect artwork—one that’ll remind him of you wherever he sees it. 

Now, you were not an artist by any means but you tried nevertheless. The best interpretation of him you could come up with was to depict the sheer contrast between the different versions of himself. 

The two were slightly different yet when meshed together working symbiotically to make Jungkook the perfect mixture of tranquil, mesmerizing and lulling all in one. 

Your canvas was split in two—one side you painted baby blue with music notes substituting the clouds in what would be the bright afternoon sky and and a lousy excuse for a guitar sitting on the bottom. This was the version of him that lived inside and the one only a few people got to see. His mysterious aura and great passion for music. Then, on the opposite side you painted a black background in combination with it there was an abundance of colorful art supplies scattered all throughout. This one represented what he chooses to show and what many saw on the outside on his day-to-day course. 

After some finishing touches you moved back on taking one last look at your work, “okay. . Here, I tried my best but it’s not your face. Just some things that remind me of you.” 

“Let’s see,” he hummed excitedly, waiting for you to turn the canvas around. 

“Be nice, okay?” 

“I will, I will.” 

When Jungkook was excited there were a lot of distinctive actions that communicated with his body and expressions. His eyes lit up like the explosions of fireworks on a summer night; his shoulders were raised up past his jawline and his cheeks burned bright. 

“It’s not good, okay,” you beamed at his cheerfulness; it was cute how thrilled he was. 

“It’s perfect,” he leaned closer to sneak a glance, “come on. Let me see.” 

“Fine,” turning the canvas around felt like an invasion of privacy, although everything on it was solely about him, it was still like a clear window into your soul and how you saw him. 

You’d never been this vulnerable before with anyone. Never. 

He scanned the explosion of colors sitting in-between your hands. Jungkook’s lips curved up while the corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement. 

“This is amazing and absolutely the best depiction of everything I love.”

“Don’t lie to me, Professor Picasso.” 

“I don’t lie about art,” he reached for it and you placed it in his hands, “and this is a masterpiece.” 

You scoffed. 

“I’m serious,” he argued, “this is going up on my art wall. Front and center.” 

“This better be the only thing on your art wall,” you muttered. 

Jungkook finally grabbed his canvas holding it close to his chest. . Well, as close as he could due to the wet paint, “Here’s mine.” he still had not turned it around for you to see. 

“You know you actually have to turn it for me to take a look.” 

He chuckled, “I know but nervousness is contagious. . Just gimme one second.” He took a deep breath before slowly turning the canvas in your direction and there you were. Same facial features, hair style and red dress you had chosen for the night. The talent his fingers convey is jaw dropping. It is evident Jungkook is an amazing artist through and through. 

“Jungkook. .” You knew he was good; you’d seen the covers he had designed for the highschool yearbook back then, still, that didn’t prepare you for this in the slightest bit to see yourself from his point of view, “I don’t have an art wall but this will definitely be the beginning of one in my apartment.” 

He guffawed while passing his painting over. 

“I’m serious,” you continued, now closely examining his precise attention to detail. He got every single attribute down to the smallest scars and birthmarks, “your talent is impeccable. Just look at how amazing this is.  It’s actually not fair at all. I want mine back.” 

“No way! You can’t take back gifts you have already given away to someone.” 

“Yes, I can,” you argued, “especially if my gift looks like shit next to yours.” 

“It most definitely doesn’t. I already told you, I love it and it’s going up on my wall and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he leaned closer, placing a soft peck on your forehead and clutching the painting tight in his grasp. 

You groaned admitting defeat, “but I am expecting a lot more paintings from you.”

“Always.” 

Of course. As long as you’re beside me, and even if some day for some reason you aren’t, you’ll continue to be my muse forever. 

His muse. You love the sound of that. 

The sound of the pouring rain beat rhythmically on the glass window. For the next few hours your bed was your haven and Jungkook’s bare arms were your form of a warm blanket.

Although the clock on your night stand marked four o’clock, the day was as dark as night and as the sun refused to come out to play the dark nimbus clouds invaded the stretch of the expansive sky, refusing to allow even a single ray of light to illuminate your bedroom. 

The power had gone out but the two of you had lit up some candles in various locations of your room. You were both in your underwear, semi-sticky with a thin layer of sweat coating your entire body as a result of the air conditioner no longer being on. 

Even in the heat the two of you couldn’t untangle yourselves from each other. 

“We’ve been laying here in the heat for hours,” his fingers raked over your shoulder and down to the middle of your back. 

“There’s nowhere we can go to cool down for the day. I’m afraid these four walls are it for us today,” you complained. 

“And moving will only make us hotter.” 

“I think the two of us being tangled up like this is already making us hotter.” 

His hands tightened around your waist, “yet there’s nothing you can say to let me go.” 

“Then, it’s a good thing I don’t want you to let go,” you crossed your arms on his chest and laid your chin on them; looking up at him through your lashes taking in his figure as he laid back against the headboard. 

“Why are you looking up at me like that?” he asked though his eyes were still closed. 

“I just like having you. . here.” 

“In your room?” he asked. 

“In my life,” you confessed, “I guess I never thought we could make it here again.” 

“I had faith—hope. I knew that eventually we would get to talk and forgive each other.” 

Every fight and every bicker was a call to drive you closer to me. Immature I know, but it was all I could do and say to get close to you. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong to me, Jungkook,” you traced lines over his collarbones leaving before sparks of electricity; you felt as they traveled down to the tip of your finger, “if anything I was constantly praying you’d forgive me.” 

Forgiving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.  

“I walked away after Yeonjun’s party,” he caressed your cheeks with the pads to his finger, “that was my worst mistake and I knew exactly how it looked too; like I just hit it and quit it.” 

“You didn’t hit it and quit it, Jungkook,” you sighed, “I did that to us. I was the one who walked away from us. None of it was your fault.” 

“But I let you walk away. I didn’t fight for us.” 

“Hey,” you cradled his face in your hands, “I didn’t let you fight for us. This is on me.” 

But I never went searching for you. I just let you—walk away. The night you got up from that longue chair on the rooftop of Yeonjun’s house I thought that was our beginning; I just never thought it could be our end instead. 

“It’s on us,” Jungkook leaned into your touch, softly moving his cheek against your palm, “but we can only work to overcome our past. . Together.” 

You held onto the gold link looped around his neck, clutching it in order to pull him towards you until finally your faces were just an inch away from each other, “Together.” 

“Kiss me, please,” his breath fanned across your lips as you continued guiding him closer and closer to you—his eyes were closed once again and he completely succumbed into this trance of your navigation. His lips were warm and velvet; parting slowly before they landed on yours. You became lost in the way your heartbeat continued beating faster and faster. The soft ballad of the steady thrumming tickled your ears and along with the taste of his mint lips on yours you began feeling a bit faint. 

The room was still hot, the power was still out and you still sat on Jungkook’s lap but now you became exhilarated riding off the feelings in the way your body connected. It wasn’t just the kiss—no, it was also the way his electric touch began tracing the lines outlining your body, traveling down between your breasts, then down your stomach and up your sides until they rested on your hips. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed around with the elastic waistband of your panties, rubbing small circles on your lower back. 

You were breathless pulling away from that kiss but in between breaths you managed to pull his forehead against yours before allowing yourself to speak one again, “Jungkook, can I tell you something?” 

He nodded. 

“I-I want you, Jungkook,” your brain felt like it melted right into mush and there were no coherent thoughts in your head that didn’t revolve around Jungkook. 

You were dickmatized. Yes, you were. 

“You have me.” 

“I want all of you.” 

“Take it all,” he whispered. 

Do anything you want to me. Do everything you want to me. Do whatever you want with me. I am yours for the taking. 

You felt the beads of sweat strolling down your body accompanying the slight tremble in your every movement. Still, you moved with the facade of faux confidence and soon you found yourself straddling his thigh, sinking down against his heated and sticky skin. Indulging in a steady pace you began moving back and forth against his thigh all while holding onto his shoulder for support. Jungkook’s head fell back against the wall but his hands never left your waist guiding your movements to the quickened beat of desperation. 

“You look so pretty riding my thigh. You know that?” he smirked; his cheeks were the tone of wine. Jungkook bit his lip to maintain focus on the sloppy motion he continued to maneuver. 

You hummed entirely consumed by that heated feeling in between your thighs—entranced in the way his soft whimpers only guided you towards that very place where you could finally reach out and touch the stars. 

“Fuck—fuck, keep going, yeah?” you stammered never ever wanting him to stop being the root of your every desire. 

What gave her the impression that I’d stop? This. . Us, it just feels so right. I will never be able to live in a reality where the image of her getting off on my thigh could ever cease—not after today. Not ever. 

“Just-just let me guide you, baby girl,” his voice was low and husk followed by a series of unpaced breaths. 

“Take me there, Jungkook,” you moaned. 

Oh, fuck—I’ll take you there baby. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you there. 

His fingers dug into you while his fingernails left behind marks of deep crescents traced on your skin. The guidance of his movements was near animalistic and the fabric of your panties was now sticking to your juices and there was nothing you craved more than the desirous urge to unravel under the trance of Jungkook’s ministrations. 

Back and forth; back and forth you moved reaching higher and higher as your fingertips brushed touch the points of the luminous star and before you knew your teeth sunk into his shoulders suppressing your moans and your hips no longer followed the rhythm he previously set and you were finally swimming in the night sky—so high; so satiated. 

“Oh,” you breathed, “that-that was amazing.” 

“You tired yet?” he asked. 

“Not at all.” 

Jungkook hugged your waist and flipped the two of you over; your bodies pressing together heatedly against the ocean of sheets, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together once again. His hands quickly dipped under the waistband of your panties reaching for your inner thigh, until you felt him press the pads of his fingers in between your folds smearing the combination of your juices. After  his torturous teasing he slipped two fingers pumping them in and out of you quickly. 

“Oh, baby,” he finally pulled away from your lips, allowing a string of whimpers to slip past your swollen lips, “you feel so fucking good.” 

“Jungkook, faster please,” you rocked your hips to match the beat of his fingers moving in and out of you. 

“Is that what you want?” he hummed, “tell me. You want to cum at the mercy of my fingers?” 

“Yes-yes. That’s what I want please.” 

Jungkook laid beside you on the bed with his face buried in the nape of your neck. His hand still worked diligently to get you off as he whispered soft praises against the shell of your ears. You were in your very own depiction of utopia—euphoric with stimulation of endorphins. 

“I’m close-close, Jungkook,” you dragged your nails down his back, likely leaving streaks of red trails behind as he quickened his pace. Meanwhile, you felt your body temperature skyrocket and the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened until it could not become any tighter and for the second time that night you felt how the storm passed and once again you floated throughout the night sky. 

While Jungkook strove to read your body like the ink inscripted into the pages of his favorite book; the absence of his wandering hands made you feel empty—as if you couldn’t really breathe. At all. 

“What happened, baby girl?” his lips traveled downwards on your body while his hands finally worked to unclasp your bra, (two orgasms later you couldn’t believe you still had all your undergarments on), and now your breasts became the forefront of his attack and leisurely he took each nipple in between his teeth smirking at your gasps and shudders as a result of your sensitivity, “are you the one who can’t stand the rule of not touching today?” 

“Ah—,” he lightly bit the side of your left breast before kissing it better, “the only thing I hate right now is that your dick isn’t in me right now.” 

He laughed; the booming sounds struck just like the raucous cries of thunder just outside your windows, “what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I can feel how hard you are against my leg.” 

“What? This?” Jungkook sat-up on the bed working to remove his boxers. When he finally did he discarded them to the pool of clothes somewhere on your bedroom floor while his cock sat before you like it had been a few days prior.  Jungkook laid back down in front of you, placed a tender kiss on your forehead before he moved closer towards you, lifting your leg up and allowing it to rest on his hip. Once positioned he began rubbing the head of his cock against your clothed slit —especially focusing on the sensitive bud. 

He traced the lines of your lips over and over until you couldn’t take it any longer and tears began filling your eyes and you chanted hastely begging him to fuck you right into the mattress. 

“Please, Jungkook,” a needy whimpered rolled off your tongue, “please fuck me, please fuck me please.” 

Jungkook was now on top of you and he reached down, moving your soaked panties to the side before he lined himself at your entrance. You closed your eyes anticipating that moment when his cock would slip in and stretch you out so good you’d feel full beyond relief. And just as you imagined he slowly pushed himself past your entrance, your mouth fell agape at the sensation of his cock invading you inch by inch. 

The feeling was immeasurable and better than anything you’d ever felt before. 

“Will you be okay if I move?” he asked almost out of breath. 

You nodded frantically.

“Just let me know if you wanna stop at any point, okay?” he remained still. 

You nodded once again. 

Jungkook moved cautiously, setting a lento rhythm—almost as if he thought you’d break if he fucked into you too hard. His tattooed hand brushed your heated cheeks as he continued his agonizingly slow thrusts. The room was still silent for the most part except now in company to the pitter-patter of the pouring rain the two of you contributed your very own duet composed of his guttural groans mixed and your shaky pants. 

His lips left sweet kisses behind on both of your cheeks, then your nose, your chin and lastly your forehead. 

She looks so fucking beautiful like this; all sweaty and aroused just for me. Fucked out just for me. I’m so lucky. So lucky. 

“Jungkook?” you tucked your bottom lip under your top row of teeth. 

“Yes?” 

“Deeper, please,” you whined, “not faster but harder. I want to feel you deep in me.” 

Deeper? Fuck. She’s gonna be the death of me. I swear she is. I’ll fuck you just how you’d like baby girl. I’ll fuck you right. 

“Okay—okay,” he stammered. 

Jungkook stopped his movements and pulled out momentarily as he adjusted his position in between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing past your entrance once again, and yes, it felt just as jaw dropping as the first time. Jungkook’s pace remained lento except now whenever he was about to push back into you he made sure to lunge himself deeper causing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours to echo within the walls of your room. 

“Oh, Jungkoook,” you let out a drawn-out moan, chanting his name repeatedly, “right-right there, oh, Jungkooook. Right there. Please don’t stop.” 

He continued penetrating you just as you wanted until once again, for the third time that night, you were on the very edge of the planet. You could see the exact place where the sky met the earth. Trotting towards the phenom you felt the way your heartbeat quickened and finally as you approached you began clenching around him until you witnessed an explosion of stars behind your eyes; a feeling so blissful your knuckles turned white as you clutched the sheets underneath you in your grasp. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. .” he hissed pulling out quickly. 

“What’s wrong?” you gasp at the feeling of emptiness now substituted by a ravenous void. 

“I almost finished inside of you and we forgot to wear a condom,” his cock was held tightly in his hand.

You swiped your tongue on your lips, “would you like some help with that?” 

“That is not how today is supposed to go,” he mocked. 

“Fine,” you shrug, “but I was going to offer my body as an alternative.” Jungkook’s  pupils become dilated, your words obviously peeking his interest, “come on my face, Jungkook.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” 

Jungkook towered over you on the bed, kneeling right beside you on the bed—by now you were spent, too tired to do anything but lay there and admire the way his head hung back as he worked to find his release. The design of his tattoos followed suit beginning all the way from his shoulder blade, to his flexed and veiny bicep all the way down to the tight clasp of his finger around his shaft moving hastily from base to tip. 

“Look at you, baby girl. All eager for me to come on you,” Jungkook said through clenched teeth, “you’re so naughty for me. All for me.” 

“All for you, Jungkook,” you repeated, “I can’t wait to feel just how warm you’ll be on my face. Come on, baby. ” 

Your mantra of praises rolled off your tongue semi-automatically but you were needy to feel his seed on you so you continued using your words to aid him in the process of jerking off. He continued moving his hand up and down his length until the tip became painted white with drops of pre-come. 

“I’m almost—” he cried out; his guttural whimpers sent waves of glacial shivers interlacing with the ridges of your spine. 

“Yes, Jungkook. Be a good boy.” 

“I am a good boy,” his labored breathing came out in puffs, “I am. .” 

“Then, come on baby. I’m waiting.” 

Jungkook was immersed in what you knew was likely the build-up of his approaching release. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly, while the muscles in his stomach tightened accentuating his already sculpted physique while his cheeks turned a bright scarlet. 

“I’m coming!” He cried out. 

The spurts of his white semen painted your face as he worked himself to the very last drop. Even in his moment of release Jungkook was careful enough to aim towards your mouth and chin and you licked everything within reach of your tongue. 

“Let me get a wet rag and I’ll clean you up okay?” Jungkook stood from the bed and placed a kiss on your forehead before walking towards your bedroom door and opening it up. 

A few seconds went by and suddenly you heard a loud shriek and a plethora of muffled words which sounded a lot like your best friend, Hoseok. Not a lot of time went by before you saw Jungkook enter the room frantically before slamming the door shut and leaning against the wooden surface. 

“Hoseok’s home?” you laughed. 

“And Jimin.” 

“And they saw?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Please remind me to never leave this room naked again.”

“Yes! Please remind him!” Hoseok yelled from just outside the door. 

A bursting titter erupted between the two of you and Jungkook climbed back into bed with you before he helped you wipe off the mess he’d made on your body, then laid down beside you. 

“Can I ask you something?” You began snuggling deeper into his embrace. 

“Yes?.” 

“Will you stay here tonight?” You asked barely above a whisper—barely audible. 

Jungkook rested his chin on the crook of your neck, “of course, I’ll stay with you tonight.” 

There was no place you’d rather be than embraced in the solace of Jungkook’s warmth. 

Tonight, tomorrow, and forever after that. 

I’ll always stay with you.

-

-

-

an: you know what im about to say right? ignore the smut scene ~if you must~ it literally took me like two weeks to write because my brain wasn’t working >.<

i literally started working on this like a week before seven released…. *gulps*

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; the painter‘s hidden identity is made known. wc, 3.42K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back with this storyyyy. getting near the good part which also means the end but not just yet sooo just keep reading. hope ya enjoyyyy and reblog to support meee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART THREE

the art class was bustling with students, the scent of paint and clay wafting through the air. choso sat at his usual spot stealing glances from you. the professor announced a small project; drawing and painting your partners. but there was a twist—only two colors could be used.

choso’s heart raced as ideas began to flood his mind. everyone scattered around to their new seats and the male instantly scooted next to you. he smiled at you. it was something about that shy smile he gave you before he quietly asking if he could draw you.

“let me draw you first,” you smiled. “i don’t want you getting caught up with me and i completely forget to draw you.”

“oh, i don’t know…i’m not really good with posing or anything. and i’m not able to sit still for very long.” choso warned but you only smacked your lips as if the boy was spewing nonsense right out of his teeth.

“quit doubting yourself. you got nice style and your face would literally be perfect on a magazine cover maybe even in the art show that’s coming up.”

“art show?” choso raised a brow. for someone that loved art contests and taking trips to museums just to stare at the portrait hanging on the white walls encased in an embezzled gold frame, he seemed surprised about this information.

“yeah. don’t know how you haven’t heard about it but i was thinking of putting my painting of you in once it was finished.” you looked down at your blank canvas that was resting flat on the table just as it did when you first arrived to class.

“oh, no, you shouldn’t—i mean..you can if you want to it’s your painting but…i really don’t like being the center of attention. i don’t really like being stared at.” choso explained. he bit down on his lower lip and he sighed.

“come on, it’ll be a powerful piece.” you beamed. “i feel like it’ll really make an impact on the audience. and i promise i won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

choso hummed, his lips pursed before speaking again. “um…well if you think so highly of the piece then i guess i can’t say no. just promise you won’t tell anybody it’s me.”

“sure. now just hold still for me.” you say with a smile.

classes finally end for the day and the two of you made progress on your art pieces. you decided to ask choso to spend the rest of the day together, to which he agreed to without hesitation.

you both gathered your items and headed out into the bustling city of tokyo. the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. you and choso arrive at a cozy cafe and settled into a booth by a large window, surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

the two of you had been there for a good thirty minutes talking about whatever came to mind, bouncing from topic to topic and bookmarking whatever part of the conversation you thought was interesting for another time.

“so, choso, you’ve always been into art?”

“yeah, well, i’ve always had a creative side, but i never really pursued it until recently. art helps me express things that are hard to put into words, you know?”

you nod. you never seen his art before and you just wondered how he had done things. your eyes travel over to the tote bag that was sitting flatly beside choso’s thigh. you fixed your lips to speak but a camera flash went off. you were pretty used to his off guard photos ever since the two of you started to hang out more often.

“can i see?” you leaned your body over the polished wood table before choso lowered his camera.

“not yet.” he answered. “mmm…i’ll show you when the project is complete. until then, i’ll have to hold off on showing you.”

you pout but you could understand why choso was being a bit selfish with his crafts. instead of begging to see a photo of yourself, which you prayed you didn’t blink in, you pointed to his bag.

“why don’t you finish your sketch? i mean, we have a lot of privacy right now and we don’t have any classes tomorrow. i also wanna watch you paint. its something about watching an artist in action is just so satisfying.” you say.

choso, lost in the depths of his own world, takes a sip of his green tea when he hears your unexpected statement. he recently started drinking it a bit more since that was the only thing he actually liked besides ice water.

feeling a surge of nervousness and excitement, choso shifts in his seat. painting in front of someone, especially you, made him feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to.

“i’m not sure…” choso looks down at his cup half filled with tea, which still had smoke billowing from it because of how hot it was. “i’ve never painted with someone else in the room before. it’s a pretty personal process for me.”

“c’mon, please? just for a minute.” you pleaded, clasping your hands and intertwining your fingers to be dramatic. choso chuckled at your silly behavior and simply sighed.

“let’s head back to the school and you can watch me work in my room, fair?” choso looks at you, awaiting an answer. of course, you agree.

back at jujutsu tech, you and choso were settling in, slipping your shoes off once you entered the room and placing your bags together against the wall.

you were amazed at how much space he had and how organized he was. the books on the bookshelves were all in size and color order and so were the cute little jars of paint that were on another shelf but you noticed that there was no red paint.

the desk was neatly organized also with choso’s laptop and ipad with its stylus side by side, charging. there was a mug with a bunch of pencils and pens and another cylinder item that looked handmade and painted with brushes in them. you assumed choso made it.

there was an easel in the corner of the room by the large windows that had blinds that would be shortly opened to let in some of the remaining light as the sun set. choso grabbed a few brushes and the rolling chair that sat at his desk and pulled it over in front of the easel and sat down. the male then reached for the canvas that had the drawing of you from his bag and placed it onto the easel. he looked pretty prepared now.

“you mind filling me a cup of clean water from the faucet?”

the question snaps you out of your awe-stricken mind and you nod. you went to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup that didn’t look like it would be used any time soon and filled it with water then brought it back to choso. he directs you to place the cup on the desk before thanking you for the simple gesture.

you noticed choso had his eyes closed now, taking a few breaths before removing the bandage on his nose and trashing it. you saw how blood shot from the black mark running over the bridge of his nose and onto the palette that was in his lap.

choso picks up one of the brushes and dipped it into the crimson liquid that had also been running down his face and began to paint. once the brush hits the canvas, all his nerves seem to dissipate, replaced by the familiar focus that comes with creating.

as choso dips his brush into the blood-infused paint, the room falls silent. the only sounds are the soft scrapes of the brush against the canvas and the occasional drips of paint.

you watched as colors of red and black filled the canvas. you weren’t familiar with the meanings of specific colors but the way you were drawn on his canvas as royalty, you could see sophistication and passion. choso put the brush down and rolled up his sleeves and began to use his fingers to paint. smearing the colors together with his knuckles.

your eyes sparkled, entranced, as choso’s knuckles danced across the canvas, blending the deep reds into the black that was present. the male was aware that he was in need of a palette knife but he’s never gotten the time to buy any.

“the way you use blood for your art is actually unique.” you spoke, breaking the silence. “i guess it adds depth and richness that’s hard to describe. it looks like the painting is alive almost.”

you were seeing it with your own eyes, his art style was hauntingly beautiful. you never seen anything like it. this whole scenario made you wonder if blood was often used when he painted or was this just a perfect coincidence. you slouch in your chair, in thought once again.

“blood has always been a part of me. a part of everyone, i should say. but mine is a curse and a blessing. incorporating it into my art feels natural to me. it’s like i’m putting a part of myself into each piece.” choso murmured.

“um…you know, i never heard you talk about your parents much, only your brothers. they must be really proud of you…you being all smart and artistic and such.” you say softly.

choso’s hand freezes mid stroke, his expression darkening. he sets down his brush and turns to face you. you see how that empty expression of his appeared onto his face again.

“my parents…they’re not in the picture. my mom isn’t alive and my dad was never proud of me. he only saw me as a tool, a weapon to be wielded. i’m happy he left me behind…”

your expression softens. on the outside, choso looked like he had it all. he was attractive, smart, talented, hell if he wasn’t the smartest guy around he probably would’ve gotten in just for being attractive and talented. he seemed perfect. but in reality, he was living in a fucked up world holding on to his creations for comfort.

“i’m so sorry, choso. i probably shouldn’t have brought that up and make you relive painful memories. but despite your past, you managed to create something beautiful out of the darkness. that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

choso nods, his gaze returning to the painting. he picks up his brush once again, lost in thought. he exhaled from his nose. though the topic did hit a nerve, he felt like he could trust you.

“it’s…fine i guess. it was a while ago. my brothers were the ones who helped me escape that life. we all live for each other and nothing can make me change that narrative. they’re my family and we’ve been through a lot together.”

“they must be really important to you, huh? you see them often?” you query. choso nodded again.

“as much as i can. i don’t really have the funds to constantly take train rides back and forth from my house to here and vice versa. we try to stay in touch, the most i can do is call them each night. yuji and eso are busy with their own business and you know they have to keep kechizu close because he’s pretty childlike and clings to eso like he’s his savior.”

you noticed the small smile on his face as he spoke of his brothers. him being the eldest, you would’ve expected him to severely despise his brothers but it seemed like he couldn’t even say the word ‘hate’ when talking about them. it was actually pretty sweet.

as the evening comes to an end, you find yourself standing outside of choso’s room and he’s leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves still rolled up, revealing thin strips of stitches along his forearm.

“what happened to your arm?” you point, making choso break his gaze and follow your finger to where you had been pointing. he only shrugged.

“a stupid accident. nothing too much to worry about.” he answered, rubbing the brand new bandage he had over his nose. his cheeks were still a little red from the blood that had been running down his face earlier.

“you should keep your bandage off. that mark is a part of who you are, and you know i accept that.” you say. choso is taken aback by your words, his hand instinctively touching the bandage again.

“it’s…not easy. people have always been afraid of me because of what what i am. it’s just easier to keep it hidden.”

“but you don’t have to hide from me. i see you, choso, for who you are, not what you are. you’re a human just like any other person here. and i think your mark is pretty cool, actually.”

choso couldn’t help but smile at your words. maybe—just maybe you had a point. maybe it was time for him to change his ways. get out of his comfort zone a little.

“um…yeah, thanks. i’ll think about it. goodnight.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“and this one would be called ‘the blood painter’.” the announcer spoke as the crowd followed around. it was perfect. better than anything else being displayed. choso stood in front of the painted canvas, staring at his own face looking down at his own partially painted portrait with a crimson liquid dripping from his nose and onto the canvas. there was a white cup filled with tea, which had been leaking from the sides as if it were overfilled.

his hair flopped down into his face before lifting a hand to brush it back with his fingers. he was awestruck. how could you have painted something like this with almost no experience. he could’ve sworn you said you were horrible at this kind of thing…maybe his memory was faulty.

“it’s perfect….” you hear him mumble as he stepped closer to the portrait. he was so tempted to touch it but he abided by the rules of not touching or taking any photos of the paintings being displayed. “how did you do this? you couldn’t have—no, you did…but this is so different from your drawing.”

“it was only a sketch. a way to get your features and everything properly. but a few days ago when we hung out, i thought i’d make something more expressive.” you grinned.

“i’m impressed.” choso’s eyes sparkled. “it’s like you captured my soul onto the canvas. i mean, i’ve seen art that expresses the soul of another person but this one is—wow.”

the male looked at you and his cheeks flushed a little. “maybe i got a little too excited. you did a nice job on your painting. hopefully you got a passing grade on it.”

you smiled at choso’s excitement and love for the art you made of him. you both knew it was simply for an assignment that would be graded then tucked away forever or thrown into a nearby dumpster but this was a sentimental thing. it was like a piece that needed to be preserved.

as you both stood in the middle of the large crowds, you two could hear people praising the painting for its raw emotion and style. one patron mentioned that it gave off a bit of a edgy feeling despite the cozy looking background.

choso was a bit surprised and delighted by the positive reactions, he felt a sense of pride in his portrait and the artist that created it—you. he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“i never thought my own portrait would have an impact like this.” choso said shifting his weight onto one leg. “see, now i kinda regret not letting you reveal my name.”

“you’re okay. it’ll make you a mystery man like the mona lisa…well she’s a real person but you get it, don’t you?” you chuckle lightly and choso does just that right along with you.

“i get it. but i’ll never be as known as she is. i’ll only be a mystery man that’s occasionally seen in shibuya.” he said. you threw your arm over choso’s shoulder and waved your hand dismissively.

“sure you will. one thing will lead to another. when you start seriously pursuing art and get your name out there, people will realize that you’re this man in the picture.” you pointed to the portrait, lightly tapping your nail against it as it created a hollow sound. you knew that you weren’t supposed to touch anything but you didn’t seem to care that much. you even went out your way to take a quick picture of it—it was surprisingly clear.

“they’ll call you signore kamo.” you added.

“you know italian?” choso raised a brow, a bit surprised by your pronunciation and how casually you said that word.

“nope, i googled it.” you smile innocently. choso released a breath as if he had been holding it for a while and returned a soft smile to you.

the art show ends and you and choso found yourselves walking close by each other on the sidewalk. the streetlights and neon lights from buildings illuminating your way as you walked back to the university. choso saw that you were on the left of him, closer to the street so he stoped to trade places with you.

“what was that for?” you ask as you put your hands down into your pocket. you had a feeling on exactly why choso did what he did but you just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

“well, just in case something happens, i’ll be hit first and you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.” choso stated, glancing at the street littered with parked cars. your instincts seemed to be correct but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile anyway and you felt your face heat up a bit.

upon arriving back to the dorms, the two of you stood in the commons, your shadows stretching long in the dim light. since quiet hours were approaching, it was about time the two of you part ways once again until tomorrow. you turn to face each other, a mixture of contentment and longing in your eyes.

“i guess this is where we call it a day. thank you again for everything.” choso says and you nod.

“of course.” you beamed. “i had a really nice time with you today. and don’t forget that you don’t have to hide who you are around me. your true self is beautiful.”

“i’ll remember it.” choso replied before being caught off guard by your sudden hug. you flung your body into him and squeezed his sides a bit. his violet eyes widened as he contemplated on leaving you to cling onto him or hug you back. no one besides his brothers had ever given him a hug.

slowly and awkwardly his arms snaked around your body, finally returning a hug back to you. you both lingered there for a moment, holding on to each other before breaking away.

“hey, dinner on friday?” you ask.

“it’s a date.” choso replied, only making your smile grow. you both say your goodbyes and wave to each other before walking off in the opposite direction to head off to your rooms for the night.

but then another guy came along.

“hey, you got a second?” kashimo whispered. choso never interacted with the guy much but they’ve spoken enough to know how one another looked and each other’s names. sighing, choso obliged.

“i noticed the way you talked to that girl over there just a few seconds ago. you seriously scored.” the cyan haired male smirked at choso. “obviously, there’s something special between you two. maybe i could offer you some advice on that front?”

choso’s eyes narrowed, and as usual, his defensive walls go back up. he was never really comfortable with talking about his personal life, especially with someone he didn’t know all that well.

“i don’t need help with my love life, kashimo. i’m handling it perfectly fine.” choso crossed his arms. kashimo would put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“no pressure. i’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who isn’t directly involved, you know? sit with me at lunch tomorrow. we can discuss this later.” the other lightly punches choso’s shoulder before heading out of the entrance doors.

“he’s weird.” choso muttered.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[alonetimelover]

M A S T E R L I S T

hello!

welcome to my full masterlist. i hope you'll find something just right for yourself, and maybe you'd like to stay for more.

have a nice time reading,

mila xx

♡ Fade To Black ~7,3k words

YN loved Joel more than anyone ever. Joel was selfish and scared. They both made mistakes. It all led them to Bill's town and aftermath of what had happened, understanding something very important - love isn't always forever.

♡ ...deserved to experience ~4,3k words (part 2 to fade to black)

YN, Joel, and Ellie try to settle down in Jackson. Over the years, they have navigated their lives through all happy moments. Family expanded, and new feelings and roles were accepted. Joel has never been happier. Or is it just a movie?

♡ 10 essentials - social media - photographer!reader

Over the years YN did several photoshoots of Andrew for different magazines. When the pandemic began fans started to speculate. Finally, Andrew spills the tea during the '10 essentials' video and let people inside his life - very changed life.

♡ BRIT awards - slavic!reader ~7,2k words

After years of being together, six months of being engaged - YN and Harry are letting people know they're in love - it just happens to be BRITs 2023 award show.

♡ Easter Monday - slavic(polish)!reader ~1,3k words

Harry and YN spent their first Easter together. He wants to surprise YN with celebrating it the way she does in Poland - but Harry gets his knowledge from the internet, not the best source.

♡ Warsaw show - social media + blurb - slavic(polish)!reader

Harry plays one of the most important shows during the European leg of HSLOT - show where YN's granny is in the audience.

♡ to feel fulfilled - polish!reader ~ 3,6k words

During the day of the last Love on Tour show Harry intends to do three things: satisfy his fiancée, make granny's dream come true and put on the best performance for his fans.

♡ ...marry me? - polish!reader ~ 1,2k words

Harry is drunk and YN is the angel that he dreamt of.

♡ Let's play tennis! - social media - tennis player!reader

Harry's dating WTA no. 1 tennis player - YN YSN.

♡ Can't hear haters when you're slaying - social media - tennis player!reader

Harry and YN (WTA no. 1 tennis player) are still going strong despite all the bullying they receive.

♡ BLURB - YN and Harry go for a run in London - tennis player!reader

♡ My love, we were in Paris - tennis player!reader ~ 1,7k words

Harry surprises YN after her third win in French Open.

♡ Wimbledon - tennis player! reader ~ 0,9k words

YN lost at Wimbledon, but Harry is still proud of her.

♡ Winning - social media - tennis player!reader

In which YN won Wimbledon, people think they broke up and internet breaking.

♡ Daylight - social media - equestrian!reader

For filming Daylight MV, Harry needed some horse riding lessons.

♡ 'The Higgs professor' - social media - physicist!reader

After being sent a video of Dr YN YSN, explaining Higgs mechanism with Harry's music, Harry finds himself infatuated. Then he meets her at Oppenheimer's after party, and the rest is history.

♡ Dispersion - social media - physicist!reader - part 2

NYC is welcoming one of the most famous physicists, and things seem to look great. More physics in pop terms and more of the sweet couple. For some time.

♡ Fired? - social media - physicist!reader - part 3

The leak is hard on everybody, especially YN. Internet wants to fire her from Oxford. And Harry, Harry is like always there for her.

♡ Recommendations - social media - booktuber!reader

The new series on ynrecommends channel on YT caught Harry's attention. After some time, they are joined at the hip. As friends. Right?

♡ If he doesn't have books, don't sleep with him - social media - booktuber!reader - part 2

The rumours are swirling around Harry and YN on whether they are together. In their usual style, they are confusing, so nobody knows. Till, YN posts that one picture on her IG.

♡ Music videos - social media - famous!reader

Harry and YN have been together since 2013. And from the moment Harry started his solo career, YN is there, in the music videos, or behind the scenes. And if it's not her, it's one of their two babies. Soon to be three.

♡ Third baby - social media - famous!reader

Harry and YN have their third baby and some people still don't know how to behave around a breastfeeding person.

♡ Daddy's house - social media - famous!reader

New Pleasing drop comes with new ambassadors - quite little ambassadors.

♡ Love language - boyfriend!Harry

Harry's love language is physical touch, especially kissing you. Here are just a few types of them. !contains suggestive content!

♡ Kisses - boyfriend!Harry

After establishing their love language, YN and Harry are not shy about it. And YN loves smothering Harry in kisses after his first LOT show.

♡ Popstars - social media - popstar!reader

YN and Harry have been together for years. The problem is, even after being spotted kissing, they won't admit it at the beginning. Oh, there also is Judie and Teddy - their cute, little kids.

♡ Goldie - social media - swimmer!reader

Harry follows a competitive swimmer, YN on IG, and (lies you can imagine) it breaks the internet. YN attends his shows and their relationship just grows.

♡ Happy birthday, rockstar - social media - director!reader

YN's social media posts over the years wishing Joe a happy birthday. (part of an Action! series)

Harry x (ex)director!reader x Joseph Quinn

A story, where Harry and YN fall in love at Sign Of The Times music video set, challenge their relationship over the years, eventually fall apart and the aftermath of that break-up.

social media:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

written parts:

▪︎ first date ~2,8k words

A short story about two people being nervous on their first date.

▪︎ tolerate it ~3k words

YN sees how much Harry is distancing. Confrontation happens, unfolding cascade of events and feelings YN has buried within herself. Is this the end?

▪︎ champagne problems (part 2 to tolerate it) ~3k words

YN thinks Harry wants to save their relationship after the argument they've had. He thinks that, too. But the definition of saving can differ.

▪︎ heartbreak anniversary ~3,4k words

Harry holds an emotional conversation with his therapist, and then his family. If it wasn't heart-wrenching enough, Anne and Gemma have some news to share - something to tip the scales at the breaking point.

a/n: headers are made by me. if use, please give credit.

[she-wolf09231982]

Bill Hoosier Smith

“There, I said it!”

Summary: It’s a chore getting anything out of Hoosier that isn’t sarcasm or jokes. But when it comes to his favorite medic, he’ll say it.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, BillHoosierSmithx!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO The Pacific References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, FOREVER FLUFF

*Able Grable = Girl with low morals

*The Ichiki = Japanese Soldiers

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real Marines the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

August 1942

Ever since you’ve been assigned to H Company, you were accepted by most of the guys. You had an addictive personality and had a whimsical way with your presence. You dished out whatever the guys threw at you, and they loved that you were a bit rough around the edges.

You weren’t afraid to get dirty and break a sweat. You’ve earned your place amongst them when you showed them your worth when bullets started flying. The moment “Medic!” was called, you were running like a bat out of hell to get to them.

In the beginning, you didn’t always get along with Hoosier. The man had it out for you in the worst way the day you arrived to board the carrier to the Pacific. For weeks the guys made such a fuss about you and it annoyed the hell out of him…especially Chuckler. He went on and on about you and Hoosier was over it.

“Goddamn, Lew, if you want her so bad, then go fucking get her or shut the fuck up.” Hoosier barked at him one day.

“Damn, Bill, what’s got you snapping your cap?” Runner asked.

Hoosier glared at him then went back to cleaning his rifle.

“He’s just jealous that I saw her first.” Chuckler teased.

Bill slammed his weapon down, “You know what it is, Lew? It’s that women don’t have a place on the front lines because they’re nothin’ but a distraction.” He snapped.

“Come on, Hoosier, we don’t get to see nothin’ pretty around here. It’s something to look at that isn’t a Jap or Leckie’s face.” Gibson explained.

The guys laughed including Bill.

“Now that I can go along with.” Hoosier agreed.

Just then, you approached the group.

“Hey guys-“ you began.

The guys always lit up when you came around.

“Hey, Y/L/N!” Runner, Leckie and Sid greeted.

“Hiya, doll!” Lew added.

You smile at each of them, but noticed once again Hoosier avoiding eye contact with you. You knew he didn’t like you. You usually made it your daily routine to bust his chops by starting small talk with him to make it awkward for him. The guys found it entertaining when you give him a hard time. Bill, however, couldn’t stand it.

“Hey, Hoosier.” you say sweetly.

He side eyed you with a scoff while he function checked his rifle.

The guys watched intensely with mischievous smiles painted across their faces.

“You’re looking extra rugged this morning.” You dared to continue.

The guys snickered. Hoosier looked around at each of them with vigor, then looked at you.

“You think you’re fucking funny, Y/L/N?”

Your friendly smile softened into a cocky grin.

“They seem to think so.” You returned, gesturing to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, well, they’re only siding with you because you’re a broad. If you weren’t a medic, you’d be useless.” Hoosier jeered.

You furrow your eyebrows at him as you cross your arms, “Oh, is that what you think?”

His mouth curled into an evil smirk, “It’s what I know, lady.”

You feel your anger boiling over.

“Well, your opinion is noted, Smith. Not that your opinion matters.” You retaliate.

He narrowed his eyes at you, then redirected his attention to polishing the barrel of the rifle.

You look at the others, “If you guys need anything, I’ll be at the aid station.”

You turn around and walk off. They waited until you were out of ear shot.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Bill?” Sid asked hitting his shoulder.

“What?” Hoosier replied.

“You know, she’s gonna be the one helping you out there if you get hit.” Leckie pointed out.

Hoosier remained silent. He didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to kill some Japs, and go home.

~~~~~~~

You avoided Hoosier like the plague. You haven’t poked fun at him for a few weeks and whenever your paths crossed while he was waiting in line for chow or he needed medical attention, you looked right through him like he didn’t exist.

“Shit, Bill, if looks could kill-“ Runner had said.

“Yeah, she hasn’t said a word to me in a few weeks. ‘Bout damn time.” Hoosier commended.

Runner rolled his eyes.

“You got so much piss and vinegar in your veins towards her, Hoosier, I don’t get it.”

“We’re all here to do a job. There ain’t no female that’s gonna stop me from doing it,” Bill affirmed, “maybe if ya’ll focused more on the war it would be over already.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” Runner humored Bill by agreeing.

~~~~~~~

Lt Corrigan addressed H company one morning about the next mission.

“We’re settin’ up a little less than a mile that way along the perimeter,” he explained pointing in the direction along the road outside their camp, “The Japs decided to go around us to hit the airfield. Leckie, figure out the five Marines for the first watch for two hours at sunset and make sure a medic goes with each shift. So six total, got it?” He finalized then trudged off towards headquarters.

“Aye, sir.” Leckie acknowledged.

Bob looked around at the guys, “Any volunteers?”

No one answered.

“Come on, guys, don’t make me pick.” Leckie pushed.

“Fucking fine, I’ll go.” Hoosier muttered.

“We’ll go.” Sid and Gibson voiced.

“Ok since you’re being good sports, I’ll take the first watch with you guys.” Leckie supported.

“Fuck it, I’m in.” Runner added.

“Good man. Ok, we head out at 1730. It’ll give us enough sunlight to get to the posts before it gets dark. Get your gear together and meet me on the edge of camp at 1725.” Leckie ordered.

Hoosier walked to where he had his weapons and gear before Leckie pulled him aside.

“And won’t you be happy about this.” He said a little too excitedly.

Hoosier looked at him skeptically.

“What?”

“Your favorite little medic is coming with!” Leckie replied with a wide smile.

Bill shook his head, “Fuck you, Bob.” He spat before stomping off.

Leckie chuckled as he gathered his rations for the shift.

~~~~~~~

It was bad enough that Leckie had requested that you be on the first watch that Hoosier was part of, but he also arranged that you and he also shared a fox hole together. You were absolutely fuming sitting there next to him.

The trench was 6 feet long and 3 foot wide, leaving very little personal space between the two of you. Although he could see perfectly over the edge of the foxhole when he stands, you had to place an ammo case in the hole as a stepping stool because the depth of it was a little too deep, and it was an obstacle for you to climb in or out or see the line when you stand.

You almost opted to sit on the wooden case instead of on the ground of the foxhole, but you didn’t want splinters on your butt, so you had to sit relatively close to Hoosier.

Leckie’s face appeared over the edge.

“Cozy?” He mocked.

You both scowl at him.

“Do you need something, Leckie?” You asked exasperated.

“Nah, just checking on everyone.”

“Yeah, just having’ a grand ol’ time with Able Grable over here.” Hoosier uttered.

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes.

“Excuse me!?” You shrill.

Leckie laughed, “Best idea I had all day posting you two together! Have fun, kids.” He said as he disappeared.

Hoosier only shook his head, laughing to himself about his snappy insult towards you.

“You think I’m some bimbo out here lookin’ to get laid do ya?” You propose.

Hoosier didn’t bother looking over at you.

“If the shoe fits.” He simply replied with a leering expression.

“Ooo you pompous pig!” You growl through clenched teeth.

“I’ve been called worse.” He dismissed.

“I fucking believe it!” You shot back turning your back to him.

You’ve never been so disrespected in your life. You always tried to be a good person because of how you were raised. And because he had such an arrogant opinion on where women belonged in this war, he treated you like dirt regardless of how good you were to him or his buddies.

You keep your back to him because your rousing anger caused tears to build in your eyes and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that anything he said affected you. But Hoosier wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were crying. He felt a tinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach, but his pride always got the better of him, so he sat there quietly and tried his best to ignore your silent sobs.

~~~~~~~

The relief crew showed up, and before they could say anything, you hopped out of the foxhole to get away from Hoosier.

Hoosier, Leckie, Sid, Gibson, and Runner walked together as you walked ahead of them alone in the dark.

“Jeez, Bill, what did you do?” Sid accused.

“What the fuck, why does it have to be something I did?” He defended.

“She was fine before the watch.” Runner identified.

“If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame Leckie for posting us together.” Hoosier suggested pointing at Bob.

“Hey, Corrigan said five Marines and a medic. I had to have two people in each trench. It’s just how it worked out.” Leckie clarified shrugging his shoulders.

You heard them bantering behind you, trying to shut them out. You suddenly heard a distant whistling noise, quickly recognizing it was incoming artillery. You turn to the guys in a panic.

“INCOMING!!” You shout back to them.

The shell landed behind them, sending many palm trees to the ground around them. They all dove to the ground to take cover.

“Get those mortars up! Runner! Hoosier! Set up further that way and rain hell on ‘em! Stay where I can see ya!” Leckie ordered motioning towards the area you all just walked away from.

Hoosier and Runner rush back up the road then hastily set up their ‘Goon Guns’ facing where the threat was coming from.

You find a spot behind the pile of fallen trees to take cover, peeking over the top to make sure you can see and hear if the guys needed you. Watching them work out there left you utterly awestruck.

There were obviously more of the Ichiki out there than you could see. Although there were more of them, their aim was terrible. The Japs plotted their targets all around you and the guys, mainly hitting palm trees and rocks. You watch sharply as each shell made its mark.

You tactfully maneuver closer to Runner and Hoosier until you see a streak of enemy gun fire trailing closer and closer towards them. They, too, see the danger approaching and jump start into a sprint towards the tree line.

Runner finds cover behind a pile of gravel while Hoosier runs towards the stack of fallen palms you were hiding behind. A mortar dropped in his path causing him to double backward as he tried shielding his face from the debris.

As the remnants of the explosion clears, you see his silhouette crouched over, rubbing his eyes. You look past him seeing the approaching stream of enemy fire coming straight for him. The fragments of dirt and sand had obscured his vision leaving him unaware of the jeopardy he was in.

“Shit!” You huff as you hurdle over the mound of trees darting towards Hoosier.

A split second before the enemy can make contact with their target, you tackle Hoosier, projecting you both a few feet out of the line of enemy fire onto the jungle floor.

“Ooof!” Hoosier exclaimed when you knocked the air out of him.

The attack continued a few more minutes, then died down to an unexpected silence. You hear rapidly approaching footsteps of your comrades racing towards you and Bill.

Hoosier on his back and you on your stomach with an arm draped across his chest, you feel seeping warmth soaking through your uniform just around your hip and down your thigh.

Thinking you lost bladder control, you look over your shoulder down your left side and see a crimson red stain on your shirt and pants pooling onto the sand beneath you. Hoosier sat up quickly, causing you to wince when your arm slipped off him.

“Fuck, Y/F/N, you’re hit!” Hoosier announced.

“Well no shit, Bill!” You replied annoyed.

Leckie and the rest of them encircled you and Bill.

“Oh, God.” Leckie choked when he saw you were bleeding.

“Get her bag!” Runner told Sid.

As gently as he could, Hoosier flipped you onto your back, untucking your uniform top from your pants on your left side,

“Y/F/N, tell us what to do!” Hoosier said when Sid came back with your medic satchel.

You take a deep, ragged breath, “First see if there’s an exit wound. Prop me up on my right side and see if the bullet went all the way through.”

They did as they were told.

“There’s an exit wound back here, doll!” Leckie confirmed.

“Ok that’s good,” you reassure through a cough, “Get the big gauze from the bag, pack the entry and exit wounds to—absorb the..blood…and then…then-“

Tunnel vision sets in and you start to black out.

“NO! No no no no, stay with us, Y/F/N!” Hoosier bellowed, “Goddamn it, get her wrapped up we gotta get her to the aid station, NOW!”

~~~~~~~

The boys got you back to the aid station just in time. Luckily, a supply drop was made a few days prior to you being wounded, and the nurses were able to get you hooked up to plasma. You remained unconscious for three days.

Hoosier, internally battling his agonizing guilt for treating you the way he had, visited you everyday while you lay asleep on your cot. On days he wasn’t on patrol or on post, he set up a blanket and pillow on the floor next to you to sleep so he wouldn’t miss you waking up.

While he slept on the ground next to your bed, a whimper emitted from above him disturbing his slumber, alerting him that you were waking up. His eyes snapped open as he swiftly pushed himself up from the floor to kneel next to the side of your bed. With the morning sun illuminating your face, he admired your angelic features as you began to stir.

All he could do was stare, wanting nothing more than to see your beautiful eyes open. Your lashes flutter before your eyelids fully reveal the color of your eyes to him. You look side to side, doing your best to figure out where you were and how you got here.

“Good morning.” Hoosier bid you.

You slowly look over to him.

“Oh. Hoosier.” You reply softly.

You try to sit up and suck in air through your teeth when you feel a sharp pain on your left side.

“What the ffffffuuu-“ you start to say lifting your left arm up to look at your side.

Your mid drift was wrapped in dressings like a mummy. You lightly run your hand over your covered abdomen. You tried to remember the last thing that happened in the field. Hoosier saw you struggling to recollect the events that happened three days before.

“Those Japs got you right above the hip. But it only went through the muscle, Doc said. Nothin’ important was hit. It was a clean shot.” He explained.

“Right.” You whispered staring into space.

Hoosier paused, looking down at his hands folded in front of him on your blanket.

“Why did you do it?” He finally asked.

You looked at him perplexed, “Do what?”

“Why did you save me?” He clarified.

You looked down at your toes under the sheets.

“Because it was my job. I wasn’t about to just let you die.” You rationalized.

“After how much of an asshole I was? After what I said to you in the foxhole before that?”

“Well-“ you started before allowing yourself to briefly slip into your thoughts, “..yeah.”

Hoosier stared at you as confusion screwed up his facial features. His eyebrows drew inward as he started to shake his head at you.

“So, you’re welcome.” You added.

“Ha!” He huffed, “I should be grateful!?” He asked sarcastically.

“Well yeah! I did take a bullet for you! You ungrateful piece of-“

“Hold on, there, pal. I didn’t ask you to do that-“

“-You don’t have to! It’s my fucking job!” You bark back before he could finish.

You grimace from pain from over exertion by raising your voice.

“Just go, Bill. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“I wanted to make sure you woke up.”

You look down on the floor next to your bed and see his blanket and pillow.

“You slept here?” You asked amused.

He nodded. The pieces started to come together in your head.

“Why don’t you just admit you care?” You prompted.

“Fucking what??” He fired back, slightly embarrassed.

“You heard me.” You retorted.

“You’re a dizzy dame, you know that?” He grumbled.

“Whatever, Hoosier, just leave. I can’t stand to hear your voice anymore.” You conclude as you shift to your right side to once again face your back to him.

Bill was bewildered. He leaned back on his heels not knowing what to do next.

“Just go.” You repeat, knowing he was going to try to push the conversation.

He stood, hovered over you for a few seconds then start to slowly back away. He turned on his heel to walk away, but his intrusive feelings stopped him in his tracks, and he abruptly returned to your bedside.

“Ok, so you want to hear it?” He blurted out.

Startled, you return to your back placing your head upon the pillow awaiting his speech.

“I care! Ok?? There, I said it!” He confessed with his arms raised then slapping them down to his sides before he continued,

“As a matter of fact, you’ve had me fucked up for weeks, that’s how much I care. When you stopped sassing me after you got mad at me, I thought I’d be relieved, but I wasn’t! It killed me slowly inside when you refused to look at me or even acknowledge my presence! I couldn’t sleep because everytime I closed my eyes, I saw your face. I couldn’t concentrate on patrol because I constantly wondered if you’d be ok without me around!”

You gaped at him, completely baffled by his outburst of affection for you.

“I got it so bad for you, I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore.” He professed calmly after taking a breath. He looked down at his boots.

You close your mouth and also look down at his boots.

“I’m gonna go. The guys will wanna know you’re ok.” He muttered as he turned to leave.

“Um, Bill?” You call after him gingerly.

He stopped right at the threshold of the doorway to look at you. You wave him over.

He hesitated at first but came back to you. You began to move your legs off the bed to sit on the side.

“What the fuck are you doing?? You shouldn’t be-“ Hoosier tried to reprimand.

“-Bill, shut up, and sit with me.” You directed patting the surface of your cot next to you.

He begrudgingly sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

You swallowed hard, unsure you could speak after what he just told you. You look over to him and catch him nervously side eyeing you, waiting for you to say something. The ends of your mouth curve into a faint smile.

“Bill?”

“Hm.”

“Look at me.”

He reluctantly meets your gaze.

“Did you mean everything you said?”

His eyes widened, “Every word.” He purred.

You beamed at him and before you could stop yourself, you pulled him by his shirt catching his lips with yours. He cupped the side of your face as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

He snaked a hand around your side,

“Ah-ah-ah ow!” You pull back in pain when his hand touched the tender part of your wound.

You grab his hand gently and pull it away from your side.

“Oh shit! I’m so fucking sorry!” He said alarmed, “Are you ok?? Did I hurt you bad??”

“It’s ok, Bill. It was the heat of the moment. It was worth it.” You justify with a wink.

His look of concern melted into admiration.

He tucked a stray strand of hair from across your forehead to behind your ear, then placed his palm against your cheek. You lean into his touch, placing your hand over his. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Will you stay with me again?” You implored.

His smile widened, “Of course.”

“You can sleep up here with me.”

Hoosier laughed, “We ain’t gonna fit up here together, sweetheart.”

“Then I’ll come to the floor with you.” You insisted.

Hoosier shook his head, “How about I pull another cot over here and we push ‘em together?”

“See? You’re smart and pretty.” You teased with a wink.

He kissed you delicately, his mouth forming into a smile against your lips.

~~~~~~~

Just for you @awaterfalls Let me know if you like it! ❤️

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Hey i was reading the bisexual cars post [ed: as one does] and i have a question What the fuck is up with the shift in the V6 clio?

I mean, the whole front console looks just like my clio's (except the wheel bc mine is newer and pointy instead of round) until the air controls in the center. And then BOOM, ugliest shift i've ever seen in a sportscar

Here's a closeup for the benefit of the viewing audience:

So, we have the shift knob itself on the top, and below it what I assume is the reverse lockout collar (for the unaware, while in some cars you need to push the shifter down to engage reverse, others lock you out of it with a little collar under the shift knob you are to pull up). Under those there is an alcantara shift boot - or should I say Alcantara, since it's the brand name of the material sold by Alcantara S.p.A., Italian company producing it since the 70s. That's right, they pulled a Velcro™ on ya. Under all that, the console itself, whose poor shot at a nicer finish makes it clash with the rest of the interior and whose need to place the shifter high enough to be reachable results in it looking like it was placed on an upside down bowl. So much so that I assumed the console was actually what OP found so unsightly. But a check with him contradicted me - he really was referring to shifter and boot.

I think I can see why. Now, an Alcantara®™ shift boot and a polished spherical shift knob is not an uncommon arrangement for sporty cars.

But as you can see, usually shift boots have much more of a pyramidal shape to them with any sagging or bunching being at the bottom - seen especially clearly in the mr__grip shift boot I got my very own Golf (and yes, I got the shift knob to match the boot to boot :D)

As you can see, shift boots usually taper no a very narrow top, sometimes not even getting to the shift knob and leaving part of the shift rod exposed, as seen to a bit of an exaggerated extent in my application.

[Wanna know how bad my shifter needs an overhaul? That's not neutral, that's first.]

Whereas in the Clio V6, when the boot gets to the collar, there's still so much boot left that it just bunches up around it, which combines with the collar and the knob's unflattering lower crease to create the impression that someone put a warm sweater on an old lamp post.

But hey, it could always be worse. Check out the Mercedes Sprinter.

Oh, right. This isn't the Tumblr of old.

There.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

[mossmotif]

grocery clerk suguru x youtuber reader... we r officially walking people (we r holding hands btw) @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat i hope u dont mind being tagged but i know u were excited about this!!

OK! so this is such a specific concept but it is so very special to me. i imagine suguru working as a clerk with one of those cute little aprons some stores sometimes have their employees wear. so he's got this little job but then later at home he likes messing around online.

yes guys, im making him a little streamer in this au i couldn't help myself. (what games he likes to play specifically i'm not too sure about yet, but i think he likes to stream a variety of things!) he's got a small audience but he's found that it's a cool way for him to decompress so he really enjoys it!

anyway back to the reader. you come into the store suguru works at pretty frequently, with an array of impressively well picked groceries almost every single time. he likes to play this little game when gets bored on shift where he guesses what people are cooking based on what they buy, and you're by far his favourite any time he plays it.

it's a little embarrassing to admit, but you're kind of the best part of his week. always so kind even on days he notices you're in a rush or stressed out, bidding him a good day after you're done bagging your items, a small smile on your lips the few times you raise your head to look at him.

suguru notices that you seem to favor him anytime he's at the registers, feeling an odd sort of pride whenever he spots you scanning the lines and choosing his every-time. call him delusional, but it sort of becomes hard to ignore when you choose him even when a register with a much shorter line is available.

for some reason he's found it strangely difficult to break the ice with you, finding it hard to secede from his practiced script in the short time the two of you share a space. the most deviation he's been able to muster in the past weeks has been asking you if you'd like to sign up for the store's rewards card.

subconsciously searching for something to point out casually takes him a few troubling days, but he finally conjures something in the spur of the moment. right as he's handing you back your cash, suguru notices the vibrant colour of your nails; they're different from last months.

"I like your nails," he mentions quickly, semi distracted by the upcoming customer already beginning to place their items on the belt.

You look up from your bagging and Suguru is able to literally catch the way your face brightens, fixated on the flash of your teeth and the crinkle of your eye. It's the first time he's seen your cheeks rise up so high, delightfully different from the subtle smiles you've granted him till now.

"Thank you," you reply, a laugh laced into your voice. And then you're gone again, throwing a sincere good bye over shoulder, bag hung over your arm, and stepping out the automatic doors.

the interaction is short, brief enough to have suguru thinking about it the rest of the day. latching onto it enough that he finally buys that nail polish remover he's been needing to wipe away the chipped mess on his own fingertips. and maybe he repaints them new with you in mind.

it goes on like this for a little while. you notice the new colour on suguru the next time you see him and compliment it. he does the same for yours, mentioning how close it is to one of his favourite shades. actively holding back from slyly commenting on how you've been subtly matching it to his preferences based on your short conversations. blue, green, black; anything he mentions makes a subtle cameo onto the design of your nails in the following weeks or so.

he never explicitly mentions you during his little streams, but suguru does have this thing where he'll mention craving a specific food that's related to what he'd seen you buy that specific afternoon to his chat. it's fun to mention it to his few viewers, sometimes they'll recommend him tutorials on how to make certain things or even share their own recipes. it often ends rather jokingly, with crazy inedible recipes no one would dare follow, but some times it can be rather wholesome.

one night, he gets off stream and actually decides to check a few of them out. aimlessly scrolling through both the serious and unserious suggestions.

he never would have imagined recognizing your nails, jewelry, and voice after typing in the title of a video and pressing on it.

turns out the reader makes content themselves! they've got this semi-popular cooking channel they've been growing for the past two years or something like that. i like to think it started off as something sort of accidental for you. like one of your close friends liking your cooking so much that they beg you to share it.

then you just kind of picked up the habit of making different types of videos by following a vague schedule. you found yourself really enjoying the process of making the food and sharing the way you did it with people. one of your favourite parts is reading the comments of your videos and seeing how people's food turned out for them, if they liked the taste or if they cooked it for someone else.

it's been a motivator to indulge in your groceries a little more. eventually you switch over to buying at the more expensive grocery store more often in order to purchase higher quality ingredients.

it helps that you meet geto there, the cute clerk who has a sweet voice.

you grow to enjoy him being part of your routine. a small part of you even believes him ringing you up adds a dash of luck to how your cooking will turn out that week.

the more you've frequented, the chattier he's gotten, gracing you more with that silken voice of his. it almost reminds you of a warm meal.

but this afternoon seems odd.

geto can't seem to stop staring at your hands today.

[2hoothoots]

Revisiting P2 since the docu epilogue dropped and your AMV (<3) popped up as a sign for me to ask something that hopefully you haven't already spoken about years ago: What did you think of the in-game psych explanation for Maligula, that she's the primitive savage part of the mind? P2 is a weird mix of sketchy Freud/Jung concepts that Tim likes meshed with modern psych, and Maligula's deal seems like something they probably wrote a lot of different versions of but never quite solved elegantly

yeah, i think you totally hit the nail on the head - it's always felt like one of the parts of the story that they couldn't quite give enough polish to before they had to finalize it and move on with development. like - i went to go get my artbook to see if it had any insight into the writing process, and did you know that Nona and Maligula being the same person was apparently added way later in development? that's wild! i didn't know that until literally right now! i may or may not have skipped straight to my favourite characters when my artbook arrived and then put it on my shelf without reading the whole thing

ANYWAY, retrospectively i think it being a twist that was added later actually makes a lot of sense in the context of everything you mentioned. the Maligula problem, to me, is the fact that they're trying to juggle a bunch of different things that she has to be in the story. there's Maligula, the ruthless big bad, and Nona, the beloved grandma, and if you suddenly have to also make them both the same person... well, it ends up being kind of a thorny writing problem to make that work, haha.

here's some art i made so this isn't just a wall of text, rest of the answer under the cut

i think one thing they could have done when they needed to rehabilitate a mass-murderer into a lovable old lady was pull back on either end of the spectrum. make your villain softer and more sympathetic, or give grandma a mean streak like she's one bad day away from a tragedy at the crochet club. and to give the story credit, i'm really glad they didn't. Nona is relentlessly sweet and endearing - and that's great! she needs to be in order to make the audience care about her, otherwise the emotional beats are never going to land. likewise, Maligula is a great villain, she's vicious and ruthless and at the culmination of her arc we see she simply does not give a shit about murdering hundreds of people. i love that for her, honestly, you go girl

but then, like - how do you connect the dots? how do you frame grandma having a violently murderous streak in a way that doesn't make the ending of "but she's over it now" feel kinda weird and hollow? and how do you do that while also being sympathetic to the game's themes around mental health? Maligula's informed by the traumatic things that happened to Lucrecia during the war, but she can't just be a manifestation of trauma, because the moral of the story being that trauma makes you a mass-murderer (until you beat up your trauma and shove it in a giant pit) would feel... really tonally dissonant!

so i think you're totally right that the sprinkling of pop-psych concepts we get ends up feeling a little bit like an awkward band-aid. Maligula's story is about how the horrors of war can shape you into a terrible person, who does terrible things - ...but there's also, like, special circumstances, so it doesn't feel weird that she goes back to being Raz's sweet grandma afterwards. special psychic circumstances! she's not just any war criminal, she's the fight or flight response gone out of control!

which - i dunno, i think that line in particular always stood out to me, because that's not really what the fight or flight (or freeze or fawn) response is, right? it's a temporary boost of adrenaline to the system to rev you up for getting out of a dangerous situation. an overactive fight or flight response is called chronic stress and anxiety. i know the games are pop-psych and not actual science, but it always stood out to me as a little awkward.

if it were me in the writer's seat - with the benefit of all the time in the world to workshop it, and no looming deadlines, and the hindsight of having a full completed game in front of me to think about - i might have tried to frame it around connection. i think you could swing the lens to instead focus on how violence, stress, trauma etc., make it harder to understand and empathise with the people around you. the tragedy of Lucrecia's story is that she came home to try and help her countrymen, the people she cared so dearly about. but the more time passed, the less she cared, the less she was able to see them as people. after Marona's death, the Maligula that remains is one who's unable to even care about killing her own sister. the alternative is too raw, too painful - instead, she sheds her last vestiges of remorse, and throws herself into the easy relief of violence. (we see this again, when Nona "awakens" as Maligula - when confronted with the baggage of her past, she chooses to wash it all away with force, unable and unwilling to care about the people she used to call friends.)

and i think shifting the focus like that ties it in thematically, too. a big theme (of both games, but especially the sequel) is how important connection is, how being able to understand and reach out to and rely on other people is a lifeline during hard times. PN2 touches on how there aren't really "good people" and "bad people" - everyone has the capacity to do wonderful or terrible things, and i think Raz's line to Maligula about how "everybody's got something like you" works. Lucrecia was never a monster, no matter how everyone tried to pretend she was. she was just a person, the same as everyone else - and just like everyone else, she could be pushed to extremes under the right circumstances. it just feels kind of odd when the implicit context is "everybody's got a mass-murderer hidden in the primal recesses of their brain", hahaha.

but like, again, that's the privilege of hindsight, right? i've definitely also been on the other side of the creative process, stuck with something i suddenly need to make work in a story and having to come up with a solution that feels like a band-aid. sometimes you just gotta call it good enough, and move on. and i think the game is overall much stronger for having Nona and Maligula be the same person - it plays into the wider themes, it sets up some great emotional beats, and i think it's overall well-executed, even if there are one or two hiccups in the writing.

anyway, great ask! thank you for the invitation to ramble, this is something that stuck out to me on my first playthrough of the game and it was fun to sit down and get my thoughts in order

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

"calloused hands in soft hands" from the hand holding prompts for GerryMichael?

@melandrops asked: comparing hand sizes?

Two prompts that fit so well together, I couldn't resist.

"Why's it so cold in here? Michael whined as he took his seat. The theater was incredibly air conditioned, which would certainly be nice after a warm summer day, but it was autumn, and he could tell it would become unbearable very quickly. Gerry shrugged as he handed Michael his popcorn and drink, shrugging off the leather jacket he always wore, regardless of temperature.

"Maybe they're expecting a lot of people," he suggested, taking back the snacks and handing Michael his jacket instead. Even in the shadowed theater, he could see Gerry was blushing faintly. "And a lot of moving around, once everyone starts doing the Time Warp."

"Oh, right, that's a good point." Michael pulled on Gerry's jacket, unable to hold back his grin as he did. It didn't fit him perfectly, but wearing it always gave him a thrill. It had only happened a few times so far, but he loved it each and every time. "Are you going to dance?"

"Maybe," Gerry evaded, sitting down in the seat next to him. He scrubbed at the lipstick "V" that marked his cheek, glancing over at Michael. "Are you?

"Of course I am." Gerry's arm was resting on the armrest between them, and that was the most perfect opportunity that he couldn't pass up. Michael reached out to put his hand on his, ever so casually, and watched Gerry's face turn even more red as he fought a smile. His hand flipped under Michael's so he could hold it properly, palm to palm and fingers laced together. That was just lovely. "It's tradition, you know, just like the rest of the audience participation. You have to dance the Time Warp." Michael couldn't hold back a giggle before continuing. "It's just a jump to the left-"

"Don't you start," Gerry cut him off with a laugh. His knee was jittering restlessly, and Michael hoped it was in excitement. It wasn't every day someone had their Rocky Horror cherry popped, and he was honored to be there with Gerry for it. "I think I already know most of it, from listening to the soundtrack."

"There's a big difference between listening and experiencing." The theater was growing louder as more people filed in, so Michael leaned closer to Gerry, pressing shoulder to shoulder with him. "It's a lot of fun with an audience who really gets into it."

Gerry nodded, looking around at the other groups around them. "So I've heard," he said, a touch of excitement leaking in. It might have been for the show, but maybe also for rarely-felt sense of belonging that Michael was also feeling. The usual audience for these events was shamelessly queer and alternative, and Michael basked in, watching Gerry's face as he took it all in. He wondered if Gerry had ever experienced it before, and that was why he was looking so wonderious and delighted, like he'd finally found something he hadn't known he was missing. He really knew the feeling.

Michael looked down at their hands, hoping Gerry hadn't noticed his staring. Gerry's hands were very textured, covered in tattoos and faint lines of scars. His fingers were tipped with cracked nail polish, a pair of heavy rings proving a cool contrast against his skin. Michael could feel calluses pressed to his palm and against his fingers, harsh but welcoming, and wondered if they were from Gerry's harsh lifestyle, or from his art, built from the talented way he wielded a brush. It was a very lovely artist's hand, and Michael loved seeing it in his.

He also loved how Gerry touched him with those lovely artist hands. Michael flushed as he remembered the last time they had slept together, and Gerry had touched him so beautifully, bringing him such wonderful pleasure. Perhaps after the show he could convince Gerry to go back to his again. Staying in bed with him all weekend sounded just perfect to him.

Michael flexed his fingers, and Gerry did too, keeping their palms pressed together. The size difference between their hands made him giggle, which finally pulled Gerry's attention back to him. He glanced down and smiled too, stretching out his fingers in a vain hope of reaching Michael's fingertips. There wasn't a chance. "You hands are so big," Gerry chuckled.

"Yours are so small," Michael countered, closing his fingers around Gerry's entire hand. They weren't really, but in comparison to his they seemed to be. Pulling their hands up, Michael pressed a kiss to the back of Gerry's hand, watching him turn incredibly red at the action. "I like them."

"I...like yours too," Gerry returned awkwardly, obviously flustered in a very lovely way. It was simply adorable, and Michael wondered how else he could make Gerry flustered like that.

The theater darkened further, eliciting cheers from the crowd as the show was about to begin. Michael tucked Gerry's hand under his chin, content to hold him close for as long as he could. At least until it was time to do the Time Warp again.

[butchsophiewalten]

03/09/24 Twitter Space Recap

Quick recap of the twitter space from yesterday. Another one with Martin, Kyle, Coral, and eventually Eva. They tried to make this another Q&A but they mostly just talked and joked between themselves. Here's a rough recap of what they talked about:

-Martin talks about how it's always difficult for him to answer questions like, "Can I get a fun fact about [Character]?", because he doesn't just have a bunch of information pre-prepared about every character in his webseries. He specifies that it's not bad to ask those questions, just that he has a hard time answering them.

-Martin tells Kyle to give his idea for what each of the Showstoppers would dress up as for Halloween, and he says, "Boozoo is a lion, Sha is a sunflower, Banny is a horse, and Bon doesn't dress up." Martin says he agrees, but that he thinks Banny could also be a pirate.

-Someone asks for confirmation on whether Chris' last name is 'Easterday' or 'Easteryear', and Martin says that it was always supposed to be Easteryear, but after the fandom caught in calling him Easterday, some of the crew caught on to calling him that, too. But "Easteryear" is what his name is supposed to be.

-Martin mentions that just the other day he was talking about Chris with the rest of the crew, and how they've worked on polishing his character arc into something they all think is much more cool.

-Martin says that they explained some lore stuff to Coral, about something that happens "very, very later," in the series, and how they were extremely upset and heartbroken over it. They mention a drawing they had posted to Twitter a few days before, of them hunting Martin down with a knife, and how that was the context for it.

-Eva talks about how Martin was explaining the series lore to Felix's new VA in the crew discord server, and how it apparently took him an hour and a half of explaining just to get to the point of explaining the car crash.

-Martin says, "Everything that happens after Brian's death, after BunnyFarm is so much! I don't know how I'm going to write all that down!"

-Kyle asks Martin how he comes up with last names for characters, because he knows that Martin never googles to find authentic or realistic American last names, and just makes them up. Kyle says that he knows "Walten" is a portmantaeu of "Walls" and "Martin", but wants to know what some other ones are.

Martin explains how he came up with 'Easteryear', saying "Back in 2020, when I was doing research for The Walten Files, I started looking for, like, show tapes of like, 70s animatronic bands. And I came up with Chuck E. Cheese show tapes, and there was this one that was called "Broadway Yesteryear", and I kept mispronouncing it with 'Easteryear, Easteryear', and I was like, 'That would be a fun last name,' and I kept it in my pocket until it was, like, useful. And then I started coming up with all the names, and shit like that. I think Easteryear and Letterson were like, the more creative ones i did."

Kyle asks him how he came up with 'Letterson', then, and Martin says, "Letterson- Letterson is like 'Letterman', but instead of Letterman, it's just 'Letterson.'

-Martin says that he's always trying to find ways to insert Brian Stells into The Walten Files, even though he's a character with absolutely no depth, and was never intended to do more than teach the audience that Bon is dangerous, but he appreciates Brian's place in the legacy of The Walten Files, with him being the first human character to speak and the first character to die, and he likes to kind of honor that by trying to find small ways to include him.

-Martin says something vaguely about Chris in season 2, which confuses Eva. She asks him if Chris appears in Season 2, because she doesn't think he does, and Martin responds, "Yeah. Yeah, he does."

-Coral is confused about how many seasons The Walten Files is supposed to have, because last they remember, it only had two. Martin explains, "There's three seasons. Season one is like, y'know. Season two is like, shorter, and it's about Sophie and Jenny, and Season three is how everything, like, ends. What happens after."

-Martin reads a question, "What character is the community's perception of most inaccurate?" and then says, "I think we can all agree that it's Jack." Kyle then says that he thinks another good candidate answer is Sophie, saying that he thinks people tend to characterize her as much more "bubbly" than she even remotely is.

-Martin takes the time to specify that there's nothing wrong with misinterpreting these characters, because we've seen so little of them in the series and it's been so long in between episodes that people are bound to come up with their own ideas of what characters are like, but that he wants everyone to keep an open mind when we start to see more of how those characters are actually depicted, because it may not line up with that people are imagining or hoping for, and how that's not necessarily a flaw with the series.

-Martin says, "The Walten Files, when we make the series, we don't create the characters and go, 'oh, he's a villain, he's that,' we create the actions they make, and we let the viewer decide whether or not this character is a good or bad guy. The characters make good and bad decisions."

-Eva says, in reference to "Bon", "You guys have not even scratched the surface. I'm so fucking excited for his character."

-Martin says, "Here's like, a message to the audience. Do you wanna know a word that can, like, fucking destroy the crew, but to you guys, has like no fucking meaning? Y'know what fucking word it is? 'Sayonara.'" The second he says this, everyone else in the space starts groaning in agony, or shouting at him.

-Eva reads a question, "If Sophie was a cat, what kind of cat would she be?" Martin does not answer, and instead posts this drawing to twitter:

-Martin talks about how, for the upcoming episodes, Kyle & Coral recorded their lines (as Charles and Susan) separately, but their dynamic is so good, that it sounds very authentically like they could've been recording in the same room. They say that they'd love to record some audio in a call together at some point, but that it'd be difficult to coordinate around Coral's timezone.

-Eva reads a question, "Would Jenny like My Little Pony, if so, what would her favorite pony be?" Martin answers, "Uh, she would definitely like Applejack, in my opinion."

-Martin reads a question, "Will any of the episodes take place past the Relocate Project?" and answers, "Not in season one, but in season two, I think all the episodes take place after BunnyFarm."

-Martin reads a question, "Will you guys get a new band for The Walten Files after Sweet Tuesday?" and answers, "Uh, No, I don't think so. We don't talk to Sweet Tuesday."

-Martin reads a question, "How would Rosemary's sister react to hearing about Rose going missing?", and answers, "They weren't close, but I think she would be very-" and then Coral interrupts him, going "Rosemary has a sister?" to which Martin responds, "Yeah, it isn't brought up in this season, but yeah, she does have a sister. But they're very- they're not close. They don't have a very good relationship, so. Uh, it's Laura Peony."

-Eva asks, if Susan would be like a cool aunt to the Walten kids, and Martin says, "Yeah, she would be."

-Martin reads a question, "Was "Bon" planned from the start, or did you come up with him later?" and answers, "This is really good! Okay, so, Bon was always a character, but, uh, the idea of "Bon" as a ghost, it was born after episode 3. But this character always existed, just not in this way.

-Martin says, "'We know Jack used to make sandwiches for his employees, who was the one that always got sandwiches, and someone who almost every time didn't get one?' Um, the one who almost every time didn't get one was probably Richie."

-"I like the idea of Richie just being a lazy piece of shit, and he would just like, hide in the bathrooms so he can just smoke and do shit, and Jack would just ominously stand next to him until he notices, for just minutes and minutes."

-Martin says Susan is 6'2, and that Jack is "a few inches" taller than her.

-Eva reads a question asking if Sophie & Jenny would keep their relationship a secret because of the time period. Martin says, "Okay, no, I don't think they would keep it an entire secret, I don't think they'd be like, 'oh, dude, we can't say it,' I feel like they would just be, like- I feel like they would just- they don't feel the need to like, tell it to people. They don't feel the need to be like, 'oh, we're girlfriends,' y'know?"

-Martin and Coral joke that Sophie wouldn't even know what homophobia is, growing up around so many other queer and accepting people. During this conversation, Coral says, "Charles is like, the ultimate lesbian." (I assume they meant 'lesbian ally'? but this is way funnier.)

-Martin has spent much of the space repeating a joke about Jack telling Rosemary to "make [him] a sandwich", stemming from a conversation about how funny it would be if Jack in the series was just this terrible person. He jokes now, approaching the idea a little more seriously, that Jack would say that to Rosemary as a joke, and she would give him an absolutely terrifying death glare.

He says it'd be funny if Jack made the same 'make me a sandwich' joke to Rose, and she went, 'oh okay!! ^_^', to Jack's surprise, and then came back with a sandwich that is just a "gallon of salt" in between two slices of bread, and she forces him to eat it.

-Coral tries to answer a question about whether or not Richie would sell weed, and Martin interrupts them to say that he thinks Richie would try to sell weed to the BSI crew, and they would be like, 'yeah, no thank you.'

-Someone asks if Susan would like the Showbiz Pizza animatronics, and Coral says they think she would like them from a technical standpoint.

-Coral reads a question, "How did Susan find out she was a lesbian?", and says, "I feel like she never 'figured out', it was more of a case that she always felt like that and didn't care what anyone else said," to which Martin agrees.

-Martin reads a question, "Does Sarah Evelyn have a favorite animal?" and says, "How the fuck do you remember Sarah Evelyn? She was just like, an animator on Bon's Burgers, that's it. I don't know." Coral corrects him, saying that she was a writer, but agrees that it's really funny for people to remember that character at all.

-Izzsplash, Jenny's VA, joins the space! She's recovering from Covid.

-Martin reads a question he really likes and seems excited for, "Will we ever see a clip of Jenny angry?", but answers it by quoting the same "Make me a sandwich!" joke he's been quoting for the entire space.

-Martin reads a question for Izzy, "How has your perception of the character of Jenny changed from the first time you voiced her to now?" Izzy answers, "That is a good question! I think, when I first met Jenny, I was like, 'that girl looks silly,' but now that I've talked to everyone and like, really, like- after BunnyFarm, I was like, 'this is not just a silly, that's- that's an actual, like, good friend, person. Like, she's a lot- there's a lot more to Jenny than people thing. I'll put it there. She's not just a silly- she is silly! She can be '/j', but she's also '/srs'.

[cherryrainn]

hey i’m wondering if you write for male reader? if you do can you write Onceler x Male reader smut? it’s perfectly cool if not, i just love your writing! make sure to stay hydrated ‼️

hey!! TYSM!! THAT MEANS SM <33 and of course i can write this for you. again, not an expert at smut but i try

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— corporate romance

onceler (greedler) x male reader

you took a deep breath as you approached onceler's office. the polished wooden door stood as a formidable barrier between you and the answer to your current dilemma. clutching a stack of papers and trying to ignore the fluttering nerves in your stomach, you reminded yourself of your worth.

working for onceler had been an opportunity filled with both challenges and excitement. you admired onceler's entrepreneurial spirit and the way he effortlessly captivated everyone around him. but deep down, there was something more than admiration. a small ember of attraction flickered in your heart, igniting a gentle crush that you had tried your best to keep hidden.

today, however, everything seemed to align—a perfect storm of bravery, necessity, and desire pushing you to take a step forward. it was time to ask onceler for a raise, a fair acknowledgement of your skills and contributions. despite the fear of rejection, the lure of a more substantial paycheck drowned out the doubts.

summoning your courage, you knocked on onceler's office door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious room adorned with eccentric decorations and the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. onceler, with his trademark green tailcoat and expressive sun glasses and hat, looked up from his work, surprised by your presence.

"good afternoon, sir," you greeted, trying to sound confident. "can i have a moment of your time?"

onceler's gaze met yours, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair, a picture of self-assuredness. "ah, my hardworking underling seeking an audience with me. what brings you here?"

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself against his charismatic charm. "i wanted to discuss my compensation, sir. i believe it's time for a raise."

onceler's eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "oh, really now? and why do you think you deserve such a favor from me? tell me why you're worth every penny of a higher salary."

you squared your shoulders, determined to present your case. "i've been working tirelessly, putting in long hours and going above and beyond to meet deadlines and exceed expectations, sir."

onceler let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "that's not how this works, dearie. as much as i would love to reward you for your efforts, it isn't about you—it's all about me."

you frowned in confusion, feeling like you were missing something. "but-"

"no, no, i know you're good at what you do," onceler said soothingly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "but that doesn't mean I'm going to pay you just because you deserve it."

your stomach twisted into knots as you felt a wave of panic rush through your mind. you trembled slightly, gripping the papers in your hands tightly. "i don't understand, sir. i thought we could be on the same page."

onceler gave you a reassuring smile. "don't worry, dear. i get these kinds of requests often. you see, there are two different ways to approach this. one is to prove your value to me. the other is to plead your case until you wear me down."

"plead my case?" you blurted out, feeling as if you were about to explode. "why can't we just talk things out like adults?"

onceler chuckled softly. "because that's not how I roll."

you stared at him wide-eyed, unable to process what he was saying. "what do you mean?"

onceler stood up from his desk, walking around behind it and leaning over the table so his face was directly in front of yours. "let me spell it out for you boy," he told you sweetly, "if you want your raise, you need to convince me to give it to you. you know how to do that, right?"

you shook your head numbly, mouth agape. "i...i don't understand, sir."

"there's nothing to understand," he replied, his voice growing stern. "we both know your worth. whether or not i decide to pay you what you think you deserve will depend entirely on your ability to sway me."

you swallowed thickly, taking another deep breath. "i'm not asking for anything unreasonable. i've done my best and i've earned a raise."

onceler put his hands on your shoulders and squeezed gently, turning your chin toward him. "and i know how well you've done. so let me show you how this works." he placed his lips on yours, kissing you deeply and passionately. the moment his tongue slid across your own, you lost control of yourself.

onceler pulled away from you, cupping your cheek and looking deep into your eyes. "see, that wasn't too bad, was it?"

you blinked rapidly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i..i didn't think you'd…"

onceler chuckled, shaking his head. "shh shh, don't worry about it. my mind never wanders far. especially when i'm talking to someone as handsome as you." he leaned closer, pressing his lips to your ear. "this isn't about what i want, now is it? it's about what you want." he placed his hand on your chest, stroking your skin softly as he trailed kisses along your jawline. "so tell me, how badly do you want that raise?"

you swallowed again, your eyes darting from his face to his lips and back. the words were stuck in your throat as he pressed himself against you, kissing you more softly and slowly, his fingers tracing circles on your chest. you ran your hands up his arms, and turned your face into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily.

you bit your lip as he guided you to your knees, lowering his hips to the edge of the desk and spreading your legs. onceler's tailcoat fell to the ground, exposing his long legs and bulging crotch, the tip of his cock poking out from his waistband. you shivered, looking up at him, wanting to feel his hands on you again, the heat of his body warming you and his scent making you dizzy.

onceler cupped your chin, tilting your head to expose your neck. his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. "i promised you a show, didn't I?" he murmured, letting go of you. "well, now's your chance." he smirked, reaching down and unzipping his pants. his cock sprang free, jutting proudly upward in the air, already half erect and dripping precum.

you licked your lips nervously, "you shouldn't tease me like that.."

onceler chuckled, running his hand down your chest and belly before coming to rest on the front of your pants. "i know, i know. but i wanted you to beg for it first." he grabbed your belt and undid it quickly, tugging your pants and boxers down to your ankles. "here, let's make sure you're ready." he grasped your rigid shaft in his hand, stroking it slowly while you squirmed with embarrassment. "i think you're getting very excited, aren't you?"

you whimpered softly, trying to hide your growing erection under your thighs.

onceler smiled, his hand tightening around your shaft. "then get on your knees."

you nodded, dropping to your knees and crawling to the edge of the desk. onceler's cock bobbed in front of your face. you reached out and stroked his length, feeling the heat of his arousal. "please," you whispered, "just touch me."

onceler leaned forward, pressing his lips to your cheek. "hush now," he told you, looking deep into your eyes. "you won't need any more convincing from me." he pressed his cock against your lips, making you open your mouth and suckle it.

onceler held your head still as he thrust his hips, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth. you moaned as you sucked him, your tongue swirling around his shaft and the underside of his cock, tasting the salty precum oozing from the tip. onceler groaned, his hand cupping your hair as he began to fuck your face, his fingers digging into your scalp.

he pulled away, standing up from the desk and grasping your waist. he lifted you off your knees and laid you out on the table, his hands roaming along your body, properly exposing your fully erect cock.

onceler grinned, running his fingers over your dick and balls, his thumbs brushing up and down your shaft. "my, my…you seem to be enjoying this quite a bit."

you nodded weakly, closing your eyes and trying to relax. "y-yeah, i am."

onceler smiled, bending down between your legs and kissing your stomach, trailing kisses and nips all the way up to your navel. he placed his lips on your chest, licking and sucking your nipples, before moving further down. "are you ready to finish what you started?"

you swallowed thickly, feeling hot and flushed as he bent over your waist. "huh?" you squeaked, your voice breaking as he took hold of your cock and stroked it. "sir?"

onceler chuckled, grinning at you. "of course i'm gonna make you cum. i wouldn't have been done here then, would i?" he looked down at your cock as he stroked it, smiling evilly. "although, if you don't want me to make you come, you can always stop me. that's an option."

you blushed hotly, clenching your fists as he gripped your cock. "n-no," you stammered. "i want to—"

onceler kissed your cock, blowing on it gently, and you cried out softly as he took it into his mouth. the sensation was incredible, his warm lips enveloping your sensitive flesh and the silky smoothness of his tongue trailing up and down your shaft. he swirled his tongue around the tip and sucked you deeper, his throat swallowing your entire length. you moaned loudly, arching your back as he sucked you harder, his fingers slipping beneath your balls and massaging them.

his breathing ragged as he worked you over. he released your shaft after a few seconds and moved up to kiss your lips, moaning as you moaned into his mouth. his teeth scraped your lips, and you gasped, shivering as he began to suck your cock again, his tongue swirling around the bulbous head and the shaft.

onceler's fingers slipped inside your ass, causing you to moan helplessly, your hips buckling underneath him as he fingered you. he moaned softly "do you like being fucked in your ass, my handsome little pet?" he asked, his voice hushed.

you panted, nodding frantically.

"good."

you clenched your teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he rubbed your prostate and pumped his finger in and out of your ass. you wrapped your legs around his head, pushing his mouth deeper into your groin, your fingers clawing at the desk and begging him to fuck you. you felt the familiar pressure building up, and you knew you couldn't hold it back anymore.

onceler pulled away from you, licking the tip of your cock clean and smearing your cum onto his tongue. he crawled up your body, pressing himself against you and wrapping his arms around your neck. "i'm going to come soon," he whispered softly into your ear. "be ready for it."

you nodded, panting. "i'm ready."

onceler pushed himself into your tight hole, sinking his full length into you. you cried out, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and crying out again as he filled you. he slowly pulled out, watching your cock twitch with pleasure as he let it slide out, only to slam himself back into you hard. you grunted, gasping as he drove himself into you over and over, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

onceler's hands roamed up and down your sides, rubbing your chest and gripping your hips. he smiled, kissing you softly. "is that what you needed?"

you mumbled something unintelligible, your mind fuzzy with lust.

onceler kissed you again, his hand sliding down your stomach and cupping your balls. "i thought so," he breathed into your ear. "it's alright, you're safe with me. you're mine."

you whimpered, biting your lip, "i'm yours."

onceler chuckled, pulling out and turning you over, he pulled you up by your hair and forced you to bend over the desk, your hands resting on the edge. he straddled you, his cock pressing against your ass. "now, let's see how much you liked that, huh?"

you whimpered, feeling his cock rub against your asshole. "it hurt," you gasped, "but it felt good too."

onceler laughed, easing himself into you. you moaned softly as he slid into you, filling you completely. onceler rocked his hips back and forth, his hand groping your ass roughly. he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, burying his whole cock inside you and stretching you.

onceler leaned forward. "how's that feel?" he asked, his voice soft.

you moaned softly, feeling your muscles tense as he fucked you. "wonderful," you sighed.

onceler laughed, leaning forward and kissing you. he let out a low groan, shoving his cock into you with one thrust. his pace increased, his cock plunging in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. you pressed your hands against the desk, moaning as he fucked you, your breath coming short and fast. onceler gripped your hair again, forcing your head back and pressing his lips to your shoulder.

you whimpered, your hands trembling slightly. "more," you gasped, "i need more."

onceler growled, thrusting harder and faster into you. he pounded your ass, slamming his cock into you over and over, his balls slapping against you. you cried out, your head rolling back and your hands covering your face. you could feel your orgasm beginning to build, and you knew you couldn't hold it back.

onceler pulled out of you and knelt beside you, stroking your cock as he leaned over your back, kissing your neck and collarbone. you threw your head back, whimpering as your balls tightened and you came, shooting rope after rope of cum all over the desk. onceler moaned, shivering as he came, his cock twitching and jerking as he shot his load. he collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the desk.

onceler leaned down, kissing your cheek and whispering, "nice work."

you chuckled weakly, looking down at yourself. "i'll be sore tomorrow."

onceler chuckled, kissing your lips. "don't worry about it. we have time."

you smiled, your heart racing, "so.. that raise?"

onceler smirked, rising off of you and standing up. "of course. just think, you earned that money just from being an obedient pet."

[gffa]

I was wondering if you could share your thoughts and feelings on Felonys takes over the years overall? I know a lot of people see him as this grand savior of star wars without much more to it so I wanted to hear your take on how he handles the pre-established world he writes for and the dissonance with what George Lucas established/said before

Honestly, I think a lot of Felony's appeal is that he writes a very polished story and that's appealing to audiences (no shade, I'm part of that audience!) and that he has at least given some thought to what the Force means. There are a lot of takes he has that I agree with, I still quote what he says about the characters at times, but I think he has a big central problem and that's characterization drift-slash-the inability to let go. Well, two big central problems: He also can't write/finish a narrative arc to a satisfying conclusion. I have such a hard time getting into the Mandalorian storyline because it's been told in snippets for like 10+ years now and it's never really coherently come together, it still has huge gaps in it, it doesn't have a strong narrative central theme that he sticks to, but instead told through cameos and mini-arcs in separate shows. And when you examine a lot of his work, it often doesn't hold up to scrutiny because I'm not sure he has a solid thematic throughline that's driving him--like, some of the choices he made in season 7 of TCW are baffling--Ahsoka walks right by people who need her help, then says, "In my life, when someone needs help, I help them."??? When she wants the Jedi to help Mandalore instead of Coruscant, she says the Jedi aren't helping the people who really need them, despite that Coruscant is under attack and that's where Trace and Rafa are, the characters we just spent an entire arc on?? Ahsoka and Bo-Katan want the Republic to literally invade Mandalore, this is brought up in the arc itself, and then never mentioned again because it's inconvenient and the author doesn't want to deal with the established worldbuilding?? I also don't think he knows how to end a story, like I love Ahsoka as a character, but he very much does favor her and a lot of her appearances are starting to feel like she's only there because Filoni can't resist. She just never ends, there's no conclusion to her, what's even her character arc over the course of her life after the Jedi genocide? She's obviously dealing with trauma about it and now she's looking for Ezra to find him again, but what's the character arc on a personal level? Is she still dealing with letting go of Anakin, ~30 years after it happened? Did she not put that to rest in Rebels finally? @david-talks-sw has a great post about the differences between George Lucas and Dave Filoni here, illustrating that I do think Dave misses some really key points about characters that he has personal biases against. And, you know, I'm not getting after him for that, I disagree with him and I think he's wrong about a lot of stuff that Lucas directly established, but I also think a lot of people dismiss criticism of him because, oh, he worked with George and therefore he's an extension of George! No, he's a different writer with his own strengths and weaknesses, one I think who makes very popular (often for a reason) Star Wars, but I think misses the heart a lot of times. But I also often think of that he doesn't try to see himself as the grand lord of Star Wars, either, even he himself says:

He's not the ultimate authority on Star Wars, he's just as fallible as anyone else is, and always should be. I think he made Star Wars shows that a lot of people loved, he has a very polished style, and he has given thought to the characters he loves. He just also has biases and directly conflicts with George Lucas' established story and I think that's fair to point out. Maybe you like those better, I'm not trying to talk anyone out of that, but it's still fair game for me to point out that I think he's wrong about Star Wars just as often as he's right. (And that, as time goes on and The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett became more and more of a hot mess, I grew less charitable. This is a major overview, I don't want to get too into the weeds on this, I've gone over a lot it in past meta, and it would be exhausting to dig it all up again, but basically this is why I'm on the fence about Felony. He has a lot of weaknesses as a writer and I don't find I like his strengths more than I dislike his weaknesses sometimes.)

[aokozaki]

The whole "Ragnarok spell check 'corrected' to Kangaroo" translation mistake is a classic and all, but there's another similar example of an all time classic editing error worth talking about.

The Visual Novel Ever17 ~ The Out of Infinity features two protagonists observing the same events, as a group of people gets trapped in an underwater theme park.

(It's by writers who'd go on to make Zero Escape or Root Double, and much of the rest of the team went on to do the Science Adventure series at MAGES.

To a modern audience, Ever17 might seem really slowly paced and meandering, but that's because the Infinity Series it's a part of shows a fascinating transition from "romance VN with sci-fi elements" to "straight sci-fi VN", an important stepping stone for the genre.

Ever17 is slow, but the true ending picks up the pace as it interrogates all the lingering threads from the character endings. Anyway...)

One of the two protagonists is a young boy with amnesia, who doesn't even remember his own name. One scene early on both routes has the gang decide to give him a name, for convenience, suggesting several names from previous protagonists of VNs from the same developer, as a little easter egg.

None of them stick, and so the group collectively shrug and decide to just call him "shounen".

Now, E17's translation was a bit of a rush job, with the translator not having enough time for a proper level of polish and care (lines like "naturally I knows the hacker" come to mind), and this lead to a hastily done case of find-and-replace making its way into the released version.

We know that in an earlier draft of the translation, "shounen" was translated as "youth". This both reads a little weirdly in English and missed the intended punchline. Thankfully, before release, they spotted it:

They try the names of several previous protagonists of the developer's VNs, before shrugging and going with "shounen".

Ever17 was developed by Kindle Imagine Develop, or KID for short, so the joke is they should be calling him "kid". Like, y'know, "hey kid", or whatever. With limited time, the translator found "youth" and replaced it with "kid". There, all done, that shouldn't cause any problems.

The find and replace tool used for this game somehow didn't take spaces into account.

Lines like "what do you think?" become "what do kidink?" Phenomenal.

[battlekilt]

An inescapable tragedy... of surviving...

Rex's plot armor ain't all that it's cracked up to be. But he can't get out of it, any more than Fives and Fox could get out of their fate.

Was responding to a comment on my post about the duality of Fives and Fox's fate, written a little over a year ago, and decided to share my response. It grew as I polished it up.

"Long, long ago, in a galaxy far far away..."

We all knew how this would end. We knew that Fives would end in tragedy because had it not, then the tragedy of Order 66 would not happen.

Narratively, Fox functions as Rex's foil, which only further compounds the tragedy of Fives's death because it almost makes Rex a Hamlet-like character.

See, the most pivotal moments we've seen Rex develop led to this moment.

His struggle to question authority were answered when he questioned his orders to drop the issue of the ship, but also what Order 66 told him: The Jedi are traitors—execute them all.

His indecision to act on his independent instincts. A lesson we saw him go through with on Umbara, which Fives had been the opposite end of the spectrum Dogma; the two foils against Rex t0 gauge who he had been, and who he would become.

Both of those lessons, of authority and action through conviction, were seen evolving when didn't back down from Anakin or Cody's skepticism—He had good reason to believe Echo was alive, and he was determined to see that theory through.

Rex's inaction over Fives was mostly due to him not understanding what was happening enough to be able to do anything at all, but also his limited access to do anything, even if knew what to do.

But, it triggered a series of events that was sprung into motion. And that started with the other side of his coin becoming the unwilling executor of such an important brother. This was it, this was the final lesson we see him go through about indecision and skepticism.

The moment of Fives's death sealed the fates of both Rex and Fox.

Fives's death and its circumstances made Rex aware enough of the chip to file his formal complaint—the log he told Ahsoka to find, with the eerie choice of words, "Find Fives. Find him."

When she did so, she learned the secret, and decided she could not let her friend die. It had also given Rex the cognition to fight the chip, if only for a few scant seconds.

Few would ever be spared this tragic fate. We as the audience watch Fives's discovery and fool ourselves that maybe, maybe, what happened long, long ago, might be changed. However, we also know that it would never be changed. His discovery and death did not stop the events of Order 66, but it did end up being what spared Ahsoka, and in doing so, it saved Rex's fate from the same fate all the other Clones suffered.

Had Fives not died, Ahsoka would not be alive, and Rex might have shared her fate—either in the same grisly demise as the rest of the 332nd, or doomed to an Imperial life.

Lives saved, undoubtedly.

The same could not be said for Fox, who never had any choice in whether he took that shot or not; his duty wouldn't let him, and the narrative is much crueler.

Fives's death also made Anakin, who certainly did not carry Rex's same military rationale into his next life, as Lord Vader, bear a grudge set ablaze while he survived solely on hatred in his heart. Unable to act on the few injustices he felt he had inflicted on him, Vader made right what happened to Fives, and satisfied that hatred within... with Fox's death.

Oh, those final sounds. Fives died with the loud crack of a blaster bolt. Fox died with the simple, soft crack of his neck.

However, Rex lived, and I think... both Fives and Fox would see the value in that. Not that Rex was wholly spared.

Remember what Cody had said? Which, in hindsight, seemed another lessons in Rex's life for him to carry on with. It was also... another foreshadow.

Cody wasn't wrong. Rex's plot armor only prolonged the hardest thing.

So many had not been spared this fate. However, neither had Rex. He had the worst of it, if we are being honest. Ask Obi-Wan, after all.

What could possibly so hard about being this tragic fate?

Being a survivor.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 4- The Catch

Summary: Carentan was a harsh bloody battle. As you and Doc are tending to multiple wounded men, you eventually run into Liebgott while he’s comforting a severely wounded fellow soldier he was partnered with. After the Americans claimed the town, eventually the boys of Easy were pleasantly surprised when they had an evening at a pub when you arrived polished up like a lady with a song in your heart.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Death, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚

Chapter takes place Episode 1x4 Replacements

Song selection for this piece:

Good Night, My Love by Ella Fitzgerald

{Provided below at the end of the chapter}

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

As you come up on Carentan, you’re met with heavy fire from German snipers hiding inside some of the buildings. Most of you take cover in the ditches on either side of the road but are just made easy targets for the Germans since everyone was still out in the open. 

Winters shouted at the troops to move forward to get cover and started to physically lift each soldier he passed to get them moving. 

“Get yourselves out of those trenches!”  

After finally making entry into the town, American soldiers scatter to wherever they can to get cover from all of the gunfire coming from every direction. 

You and Doc on separate ends of the streets trying to keep low to tend to the wounded. 

“MEDIC!!” 

You race to two soldiers landing on your knees next to them, one on the ground with a trail of blood coming from his helmet, the other crouching over him. 

“He’s still breathing, help me carry him!” You call out. You each grab an arm of the injured soldier and drag him behind a building. 

While you’re working on the nameless soldier’s head wound, a drug store gets blasted by German artillery not far from where you were, the force from the explosion sending you sideways into the brick wall next to you. 

Your ears intensely ringing, it’s all you can hear for a moment until you hear Liebgott’s voice. 

“TIPPER! TIP! Answer me, Tip!” Joe calls out to his partner, Ed Tipper who sadly had been in the building when the blast occurred.  

You shake your head vigorously in an attempt open your ears and regain your composure. When you finally snap out of it, you look up to see Tipper stumbling out of the destroyed storefront of the pharmacy, the left side of his face completely torn up from shrapnel, and his right thigh blown wide open, the artery clearly lacerated and bleeding out.  

Liebgott running, stops dead in his tracks when he sees Tipper. 

“Joe?? Is that you??” Tipper calls out trembling. 

Liebgott stunned by Tipper’s bloody appearance, slowly approached him carefully setting down is rifle. 

“Lookin’ good, Tip.” Joe says reassuringly placing his rifle on the ground, “-lookin’ real good.” 

Liebgott gently took Tipper by the arm, leading him out of the building. 

“Come here, buddy, you gotta sit down. Come here...Come on...” He slowly helped Tipper to the ground, “Easy, easy...There you go...there you go.”  

Liebgott crouched next to Tipper and gently guided his head to rest in the crook of his neck.  

Tipper’s breath became ragged and labored. As he started coughing up blood, Joe surveyed the rest of the damage on him. He discovers the right thigh wound, bleeding out and pulsating where the artery was hit, then the right foot exposed through the boot also drenched in red. 

“Ah Jesus...” Liebgott whispered to himself stroking Tipper’s hair. “You hang in there, buddy. Okay, we're gonna get you fixed up. All right...okay. Guys, you wanna give me a hand here? Come on.”  

He started to lift Tipper as you approached. Before the other two soldiers could help Liebgott pick him up, you push through them grabbing Tipper’s right arm to bring it across the back of your shoulders and assist carrying him to safety. 

“Over here, Lieb.” You direct.  

You both rest Tipper against the wall as you grab a large dressing from your med bag, putting it directly over his thigh to apply pressure. You knew it would be to no avail since the artery needed to be held closed to keep the blood in and he’s lost so much blood already. Without plasma, you couldn’t do much. 

“Tip, I’m right here.” You comfort him, putting your face in his line of sight so he can see you. 

Liebgott staring stood up slowly, waiting for you to work your healing magic, but you already knew Tipper’s fate was sealed. You look up apologetically at Joe and shake your head.  

~~~~~~~ 

After the dust finally settled, the town was now under American control. The time in Carentan was short lived, as orders came through for Easy to attack East towards the low ground. Easy went from the Western part of Carentan towards the South, near the village of Douville. You all are confronted with a major German resistance upon your arrival. The Germans launched a strong counter- attack with tanks and armored vehicles. Fortunately, Sherman tank reinforcements arrived, breaking the German lines of contact and shortly abandoned the hill. 

A few days later, after a failed reconnaissance mission, Easy was removed from the front lines and sent back to Sainte-Mère-du-Monte to recover from the combat you all had endured. To Easy’s misfortune, Lipton announces you all are to return to combat in September. New orders state Easy is to drop into Holland to liberate the people from German tyranny. 

But when Easy approaches Eindhoven, the locals commemorate your arrival with celebration in the streets with banners waving and cheers of appreciation. Women of the village kiss each soldier on the cheeks and mouths as they pass, while the men hug or shake their hands showing their gratitude. 

It was chaotic. Everywhere you looked, people were dancing and shouting in the streets while music blared from a band off to the side. You were once again separated from Joe.  

You hear Lipton yelling, “Keep moving!!” He repeated over and over amongst the crowd as he ushered the guys up the street.  

This was an unusual change of pace for Easy Company. Instead of being met with gunshots and explosions, you’re welcomed with warm smiles and affection from the locals. Some of the guys took advantage of the situation getting in some extra kisses from the local women.  

You wondered if Liebgott was kissing any of these women. Afterall, they seemed to be wearing some of their best dresses with make-up and here you were, having looked like a hag for nearly four months since you dropped on D-Day. Why wouldn’t he get his kisses in while he had the chance to get one from a lady looking like she had at least been bathing consistently? 

This thought discouraged you. You hadn’t done yourself up since Toccoa. You release a sigh of frustration and continue pushing through the crowd. 

~~~~~~~ 

That evening, Easy got together with some of the new Easy replacements in attendance at what seemed to be a barn made into an improvised pub. There was a dartboard on the wall, and multiple tables and chairs set up. A simple radio playing some popular tunes sat on the bar. 

“Hey, Lieb, where’s Y/L/N?” Perconte asked. 

Liebgott shrugged. “Last I heard she went to one of the local women’s houses to get cleaned up.” 

“Betchya we won’t even recognize her.” Guarnere joked. 

The guys all laughed collectively. Malarkey pushed through the crowd trying to get everyone’s attention. 

“Hey, guys! Get a look at the bird that just came in!” Malarkey pointed towards the entrance with a wide eager smile. 

Everyone redirected their attention to the front of the room. Most of the men of Easy caught sight of an almost familiar woman wearing the standard female Army dress uniform complete with skirt, simple heels, and clean white medic brassard displaying the Red Cross around the left bicep. Hair clean and perfumed pulled back into a neat fashionable bun and a face with fresh make-up and painted lips. You almost had the entire room at a complete standstill when you walked in. 

Liebgott’s jaw dropped, (as did everyone’s). 

“Who the hell is that?” Talbert asked. 

“Floyd, you’re an idiot.” Guarnere asserted. 

“It’s our little lady medic, boys.” Randleman pointed out affectionately. 

Excited murmurs and whispers filtered across the room. 

You start to make your way to Easy in the back. Of course, you’re approached by several other members from other companies there, but you kindly decline their advances so you can get to your own. 

“Hey, fellas.” You greet as you near the group of Easy soldiers. 

They all inaudibly respond with their own forms of welcome, then all fall silent leaving a heavy blanket of tension in the air between you and them. You look around suspiciously wondering why none of them were making eye contact with you or speaking. Some looked like they were even holding their breath. 

“What’s wrong with you guys? It just Y/L/N! Quit acting like you never seen a woman before.” Nixon said addressing the men. 

“Yeah, but that’s just it, sir, it’s Y/L/N...dolled up. She don’t normally look like this.” Guarnere explained. 

Nixon laughed. “Then it would be gentlemanly of one of you to offer her a seat while I get her a drink. What will you have Y/L/N?” He called out to you. 

“Thank you, sir, any beer will be just fine.” You replied with a relieved smile. 

“You clean up nice, L/N!” Malarkey commended as he pulled you in for a one-armed hug. 

“Thanks, Don.” You respond as your cheeks heat up.  

The rest of the guys agree simultaneously, each voicing over the other how great you looked. 

You laugh nervously, “Gee, guys, thanks.” Was all you could say. 

You weren’t used to this kind of attention from the boys. As the awkwardness lifted and everyone started to resume socializing, your eyes eventually met Liebgott’s.  

You each smile at eachother. 

“Here you go, L/N.” Nixon handed you a bottle with a wink. 

“Thanks, sir. Cheers!” You raise your beer clinking it against his highball glass of Vat 69 whiskey on the rocks. 

You finally go to stand with Liebgott.  

When you reached him, he gently pulled you in by your waist and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re a knockout, sweetheart.” He professed with that Joe Liebgott smirk.  

You felt his warm breath dance along your neck, making your spine shiver and the butterflies rise in your stomach. 

Your breath caught in your chest, and you smiled shyly at him. 

“Lookin’ dapper yourself, Joe.” You reply as you readjust his tie. 

Your little moment was interrupted abruptly by Guarnere. 

“Hey Joe, if you ain’t gonna have a dance with her, how ‘bout letting one of us take her once around the room?” He teased. 

An upoar of laughter erupted from the group. 

Joe looked at you and raised his eyebrows, “How about it, doll?” He asked. 

“Oh, I don’t think I can dance in these shoes, Joe. I tripped twice outside on the way over here.” You admitted. 

Joe chuckled then Luz came up to you. 

“Hey Y/F/N! Bull here says you got some pipes on ya? Can you sing us a little something?” He bid. 

You direct a look of betrayal towards Randleman. 

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone, Bull.” You reminded him sharply. 

“It would be a crime and shame to keep that voice a secret, lady.” Randleman declared. 

Laughter fills the air. 

“So, whaddya say? One song? For us?” Luz begged again. 

You look around at all the eager faces of the men in Easy Company, and you smile. 

“How about some Ella Fitzgerald?” You suggest. 

The men cheered and ushered you over to the upright piano against the wall by the bar.  

“Hey, we can’t see her!” One soldier shouted from the back. 

“Give her something to stand on!” Another one called out. 

Toye placed a chair next to the piano as Liebgott offered his hand to help you up. 

When you came into view of the audience, all the men applauded, directing whistles and howls of admiration. 

You grimace playfully shaking your head mouthing, “Knock it off!” as you wave them down. 

A soldier from the crowd sat at the piano. 

“You know, Goodnight, My Love?” You ask him.  

The soldier nodded and began playing the selection from memory. 

You serenade with all your heart and soul, immediately capturing the room. As you sing, you look from one awestruck face to another, making sure to smile as any good entertainer would do in the movies. You felt like a starlet. 

The whole room leaning in listening intensively, some ogling at you from the tables, your eyes connect with Joe’s who’s standing along the front. He grins as he watches you admirably and you can’t help but return a smile.  

At that moment on the last line of the song, you lost your balance. 

🎶Sleep tight, my love, goodnight, my love 

Remember that you’re my sweetheart--🎶

“GASP!”

All the air suddenly left your lungs as you feel your feet leaving the surface of the chair. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as Joe swiftly swooped in catching you bridal style before you can hit the floor. The room in unison choked with concern. 

The world went still while Joe was holding you. Your faces so close, your cheeks reddened and once again your breath stuck in your throat somewhere. 

 “Nice grab, Liebgott!” You hear Guarnere shout. The room laughed and applauded as Joe turned still carrying you, smiling mischievously from ear to ear. 

“What a finale!” Compton called out. 

“No more booze for her!” Luz teased. More laughter. 

Liebgott set you on your feet. 

“You good?” He asked. You nod.

“Thanks to you.” You beamed. You leaned in and kissed his cheek to show your gratitude for the rescue. 

You heard some of the guys mockingly whistle at you and Liebgott for this little show of affection. 

His astonishment had left his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide making you giggle. He leered playfully at you. 

“You missed, sweetheart.” He eluded as he tapped his lips with his finger winking at you. 

You raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. With your fore and middle fingers together, you press them to your red lips, kiss the pads, then place them onto Joe’s waiting lips which he gladly kissed. A devilish grin stretched across his face. 

“Maybe next time we can have that dance?” He suggested. 

“Sure, Joe. At least I know I can depend on you to catch me if I fall again.” You proclaim with a wink and a coy smile. 

“I’ll always be there to save you, sweetheart.”  

~~~~~~~

For your hearing pleasure,

Good Night, My Love by Ella Fitzgerald

{Provided by YouTube}

Chapter 5 👇🏼