#like the different themes in each one but all about forgiveness

[crowleys-bentley-and-plants]

The Unforgiven III by Metallica should not hit so hard wtf

[axiina]

PLSSS soft corio comforting reader after they get he saves her(or them idm) from the arena after she tried to say a proper goodbye to her tribute (kinda like sejanus) but maybe she gets hurt and super traumatized but hes there for her idk

If I Killed Someone for You

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x capitol!reader (gender neutral)

Summary: It wasn't supposed to end this way. You just wanted to say goodbye to your tribute, Lamina. Luckily, your boyfriend was there and made sure you didn't get hurt. Just why do you look at him differently now?

Words: 1.5k

Themes: hurt with comfort, a bit of fluff but also angst

Warnings: slight spoilers to movie and book, small changes to canon, Pup isn't Lamina's mentor, character's death, murder, a bit of trauma, blood, comforting, a bit of argument, death, overthinking, reader feels guilty about situation, referring reader as 'you'

Author's note: Lamina deserved better so you are her mentor, fuck this idiot Pup.

It was supposed to be fluff, but it came out a bit sad and traumatic. We got a soft Coriolanus, leaving aside the fact that he killed someone in the process. Enjoy!!

It was a pure act of desperation.

You just wanted to tell Lamina what you hadn't managed to do before. You had grown close to the young girl, who was horrified by what was happening. The very fact that she was in the arena, alone, without any support was driving you crazy.

She didn't deserve what happened to her. You hoped that maybe Lamina would be able to win and would be able to return home to the family she missed so much.

With each hour of the Hunger Games, her chances seemed to get smaller and smaller. For those few days, you sat like you were on pins and needles staring at the big screen at the Academy. After a while, the helplessness returned and you had to try not to cry in front of the cameras.

Lamina did not deserve it. None of the tributes deserved it. You did everything you could to make Lamina feel as comfortable as possible during the meetings and her stay at the Capitol. In the arena, you tried your best to make sure she wasn't hungry or thirsty. You didn't want her to get hurt. That, however, was not enough. Seeing a boy from her district, Treetch, joining another group made you feel anxious.

"What if they kill her? What if he betrays her…" This thought ran through your head repeatedly like a mantra.

She became weaker and weaker every day.

Your last meeting was too short. You didn't have time to say goodbye to her properly. You wanted her to know that even though you were physically somewhere else, your heart and thoughts were with her, at the arena. You had to say goodbye to her. You wouldn't forgive yourself if Lamina died without hearing a proper goodbye.

That's why you decided to see her one last time. Under cover of darkness, you crept into the arena in disguise and quietly snuck under the beam where Lamina was. Perhaps foolish and reckless, but you didn't think about the consequences. Ever since the girl got to the arena you couldn't find a place. You slept only short naps and didn't even want to meet Coriolanus, who was getting more and more worried about you.

While you were at the arena, every now and then you looked nervously around to the sides to see if anyone was coming. Lamina was surprised when you showed up. It was all surreal and you felt as if you were detached from reality. As soon as you saw Lamina you started crying. You both cried. Now the knowledge of how dangerous the arena was came to you like a powerful punch. She can't die. You don't remember what exactly you told her. You don't know if you said anything that made sense to her at all. The adrenaline made your mind kind of foggy. However, you know that it lifted her spirits. She knew you were with her and supporting her. You don't know exactly how much you were in the arena.

Everything happened so fast when Coriolanus grabbed your arm. Your brain didn't even register the fact that the boy appeared there practically out of nowhere. He looked terrified. He spoke quickly and incoherently. You only understood as he begged you to run away from there, because at any moment someone might come out of the tunnels and kill you. You were frozen with panic when it came to you. They hate the Capitol. They hate you too, and they certainly wouldn't think twice before killing you. Your fear was increased when Lamina's eyes widened in horror and only one word came out of her mouth.

Run.

Tributes began to leave the tunnels. As soon as they noticed that there were two mentors in the arena they started running towards you. Because of the adrenaline in your veins, you don't remember much of what happened next. You and Coriolanus ran as fast as you could when Coral, Mizzen, Tanner and Bobbin chased you while holding objects in their hands that could be the cause of your upcoming death.

The next scene that stuck in your mind was when your boyfriend hit one of the tributes on the head with a wooden plank. The boy fell down, and Coriolanus, without thinking much, hit him a second time. Then another and another. You looked at the body of Bobbin lying lifeless and Snow standing over him, unable to get a single word out. Your heart was raging and your head was spinning, feeling fear. You were terrified.

You couldn't tell what was the reason. The fact that you had just nearly died in the arena, or…. no, it couldn't have been that. He was merely trying to defend you. Yes, that was definitely the reason. Coriolanus is not a murderer, he was just…. he was terrified and acted emotionally. Bobbin would have killed him if Coryo hadn't done it first. Then you would have been next in line. Yes, that's what would have happened.

Both of you were injured, but at that moment it didn't even cross your mind to ask him how he was feeling. The Peace Keepers almost carried you out of there. Your parents were as terrified as you were. By the time you were sitting in your room wrapped in a blanket as your mother hugged you crying something finally hit you. You could have died. Your family would have been devastated. Your friends and…Coriolanus. Well, exactly, Coriolanus. He almost died because of your fault. Your stupidity and recklessness. Now he is injured and probably suffering, and you are not there with him. After what happened you didn't even say a stupid thank you to him.

"What were you even thinking! You could have died there! Did you even think about your loved ones? About me? What would have happened to me if you had died there? If I didn't get there in time!" Coriolanus repeated walking in circles around the empty classroom, the next morning. You had your head bent down, and tears were running down your cheeks. How could you do something like that?

Coriolanus sighed and sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell like that. You're probably still terrified. I was just…scared. I was scared that I would lose you."

It seemed to you that his voice cracked as the boy pressed his cheek against your head.

"Don't do that again. Don't scare me like that. If you had died I wouldn't have forgiven myself. I wouldn't be able to live normally." He whispered in your ear with a trembling voice.

"I'm here, love. I will always be until you have had enough of me. Although, most likely, even then I won't give you a break." A quiet, slightly trembling chuckle left his lips, at which you also smiled involuntarily.

"Enough of you? Never." you replied in an amused voice gently pulling away, but still remaining in his embrace. "I'm sorry, Coryo…I'm so terribly sorry for you. I just wanted to say goodbye to Lamina. I don't want anything bad to happen to her. I don't want her-"

"Shhh, it's okay." Coriolanus rested his forehead against yours and took your face in his hands gently stroking your cheeks. "It is past. The most important thing is that we came out of it alive. Lamina is also alive and relatively well, excluding the circumstances."

"Thank you, Coryo. Thank you for everything. For saving me that night and that you do not resent me for it." You whispered, trying not to cry. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm and placed a gentle kiss on it.

Coriolanus' face moved closer to yours and he gently brushed your lips with his own as if he was afraid he would frighten you.

"I am angry at you. Earlier even furious, but I love you too much to stay mad at you." Coryo gently rubbed his nose against yours and looked into your eyes.

His beautiful blue eyes. Cold, but at the same time it makes you feel at home. Eyes that yesterday were raging and at one point…full of hatred.

Your smile slowly disappeared as you remembered what happened to Bobbin.

"Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday-" you started uncertainly, but Coriolanus cut you off.

"No." His voice seemed cold and in a moment you were embarrassed and your heart beat faster. You were the reason he had to do it, and now you're reminding him of it. Maybe he thinks you are blaming it on him.

Your thoughts, however, were interrupted by your boyfriend's voice. Softer this time.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't want to do it, but it was stronger than me…Please don't hate me. I love you and I did it for you too."

His eyes were glassy and he seemed panicked. You shook your head in denial and took his hand in yours bringing it close to your lips and kissed his knuckles.

"No, you're a good person, Coryo. Nothing has changed. I continue to love you, and you only proved me during the night that I couldn't find a better one."

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

"You know you don't have to…you don't have to be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt you. Never."

You froze for a brief moment. It was as if he was reading your mind. How could you think that about him? He saved you. If not for him, you would be dead.

It was stronger than that. When he approached you this morning your heart was beating faster and a chill went through your body.

"It's because I love him. Typical reaction" You repeated to yourself in your mind.

Every time you felt his hands stroking your hair while you were hugging, you thought about how tightly he gripped that wooden plank with which he cracked the head of the boy in the arena. How the blood spurted onto his snow white shirt from his school uniform. And those eyes. The eyes that always made you feel butterflies in your stomach, and then they seemed so unfamiliar. You thought about how later after the situation at the arena, he tried to approach you, and you took a step back with your eyes wide open in horror.

Of course, he knew. You don't need to read minds to know that. And he was intelligent. He knew right away.

"I know, I know, Coryo. It's just…" you knew that if you continued your voice would break. Besides, you didn't know what to say. You snuggled into his neck hugging him more tightly at the waist. You don't want to hurt him with such thoughts, but they are so intrusive. You can't get them out of your head despite his reassurances, affectionate words and gentle touch. "I'm sorry, I should be there for you, and I'm making everything worse."

You whispered soaking the collar of his shirt with your tears.

His hand went to your hair gently stroking it.

"Stop, it's not your fault."

You stayed like that in each other's embrace, in silence. Words are not important now. What is important is that you are together and nothing will change that.

He will not hurt you. Yes, he won't hurt you.

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Leon is the most devoted young man you know, and what you always wanted, is to ruin ruin, turn him into a complete sinful mess. And finally, you got that.

PAIRING: Churchboy¡Leon x implied F!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.110k

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION KINK MAJOR! Religious themes!! Sub and whiny¡Leon. Handjob. Descriptions of male anatomy. On the church.

NOTES: After weeks, getting sick and everything, the part two is finally here! This work can be read alone, but there is a part one if you want to see. This was only possible due to the dear @navstuffs! She helped me a lot and she deserves all the thanks for this, thank you Nav!

At the beginning of the world, it was only good things. The literal Eden Garden at dispose, offering just the best of the fruits, the nature in contact with the skin, everything was pure. Until it wasn’t anymore. Leon always thought about how perfect the life could be before the sin, before the luxury of the human beings, in fact, his mind was driven into those thoughts, not fully understanding what could made Eve tempt and change the whole world to the way he know now, he did not understood how she could replace a life of trust, love and literal heaven, in trade with what? A miserable life forever. Maybe it was the idea of being forbidden that got her so allured. The rule was simple, not to eat the apple, and was that’s what got her so ecstatic, Eve could have everything around her, but that fruit was calling her, whispering her name in the most blissful winds ever created, the alluring idea of something being restricted by God himself, called her up on her mind. What could be so different about that fruit? Why was she so special that even God didn’t want to let them have contact with her?

Leon couldn’t understand the meaning behind that forbidden fruit, for him, it was just an easy task to follow his creator's order. Anyway, he didn’t want to face his choleric state, nor to lose all his privileges after creation as the first God miracle, the man. That is until, you appeared on his mind, occupying the only space being used to drive him withered.

Soon, the fruit was replaced, not just a simple apple anymore, but you. You, and that voluptuous body, cute giggle and face builded by an angel, he could appreciate you for hours, if this wasn’t wrong, he didn’t want to be sinful. But just as Eve, your mischievous smile and alluring voice called for him, whispering his name in the depth of the world to keep him distracted from his initial objective, which was to serve his God, you were the luxury itself, right in front of him. There was no apple, just you, that deep into your mind, craved for Leon, and he, just wanted a bite of that pleasure, for being a sinful human as the others too, to see why humans fail so much, you were the perfect representation of a sin to him, the kind of woman that makes him fall on his knees and ask for his forgiveness, that wasn’t his normal state, it can’t be. Leon never saw himself so deprived, so perverted and sick like that.

From days now, you’ll be haunting his mind with unholy thoughts. Leon was in a dangerous line because of you, either ready to fall directly into a painful post life, with no way back, right into the hell for being such a pervert for you, or, resisting to the forbidden fruit and achieving a life of miracles to the end. Poor young man would wake up with a flustered rosy face, sweaty forehead, heavy breathing and surroundings still confused. He could swear you were in his dream, not in a good way at all. He would jump off of the bed, getting on his knees to the floor, hands gripping in each other to make it up for his sinful thoughts, mumbling his sorrows and asking for God help to “return him to his normal”, which never changed, he was always there, waiting patiently to give in and taste the sweet melody of the intimacy between such a thing as sex, but that was restricted due to the fear of a miserable hell. Leon felt filthy, the most dirty man walking on Earth, wearing an catholic third around his neck, gripping into it as his life depends of that, mumbling the God name as he could felt that weird sensation next to his crotch growing more and more painful, he didn’t knew what that is, but it hurt, it felt wrong. Plastered tears glued on his cheeks, he felt so false, so wrong and yet, so good.

“Oh my Jesus, forgive us for our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in the most need of your mercy. Amen.” The words felt so blank, so empty and for the first time, Leon felt like there was no salvation in his actions.

He’s sure that God is looking down at him, thinking that his child is lost, already too wrapped by the Devil’s hands. He would be laughing at him, seeing how pathetic he is, the image he once had for his religion is ruined. He is ruined. Slowly becoming the nasty sinner in his own eyes, there’s nothing that could save him anymore. With his mind slowly descending, he knew that you were the cause of this, you were his luxury, his apple and he was Eve in a kind of way, now, he understand her, he gets that feeling, that he want to have a taste of something forbidden, to know what life truly feels like.

Even though he’s becoming a sinner, his heavy footsteps were echoing through the hallways, the devil himself walking into the church to play pretend with his subordinates sinners, he had a head towards the ground, ashamed for his thoughts, not wanting to face the consequences for that. With another preaching coming closer, he was ready to watch it, with his conscience heavy and heartbeat unusual. But a half closed door got his attention, the before innocent eyes widened as he was more curious than ever before, peeking through the door, what Leon found got his knees weak.

He remembered when he was young, he looked deeply into the priest eyes and did an promise, “not to fall in temptation”, he knew all the words correctly, the way his eyes lit up in that powerful presence of God, how he felt protected from all the dangers of the world for a fraction of second. But the danger is not carrying a weapon, the danger it’s the damn weapon, disguised as a woman, you. Under the dim light of the room, your soft silk dress slowly falling from your shoulders, he could swear your skin glistened with the sun, like you’re shining. The texture of your skin must be the most perfect skin to touch in his mind, it seems so delicate and smooth, not to mention the sweet scent of your body, the natural scent is enough to drive into the most unhinged person ever. Leon was flabbergasted, his jaw open as he almost drooled over the sight, he knows he shouldn’t be watching you change to the preaching, nor even be desiring you like a dog in heat in search for an mate, a gasp escape from his throat, forcing him to put his hands on top of his mouth to shut him off. A faint sound could be heard by you, the creaky floor behind the half open door, plus, a very low gasp being muffled. With only your white bustier and suspender belt, your head turned towards the door, and you saw a dirty blond hair swung in the air, hiding behind it, and that made you bite your cheeks from inside, holding a giggle, you could recognize him anywhere, silly Leon.

Acknowledged of his presence, you decided to put on a show for him. Playing with the straps of your bustier, letting it loose on your shoulders to show him what he’s losing. At this point, you couldn’t imagine you caught him sneaking on you changing, something might've changed on that angel to turn him into that. The teasing only proved your point, you could hear the tender sound of his desperate voice he sounded like a puppy whining, incapable to hold the instincts of seeing something so attractive for the first time, hands squeezed together and eyes in awe as he let out faint heavy breaths.

—”Come here, Leon.” He felt dizzy immediately. You saw him, you caught him red handed while spying you.

Looking like an abandoned dog, eyes on the floor, hands behind his back and short footsteps, he got inside, closing the door with your instruction. He couldn’t look at you, how could he look at you while you wear something so profane as this outfit you’re wearing right now? But he was already looking anyway, this wouldn’t make any difference, he just likes to pretend he was not doing something so wrong like that. Not the innocent Leon, he couldn’t commit his first sin with you, no way.

—”You know that spying is not a good thing, right?” Your feet on the ground made a stomp sound, indicating you were getting closer to him.

With his eyes hidden by his bangs, this was a bad situation that he chose to be into. He bit his lower lip, a wave of guilt all over his body and made him feel even more weaker. Leon nodded with his head, not even able to whisper a single word for you, just to show how embarrassed he is. The embarrassment was not only because he got caught, but of what his image will turn after this, what you will do to him. Your hot aura was invading his space and making him nervous, so much that he trembled like a leaf.

—”I asked you a question.” Your tone got a bit more stern, and you heard Leon suck a sob in between his little crooked teeths. You loved how he was not perfect at all, he was not going to stay forever innocent, you knew that, but you wanted to be the reason behind that. Leon is a grown man, he can make decisions for himself and answer a simple question.

—”Y-Yes! I…I know.”

Pressing him against the closet cabinet, he let out a gasp escape again. Your hands were behind him, dangerously close to touching his body in a way never before. Leon eyes dragged to yours, locking to see that flame in your pupils that he feared to face for so long.

—”You look so desperate, like you never saw a body before.”

—”I-I…never…” The words slipped out from his tongue, he didn’t have any control on his actions nor words at the moment, he was only listening to you and watching you. Your ferocious desire was filling his senses too, tormenting his poor mind. You only chuckled from his words gently, but he felt offended.

He must look so pathetic close to you, you must have plenty of experience and he…he had never seen his own body before, for him, it was wrong to see his own body, he believed that this would make him some kind of sinner. But seeing you, so alluring and bashing your eyelashes so innocently like a doll.

—”Haven't you ever seen a naked body before?”

The silence was his answer, he looked away bashfully, scared to admit the truth. Scared to look silly in front of you, to make a fool of himself. The look on his face said everything, and by the way he’s fidgeting his fingers anxiously, you didn’t need a proper answer. You understood, pressing your almost bare body against his just to hear him gulp audible, the thing was, you could feel a pent up dick hitting your inner thigh, he was so hard from just seeing your body this way, you wonder how he could be so sensitive this way. Just getting closer, made his whole face flushed.

—”You’re so hard already, Leon.” You snickered, looking down to watch his cock stir on his pants, underneath your skin. His eyes were wide open, he looked down with you, confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

—”Hard? Is this what is hurting me?”

—”Hurting you? I’m guessing you never touched your body before to not know this is a boner.” Leon bit his lips again, this time humming in desperation and his hands were supported on the cabinet behind him.

—”Explain to me, please.”

You were surprised. He never really touched himself before? That would be even better than you thought. With a tender sigh, your hands hovered over his chest, slowlying pestering all the way down to his hips.

—”It’s hard to explain, but I can help you to get rid of the…pain, as you say.”

His eyes lit up, Leon whimpered at the touch of your hands on him, the first touch like this on his, the very first one, is yours. Just like you did in his dreams, but you were like a devil cornering him, wrapping him in your claws. At the feel of his cock twitching in his pants, he needed to get rid of that sensation, it was weird, so he nodded at your offer, agreeing to being ruined forever.

The next thing Leon knew, is that he was embraced by you fully this time. His rear resting on the low closet cabinet, his hands were roaming over your tender shoulders, searching for any support not to fall on his knees in front of you. Leon was ruined, there was no turning back from now on, not when his throat let the most obscene sounds your ears could be graced with, whiny soft pants making him look pathetic and adorable at the same time, the mix of feelings messing up with his mind and turning him into this. The way your hands were exploring his body so indecently for the first time is awkward, and yet, brings him to the edge of a just discovered emotion.

Your hands felt all over his body, exploring every inch as that was your last chance to show him the sin you could be. In fact, that could be a one lifetime opportunity, and you needed to get him addicted to make sure he would crawl back to you, begging for more of that thing only you can bring him to. With the way you looked, your eyes felt sore, like you just saw a golden flash in them so abruptly, that was, seeing Leon's dick for the first time. It was…cute, but desirable, that's for sure. The reddened tip looked untouched as the rest of his body, he was not thick, but he was considerably lengthy, you felt the urge to kiss it, tuck him inside your mouth, push him to the back of your throat and send him to heaven early as he wanted, but not in a glorious way. Leon couldn't even look into your face anymore, everything was blurry, but every single touch got him shivering, anyway, he agreed to that, and regret is not a word that could describe how he was right now. Deciding to have some pity on the man and take things slow to be just a bit passionate once, your hands pestered all the way down to finally touch his cock, watching as it stirred into your hands so adorably.

Leon's whimpers were everything you could ask for, he hid his face on the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin ever so gracefully to try to shut him, but he was loud, VERY loud. It was his first time being touched, you couldn't blame him. You started to touch his length, going up and down as you felt his hips jerking forward into you, showing that he wanted (needed) more. Turning your hands into a cupping one, you started to masturbate him at your own pace, taking his time as you heard his reactions, if you got quicker, he could get so much louder than before.

—”You don't want the whole church to hear us now, do you?” Your voice didn't need to get loud for him to listen, the distance was enough for a whisper in his ear that made him moan.

He knew it was wrong, and that anyone could hear him moaning like a bitch in heat for you, but he couldn't care less now. He had lost his innocence and faith, there's nothing else to lose. And yet, he kept his tone loud, he couldn't lower them in any way, everything felt so overstimulating that he felt like he was going to explode at any time.

Leon was trembling in your arms, you could see how he was holding onto you, crying, mumbling something incoherent as the same time your shoulders felt wet. A mixture of tears and saliva that escaped from his inside cheeks. You kept teasing him, some times, pressing his tip until you heard him whining and his trimmed nails pressed against you, marking you so slightly it wouldn't last long. His legs were wide open for you, and yet, he was almost closing them, if it wasn't for your body in the middle of them, the proximity allowed your breath to hit on his face, and you, to see his godly constructed face contorted in pleasure for you, everything you asked for.

Since he was a beginner at this kind of situation, he wouldn't last long, you knew that. Just a few pumps were enough to drive him crazy. As soon as his arms involved your back, his teeths into your shoulders and his moans got even more whiny (which you didn't think was possible), you knew he was close to cummming. Leon's hands tapped your back, he was mumbling and mumbling something non stop, and it took you a few seconds to understand

—”W-What….what is this?! I feel like…I'm…going to burst! Please!” His pleas were adorable, he didn't know what was coming, but he was begging for it.

—”It's completely normal, Leon…”

You soothed him, a gentle moment that kept you moving around his overwhelmed dick until he was fumbling and hyperventilating, he was a mess of heavy breaths, whimpers, grunts and every sound possible he could muster at the moment.

It didn't take long to see Leon's soul escaping from his body. His eyes were as wide as possible, the blue orb in the middle almost submerged on that white ocean of his eyes. Leon gripped into you, his legs failing for the first time, his toes curling up together and his head thrown back as he moaned in a strangle of breath. That's until the long ropes of cum made contact with your hands, escaping to drip on the cabinet wood underneath him. Took him long enough to stop seeing stars, his eyes drizzled off to somewhere distant until he could finally look into yours, to see your big grin and blush like a silly.

—”I…is it wrong to…ask for more?”

[taestefully-in-luv]

Our Time | JJK (Seven)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 12.4k

Warnings: seriously depressing (for now) swearing, mentions of alcoholism, allusions to cheating

a/n: Hiiiiiii, long time no see!! Sorry for the delay and thank you for waiting. This story is at a depressing point (lol) so forgive me! I hope you guys can enjoy this chapter too 🥺 Well, I hope you guys enjoy and  please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

Previous --- Next

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An eternity has passed since you’ve last seen Jungkook…a total of six weeks. Each day has gotten equally harder as it has gotten easier. You think it’s just your body slowly getting used to his absence but your mind is yearning. Yearning and hurting.

But there is something that’s also painful like missing your ex-husband—your best friend—and it’s the videos of your life. A life you know nothing of. 

If you thought pictures were hard, videos are much harder.

But you asked for this. You asked your parents and your friends to send you old pictures and videos of times you don’t remember living.

You’re seeing pictures of you and your friends in restaurants you don’t know. Bars you don’t know. Concerts for artists you don’t know. Pictures of you in your bedroom, but it’s a bedroom you don’t know. 

You have haircuts and styles you don’t know.

In the videos, you hear yourself laughing at inside jokes you don’t know. You’re using vocab and slang you don’t know. You see yourself giggling and joking around with people you. don’t. know. And you feel more like an outsider than ever. Not just to this world but to the girl you see on screen, you are an outsider to herworld. 

Perhaps you’ve gotten too use to separating your different selves. And perhaps that makes it harder to unite with them.

Past you is current you but current you thinks of current you as future you. 

It’s all a headache to think about. 

You know they’re all you but because you’ve kept them separate, it’s somehow becoming the shackles that stops all the you’s from uniting. 

And that’s what needs to happen for all of your memories to return. You have to unite 24 year old you and 33 year old you. It’s only your sanity on the line.

Now that you’ve discovered a couple of things, the only way to go from here is to intentionally spark your memories—in any way. You have to. Because you know 33 year old you has started something...

You quickly tear your eyes from the video on screen to take a quick peak towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You’ve visited the attic a few times because of all of the memories that are stored in there.

But those boxes are filled with more than just memories.

Your eyes go back to your phone in hand as your thumb hesitantly hovers over the screen. You know you should move on to another video but it almost feels like you don’t have it in you. You don’t have it in you to stop listening to the sound of your child’s laughter when you can’t recognize it.

You don’t have it in you to stop the possibility of triggering your brain to suddenly remember him. 

You finally force your thumb to the screen and you quickly pause it. You take in a sharp breath before exiting the video to scroll through the five videos your mom sent you. You see Haru in all five. And you can see Jungkook in three of them. You chose one where you couldn’t see Jungkook. 

But this video of Haru’s giggles feels just as heartbreaking but more than anything, it feels frustrating. Because you don’t know him. 

And that feels like an unbearable heartache on its own.

Suddenly, your eyes bounce from the video thumbnails to the text your mom just sent you.

Mom 7:28am

Good morning! We’re our way to the station and should arrive in Seoul around 2pm. You’re still picking us up, right?

You slowly close your already drooping eyes, the moment way too brief before you open them again, glancing towards the living room windows where the obvious sunlight comes through. Another night you didn’t sleep. Your eyes battling your brain. You might get a few hours if you try to sleep now, at the least. 

~

“I just don’t understand how you can drink those all day,” Your mother’s eyes go from the knife in her hand to the iced coffee in yours. “I know it’s got to be giving you heartburn.” She laughs a little while shaking her head, eyes going back down to the cutting board where she chops onions.

You blink at your mom before dropping your eyes to the coffee in your hand, “Wait, is this why?” 

She chuckles again, “Must be from your dads side of the family.” She shrugs now, letting the onions slide off the board and into a pan.

You roll your eyes at your moms playful comment before sliding the coffee away from you as you sit at your kitchen island, “Anyway, dad’s kind of taking a while, no?” You glance around the kitchen as if he would suddenly appear here. 

Your mom smiles to herself while her hands remain busy with cooking dinner, “Yeah, he’s waiting for me to text him saying he can come back from the store.”

You can’t help but snort since you know exactly what she means.

Back when you were a teenager and going through life’s woes that made the whole world feel like it was ending, you would have your meltdowns. Period cramps that made you moody, a friend talking behind your back, the boy you liked was seen kissing someone else. All the things your dad left your mom to handle. He would suddenly want to go to the store and she would somehow signal him when it was safe to return—after the two of you got to talk out whatever was bothering you.

You realize she’s done it now.

“You never used to take this long to tell me what was going on though.” Your mom says quietly, eyes trained on the stove.  “Especially not about Jungkook.” She sighs as she reaches for the wooden spoon before stirring the ingredients. 

You feel something sharp inside your chest, just at the mention of his name, like there’s a sharp knife.

You turn your face to the side, something uncomfortable and electric tightens your jaw. As if it’s a burning signal that even the mere mention of Jungkook, makes you want to cry. But you won’t. “Well, mom.” You take a deep breath before looking towards her again with a sarcastic smile. “Our marriage wasn’t exactly as perfect as you thought.”

You hope this is enough for her to realize that Haru’s disappearance wasn’t the wedge that created such distance between you and your now, ex-husband. 

You stare at the back of your mom’s head as she stands at the stove, still cooking. You wonder if she’s in utter shock at the revelation that perhaps Jungkook isn’t perfect. And your marriage definitely wasn’t. You wait and wait. But you see how she starts adding in a few other things.

“I said—”

“—What marriage is perfect?” Your mom finally turns around, cutting you off with a raised brow. “I never thought that. I’ll never think that. About anyone.” She scoffs before turning towards the stove again. “I told you that you didn’t usually take this long to talk about Jungkook with me.”

You don’t say anything.

Your mom turns her head towards you for a moment, you see the corner of her lip barely start to lift, like a knowing smile wants to form but her frown decides not to budge, “You were married to him for years…you don’t think you’ve come to complain to me?”

You understand her almost smirk now. She faces forward towards the stove again.

“Maybe around six months before Haru’s…incident. You came to Busan and I could tell something was up and you needed to talk.” Your mom rests a hand on her hip, while the other reaches for the stove knob as she turns it down. “But just like now…” She turns her head to eye you again, her worries pulling her lips into a deeper frown. “You took a while to tell me.”

You don’t really react. Not as your brain processes this information.

Your mom continues, “So I know your marriage wasn’t perfect. Jungkook’s not perfect. You’re not perfect.” She exhales through her nose in a half laugh. “I’m not perfect. Your father’s not either. But what’s between us…it has to be protected.” 

“Unless that person betrays you.” You say in a low voice, eyes going to your fingers as you pick at your cuticles. “And you lose your trust in them.”

You hear your mom at the stove again as she turns it off and puts the lid on the pan. After a moment you see your mother in your peripherals as she comes to the other side of the counter and sits next to you. 

“You mentioned something similar back then.” She says quietly, her face looking ahead. “But then I thought…well, that you thought it wasn’t what you thought.”

You quickly turn your head in your moms direction, eyes on hers. What all did you say to her? “Well, it was.” You say firmly. 

Your mom’s eyebrows pull together slowly, something similar to confliction rising in her eyes. “And how exactly did Jungkook betray you?” She asks after a moment.

And it feels pathetic, the feeling of all the muscles in your face betraying your collected appearance. So pathetic that the answer to this question makes your expression twist and break off the cracking mask that is now crumbling and falling from your face. 

It takes less than an instant for your heartbreak to be written all over. 

Your mom puts a hand to your back, letting you cry it out. 

Just like you did when you were a moody teenager and the only one who understood your meltdowns was your mom. She lets you know that once again, that no matter how small or how big—you had every right to feel the way you wanted to. 

You cry, a soft pat repeating on your back as you mumble how sad you are and how embarrassing this is. 

This short cry feels more like relief in the right company rather than something that is rocking your world in the worst way.

Your mom chuckles a little, pulling away from you. “Embarrassing?”

“Yeah.” You nod with a shameless smile and damp cheeks. “I know you know the me that’s been married to him for years but in my eyes we’ve been on one date and he was our neighbor. So I feel like you should be teasing me about us but you’re here with more knowledge about my marriage than me.” You laugh as you cry more, “So it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Hm,” Your mom chuckles again, “I guess I can understand that.”

You nod while your fingers wipe beneath your eyes repeatedly, they’re only teary now.

Your mom brings her hand away from you, her fingers intertwining on top of the counter. You watch as she stares down at her hands in thought before she finally sighs and turns your way with a small smile. “Talk to me, y/n. You’re convinced Jungkook betrayed you in some way—ways I can only assume—but tell me, do you really think he’s capable of what you’re thinking?”

You study your mother’s expression for a long moment, brows beginning to furrow when you realize she doesn’t buy it. Tearing your eyes away from her, your lips twist in annoyance, “Are you saying I shouldn’t believe in my own memories?”

You hear your mom sigh again, “You remembered something unpleasant, y/n. I’m not saying I don’t believe you…but even back then,” She pauses, hoping you will look at her but you don’t. She finally continues, “Things just didn’t add up…”

You’re quick to find her eye again, “What all did I tell you?”

At this, your mother scoffs lightly, her small smile still on her lips. “Nothing that really made sense. Seemed like you just…couldn’t tell me things. But I’m not dumb, you know? You drop plenty of hints when you get talking.”

“Oh.” You blink at her, wishing you could even remember whatever hints she’s referring to. 

“But the issue is that you stopped talking. You got quiet.” Your mother looks back at her hands again, her gaze hardening. “Then when Haru’s incident happened…you shut us all out. Everyone…” She whispers, lines between her brows forming, a hint of disappointment in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Even Jungkook.”

You can’t help but feel that same knife start slicing open the inside of your chest at the mention of his name again. “Probably because it’s his fau—”

“—He lost Haru too, y/n.” Your mom cuts you off, her eyes that are filled with something close to anger land on you. “You both did and what’s worse is that you both lost one another in the process.”

“I don’t remember the process but I’m sure I had a hard time even looking him in the eye.” You spit out. “You don’t know what happ—”

“—Do you?” She throws back at you. “Because you have yet to give me a story that makes even a little sense.”

Your heart starts screaming like someone just squeezed it way too hard. You force yourself to look away because tears that no one invited start to form. You feel done with this conversation but before you can announce its over, your mom sighs again and her palm rests against your back and you don’t have it in you to shove her off.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters softly, almost sounding regretful. “I am. You have no idea…” You feel her hand slowly retreat from your back, “How sometimes I would just pray you wouldn’t get your memories back. So you wouldn’t…” 

Your mother’s voice grows much softer, almost too quiet to hear. 

“Seeing you heartbroken all over again hurts us, y/n. I thought it would be easier…for you. But I guess it’s just easier for us.” She admits, a sharpness in her tone that indicates her regret. “There’s no way you would live happier if parts of you felt missing.” 

You feel her words stick to your skin uncomfortably, like sweat from the hot sun rather than a run you worked for. It’s unpleasant but also unwelcomed. 

Unwelcomed because you don’t want to accept a life where that could be the case—forced to live a life even with parts of you missing.

An uncomfortable reality and possibility.

“More than…” You begin, hands lifting to gesture towards nothing. “This is more than just Jungkook.”

Your mom chuckles to herself. “Of course I know that.”

“I’m starting to wonder what would feel worse,” You glance towards your empty hands before your fingers clutch nothing softly. “Remembering my child. Or not remembering my child.” Then your lips curl into a half smile that feels so empty as you silently cringe toward yourself, “It doesn’t even feel right saying ‘my’…” you immediately halt, teeth suddenly piercing into your bottom lip. You don’t even feel right calling Haru ‘your’ child. Because you don’t feel like his mother.

You try to keep the half smile plastered on your face but the sharp shock of tears that fill your eyes betray your wants. You quickly blink them away.

“I want to hate Jungkook so bad for so many reasons,” You admit before clearing your throat, “But I mostly hate him because at least he would recognize our sons laugh while I don’t. I hate him because I blame him but at least he knows the kid that I hate him for.” 

Also an uncomfortable reality. 

“Well,” Your mothers tone lets you know she’s about to change the subject. “You had a doctor’s appointment recently, right? How did it go?”

You shake your head, “He said the progress can be really slow…and that it’s normal for the brain to block out certain traumatic events. So much…” You pause.

“So much what?”

You sigh, “So much doesn’t make sense. It has me feeling so restless.”

“I’m sorry.” Your mom releases a shaky breathy before you hear her voice crack. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know what’s the worst part?” You decide to keep the venting session going. “I just feel ashamed. I’m a parent but I don’t even know about it. I feel so lost. I don’t think if I was given a child I could—”

“This doesn’t make you less of a mother, y/n.” Your mom snaps her eyes in your direction, a fierceness in them. “You are still a parent. A damn good one at that.”

You study your mother’s expression with a fondness, because you see her sincerity. This makes your eyes sting again. “Thanks, mom.”

~

After a nice weekend with your parent’s, you decide you’ve been resting enough. You want to start working again, having too much time on your hands seems like a problem nowadays. You find yourself back at that new café.

“I’ll take a honey lavender latte.” You tell the girl at the counter, her eyes immediately widening before she nods her head in approval.

“Great choice. A personal fav.” She grins before continuing, “And I make it the best.” 

A new voice joins in from behind, startling you. “Make that two.” A man says. You quickly turn around, eyes rising towards the same man you spilled coffee on. “Oh, it’s you.”

He brings a hand to his heart, “I’m a you? That means you remember me!” He smiles at you, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. 

You bite your lip, guilt sinking in from the last time. “Well, I thought you were gonna press charges for burning you last time. So, I guess I would remember.”

He looks taken aback, his eyes going round. “Press charges?” Then he laughs, “No, no. I wouldn’t do that, who wants to deal with cops, anyway?” 

“Just the two lattes?” The girl at the counter speaks up in a sing song voice and you immediately spin in your spot to apologize to her but the man beats you to it while he pulls out his wallet.

“Should we get a cookie too?” He asks you, his head tilting a little and you start shaking your head. “You sure?” He smiles.

You’re the one taken aback. This guy is too kind. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone.

“Seokjin, you are going to buy us out again.” The girl sighs as she smiles before glancing at you. “He ordered us all out just yesterday.”

“It was for the elderly! You know they get a little cranky if they don’t get something a little sweet to eat! Hasn’t it brought more customers? You could say thank you.” He gets playfully defensive, pout on his lips and the girl gives a shrug while nodding. “Well, it does make my boss happy. And if he’s happy,” She leans over the counter and whispers. “It’s a better day for everyone.” Then she giggles.

“See!” Seokjin crosses his arms like he’s still offended. “I’m just trying to help you all have a better day!”

You guess he is this nice to everyone.

And before you know it, he’s taking out his card and paying for the drinks. You realize it but it’s too late.

“You didn’t have to pay for that…” You mumble, hand paused on your own wallet. “But thank you.”

“Hopefully you’ll have an even better day too.” He smiles at you and it feels warm. 

You take a moment to get a good look at him and you realize just how handsome he is. You remember his chest and broad shoulders from last time but now you see just how full and plump his lips are but you also like his brown eyes. 

He smiles at you again.

You’re staring.

“See you around, I guess.” Seokjin puts his wallet back into his back pocket before walking off towards a table near a window. 

You know his name but he doesn’t know yours and that feels a little bit like a shame.

But there’s no time for harmless nice guys giving you warm smiles. You’re here to work. Or actually here to retrain yourself on how to do your work. 

Your job agreed to help you relearn everything so today, you’re going to sit at a table and get trained. And the girl you knew from college that works at your job will be in contact with you if you have any questions. Mijoo. Apparently you two were a bit acquainted before you started working from home. 

When you find a table near the bookshelves, you get to work. There’s updates on old programs you were familiar with but there’s new ones too. Plus, the market is a bit different. It’s a lot to learn but you think you’ll get the hang of it quickly. Just like you did back in the day when you were just starting out.

Two hours or more has passed and you’re buried in your work. But you see a man in your peripherals and a cookie wrapped in parchment paper suddenly on the table right next to your laptop.

You look up and Seokjin gives you that same warm smile before it turns sheepish. “I ended up ordering two for myself a little while ago but I’m too full. You can have it. Well…well, only if you want it, of course.”

You blink up at him before you look at the cookie. 

“It’s okay, if you don’t!”

Your eyes go to him again and you shake your head before you give him your own smile. “No, no!” You tell him quickly, “I-I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“Oh.” His lips form the perfect ‘o’ and he gives you a nod. “Nice. See ya.” And he’s smiling again before walking out of the café.

His entire aura is warm and you realize you appreciate people like him even more now. With how cold life has been.

~

After a long day of sitting at the café, you’re now sitting on the floor of your dusty attic. It’s gotten easy to figure out which boxes were stored here by your own hands and which boxes are the ones that Jungkook packed up to avoid you seeing your life. It’s mostly obvious because Jungkook’s packing is much more organized than yours. 

You wonder if this box of framed photos in front of you is so neat because he looked at each one slowly, taking his time as he looked at the memories he knew you wouldn’t remember. 

You wonder if he took his time because he misses Haru.

And because he missed you.

You manage to conceal a bitter scoff as you lift your foot and push it flat against the box, forcing it back a few inches. Your concern isn’t Jungkook right now. Stop thinking about him. Stop looking at your photos with him. Stop looking at the life you lived with him.

Right now those are your priority.

A strained sigh leaves your mouth as you eye the boxes you’ve dragged to the other side of the attic. You’ve been trying to organize everything in here so you know what’s what. Eyes slide to the left where all your household memories are. Then they slowly drag across the attic, passing by an old, dusty desk to the right side where your personal mystery boxes are.

It’s taken a few days to really separate everything. Because this attic has more than just some boxes of memories and boxes of mysteries. It also has a few too many creepy crawlers hanging in the corners. And things you’re sure 33 year old you wanted to sell and get rid of. 

Buzz.

Your eyes suddenly shoot down to your phone when it lights up and vibrates the attic floor, already seeing that it’s another message from Misuk in the group chat with her and Subin. 

Last you checked they were gushing over a new song from an artist they like who you barely even know so you don’t rush to really look. Your eyes stay on the screen until the light dims and it goes black.

You’d be lying if you said you wish you didn’t have help. Someone to guide you to some answers.

Another strained sigh before a half assed chuckle barely rumbles in your chest.

Well, ‘someone’ could guide you to some answers. And that someone is 33 year old you but unfortunately you don’t understand majority of what you’ve found. As if only parts of the puzzle are in these boxes, just edges and corner pieces and you’re missing all the pieces that fill everything in. 

Your eyes still linger on the black screen as they begin to lose focus as your mind whirls into your endless list of questions again. The boxes of mysteries are only three boxes. One of them having nothing to do with your son, you think. But the other two have caused some concern.

Something tells you that 33 year old you is really not convinced that your son is dead.

It’s clear you were investigating on your own. But your notes barely make sense. And it is more than fucking frustrating. 

You’re about to close your eyes and groan but your phone suddenly lights up again as you feel a slight vibration next to your foot. It’s another text but it doesn’t look like its apart of the group chat.

You squint at the screen but it’s too far to really read anything so you finally give in and reach for the device and bring it closer to your face. And then you feel the sudden thump in your lower belly where your heart just landed.

Jungkook 9:19pm

How are you doing?

A razor sharp sting tightens every muscle in your body, the sudden tension making your breaths stop.

More than a month and a half since you’ve last seen and spoken to him and he’s finally said something to you. 

Finally because as much as you hate him, his existence makes you breathe. And you have to breathe to live. 

Buzz.

Your hand vibrates along with your phone and you suddenly clench your fingers around it. 

Jungkook 9:19pm

I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. 

Your heart suddenly leaps up into your throat, choking you a bit as you try to breathe. Is that a confession? It already bothers you that he barely tried to explain himself and now he’s been silent all this time. And now he’s apologizing? He’s guilty, isn’t—

Buzz.

Jungkook 9:20pm

I just wish you would talk to me y/n…

That concealed scoff from earlier has finally broken free, pushing past your lips in something like disgust. Talk to him? Talk to him? You feel an uncomfortable anger start poking your skin from the inside and you squeeze your phone harder in you hand. The fucking audacity. 

There’s a brief moment when you consider chucking your phone across the attic but fortunately you only slam it to the floor. Frustration still hot on your skin, you quickly reach for a worn out decorative pillow and hurl it in front of you with a lot of strength, knocking against the old desk as it wobbles for a moment.

You release a short puff of air, head lowering and eyes closing as you try to calm yourself. You’ll admit, it did feel kind of good to release some en—

Thump.

Your eyes snap open as you tilt your head up towards the desk where the sudden sound just came. Did something fall inside? But what? You had checked the desk before. The top drawer only had a few pens and some sticky notes while the bottom drawer was empty minus some loose sheets of printer paper. And the left side of the desk is just two empty book shelves. It is basically empty.

It was probably nothing. 

You’re about to move on, mind already wanting to go back to Jungkook when the sudden thump just can’t make sense. Something with some weight definitely fell in or on the desk, right? But you’re sure there’s nothing from when you checked the other week. 

Doesn’t hurt to look again, you decide. Maybe this is your intuition talking to you.

You finally lift yourself from the attic floor, giving one last look at the boxes that are filled with your life with Jungkook and Haru before heading towards the middle where the desk is. It’s got an impressive layer of dust that you haven’t found any real reason to clean since the desk isn’t something you’d visit often. 

Giving in, you reach for the top drawer and open it, just like you had the other week, but just like last time, the drawer only has three pens, some used sticky notes with doodles and numbers lying around and one black marker. 

You knew there was nothing. Shutting the drawer, you quickly open the bottom drawer. It’s a deeper space, like you could fit a small filing cabinet. But instead, there’s only a few loose sheets of blank printer paper. 

Not convinced, you shove your hand inside the drawer, feeling around for anything strange and even trying to reach behind but you’re met with nothing. Okay. You step away from the desk for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously because you’re certain something with more weight than any of those things fell. And fell here. 

There’s nothing else here besides this raggedy pillow. You glance down at it, the pathetic thing on the floor before you groan, kicking it away from you. 

So what? You just imagine all kinds of things now? Is that the new normal? 

Suddenly not minding the thick layer of dust, you lean forward in defeat, hands gripping the edge of the desk as you support some of your weight onto it but the desk wobbles forward on its probably broken, unsteady legs. And you know you don’t imagine it when something with some weight definitely shifts inside. 

“Uh, what was that…?” You mumble to yourself, eyebrows coming together slowly as you take another look at the desk. Your eyes immediately fall to the left side where the two empty shelves are. It definitely came from this side.

You quickly squat down, eyes trained on the shelves, inspecting every single inch of the empty and terribly dusty space. “Don’t tell me…” You whisper, expression highly focused as you look at the back panel of the shelves. The shelving space is not nearly as deep as of the width of the desk. 

You blink at it, breaths now falling from your lips faster as your fingers quickly go to touch the backing panel and when it wiggles freely with enough pressure, you know you’ve found something. Feeling impatient, you jostle the thin wood around until you can figure out how to remove it.

And when it starts poking through the side of the shelf, your heart starts racing while you quickly slide the panel through the wooden desk. You feel it. Maybe it’s instinct because somewhere in your brain you know this is familiar and means something. The panel drops to the floor once its slid out but before it even touches, your hands are already digging inside.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You repeat with shaky breaths. Fingers already grasping what’s here and you feel yourself growing more and more anxious. A shoe box. An open shoe box that’s close to overflowing. You pull it out while you sit down onto the floor, the box settling right in front of you.

“Okay,” You sigh, reaching for the first item on top. It’s a small note book, the kind you’d use to make a check list of sorts. You take a deep breath before flipping it open and a few loose contents fall out. And then you feel the breath of a ghost at the base of your neck.

You pick up a folded sheet of paper along with a bent photo of Nabi. You feel the cold breath travel down your spine as you unfold the paper and read what’s written in someone else’s handwriting. 

Yun Nabi

118, Seolleungro-150, Yongsan-gu, Seoul 

 010-6203-3087

 010 3476 9876àweekends

010 9874 3456 new ##

You stare down at the worn paper, confusion clouding your mind. You want to rip her photo to shreds.

You quickly glance to the bent photo in your other hand and before you tell your hand what to do, it’s already crumbling it. Your dark gaze set on the now wrinkled woman who managed to gain Jungkook’s attention. 

Maybe it’s not her fault if she’s great.

Maybe it’s your fault. 

Your eyes stay trained on the crumbled photo but they’ve lost focus once again. Soon the balled up picture and the folded note fall to your lap as Numbness hugs you over your shoulders and as Insecurity sits next to you and whispers into your ear. 

Why did Jungkook cheat on you? 

You manage to blink but your throat feels dry.

Why did he do that to you? Why would anyone…?

You want to laugh at yourself. Because you know if this happened to anyone else you would know it wasn’t their fault. The person who cheated…it’s about them and no one else. And you want to tell yourself this, remind yourself, confirm that this isn’t your fault. 

But why do you sit here, letting Numbness hug you tighter? And why do you sit here and wonder?

You wonder…you wonder where you went wrong that you were no longer enough for him.

And it doesn’t feel fair that you’re wondering that.

You take the photograph and crumple it even more before throwing it to the side and decide to open the notebook. And you see more puzzle pieces. 

Routine

7 he wakes up….sometimes 8 

Jungkook takes him to work sometimes for fun 

Someone at work?? Who? Another list

Daycare usually Mondays & Thursdays for sure

Busiest days at work

You flip the page

Thursday the 14th, at the bus station, 

The 18th when I was going home

There was a car parked outside on the street for 3 days

The 5th

The 8th

The 12th I ran into someone who knew me but I didn’t know them

A man with buzzed hair

Something hot bubbles inside your chest and it feels like it’s burning you. Anxiety has a touch of fire. You flip to the next page.

It just scribbles like you were frustrated.

Just like you are now. 

You decide to close to the notebook. Discomfort swallowing you like a dry pill. 

But you don’t stop looking through the box. Pictures of people you don’t know. More lists of times and dates. But no context. More frustration building. 

Your head snaps up suddenly when you recall something falling so you quickly reach inside the secretive hole in the desk and feel around. Your fingers grasp at nothing until something cold is felt. You can tell what it is immediately as you wrap your fingers around the device. A phone. 

You take the cold, shiny device in your clammy hands and rush to turn it on but it’s got a dead battery. You turn the phone upside down to check what kind of charger it takes and remember that downstairs in the kitchen there’s a drawer of random charging cables. 

You need to get this thing turned on. Now. 

“Are you okay?” You immediately straighten your back, phone dropping to the attic floor,  the sudden voice a shock since you live alone. You quickly look around you, eyes darting from place to place but of course, there’s no one here. You feel sick. Especially because…didn’t that voice sound like—

“Are you okay?” Jungkook comes next to you, his eyes avoiding yours but he can’t hide the concern in his voice. You look at him, equally annoyed as he is. But still, you hear in his voice he doesn’t totally hate you. 

“It’s fine.” You mumble, fingers picking at the bandage wrapped around your palm. “It just got scraped.”

Jungkook chuckles humorlessly, “Misuk said Subin threw up in her mouth because of the blood.”

You shrug, “Okay, it was pretty bad.”

Jungkook stays silent and the same tension that’s been building since Sana’s wedding is here again. You, Jungkook, Misuk and Subin came to Busan for the weekend to celebrate your mom’s birthday but today, the day of the party, has been anything but fun. One thing after the other, but the cherry on top was around 20 minutes ago when you accidentally sliced your palm open while helping in the kitchen.

Now you’re outside trying to cool off but the last person you want to see has come to check on you.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook stares up at the tree you two are standing in front of outside your house. He doesn’t bother to try and soften his tone. Sure, it’s concerned but it’s also irritated.

“I told you it’s fine.” You answer, sounding clipped. “Just go back inside.”

“You’re mad at me if I’m inside. You’re mad at me if I’m outside.” He stuffs his hands in his front jean pockets and continues gazing at the tall tree. “I really don’t understand why you’re so up—”

“—Oh? You don’t?” You turn your head to glare at him, “Really?”

You watch Jungkook’s profile, his jaw tightening for a moment before he sighs out.

“I don’t know.” He tells you before turning to face you as well. Your eyes are narrowed but he sees plenty of disappointment in them. “Maybe I do. But I also seriously don’t.”

You look down to the ground, a moment of consideration because you kind of understand him. But then you recall last night and realize that no, he definitely should understand why you’re mad.

Things have changed between you two. Ever since Sana’s wedding, there’s been something different and enticing. Moments that feel way too charged to be platonic. But neither of you have spoken up about it. Maybe he’s afraid you don’t feel it. Or maybe you’re now just realizing you’re afraid he is the one who doesn’t feel it.

Because how doesn’t he understand that having his last serious girlfriend from Busan in your parents living room while they flirt with one another relentlessly in front of you, is not going to make you mad?

“You don’t think flirting with your ex-girlfriend in front of me wasn’t going to make me mad, Jungkook?” You throw the words at him without much care for his reaction. It’s an honest question, in your book.

“Okay,” Jungkook tilts his head back before running his hands through his hair, “So this is about Hanja.” He groans a little before giving in and taking a step closer to you. “I didn’t think it was a big deal…and you call her my ex girl-friend as if she doesn’t have a name. Hanja told me she had a lot of classes with you in High School!”

“And?” You deadpan. “Doesn’t make us friends.”

“Okay.” He nods but now he’s the one with disappointment in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you had to be rude.”

“You invited her to my mom’s birthday party!” You throw back, “And have barely even…” It sucks that your voice gets a little softer because you just want to make a point. “You’ve barely even  looked at me since she’s been here.” 

Jungkook’s lips part and he looks conflicted as he registers your words but you don’t wait for him to get it before you continue.

“Sure,” You manage a stubborn shrug, “Maybe you’re not flirting with her but you don’t stop her when she does with you.” 

Jungkook’s brows furrow, “She hasn’t flirted with me, y/n.” He tries to assure you, his tone finally not irritated but instead the same soft as yours. “We just have history, you know? But that was what? 5 years ago? 6? 7? I don’t even know. We ended on good terms so I thought it was harmless. She’s in town too and had nothing to do…I didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

“I just…” You finally meet his eye for the first time more willingly, “I don’t know.” 

He finally relaxes his features and a pleasantly pleased smile starts tugging at the corner of his lips, “You’re…jealous.” He confirms softly.

You raise a brow at him, feeling annoyed. “So then you do understand why I’m mad.” 

“Yeah.” He agrees but you see the uncertainty in his eyes. “But I wasn’t sure. Maybe hoping but I couldn’t be sure, you know?” 

“Did you want me to be jealous?” You ask, unsure how that makes you feel but you see genuine and quiet panic all over his face while he shakes his head.

“No, no.” He tells you with big eyes. “But when I realized you were mad at me, I thought it could be because you were jealous. And,” He pauses, swallowing what you think is nerves. “That’s why I became hopeful, I guess.” 

“And why is that?” A cool breeze suddenly picks up and it feels nice against your cheeks.

“Because it might mean…” His words grow quieter, seeking your understanding of where he was going. “But without being direct…well, I can’t really be sure, you know?”

“Then why can’t we be direct?” You gesture between your bodies, “I like you, Jungkook.” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to say it, to admit it, but it does take a lot of effort to not tear your eyes away from him in embarrassment. But your gaze remains on his. 

“And there’s no way I’m imagining—”

“—You aren’t!” Jungkook panics, his fingers flying to your wrists, holding on to them as he persuades your eyes to remain on his again. “You aren’t imagining it. I know it, too.” He tells you but he looks and sounds conflicted.

“For months, Jungkook.” You say quietly, “I’ve been wondering for months if you’re going to make a real move on me.” 

He can’t help but smile at you nervously, his clammy fingers still pressing into your wrists. “I just…” Jungkook’s smile begins dropping as he explains himself, “…I’m so afraid of talking about this because it might change our friendship and you’re just,” He pauses, eyes searching yours because he needs to see if you understand. “You’re too important, y/n.” 

“You’d rather never tell me how you feel because it might change our friendship?” You ask him, ignoring the fire burning along the edges of your skin. “You would rather spend forever just wondering if I feel the same as you? Just like I’ve been wondering if you feel the same as me? Too afraid to talk about it because it…might change our friendship?”

Jungkook’s fingers finally disconnect from your skin and into his hair, his nerves only multiplying but he finds the courage to say, “If you didn’t feel the same, things would change.”

“If I didn’t feel the same then things wouldn’t have changed in the first place. Jungkook, things have already changed. And I don’t like wondering. We’re already past platonic so I’ll tell you—”

Suddenly, your head starts pounding.

A new memory unlocked. 

And it only makes you sit on your attic floor and cry.

Great timing.

~

Your fingers feel frozen, maybe even numb as you dig through another random kitchen drawer to find the correct charger for the phone you’ve found. So far you haven’t been lucky. Then again, nothing feels lucky. You’ve been quiet to yourself all day after last night. Not even a thought out loud. 

Your eyes grow watery again but you immediately slam your lids shut, squeezing tightly because you refuse to shed anymore tears. You might have to buy a new charger but you really aren’t in the mood to leave the house. You aren’t in the mood for anything except maybe hurling more old, worn out, decorative pillows at dusty furniture. But now you feel afraid for what you might find. The more mysteries you unlock, you’re afraid to unlock a memory along with it. 

It's evening now, the kitchen clock says 6:13pm. The day has gone by. You watched the sun rise this morning and now you’re witnessing it set. You have yet to find it in you to sleep today. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll slip into your bed that you once shared with Jungkook and suddenly you’ll remember all the times you’ve slept in it with him. You can’t afford any more of that. Just yesterday you were begging 33 year old you to share some of the life you’ve missed and now that she is sharing some of the years…you’re realizing you aren’t ready. 

You take a deep breath, shutting a drawer shut when you decide to order a new charging cable for the phone. Your eyes slide to the device that rests peacefully on the counter while your heart beats uncomfortably in your throat. You stare at it, wondering what contents lie inside but a part of you feels fearful of what you might find. 

Taking another breath, you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself for a moment before you decide to take care of this. Sitting yourself at the kitchen island, opening your laptop, you search the phone and get the cable ordered for delivery tomorrow. This is better than driving yourself nuts trying to find it.

You close your eyes, resting your head down to the counter, wishing you could turn your day around.

Ding Dong.

Your eyes snap open. 

And something unsettling starts whirling in your belly. As if you can sense who is at your door.

Knock Knock Knock.

You groan quietly to yourself because you just know. You know exactly who it is for some insane reason. You just feel it. You stand from the stool and walk yourself to your front door. Swinging it open without even peeping through the hole to confirm your suspicions. 

Jungkook’s doesn’t look too good. For as handsome as he is, he looks rough. His skin is dry, his lips are pale and the bags under his eyes give away how much sleep he isn’t getting. You don’t care though. Not about him. Your fingers grip around the door frame tighter, your skin burning at the sight. 

“I just wanted to see how you were.” He tells you, voice so quiet you had to read his lips.  You want to scoff bitterly in his face, shut him out and make him feel thrown away. 

But your foot pushes the front door further open as you turn around to go into the living room. You’ve invited him in. Though, ‘invited’ feels like a strong word. 

You can hear the door creak open even furth from behind you, shoes are shuffling onto the floor and the door clicks shut. You hold your breath as you walk to the sofa, sitting yourself down at the very end of it as your eyes glue themselves to the black screen of the TV. 

Jungkook follows your lead and sits at the other end of the couch. In your peripherals, he looks like a big, black scribble of a thousand swirling lines and you don’t have it in you to focus your eyes on him and let him appear as Jungkook. As a person. So, you keep your eyes on the TV.

Nothing is said between you both for a long while, all your senses are heightened though as you anticipate his next words to you. The hairs on your arms rise when the click of the AC goes off as it turns on. You wonder if his next words have to do with apologizing about cheating on you. Apologize to you that you just couldn’t be enough. Apologize to you for losing your son. 

Your head slightly tilts in the direction of the kitchen when you notice the soft drip drops of water from the faucet. The distant bark from a small dog. Jungkook’s fingernails scratching his forearm. Every noise is going off in your ears, haunting you, taunting you and driving you insane. 

You only want to hear his voice. 

“Why are you here?” You finally break the noisy silence. 

“To see you.” He says, voice quiet and afraid. “You’re doing better than me, huh?”

Your palms are flat against the couch cushion before you slowly curl your fingers, grabbing nothing of the material at his words. “Do you really think you get to say that to me?”

“This isn’t fair for either of us, y/n.” Jungkook has the audacity to keep speaking. “You just don’t understand.”

You twist your head to eye him, your jaw tight as you watch him sit on the sofa, eyes cowering away from yours. “You’ll stop talking now.” You tell him as your voice becomes quiet and afraid as well. You’re livid but you speak like you’re hurt. 

“Then…” Jungkook pauses, his eyes going all around the living room now before he sighs. “Then I’ll just listen.”

You push your head back in disbelief, “I didn’t ask you to come here so I can talk to you. In fact, I didn’t ask you to come here at all.”

He finally turns his head toward you, his eyes are red and watery and you hate that you hate seeing him on the verge of tears. You watch his throat as you pay attention to the hard way he swallows. “I know. But I had to see you.” 

Suddenly, your head starts pounding, a harsh banging from inside your forehead. You quickly let your head fall into your hands when those words keep repeating inside your mind. I know. But I had to see you. I know. But I had to see you. I know. But I had to see you. 

You groan into your hands. The pain erupting on all sides of your head. The words repeating over and over, making your ears feel like they’re bleeding. I know. But I had to see you.

“y/n?” You hear Jungkook’s quiet and afraid voice. 

I know. But I had to see you. 

“I thought you didn’t want to see me…” Jungkook’s eyes are blood shot. You know he’s been drinking again.

“I know.” You mutter, “But I had to see you.” 

“Oh.” He stumbles backward, his hand widening his front door to his new, shitty apartment. You feel anger bubbling, because you know he’s drunk. You’re doing everything in your power to keep it together and he’s wasting his time drinking.

“You’ve shut out Jimin.” You tell him, cutting to the chase. “So you don’t know anything, do you?”

“W-What’s there to know? I don’t need them anymore. Also, I was fucking fired.”

You snap your eyes to his as he still stands at his open doorway. “You’re pissing me off, Jungkook.”

“I can do this on my—”

“—They’re closing the case.” You say. “They’re saying he’s…that he’s…” You pause, throat growing drier. “You know.”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook drunkenly shrugs, slamming the door shut, making you flinch. “They’re all wrong, anyway.”

You feel your shoulders growing tenser, your lips in a hard, thin line before they die into a frown. “They’re saying we should hold a funeral.”

Jungkook’s body goes still, his hanging arms at his sides suddenly rise to his face when he rubs his temples. “Excuse me?”

“They want to—”

“Just stop!” He suddenly cries out, voice shrill. You see his eyes growing redder and redder as tears fill them up. “None of you know what you-you’re talking about. Just shut up, all of you!” 

You flinch.

Jungkook’s fingers go into his hair when he starts pulling on the strands. “This just isn’t right.” He keeps muttering to himself, “I got this. I got this. I got this.” He starts pacing back and forth in front of his coffee table. “Just stop. Stop talking.”

You stand in silence.

“I said stop talking!” 

You watch him unravel.

“Jung—”

Glass breaks across the coffee table. A shattered soju bottle that he’s thrown.

You flinch again. 

You take a step back.

Jungkook falls to the floor, crying and yelling at no one. The loss of your son is much worse than you could have imagined. But you knew telling Jungkook about the funeral was going to cause something more serious to unravel. But you didn’t imagine this.

“y/n?” Jungkook voice sounds sober now. “y/n?”

Your head is about to split into sections, the pain so overwhelming.

You lift your face from your hands, your cheeks overflowing with tears. Why did you have to remember that? 

“Hey,” Jungkook stands from the sofa and comes closer to you. His hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder but just like in your memory, you flinch. He immediately frowns. “y/n…” He brings his hand back to his body. “Talk to me, I’ll just listen.”

“G-go.” You keep your head low as your eyes stay glued to your lap. “Please just go.” 

His hands freeze at his sides, using all of his self-control. Even you can feel how tense his body is, just from the heat that radiates off of it. You’re being serious. He needs to go before you spiral into one of your throbbing headaches that give you a panic attack. The kind you can manage on your own—and prefer to. 

“Please, Jungkook…” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m not feeling well now so pl—”

“—Okay.” His fingers curl into hard fists. “Call me if you need anything. Please.” He stands here for another moment, like his feet have become glued to the floor and he’s unable to move. But after a tentative sigh, they finally move. And your ears bleed again at each sound that can be heard. The click of the AC turning off, the small dog whining in your neighbor’s yard, each drip of water dropping from the faucet and finally the whoosh of the front door opening and closing shut. And you finally let go a long, long breath. 

Your head hurts and your heart hurts, the memory fresh in your mind. You never imagined to see Jungkook…like that. You barely recognized him. Does he have a drinking problem? Or did? You need to erase these images in your head, or at least scatter something pretty over them. And that’s when you get an idea that you know is pure torture.

~

One of the boxes from the attic is sat on your living floor, with your bottom plopped right next to it. It’s a box you organized yourself, you can tell. Just a box of intimate memories with your ex-husband. You pull out a letter you’ve read at least six times now…might as well make it seven.

The envelope is pink with little hearts drawn all over it and though it’s only eight years old, it looks like it’s at least 20. The envelope itself is wrinkly with random water stains and the page inside is soft and used like you’ve read this letter a thousand times. Might as well make it a thousand and one. 

You slip the paper out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully, the crinkling paper opening up with Jungkook’s handwriting written all over.

April 10 2015

Dear y/n,

Hi it’s me, your boooooyfriend. >.< sorry I’m still getting used to it. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing a letter when I could just call or text you but you seemed to think it was cute in that movie we watched the other day and so Im writing you one too!! Also, I think my peers are thinking Im working really hard on a case. I wish I was but they won’t give me anything good. I know it hasn’t even been a year since I finally landed here in the Investigation sector as a detective but they still treat me like such a rookie…blaaaahhhhh you know this already. The captain seems to think I have potential though. But ya know what? The guys here said the only thing ive done right so far is getting you as a girlfriend hahaha 

Maybe they’re right I mean they’re definitely right 

I miss you so much

Im sitting here at my desk writing you and its just making me miss you a kabillzillion times more…….i seriously aaaaahhhh im going crazy because I miss you that much 

Im so lucky youre so amazing and my favorite person to exist and so pretty so pretty 

I know we’ve only been together for a short while but what if I told you I know exactly how I feel about yoooouuuuu huh what if 

Ask me about it when I see you tonight

Love,

Jungkook Your cheerios 

You read it. Then you read it again. This is the Jungkook you want to remember.

~~

It’s the next day and you’re opening the package you ordered just yesterday. Pulling out a small box, you get it open and unravel the charging cable to the phone you’ve found. Taking a look at the clock, you realize you’re a bit behind. You wanted to get to the café at noon for work but it’s already 15 after. You quickly plug the charger into the wall and get the phone charging. It’s dead so it’ll take a while to get turned on so you decide to leave it here while you head out. 

The café is a bit busy today, more people than you’re used to, but thankfully you see an open table. You set up your laptop and get to work. Taking a pause to message Mijoo about needing some guidance if she can meet any of these days. It would be nice to have some help in person. After working for a bit, you can’t help but lift your face from the screen and dart your eyes around the place. No sign of Seokjin today. Not that it means anything but he’s got the kind of warm, reassuring smile that you could use these days. 

And just like clockwork, the quiet bell dings when he walks through the café’s front door. He meets your eye immediately and gives you a small nod and the smile you were searching for. You nod back, eyes going back down to the laptop before you take another peak towards Seokjin. He’s walked up to the counter, talking with the young girl that’s always here. After a moment she hands him a box of what you assume are desserts. Maybe he’s giving them to the elderly again.

Then he walks out.

Oh, he isn’t staying today.

That’s okay, you don’t have time to chat with a harmless nice guy anyway. You have work to do. Something to truly get your mind off of everything else you’ve been going through. You think it’s a miracle you have it in you to try every day. In another universe, you might have already gone insane. 

~

After working a little while longer, you pack your things up and head to your car. It’s a sunny day, barely any clouds in the sky and it feels warm. Warm enough to make you forget this coldness that lingers all around you, all inside you. 

You start driving home when you remember you’re supposed to pick up a few groceries so you stop by the market first. It’s not too crowded and since you’re in an okay mood, you decide to put in your earphones and walk inside with a pep to your step. You needed zucchini…what else? Bread for sure was on your list. Peanut butter, eggs, oh yeah and some chips for when you get a craving. 

You start heading to the aisle with peanut butter when you recognize someone familiar. 

“Seokjin?” You mumble his name but he doesn’t hear you. His eyes fully focused on his jams. He stands here, deep in thought before he finally reaches for one.

“Hi.” You say a little louder and he jumps in his spot.

He turns to face you, ears turning red when he sees you. “Hi.” He stares at you dumbfounded for a moment, “I just realized I don’t know your name.” Then he chuckles.

You can’t help but crack a smile, “It’s y/n.”

“Ah, y/n. Yeah, that suits you.” He tells you confidently.

“Does it?”

“Do you usually shop here?” Seokjin gestures around the aisle, “I’ve never seen you before. Or are you…” He suddenly drops his smile and looks serious. “Following me?” Then he breaks into a huge smile before adding, “Dun, dun, duuuun.” 

You feel your stomach swirl with something before you shake your head, feeling embarrassed. “No, no! I live around here actually. This is just a coincidence.”

“A coincidence, huh? A lot of those lately.” He gives you another smile, this time more teasing. “We should just meet on purpose, you know.” 

You stand here, taken aback by his words. Is he implying meeting intentionally?

He seems to feel your shift. “Unless, unless…” His eyes avert yours now, his ears turning a deeper shade of red. “Sorry. Unless you don’t want to. Maybe you’re already seeing someone.”

You shake your head quickly, “No. I’m…I’m not.” You’re not but it feels wrong to say it. “But I wasn’t assuming…anything. Like, if you were implying a date or something.”

Seokjin pouts his lips before glancing up at the ceiling, “Why not? You would have been right.”

You blink at him, taken aback again. “Oh.”

“I happen to know a pretty great restaurant. Maybe we can not coincidentally meet there?”

He’s…asking you out. 

And it pains you because… “I can’t. Sorry,” You look down at your feet before glancing towards the jams. “Umm, I’m kind of going through something and—”

“—Oh.” Seokjin nods his head quickly. “No, no. I understand…you don’t have to explain. I’m kind of going through something too and I know that a good way to get through it is some nice company every now and then.” He gives you a warm smile, all the teasing gone. “I understand you though. So don’t worry but…” He suddenly pats his pants pockets before looking delighted. “In case you change your mind…I’m learning to…how do they kids say…shoot my shot.” He suddenly pulls out a receipt and a pen and scribbles something on it before handing it to you. 

His number.

“Just in case!” He cheeses harder. 

~

“I honestly don’t think it’s a big deal.” Misuk looks at you through the camera, her face looking brighter. “It’s just a date!”

“It is a big deal.” You whine again, “I’m in love with someone else and I have a whole lot of mess going on.” 

Subin nods her head sympathetically, “That’s true. But I think Misuk means it’s not a big deal because it could be…” She pauses, clearly thinking of the right words. It’s amusing to you to see they might agree on this. “A good thing? A simple thing! A little, you know, fun thing!” 

“Exactly!” Misuk drags out the word, “You don’t have to fall in love but you’re so focused on…you know, your memories…that you aren’t living life.”

“Uh,” You begin to defend yourself, “I’m—”

“—Yes, yes.” Misuk waves you off, “You are getting back into work! And that’s good! But you really should start living a normal life again.”

“And…” Subin looks off camera, her eyes looking softer. “It’s kind of the same. You are missing your memories, yes, and I’m so sorry…but 33 year old you was the same. Divorced. And I don’t think you were in any headspace to even think about wanting Jungkook back.” She finishes quietly.

“You wanted nothing to do with him.” Misuk tells you. “So just live a little…you know, just normal things. And who knows, it might help with your memories.”

You sit still for a moment. You’ll admit that you haven’t exactly been living normally. You mostly sit around all day, alone, surrounding yourself with things you don’t understand and torture yourself with memories of Jungkook. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you guys know if anything changes.” You chuckle after you focus your eyes on your friends again. “I just got home so I gotta put these groceries ...away" Your eye notices the list lying on the counter and you realize..."Damn, and I forgot the eggs. Anyway, I’ll call later!” You sing out.

“Okay! Bye!”

“Bye!” Subin sings back. And you end the call.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you deserve a little break or something simple and fun. You bite your lip, thoughts still lingering but you decide to reach into your back pocket and pull out the receipt Seokjin gave you. You shake your head quickly but reach for your phone and input the number and press call. You need light in this darkness.

~~

You hate feeling defeated. 

Sitting on your sofa, blanket wrapped tightly around you as your hand clenches around this cold, empty and useless device. 

The phone has either never been used or was completely wiped. You thought you could torture yourself with more information but you’ve come out of this empty handed. There’s nothing on here. No call history, no text history, no pictures or videos…nothing. You squeeze the phone harder, frustration still building. When your actual phone buzzes. 

Your eyes shoot down to your now lit up phone and you drop the useless one to the couch cushion. It might be Subin gushing about this band she’s seeing this weekend. You’ll ignore—

Buzz.

You give in, reaching for your phone and your stomach does its usual uneasy swirling.

Jungkook 9:10pm

How are you feeling?

Jungkook 9:10pm

We don’t have to talk but at least tell me how youre doing…

Your eyes slam shut, the urge to cry too strong. Because you’re hurt. You’re hurting. You’re confused. You’re angry. And you’re sad. 

Why are you so weak? You should delete him, block him and throw your whole phone away. Because your phone knows him and you don’t. 

But you’re weak because you’re going to text back.

Except Jungkook beats you to it.

Jungkook 9:13pm

Did you get hit with a headache earlier? You okay? Have you seen your doctor lately?

All these questions are giving you different kind of headache. 

You 9:13pm

Its fine, Im fine

You lie

Jungkook 9:13pm

Liar

You 9:14pm

Jungkook

You 9:14pm

Do you have a drinking problem?

You press send. You see the bubbles pop up your screen, indicating that he’s typing but they disappear. Then they reappear. And disappear again.

You 9:16pm

Jungkook?

Jungkook 9:16pm

Who told you that? 

You feel your shoulders tense.

You 9:16pm

No one told me

You 9:17pm

I just remember when I went to your place…there was a lot of alcohol lying around and the place seemed rough

You 9:17pm

And idk I got thinking. Im not trying to accuse you or anything but…is what I saw…what I think it is?

You send. It’s not a total lie. Not what you’re referring to…but not a total lie. 

You stare at the screen but there’s no indication if he’s read your message or not. No typing. Nothing. Your eyes glance at the clock and it reads 9:19pm now. It’s okay. Only two minutes. But why does it feel like eternity? 

9:25pm and all you’ve done is sit, tightly wrapped in a blanket on your couch, and stare at your phone screen, touching the screen every time it times out. And still nothing. 

But then you see bubbles pop up.

Back straightening, you breathe in and out as your eyes remain on the screen. 

He’s been typing for three minutes.

You hold your breath now. 

Jungkook 9:28pm

And if it is?

You let out a short breath, disbelief crawling all over your skin that you throw the blanket off of you and stand from the couch. Your memories are reliable. 

You feel a sting pierce your eyes but you grit your teeth and hold any tears back. This is just too much for you to accept. You walk into the kitchen, frustration raging inside your body. You step up to the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter before leaning forward, sighing out your anger. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Calming down, you immediately grab a bowl and sniffle to yourself. You’ll just do these dishes and forget all about this. 

You take another bowl, the hot water burning your fingers and palms as you absentmindedly scrub it clean. 

“Sometimes I think you wash clean dishes at this point.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. 

You laugh, “Not true.”

“The water is too hot, baby.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, suddenly pecking it softly. “You’re going to melt the skin off your bones.”

You realize he’s right, the water is really hot but you were just lost in thought. Your wedding is in two days. You get out of your thoughts while you set the bowl back into the sink and turn the faucet off. “I’m just—”

“I know.” Jungkook nuzzles his nose into your warm skin. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s nervous between us.”

You sigh, small smile on your face. “I’m not nervous. But I am, a little.”

“I know.”

“Not in a bad way.”

“I know that too.”

“In a…marrying the love of my life, wow life is crazy kind of way.” You dry your hands before twisting in Jungkook’s embrace and you lean in to kiss him. “You probably know what I mean.”

He laughs against your lips, “I would be the one who knows exactly what you mean.”

Your lips twist into a sheepish smile, “I missed you today.”

“I missed you more.”

You roll your eyes, a teasing smile forming now. “Liar.”

He looks surprised for a second before rolling his own eyes, “I’m serious.”

“You’re only serious about work nowadays.” You tease him, and you are mostly teasing. It’s only lately he’s been zeroed in on a case. 

But Jungkook frowns, “It isn’t going well.” He admits to you. “I don’t know that we’ll get this one.”

“You will.” You lean forward more and nudge your nose against his, “You are the best there is.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Unfortunately I’m still in the ‘proving myself’ phase.” 

“Here too.” You continue to tease him, “Still deciding if this wedding is happ—”

“—Heeeeey, don’t joke like that.” Jungkook nudges his nose against yours now, “Tell me I’m the best here too.”

Your hands trail down his chest, eyes focusing on his. “You are.” 

“I wish Jimin would tell me that too.” He laughs a little but you know he’s serious. You take his hands in yours.

“You guys are new at being partners. Give it time, babe.”

“He hates me.” Jungkook sighs, “He thinks I mess everything up. And honestly, I can’t blow this one, y/n. The captain believes in me, which is good but my own partner doubts me.” 

You understand this is hard for Jungkook to accept. 

“Listen…” You give his hands a squeeze. “This is your first big one, right? Take it slow and I know you won’t get flustered like the last one.”

He immediately drops his hands from yours, “I can’t get like how I was with the last one.” Jungkook takes a step away from you, “This one is way too serious…the men I’m dealing with, y/n…you have no idea. I can’t mess this up.”

“Baby…” You feel bad for bringing up the last case he took with Jimin. He got too involved emotionally and when things didn’t end up well for the victim…”It’s okay. You have me to talk about this with and—”

“—But I don’t. I’m legally not allowed to. I got in trouble with sharing so much last time and…fuck,” Jungkook pauses. Closes his eyes slowly before taking a step forward and reaching for your hands again. “This is not what we need to be talking about right before our wedding. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You give his hands another squeeze. “We share our lives. With or without marriage, right?” 

 “I only wanna talk about us.” He breathes out softly, his lips inching closer to yours. “Let’s focus on you and me.” 

And your skin is burning again. It’s on fire. Too much fire, it hurts.

And that’s when you realize you’re still here at your kitchen sink, hot lava rushing to your skin, burning you as you hold the bowl you were cleaning.

You take a deep breath, taking a step back from the sink when you slam your eyes shut and let out a loud groan. You don’t even flinch when the sound of glass hits the floor because you’ve thrown the bowl. You don’t care.

Another memory. 

And it seems they’re all out of order. 

~~

Another bead of sweat dribbles down the side of Jungkook’s face, rolling right off his skin. And another miserable night. He gently throws his head back against the bathroom wall, his hairline drenched from hour two of hurling in the toilet. He’s drank too much again. Maybe some bad food poisoning in there. But even still, he knows he’s drank too much. 

He isn’t abusing the alcohol, really. Not lately. But he knows what it can do to him. He hates it. He hates himself. 

He hates this existence. 

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut before he groans to himself, knocking his head back a few more times. What is he doing? 

He misses you.

He wants to make things right.

How?

Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before trying to stand from the floor. He’s wobbly but he manages. He’s tired and he isn’t sleeping and he can’t because he knows you’re not. This is how he feels like he’s with you, the only real support he can give. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, his tired eyes staring back at him. He wants to tell that guy to fuck off, for some reason. He wants to scoff at him and offer him no sympathy. Jungkook wants to raise his hands to that man’s throat and squeeze. He wants to swear at him and curse him. His mouth twists and his eyes grow teary and he sighs. Because all he can do is cry for him. 

His head snaps up when the bathroom counter vibrates from his phone. Someone’s texted.

Unknown Number

Its me

Buzz.

Unknown Number

We need to talk

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Not My Type Pt. 2

(The look on Steve’s face when he realizes what your doing 😭)

Part 1 Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Your night couldn’t get any better.

Warnings: sub!bucky, no explicit smut, but suggestive themes.

Tags: @mereptt @mcira @blackhawkfanatic @misz-adrii @f-1-refly @bbhaughen

You couldn’t feel your legs. They were completely numb from the cold. Steve showed no signs of even having a chill. Meanwhile you were reduced to hobbling one leg after the other, only 5 blocks in.

Focusing on the walk, and keeping your breath even; so Steve doesn’t notice how winded you were, sobered you even more than the cold. You now realized your situation. Confidence boost drained as soon as Bucky was out of sight.

You’re grateful when traffic causes you to stop at a crosswalk. You bury your arms under each other and try to stay warm in place. Steve noticed you shivering 10 minutes ago. He didn’t have a jacket to give you so he knew making it home was the best option for warmth.

He didn’t expect to stop, and have a moment to do something about it. He quickly wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing his full body against you. Your legs were still cold but he provided more than enough heat to warm you. You didn’t mind that no words were shared between you the whole walk, he didn’t seem to either, still smiling when you made it back home.

Climbing the stairs to your door, you search for words to say. Are you both seriously going through with this? Did Steve mean it? Sweat was forming on your palms, you noticed when your keys almost slipped out of your grasp, or maybe it was the trembling.

“I-“ you begin, instantly being cut off. “We should talk, inside.” He says, and your heart drops. He regrets it, of course he does, that’s your luck. You knew it was too good to be true. “No need, I get it.” You say, dropping your head.

“I just can’t do this to Bucky.” he says, sitting down on your couch when you made it inside. You were confused, you thought you were doing this because of Bucky. “What?” Him not being into you was less confusing.

Steve sighs, “I like you, and I wouldn’t mind making you forget all about some asshole at a bar.” Your cheeks flush, you knew he meant fucking you till all you could think about was him. “If that asshole wasn’t Bucky, and I didn’t know just how much he really does care about you.”. Oh.

“Let me get this straight, you’re defending him now?” You stand in front of him, placing your hands on your hips. He has to look up to you. “Don’t stand there like that and yell at me, it only makes me want you more. It’s making this harder than it has to be.” You scoff, “Okay Steve, my brain is literally going to explode if you don’t start talking.” You sit down on your coffee table, letting your knees brush his.

As if this is harder for him. You were dragged into a bar to embarrass yourself by friends that meant well. You found out your work crush wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot poll. You somehow told said crush off in an alley after kissing Captain America. Your night couldn’t get any more rough.

“I know he likes you, he might deny it, but I can see the way he looks at you. He has a weird way of showing it, I know. But tonight, I just kept pushing him and I know he regrets what he said. He’s just degrading you to cope with having actual feelings.” He now takes his turn to face the ground, not being able to meet your eye.

“The way he talked about you didn’t sit right with me. I was trying to show him that looks don’t matter, we looked pretty good pressed together in that alley, and I know he saw that.” He paused, thinking over his words.

“I do like you, I don’t want you thinking any different. But I don’t want to carry on with this if Bucky still has a chance, it wouldn’t be right.” You can tell how sincere he is being, and it has you already forgiving Bucky without even receiving an apology from the man himself.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Steve.” You rub your sweaty palms on your bare knees. “I can’t just pretend like he never said that. I can see that how much your friendship means. It’s no hard feelings, really. But I wouldn’t put myself in a position where Bucky could hurt me again, if you paid me.” You laugh, getting fully used to douche bag guys.

Steve nods his head, understanding that you owe neither of the men a thing. “He would have to crawl in here on his hands and knees begging for a chance with fatty.” You shrug your shoulders, keeping your integrity.

“That could be arranged.” He smiles, breaking up the tension with dopey grin. You mentally face palm. “Go for it tiger, but I won’t be a part of it.” You give him a thumbs up, and suddenly you’re exhausted.

“Tonight’s obviously not happening, and I have to be in your office with everyone else in,” you squint at the clock on your microwave. “, 7 hours. So, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, leave my apartment Captain America.” You pat the side of his knee, reassuring him that you’re being lighthearted.

“Fine, but I will see you at 8 sharp.” He says, standing from the couch and making his way to your door. You follow behind him, needing to deadbolt it. “Why is he the way he is?” You blurt out, figuring Steve’s the only person who could answer that question.

“If you find out I’d love to know.” He throws his hands up. “People like to think I’m close to Bucky, but he never let anyone in after he was deprogrammed. Not even me, so I think he’s just having a hard time letting feelings for you in, his brain won’t let him.”.

“Why go after my weight?” You ask, as if Steve answers for him. He shrugs “Cause it was basic, and cliché. Made it seem like something was wrong with him, not you. I’ve tried to wrap my head around the new word, ‘fatphobia’ but I can’t, it seems like a personal problem that people project onto other heavier people.” How was he real? Steve Rogers continues to amaze you with every word that falls from his lips.

When Steve opens the door you both come face to face with Bucky. Standing there, having followed you home. Staying a hundred yards back, watching your every move. He stood outside and heard every word shared between you and Steve.

He knew the only thing he could do to make it right. So he did, wordlessly dropping to his knees on your doorstep. “What are you doing here?” Steve tries to interject, but you press your hand to his chest, needing him to be quiet for a minute.

You can’t break eye contact with Bucky, unable to believe what he’s doing. His eyes are red, cheeks stained with tears. A smug smile falls on your lips and you pull Steve along with you as you walk backwards. Giving Bucky room to step into the house.

He leans forward, placing both palms on the carpeted entryway. Your hand on Steve’s chest can feel the shallow breaths he was taking. But you couldn’t think to hard about him right now, Bucky was crawling on his hands and knees towards you, with giant blue puppy dog eyes, that literally leaked with regret.

Once Bucky made it to your feet, he sat back on his heels, holding his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.”, his eyes fill with more tears, “Everything Steve said was right.” He sighs, looking over to his friend.

“I don’t know how to let people in. I’m insecure, and possibly the dumbest man alive.” He reaches out and grasps your hand, needing you to feel his sincerity. His eyes set hard, having difficulty admitting the next part, “You scare the shit out of me.”.

You let out a laugh, breaking up the tension in the room. “I scare you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as loud as it did, but you were still upset. He nods, pressing his eyebrows together. “Yes.”. He comes closer to you, till his chest bumped against your knees. He held both hands now, “Please, forgive me, I’ll do anything. You’re the only person in this new world that makes me feel, anything. After I was deprogrammed, you were the only thing that felt normal, like home. Not Brooklyn, the past.” He takes your stoicism as an invitation to rest his hands on your thighs, wanting to physically connect with you while he rips himself open.

“The way you smelled of honeysuckles.” He presses his face against your stomach, inhaling deeply. “Red lipstick always on hand, making your smile brighter than any I’d ever saw. The way you walked up to me on your first day, so brave and confident. You remind me of home and it’s scary.”.

Your heart sank. This whole time, this is how he felt? All the harsh staring and denial was just, homesickness? You look down and feel yourself begin to feel guilty, even though you’ve done nothing wrong. “I didn’t know.”.

Steve, who had stayed silent this whole time, face set in stone, finally speaks up. “No, you didn’t know. So don’t feel bad. Again, it’s his fault for being dumb.” He steps closer to the two of you, starting to feel possessive over you. He wasn’t going to let Bucky get by with a half hearted apology. He could tell he was holding something back.

“I don’t believe it, you’re scared of her because she’s perfect for you?” He squats down to Bucky’s level, trying to intimidate him. Bucky looks between you, not sure if he should answer him. You raise your brow, letting him know Steve peaked your interest.

“Everything I’ve ever known or loved is gone, relics of the past. I’m scared that you might go away too, if you got too close to me.”.

Steve was visibly hurt. Did he not remind Bucky of home? He’s known Bucky his whole life, why couldn’t he let him in? He knew Steve wasn’t going anywhere. The Captain stayed silent, knowing tonight was about the hurt Bucky caused you, not him. He would pay for Steve’s emotional wounds later.

Before he can plot anything in his mind he’s being pulled up from the floor by you. “What do you think his punishment ought to be, huh Stevie?” When he looked at your face all he could see was deviance. Playing along, he pinches his chin in thought. “Hmm, you know, I’d hate to leave without finishing what we started earlier.”. He spins you to face him, letting his hands find the curve of your ass.

“I like that idea.” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your raise yourself up on your tippy toes and kiss him, tangling your fingers in his hair. You hear a whine from the floor beside you. Bucky’s face is red and you can tell he’s confused. “You sit there and be a good boy, then I’ll forgive you and maybe even let you touch me.”. You say, letting both Steve and Bucky know, you’re not the same person in the bedroom.

You loved degrading men. In your everyday life you might come across as sweet, unsuspecting, inexperienced. But you weren’t, there’s no shortage of men wanting a woman to dominate them. You’d never had the pleasure of using one this far out of your league.

Tonight, you were going to take advantage of it. Seeing Bucky crawl on his hands and knees lit a fire inside of you. You didn’t need to hear his apology at that point. Everything after it was pure showmanship. The performance of your life.

The morning came before you knew it. Your 7am alarm blaring through your studio apartment. Steve and Bucky left earlier, waking you up with goodbye kisses, but your foggy, half asleep brain barely registered that they left. You wore your hair down today, letting last nights curls be free. You didn’t opt for makeup, knowing the intense winter training would melt it off anyways.

When you make it to work, you see a lot of sunglasses. “Is everyone hungover?” You ask Natasha who’s nursing a black coffee. “Almost everyone.” She nods towards the two super soldiers standing behind Steve’s desk.

You blush when Steve gives you a wide smile, hoping no one in the office noticed. But of course Wanda senses the change in your footsteps and the buzzing reverberating off of you. She sits beside you in the semicircle of chairs, leaning over to whisper “I’m gonna need details.” She nudges her shoulder with yours, teasing you.

Before you could retaliate, Steve starts the debrief. “Winter training, gotta love it.” The whole room groans as Steve laughs. “I won’t keep you too long, I know you all have a long day ahead of you. But I like to think a good ole pep talk is the best thing for a team.”.

You roll your eyes. You liked Steve, but boss Steve was exhausting. You press your forehead on Wanda’s shoulder, you both hated this cringy kind of thing. “I’d like to remind you all why we train so vigorously. Teamwork. We all preform better together. We have to constantly be adapting to eachother, our strengths, and weaknesses.” He looks into each of your coworkers eyes, trying to drive his point.

“We change, just like the seasons, so pay special attention to your training partner today. They might teach you something new.” The inspirational speech was enough to have you wanting to go back home and go back to sleep, something you only received 3 hours of.

“Wanda, Sam, and Bruce, I want you guys down at the lake. Yelena, Natasha and Clint, go to the helipad, further instruction will be waiting.” He looks at the tablet infront of him, reading off bullet points.

“Y/N, Bucky and I are scheduled to be in the gym. Peter and Vision are already with Tony and Rhodes in the lab. Any questions?” He dismisses everyone after that. He changed it. So smoothly that no one noticed, you’d been scheduled to be at the lake with Wanda and Bruce. Of course Sam wouldn’t protest the change up, Steve just had to ask nicely.

When everyone shuffled out of the room, Wanda reminded you she wanted details over lunch later. Once everyone was gone you were suddenly aware that you were left alone with them. You were blinded by lust last night, not realizing the position you put yourself in. Were you with Bucky now? His confession was pretty serious. Were you with both of them? Was it a one night stand? Are they done with you now that they’ve had their fun? A million questions ran through your head while you waited by the door.

“Ready?” Bucky opens the door for you, ushering you into the hallway. You give him a tight lipped smile, not knowing how to interact with him not on his knees. You definitely weren’t the same person in the bedroom. Your regular self was awkward and embarrassingly nice at times. Would either of them still want you, once they see how different you could be?

They knew you before, and even liked you before. But now they have something else to base it off. Was your dominance too much for a long term thing with them? You have a feeling you’re about to find out, as you all pile into the small room with a wall of mirrors and elliptical.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I need some Yandere Bokuto and Yandere Akaashi! Maybe together because of the friendship bokuto and akaashi have if thats alright (If not then do it seperate)

This would be one of the most functional pairs to have, even despite their stark and clashing personalities.

You most likely met them in highschool and it was a blast to be around them. Albeit, a bit intense at times. Bokuto was incredibly difficult to keep up with, especially if you're on the more introverted side. He wants you to attend absolutely every single game he and Akaashi are in, he's not even against you coming to practice either! Please do just that, it boosts him so much!

Even if he does get distracted by your smile sometimes but who cares! He certainly does not!

Bokuto is like a whirlwind storm - you never know when to expect him but you know that once he steps close there will be nothing but chaos. He's fun, kind. Gentle even. He tries to be, for you. He can be oblivious towards your feelings sometimes but he always has your best interests at heart.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Bokuto is needy, incredibly so. If he's not holding or kissing you 24/7 then what's even the point? You give him energy, your mere presence gives him drive and confidence like nothing else. Soon enough his presence starts to become suffocating. He is so deeply intertwined in your life, like sticky glue which you can't shake off no matter how hard you try. He managed to force his way into every possible crevice inside your life and he is always aware of what he's doing. His perfectionist nature commands him to do so.

However, if Bokuto is the powerful storm itself, Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

He lurks. Constantly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depends who you're asking) there are times when Bokuto can't be with you no matter how badly he wants to be. Akaashi becomes something of a second shadow of yours, constantly tailing after you, taking care of you in the most subtle yet gentle ways. He offers you water regularly, he has you wear his warm jacket on warm days and he regularly chastises you if you think of doing something stupid. He's not completely sweet to you though, his dry personality does not allow for that.

Akaashi throws all sorts of remarks your way but they're never hurtful. Bokuto is usually the victim for his quick witted jabs, but, when he says them to you they're just. Different. They're laced with affection and playfulness but his stoic face masks the true meaning behind his words. He keeps tabs on you in any way he can and Bokuto quickly catches on to this.

They don't have a proper discussion about the situation they're in. The two just come to a silent agreement that they will share you. They already know each other well and their trust cannot be shaken. Neither one is against sharing you with the other.

There are times when you are a fun trio of idiots, simply living life. You have dinner and goof off. Bokuto makes you laugh and Akaashi feeds you fresh food from the table. Bokuto has an iron clad grip on your waist while Akaashi blocks your exit. Despite the lighthearted atmosphere, there's a thick layer of tension in the air. They smile, but it's not reaching their eyes.

Could they be hiding something?

You are paranoid, you rationalize. What could these two clowns have something to hide?

Time passes, you're all still as thick as thieves. Bokuto has become a professional volleyball player and Akaashi became a manga editor. Due to his strict schedule, Bokuto can't see you as often as he'd like... Which is all day, every day. At least in highschool he had the excuse of classes but now?

He's got nothing!

That's where his good old pal Akaashi comes in.

He sends Bokuto photos daily. The duo have countless folders dedicated to you, all of which have different themes and aesthetics. Akasshi sneaks in as many as he can and you won't ever catch him in the act.

He has years of experience snapping photos of you in every way imaginable. If you ever had the misfortune of looking into his computer files, he'd go to jail for life.

Despite their hectic schedules, both of them manage to keep a tight leash on you. Bokuto is quick to make work of anyone who has any sort of romantic inkling towards you, unless Akaashi tears into them first with his sharp tongue.

Neither option is safe. If you're on the receiving end of either, you will be left in a puddle of your own tears. Perhaps even blood.

You cry and complain to them - why have all your friends left you? Was there something wrong with you? Why was no one looking at you, what sort of defect did you have?

Akaashi's shirt is soaked in your bitter tears as he has his hands on your shoulders while Bokuto sits behind you, his chest pressed straight against your back. He is doing everything he can to not pounce on you right there and then but he knows better - patience is key. Pity he lacks that quality.

Luckily for him though, Akaashi has it in spades.

And they sit there with you on the sofa, the soft pitter patter of the rain hitting the window as you sob your heart out towards your two closest friends, oblivious to all of the things that they have done. You don't know how many people Bokuto had to beat up in order to get you where you are. You don't know how many people Akaashi had to scare the living crap out of in order to have you in his arms.

Bokuto gently blows in your ear, most likely in a teasing manner. You look up and in your shaky gaze are met with Akaashi's hungry stare, his dark eyes boring so deep into your own that you feel as though he could swallow you whole. A pair of powerful arms wrap themselves around your waist, securing you in place as Bokuto places his lips on your neck. He nibbles on the soft flesh as Akaashi leans in and steals the kiss he had dreamed about all those years ago.

Finally, they have you. No one is coming for you, they made sure of it. You don't need anyone anymore. They are your world from this point onwards.

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [2/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After her meeting with the Pope, she had been writhing around all night, terrified and humiliated, unable to sleep. She couldn't forgive herself for her stupidity, for not seeing in time that it was obvious her uncle was trying to slip her over to the head of the Catholic Church like a snack he might be tempted to focus on.

The worst part was that he had hired her and she didn't know how she could take it back, defy the Pope himself, communicate that she was rejecting his proposal.

She got up before dawn, recognising that she would not get any rest anyway, and decided to take a warm shower. She thought while standing under the stream of hot water that she would try to distance herself, be professional and not give satisfaction to either her uncle or the Pope himself.

She hoped that when he finally decided to give any sort of interview the commotion around him would quiet down and she could quickly offer her resignation.

She sighed heavily, running her hand over her wet face, wondering how she was supposed to reconcile this madness with her classes at the University.

A car with the same driver as the day before arrived outside her townhouse again and took her straight to the Vatican; driving through its streets, she noticed that many people had pitched tents in and around St Peter's Square, waiting for any new information about their Pope.

She sighed quietly, resignedly thinking about how unnecessary his stubbornness actually was.

This time it was not her uncle waiting for her in the square, but a middle-aged priest who could have been her father, dressed in a plain black cassock. He smiled at her in a way that seemed genuine to her and she reciprocated the gesture when he indicated with a movement of his hand that she should move to follow him.

"The Pope is just having breakfast in the garden and he will receive you there." He said as they walked along the marble corridors filled with works of art; she looked at him surprised and sighed quietly, glancing out of the window, finding that it was indeed pleasant warm weather, the sky was cloudless.

They walked out one of the back exits to the cloisters into a small garden consisting of a maze formed of walls of shrubbery, which, however, easily led them to its centre, on which stood a large arbour styled in antique manner, with a dome and Corinthian-style columns.

She grinned with some kind of disbelief when she spotted his figure seated at an ornate small white table, his cassock also white, he held in his hands a newspaper he had just been looking through.

She thought with amusement that he was reading about himself.

Only when they got closer did she notice that other gazettes from different countries lay folded on the table top; the front pages of each asking who the new pope was, why he wasn't showing himself, why he was silent.

"Your Holiness." Said the priest standing next to her and nodded; the young pope, however, did not even bestow a single glance on them.

She pressed her lips together as she saw his thumb go to his mouth, he licked it and then used it to flip the page of the newspaper.

The priest who had brought her left them alone, as if he had already become accustomed to the lack of reaction and any culture on his part. She stared at him in silence for a moment, standing in front of him in the same dress as the day before, not having time to buy anything else.

"Holy Father." She said softly, wanting to get it over with, standing a few steps beside him.

He did not look at her, instead lifting his hand and extending it towards her, a signet ring of pure gold on his heart finger.

She looked at him for a moment in disbelief, then swallowed hard and walked towards him, grasping his warm hand in hers.

She leaned in, placing a quick, brief kiss on his ring and let him go immediately; he took his hand without even giving her a glance and went back to reading the newspaper.

She pressed her lips together feeling his intense, pleasant-smelling male perfume again.

"What do you think of what they write about me?" He asked, carelessly tossing the newspaper he had just read onto a pile of others, the discouragement on his face bordering on disgust, as if what he had read made him sick. "They are already reaching my family. Day and night they chat outside my mother's house."

She felt a tightness in her throat at his words and some kind of sympathy, because although he must have known what his decision entailed and what the consequences would be, some journalists crossed all possible boundaries, recognising no sanctity.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the French croissants that lay on one of the porcelain plates and a jar of strawberry jam, and reminded herself that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She grunted quietly, looking away, staring at the field flowers that grew around them – she spotted a gardener in the distance who was cutting the shrubs with his big steel shears.

"They won't stop until you give them something, Holy Father." She replied truthfully, hearing him snort under his breath.

"They will always want more." He replied dryly and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye – he was staring at her sitting with his legs crossed.

She shuddered and looked at him in disbelief as he pushed the other chair in front of her with his foot clad in white elegant shoes, moving it away.

"Sit down, child. You are pale. Did you eat breakfast today?" He asked disapprovingly, like a parent expressing their discontent. She shook her head and he sighed heavily, indicating with his hand gesture to the seat next to him.

She thought that this certainly had nothing to do with behaving according to protocol, but decided that it probably didn't matter much to him. She sat down next to him, smelling the intense scent of his perfume again, adjusting her dress, remembering not to sit with her legs crossed.

"Eat." He said dispassionately; she wasn't going to argue, figuring that since she was being forced to be at his every beck and call now, she could get something in return.

Therefore, she reached for the croissant and jam, which immediately drew the attention of her stomach – she casted him a wordless surprised glance as she heard the sound of the lighter being lit and the hiss of the cigarette he held in his mouth.

He took a deep drag and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully, letting the smoke out through his nose. He smirked, as if something in her gaze amused him.

"My chancellery contacted your University. They were happy to hear that you will be doing a sort of…internship here. You don't have to worry about your exams or classes." He hummed as if he was talking about something trivial and uninteresting, an irrelevant piece of information he had to convey to her, and took another drag, the tip of his cigarette igniting red.

"− what − but −" She started, but decided it made no sense; whoever he was, this man had clearly already planned everything for himself and had no intention of changing anything, much less asking her opinion.

"I thought you'd be pleased. Your uncle arranges for you accommodation and studies, the Pope makes sure you pass your exams without your personal involvement. Isn't that beautiful?" He asked with a sneer, and she felt a tightening in her throat, a cold sweat on her back; she stared wide-eyed at the half-cut croissant on which she had just spread jam, but lost the urge to eat.

He knew everything about her and thought she and her uncle were the same.

She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the backrest, placing her hands on the armrests even though she shouldn't be doing so and crossed her legs. She saw his gaze drop involuntarily to her bare knees, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

"My uncle wants you to take me to your bed, Holy Father." She said quietly, recognising that she didn't have the strength for this, for their games, their hookups, the secrets they obviously adored, of which the entire Vatican was made.

She blinked when he chuckled, his pointing finger hitting his cigarette so that the ash from it fell to the stone floor beneath him.

"Tell me something I don't know. Eat. We have a lot of work ahead of us." He muttered, taking one last drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke out through his nose, extinguishing the remnants of it on his plate.

She stared at him with her heart pounding fast, thinking in disbelief that he really was a few steps ahead of everyone else.

He was perfectly informed, and although his words and actions seemed chaotic, there was purpose in them.

"What do you want, Holy Father?" She asked lightly, taking a piece of croissant into her mouth. He threw her an amused look and raised an eyebrow.

She had the impression that he took satisfaction in teasing her, his gaze fixed on her lips, which she involuntarily licked.

"Many things. Above all, holy peace and quiet, but I am not afforded it. Get up, let's take a walk." He said matter-of-factly and rose abruptly, putting his hands behind him, moving ahead without looking at her towards the corridors made of tall, evenly trimmed bushes.

She quickly swallowed the piece she just had in her mouth and stood up, following him, levelling her step with his, sunshine and birdsong all around them.

"We're being watched. It's harder for them to eavesdrop on me as I walk." He said coolly; she turned behind her and saw the gardener she noticed before, who was apparently just pretending to water the flowers around the arbour.

She looked at him in horror, realising that he must have been spied on all the time.

That they all wanted to know what he was going to do, surely he must have kept them in an iron grip since no picture of him had leaked to the press yet.

"What's going to make the atmosphere calm down and the journalists back off?" He asked discouraged, and she sighed quietly, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"Your private invitation."

She was surprised that her idea that he would hold a press conference where he would be invisible and only his voice could be heard appealed to him. He felt that, in fact, his faithful should hear his words and what he has to share with them, and this did not require his image to be revealed at all.

He decided to receive the TV and newspaper envoys in the Sistine Chapel, recognising that this was some kind of milestone moment that required a special place, a black veil was placed in front of his papal throne.

Although on the one hand it looked comical, on the other it added a sort of solemnity and impression of holiness, something tangible and yet inaccessible.

The cardinals and his office workers had prepared a script for him, which he tore in front of her eyes before the speech itself, handing her the shreds that remained of the pages, staring blankly at the black fabric in front of him. She took it from him, not knowing what else she could do; he demanded she be by his side in case someone asked an uncomfortable question.

Her heart was pounding like mad, she could feel the cold sweat on her back and wondered if he felt a similar anxiety.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and although his face was stony, he seemed even paler to her than usual, his large hands on which she could clearly see the outline of his veins clenched on his armrests – he sat comfortably on his throne with his legs crossed.

"Holy Father, why don't you want to show your face to your faithful? Is this some new kind of Vatican policy, a way of getting the whole world's attention?" They heard the question echoed by the first journalist on the other side of the curtain; she saw him press his lips together and swallow loudly before his cold, matter-of-fact, dispassionate voice began to spread around them.

"My face is not useful to my faithful for anything. They need my action. My causality. They need my intervention in matters of urgency, in the problems of paedophilia in the church, in the embezzlement and misuse of church assets, in the restoration of law and order, in the opening up of the church to young people who feel forgotten and unwanted. My face, my history, my personal views will distract them from all these things."

He said without stammering. She looked at him in disbelief, realising that he couldn't have prepared this answer beforehand.

He was saying straight from his heart what he was thinking and there was something touching about it.

Somehow she understood what he meant.

"What about the pilgrimages, what about the Sunday masses celebrated by the Pope?" Asked another journalist. She heard him sigh heavily, noticed that his hand trembled as he raised it to his face, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose.

"The Pope is not alone, he has his cardinals who can assist him in his missions around the world. As for the masses, I will attend them as a guest, but I will not be visible. The Pope is not unique. The Pope is chosen as first among equals. As Pope, I still remain a cardinal, one of the apostles. I am not Christ. I am not God."

She looked at him in pain, breathing unevenly through slightly parted lips, remembering what she had told him a few days earlier.

They need a guide, not another invisible God.

She couldn't believe that after what she had heard she had begun to feel sympathy for him – his answers seemed thoughtful and sensible, and she wondered if she had just seen his true nature, or if he was as perfect a manipulator as any of the cardinals.

She wondered how he had convinced them.

How he became Pope.

When it was all over he left without a word; the journalists were led away, and she prayed that it would help, that public opinion would calm down a little.

She watched all the news editions that evening with bated breath – the whole world quoted his statements and his decision, to her relief, most of the experts spoke warmly of him. The newspaper headlines also left her under no illusions.

The Pope has spoken. He doesn't want to show his face, only his actions.

The Pope who chooses the fight against paedophilia over the glamour of glory.

The Pope without a face − a new beginning.

The end of splendour − the Pope retreats to work like any of us.

The end of the church as we know it. The Pope at last again the voice of the weakest.

The next day she arrived in the Vatican with a stack of newspapers, eager to show him the result of their work, hoping it would satisfy him and allow her to return to normality.

"The Pope is exercising, but he said he would receive you." Said the priest, who was called Father Lenz, and who was apparently his private secretary, always waiting for her to lead her wherever he just happened to be.

"He's exercising?" She asked with amusement, and he just raised his eyebrows, himself clearly not knowing what he thought about it.

He opened the door for her and she stepped into a large room, with a beautiful baroque vaulted ceiling and hundreds of paintings on one side, rows of tall windows on the other, illuminating an exercise machine consisting of a small bench with a mattress on which he placed his back as he pulled on the railing at the end of which the weights hung, his legs braced on either side of the machine for balance.

He was dressed in white tracksuits.

She stared at the sight in disbelief, waiting for him to notice her; it only happened after a while when he took a break and sat down, reaching for a bottle of water standing on the old wooden floor. She lifted up a bundle of newspapers and he nodded, running his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing after his exertion.

She walked over to him and handed him the magazines she held in her hand; she felt a pleasant throbbing between her thighs feeling the smell of his sweat mixed with the scent of his perfume, his lips slightly swollen and pink from the blood that pulsed faster through his body.

He flipped through the front pages of the papers one by one and sighed quietly; she thought with surprise that there was a sort of expression of relief painted on his face, as if what was happening frightened him somewhere deep inside and filled him with anxiety.

He put them down at last, looking ahead, grabbing the white towel that hung over the railing at the other end of the machine.

"I prayed to God after I was elected. I prayed that he would show me the way, and although he usually answered me in some way, that evening he was silent. It was a silence full of rejection, as if the heavens did not agree with the decision of the conclave. How was I to go out to the crowds in such a situation, to convince them that Our Father in the heavens was sending me to them?"

He asked, rising with a quiet creak from the metal bench, surprising her completely with his words; because of his clothes and the way he spoke she had cognitive dissonance and had to remind herself that he was the Pope and not just a young man close to her age.

His confession touched her in some way – she was able to imagine his despair on the evening he was elected as people chanted his name, but it was the voice of God that he wanted to hear.

He stood a few steps away from her, drinking the contents of his small water bottle to the end, and stared ahead, as if he had returned with his mind to that time, as if he needed to get it out of himself.

"That's why I asked my faithful to pray from me. And what did they do? They despaired. They despaired that they could not see my face, that they could not touch me, tear me apart, dissect my private life and my past. I have never felt so lonely." He said with a regret from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and lowered her gaze, not knowing what to say, reminding herself with shame that she had thought the same thing about him as all those people.

"Perhaps it was also the will of the heavens. In the end, when the time comes everyone will face God alone. Maybe it was his words: don't follow the crowd, don't conform, that's not why I sent you." She said softly, but immediately regretted her words, recognising that she had no right to interpret anyone's spiritual experiences, much less those of the Head of the Church.

She heard him snort with amusement; he pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket and for a moment she thought he would want to smoke in this beautiful baroque chamber, however, he moved ahead towards a small door other than the one she had entered through.

"Come." He hummed, so she moved after him, knowing that it was pointless to resist.

For the rest, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

They passed through a narrow corridor and began to climb up a stone staircase that spiraled around a large pillar – it seemed to her that they were in some older part of this great complex. They reached a small wooden door, and when he opened it they emerged onto the roof of one of the buildings located to the right of St Peter's Square.

The view in front of her struck her –the sun was rising over the Vatican, lazily leaning out from above the church standing in the centre of the square like a nimbus, the air around them pleasantly cool and crisp.

She watched as he moved ahead and walked closer to the stone wall, firing up his lighter and leaning forward with a cigarette in his mouth – there was something so obscene about the sight that she smiled involuntarily.

He looked at her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, taking a drag, then slid his cigarette out of his mouth with a motion of his hand and let the smoke out silently through his nose, shaking the ash to the ground with a flick of his finger.

"It has been reported to me that journalists are slowly making their way into my past. Don't worry, I don't think it's your fault. I knew it would happen, but I thought I had more time." He murmured lowly seeing her surprised, horrified face, suddenly as if tired and discouraged, taking another drag with a quiet hiss of fire.

She thought looking at his silhouette illuminated by the first rays of the sun, that he looked like a saint.

"I want you to hear it from me. Will you listen to what I have to say?" He asked calmly and she nodded, feeling her heart pounding fast, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, terrified of what he wanted to tell her.

"My mother I told you about is a nun. She adopted me a few years after I was placed in a convent orphanage." He said calmly, looking away, staring at the crowds of people walking around St Peter's Square.

"They took me from the woman who gave birth to me because she liked to inject various stimulants into her veins. She was asleep when one of her men decided he didn't like the way I looked at him, that I was complaining about being hungry. He decided that he would gouge my eyes out, but he only succeeded with one, my screaming would wake even the dead."

He muttered, not looking at her but somewhere in the distance, letting out a puff of smoke with a deep breath; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain feeling the squeeze in her throat, her cheeks red with emotion.

She wanted to say something but was afraid to interrupt him, she knew that what he was telling her was of the utmost importance and she wondered if anyone else knew about all this, if he had confided in anyone.

"Sister Alicent after I was brought in wouldn't let me call her my mother. So I called every woman I saw that, cooks, cleaners, teachers. She adopted me in the end, unable to look at it anymore. She got a dispensation from the Pope." He said lowly, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it with his completely white Adidas.

"Some trashy, cheap magazines are already writing about the fact that I am the son of a nun and the Pope, others with mockery recognise that I am certainly her immaculate conception. That they mock me doesn't bother me, but it fills me with sadness that journalists stand outside her house all day. She can't even go out shopping or gardening. I guess you think the only way out of this situation would be an interview where I would tell my story?"

He asked disapprovingly, looking at her finally; she was shocked and horrified that he was asking her opinion on such an important matter. She shook her head helplessly, shrugging her shoulders.

"You cannot allow them to make your mother a hostage, Holy Father. You must show strength. Call press conferences where you talk about what decisions you make, but don't answer questions about your family. In the Vatican, you are Pius XIII, not Aemond Targaryen. When they see that they cannot blackmail you, they will let go. In my opinion, you both have to bear it." She said what she thought, thinking in the back of her mind that journalists would always want more and the matter would only get worse.

He looked at her silently as if analysing her words and sighed finally, kicking a stone that lay under his feet with his shoe.

"Have you ever kissed?" He asked lightly and she looked at him with shock written all over her face, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, her cheeks burning with heat.

She couldn't believe such a question had come out of his mouth.

"You don't have to answer. I'm just curious. I've never kissed anyone." He replied after a moment, seeing her embarrassed reaction, as if he wanted to clarify and elaborate that his interest was purely scientific and theoretical.

She swallowed loudly, pressing her lips together, thinking that he had told her about himself, about the most private aspects of his life, and decided that nothing bad would happen if she answered him.

"Once, in high school." She muttered, stroking her arm in a gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, looking away. She heard him hum under his breath, intrigued.

"Did it feel good?" He asked softly, standing a few steps away from her with his hands tucked into his snow-white tracksuit bottoms, cocking his head.

She looked up at him in disbelief, breathing erratically, clasping her hands tighter, involuntarily her gaze escaped to his full, glistening lips.

"It was a very moist, soft and warm sensation." She muttered feeling a tightness in her throat, her gaze fleeing from his eyes to his lips, unable to stop herself from imagining how wonderful it would be to feel how they tasted.

"Hm." He murmured, looking away thoughtfully.

They stood like that for a moment in silence – she could feel the wordless tension around them, as if electricity flowed through the air with their every word and movement.

"Did you confess this deed?"

She blinked and felt her heart stop. She shook her head, looking at him with slightly parted lips.

"Pardon?" She asked in disbelief, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and a cold sweat on her back, not believing that he was suggesting such a thing.

"Failure to maintain chastity before marriage is a sin." He replied indifferently; she pressed her lips together, feeling tears of shame and humiliation under her eyelids, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"So I am a sinner, Holy Father." She said coldly, and turned away, leaving without any pleasantries or even a simple goodbye.

She burst out sobbing as she ran down the narrow stairs.

It was only a kiss.

She just wanted to see what it was like.

In fact, she felt bad afterwards, but not because she thought it was a sin, but because she was not in love with this boy.

She asked Father Lenz for any of the drivers to take her home; seeing her face red from tears he asked what had happened, but she did not answer him.

She opened up to him, spoke about an intimate part of her life, and he could only judge her, make her another Eve, a fallen woman.

It was only a kiss.

She returned to her flat filled with regret and disappointment – she angrily pulled off her long dress she had bought and chosen specially to be able to present herself as expected, to keep herself humble, but for what?

She decided that she would never appear there again.

There was no kind of real contract between the two of them, she had only signed documents regarding her collaboration with the Pope's secretaries and a confidentiality clause.

She changed into her pyjamas, undid her hair, took the box of leftover cakes from the cupboard and lay in bed, browsing social media platforms on her phone, trying not to think about what had happened.

She tilted her head back and groaned in frustration when she saw that her uncle had started to call her. She muted her phone and flipped the screen down, sighing.

She lay back on her bedding, staring blankly at the window, and thought with pain that the man who should be giving her the strength to be a better person had made her doubt herself, made her feel sinful and dirty.

She started to think that maybe she should go to confession after all, that maybe he was right, that she was only making excuses for herself without wanting to admit that she was wrong, but she felt even worse at that thought and just burst out crying.

Exhausted by sobbing and remorse, she finally fell asleep, seeing only through her closed eyelids that the phone display lying next to her glowed again and again.

She shuddered, rising quickly to sit up in complete darkness when she heard someone's loud knock on her door; she looked around with a pounding heart, not knowing where she was, whether it was evening or morning.

She glanced at her phone and saw that she had slept for several long hours and the sun had set, on her screen 20 missed calls from her uncle and a plethora of text messages that she didn't have the energy to read.

She sighed heavily and got up, walking reluctantly to the door, knowing her uncle would now make a litany for her; she turned on the night light on the way so she wouldn't trip over anything and she turned the lock, opening it.

"Oh God."

She muttered, seeing the figure of the young Pope in front of her, still in the same white tracksuit and sneakers.

He had his hood up over his head.

He pulled the white earphones out of his ears with a soft flick of his hand – she could hear the heavy metal music playing from them.

"Will you let me in?" He asked indifferently; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking he was risking a lot by going outside just to see her.

She sighed quietly and stepped back, allowing him to go inside. She leaned out wanting to check if anyone had seen him and closed the door quickly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw that he had turned off the music on his player and put it back in his pocket.

They stood for a moment in silence, his gaze focused on her naked thighs; she swallowed loudly with shame at the thought that she was standing before the Head of the Catholic Church in nothing but pyjamas consisting of cream shorts and a shirt buttoned up the front, under which she didn't even have a bra.

She turned her head, running her trembling hand over her face, her heart pounding like mad.

"I made a mistake." She heard his voice full of regret. "I wanted your uncle to pass it on to you, but you didn't answer."

"I didn't and don't feel like talking to anyone, Holy Father." She muttered, feeling a tightening in her chest, fiddling restlessly with the cross hanging on her neck.

She heard him swallow loudly and look to the side, pulling the hood off his head.

"I made you doubt in yourself. In your purity and your value in the eyes of God." He said lowly, and she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She closed her eyelids and tilted her head back, trying to control herself, not letting them flow out.

She did not reply.

"My words arise from my depravity, which I fight unsuccessfully. From my vanity and jealousy. I would rather have you locked up in a convent. You could then be by my side and no one would ever touch you again. You could be mine." He said softly, thoughtfully, looking at some point on the floor, as if he had drifted off completely in his musings – she felt her lips part in disbelief, her brow arching in pain.

I would rather have you locked up in a convent.

You could be mine.

What was she to reply to such a shocking confession?

She shuddered when he finally turned his attention to her, the gaze of his healthy eye sharp and piercing, while his artificial one was empty, white, lifeless.

"Though never before have my members reacted to the sight and thought of a woman, when I see you, I long to touch you, to taste you, to smell you. I have become addicted to your scent and try to recall it after evening prayer before I fall asleep." He spoke calmly, as if it was not an emotionally driven statement but something thought out, something that had been going on in his head for a very long time.

She felt with fear how her body reacted to his words with a greedy throbbing between her thighs and a moisture from which the material of her underwear was getting wet, her nipples hardened, more clearly visible from under her shirt.

She froze when she saw his gaze flee to her breasts, seeing exactly what she feared, his full lips parted slightly; she could hear his breathing clearly, fingers of his hands rubbing against each other in an anxious, nervous gesture.

"What do you feel now?" He whispered and she drew in the air loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat. She licked her lips dry from stress, taking a step backwards, hitting her back against the wall, feeling that she had nowhere to run. She helplessly clenched her thighs together, wanting to stop what was happening, seeing that his pupil widened at the sight.

"I'm wet." She confessed in shame, recognising that there was no point in pretending that there was something innocent in what was happening – her body was twitching with desire, begging for his touch and relief, her heart pounding like mad.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at her words while looking straight into her eyes, she saw fire in them, heavenly or hellish.

"Does it feel good?" He asked softly, gazing shamelessly at the spot between her thighs – she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen and a tickling inside her, her walls were clenching around nothing at his question.

She thought helplessly that she had never felt anything like this before in her life.

"Yes." She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her whole body quiver and pulsate, feeling desire in her fingertips, in her lips and down there, deep, deep inside her.

She shuddered as he approached her with a slow step and lifted her terrified gaze to him. His lips were parted in an anxious, hitched breath, in his eyes heat and darkness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and between her thighs.

He stood over her, for a moment just looking at her – his trembling hands finally raised, reaching for the buttons of her shirt. They looked at each other with some kind of pain and suffering from which she felt a sting in her heart as a coldness enveloped her naked skin.

It seemed to her that it lasted an eternity – he took his time, his gaze fixed on the line of her bare body as he unbuttoned her shirt fully; he didn't expose her breasts, he just looked at her.

She gasped when he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips slowly over her sternum down to her stomach – she closed her eyes and sighed quietly, feeling her lips pulsate with desire, swollen and thirsty.

"− so soft − so warm −" He whispered; her quivering palm rose and touched his fingers, his hand larger and more massive than hers, she could feel the outline of his veins clearly under her skin.

She pressed his hand to her heart, heard him draw in the air hard as he felt it beat beneath his fingertips.

He looked at her, remaining still, as if frozen, knowing that one word from him, one expression of hesitation and they would be left with only shame, only regret, only disappointment.

She felt the tears under her eyelids, which involuntarily one by one ran down her face; he noticed it and shook his head, his breathing shaky, uneven, despairing.

"− you're so pure −" He whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her cheek as if seeking refuge. She clenched her eyelids in shock at how intimate and desired this closeness was, his scent filled her entire lungs, his warm breath enveloped her cheek.

"− looking at you I feel terror because I regret − I regret that I will never feel you − that I will never give you what I want −" He muttered in a trembling voice; she felt his warm tears running down her skin.

They both gasped when his shaking hand tentatively began to slide lower and sobbed in pleasure as his fingers slipped hesitantly under the material of her shorts, deep between her thighs.

They were panting and quivering with desire, her trembling hands clenched on his arms as his fingertips pushed the material of her underwear aside with a shy gesture full of shame, she heard his low, helpless groan as he felt how wet she was.

"− God, help me −" He mumbled in a broken voice full of guilt – she tried but was unable to stop the moans of pleasure that left her mouth with each tentative movement of his fingers that brushed her swollen, throbbing womanhood, her body was so tense she felt she was on the edge.

"− please −" She whimpered pleadingly, placing her hand on his with a gesture full of desperation, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.

She tilted her head back as she finally felt him the way she wanted to, his fingertips digging into her fleshy, hot, moist folds with intense, circular strokes – she could feel his hot, ragged breath on her skin, his face pressed against her cheek, her hands clenched in a helpless gesture on the material of his sweatshirt.

Tears of despair and delight streamed down their faces, tired of pretending and fleeing, shivers ran down her spine every time the tips of his fingers teased again that tender bud from which her sobriety of mind was taken away; it seemed to her that their bodies were moving on their own, something hard and throbbing under his trousers rubbing against her thigh with desperate strokes.

"− forgive me − say you forgive me −" He mumbled pleadingly in a breaking voice.

She felt him trembling all over just like her, unable to stop now, knowing there was no way back, her face wet with her and his tears.

She reached her palm into his hair and combed through it with her fingers, letting out her breath with a loud sob, moving involuntarily to the rhythm of his hand as it pressed harder and harder against her fleshy skin with the lewd click of her moisture.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for forgiveness −" She gasped as she felt something approaching, moaning louder and louder.

She thought that despite the fact that he was touching her in this forbidden, sinful place, some incomprehensible kind of intimacy and innocence was added to what was happening by the fact that he hadn't exposed her naked body, that he hadn't wanted to possess her, only to experience something with her and in her presence.

"− good God, you're leaking − so sticky − I'll lick it off my fingers −" He whispered with a kind of awe, as if he were talking about something sacred and mysterious.

She felt that his words had done something to her – she cried out loudly, parting her lips in disbelief when suddenly a wave of warm pleasure surged through her body like a lightning bolt.

She felt wonderful tickling in her lips, in the tips of her fingers, in her breasts, in her chest, her inside's clenching greedily around nothing, her moisture trickled down onto his hand, she heard his low, surprised groan.

Her body suddenly became numb; she would have fallen if he hadn't put his arm around her in time, his hand ran over her cheek heated from the exertion.

"− you look like Bernini's Saint Teresa − so beautiful −" He mumbled in a trembling voice, panting hard along with her, looking at her dreamily. She sighed sweetly, laying her head on his chest, letting him embrace her tightly.

She could feel his manhood throbbing under the damp material of his sweatpants.

He came.

She stayed in his embrace not daring to look at him, not daring to think about what they had done, wanting to push back the moment when they would feel remorse, pain and regret, sinking only into this wonderful relief.

You look like Bernini's Saint Teresa.

A sculpture in which a holy woman curves in ecstasy after an angel pierces her with an arrow of Divine Love.

God's Delight.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys. 

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you. 

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. “Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all. 

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real. 

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.

[ilovebuckers5]

*•♡never be like you pt 3 ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I'm falling on my knees. forgive me, I'm a fucking fool "

word count - 2.3k

themes :

-angst if you squint

-smut

warnings :

-public sex

-fingering

a/n - sorry for how long it took me to post this. writers block was biting me in the ass. enjoy the smut!!! ( I did not spell check sooooo sorry)

the days between when I asked Nika to the concert and the actual concert were hell. all I could think about was her. and the occasional thought about what Farah was planning for fucking over Asher but that's for another day.

finally, it was the day of the concert. I had already ordered an outfit from about a million different websites but it came together perfectly. I was going to be basic and just where a purple skirt and a white top but the more I looked in online stores, the crazier (and shinier) my outfit got. I decided on a sparkly purple blazer and a black mini skirt with a matching black tube top. the only shoes I could find were purple doc martins so that's what I went with.

the moment I stepped out of my closet to show Farah my outfit, I was convinced that she dropped dead. her hands slammed on the desk she was sitting beside. she stood up and ran her hands over the shoulders of my blazer. "its so fucking good oh my God. I'm kind of mad at you actually. I wish I came up with this." her eyes and hands traced over my entire outfit in awe. before I could even look at myself in the mirror, Farah began taking way too many photos. "I'm sending these all the Nika." that's when I slapped the phone out of her hand.

i almost broke my nose diving for her phone to delete all the pictures. the last thing I wanted was for Nika to see me in a ridiculously glittery outfit with anything else done. if I was doing a big reveal for her then it would have to be when I'm fully ready.

while Farah changed into her outfit, which was a mystery to me, I started doing my makeup. the concert was in 3 hours from now and the venue was 1 hour and 30 minutes away. so as long as Farah didn't take forever getting ready, we would be fine. of course that's as long as Nika was ready.

------------------------------------------------------------

nika's pov

to be honest, I've only heard one Olivia Rodrigo song in my entire life. and its not like I hated it but it wasn't my type of music. but because I love concerts and y/n, I turned on a playlist with her music and started getting ready. me, Farah, and y/n had made a group chat just for this occasion. we barely talked in it, more of just updating each other on where the concert was at and what time it was. the only appropriate outfit I could find was a pair of black jean shorts and a purple tank top. when I tried showing a couple of the girls on my team, I've never gotten more disapproval. they forced me to get letters and designs ironed on the top so once the outfit was put together I had a purple tank top with the words 'sorry my guts spilled' on it with my shorts and a purple pair of Nike dunks that I had to borrow from Paige. oh yeah, the group chat was also used for outfit checks. so I got sent pictures of outfits on racks, hangers, beds, floors, and people. I couldn't care enough to do all that so I just sent a picture of my outfit once it was on me.

farah and y/n had to have been the most hyped up girls I've ever met. they couldn't stop spamming the group chat when they saw my outfit. it honestly felt nice. I didn't do much makeup because I knew how hot those stadiums got. I just put on some mascara and lip liner and I was ready to go. I didn't want to end up looking a mess afterwards, I guess the girls did though.

when I was getting ready, one song sort of stuck out compared to all the others. love is embarrassing. I kind of related to it. loves was never really my thing. at least in college it wasn't. love seemed like something that would get me distracted. as much as I adored seeing other couples out on dates and couples going to each other's event like sports games, it seemed well, embarrassing to me.

i tried to keep it like that.

the time that the girls spent getting ready on seemed to go by slower than ever. i found myself sitting on my bed and my couch and every other surface ever. when finally i got a text.

'we're here!'

i launched myself off of the ledge of my counter and grabbed my bag. i made sure to bring a couple extra water bottles and other necessities so that if anyone ran out, that actually wouldn't.

the moment i sat in the car, the energy shifted.

when i looked from afar, the girls were going back and forth with no music playing. as if one or the other was panicking about something. but when i got there, they acted normal as ever. weird.

"heyyyy! you ready?"

fatah squealed, shaking my shoulder. i smiled in return while nodding my head up and down.

"yess! let's go!"

i wanted to talk to y/n but she barely looked at me. i couldn't tell if it was out of fear or if she just forgot to say something but i knew it didn't feel that good.

the entire car ride was filled with the two girls informing me about olivia rodrigo's songs and who they are about and who she's dated. and to be honest i was pretty invested. more than any other artist. the girls knew every lyrics to every song and it made me feel out of place but i knew i'd settle in once i heard her live.

"oh my god and just a little while ago she released guts spilled!"

i couldn't help but tilt my head in confusion.

"what's that?"

the girls gave eachother a look as if they were about to stop the car and put on a performance of what 'guts spilled' is.

"it's like a bonus to guts! it has five new tracks that basically everyone was waiting for!"

i could tell that this was something y/n had been waiting to be asked about. the pure joy in her face and voice brought a light smile to my face. her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were open wide.

"i think you'll like obsessed and girl i've always been..." farah leaned back to look at me and whisper.

the rest of the car ride was pretty fun actually. we spent time memorizing lyrics. well. they spent time helping me memorize lyrics and eventually i got lost in the music, making the time on the road go by extremely quick. by the time we were at the stadium, i had basically learned all the lyrics to both of olivia's albums. farah and y/n were so proud.

this parking lot was more packed than any concert lot i've ever been to. i mean every single spot was taken. we had to park on the street and speed walk to the stadium. we got in after what felt like hours of checking bags and tickets and whatever. and once we were in? it was cold.

cold and mildy empty. we had gotten there around 40 minutes early so we found the pit and hung around until the entire stadium was full.

when the light went off, i felt the entire aura switch very quickly. there was a different artist opening. and while i had heard of olivia once or twice around social media, i had never heard of chappell roan. of course farah and y/n had because they began screaming every single lyrics. the music actually was bad so i started to dance along and hum to as much lyrics as i could understand.

finally there were purple lights flashing and olivia came out. i couldn't help but scream along with everyone because as much as i tried to hide it, i was pretty fucking excited.

------------------------------------------------------------

y/n's pov

i don't think i could express how badly i want to wrap my arms around nika just for her coming. we were basically strangers and she came to a whole concert with us. a normal person wouldn't just do that. nika would.

i won't lie, the way our shoulders bumped up against eachother while we were dancing and singing felt even better than hearing olivia rodrigo live.

there were even moments where the air was steamy but bearable. i'd take a second to look to the side and there nika would be, already looking at me as if she was waiting for our eyes to meet. she would nod her head, asking if she could take my hand without speaking. and of course i never denied. she held both of our hands in the air and jumped around to all-american bitch. i know she meant it in a "this is a girls moment" way but my head told me that she was holding my hand the way i had been wanting to for the past week.

none of this could leave my mouth of course. because one ; it was too loud for anyone to even hear my words and two ; it wouldn't be the best choice to confess my love to nika in the middle of a concert. so i shoved my thoughts and fluttery words right back down my throat and replaced them with song lyrics.

all of the thoughts in my head were bringing me to tears. the fact that i was actually in the same stadium as olivia rodrigo and the fact that i was in the same arm distance as nika muhl. and i couldn't even hold her how ive wanted.

then the scream happened. right before the scream in all-american bitch was about to happen, olivia stopped and told everyone to scream for themselves. and i knew exactly what to think about when i screamed.

i screamed about having to wait for nika even though it might not work out. i thought about the fact that our bodies were pressed together in the most platonic way possible. i screamed about the fact that i still had to sort shit out with asher when i got back to campus. and i screamed about the fact that nika had no idea.

in my head i was the loudest person there but i know i wasn't when all of the screams melted together into one.

then she played obsessed. my favorite. there were a good amount of Olivia Rodrigo songs that I did relate to and this was not one of them. I've never been obsessed with anyone's ex. I've never really...cared.

i remember when the song was first leaked on a podcast on Spotify it was the only thing I listened to for a while. I knew every lyric like the back of my hand even if I didn't associate them with my own life.

olivia had changed into a red body suit and she looked amazing. it shocked me how she sounded so perfect while dancing but that's just Olivia Rodrigo for you.

i noticed Nika getting even more loud during this song. she actually was singing the lyrics as if she had known them for months. I felt proud as fuck. are hands met again. we were jumping up and down to the beat of the drums, screaming together like we had been friends for years.

everything went by so quickly.

next thing I knew she had her hand around my waist while she tried to catch her breath. her head was closer to my hands then my face and she had a death grip on her own knee. her back lifted and fell as her heavy breaths slowly went away. i had my hand on her back, trying to make sure she was ok while the song continued.

when her head was back up at eye level the first thing she did was lean into my ear and whisper. "can I try something?"

i had never been more confused in my life until I nodded and felt her hand still lingering around my hips. her fingers grazed the skin that was open in the air. she had been pretending to be focused on the music while her hands slipped down my waist and under my skirt. my breath hitched when she used just her pinky to slide my underwear to the side.

"w-what are you doing?" I questioned, trying to pretend like I didn't want this to happen.

"oh shut up I know you've wanted me too."

i couldn't form words before she dipped two fingers in my pussy. I knew that I could be more vocal since the music was loud enough to drown everyone out but I still felt the need to stay quiet. from anyone elses view, you'd think we were just holding each other or holding hands while singing. Nika quickened her pace, already making me close. it felt like a dream. and it felt like three songs had already passed but by the time it was the bridge of obsessed, I was dripping all over Nika's fingers.

"f-fuck!" I whined out, making Nika cover my mouth with her lips. she didn't stop pumping her fingers in and out of my cunt but it felt like we were only kissing. like the only thing I could feel was her lips on mine and her tongue tangled with mine.

just as I was about to finish for the second time within 1 minute and 30 seconds, Nika pulled her fingers out of me and laid them on her own tongue, sucking them clean.

part of me was in disbelief of what just happened and the other part was fully aware.

"can we continue at home?"

i nodded eagerly, still not knowing what to say to her. I could tell by the smirk on her lips and how her hands were placed on her hips that she was real fucking proud of what she just did.

the rest of the concert was a blur to me.

[captainmera]

i never realised just how much tgb had changed how i thought about the characters (mostly vee) until yesterday when i was re-looking over my toh fan-art. You wrote them so well that i forgot that it wasnt all in the show. like how vee and gus weren't shown to being best friends, vee never got to be angry/shocked by hunter or just willow still holding a little grudge against amity. They are just cool details and im so clad they were added! ps your great

Thank you! Wow that's very flattering! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

I really like Vee, and the more I think about the gang's time in the human-realm, the more I sit back in my chair and think "Ah man, these arcs are really necessary and interesting though.."

Vee also holds a lot of plot, as a basilisk. We can speculate what the reason is that they were extinct, for example (grimwalkers were extinct too).

Wat I really enjoy about TOH's characters are how easily and smoothly they weave into each other's themes and arcs. Their personalities and histories makes them all perfect friends to both build them up and break them down. It's a chefs kiss.

Vee is no different! The set-up for her character was perfectly slotted in to what the other characters needed for their time in the human-realm. And the theme I think the human-realm was supposed to embody.

The demon-realm arc for Luz was a hero's journey, but because of the foil of the trope, and that the point was that: there is no hero/chosen one actually, and the rebels didn't make it in time like in the books, and just because it's a different realm it didn't mean Luz could escape - escapism is temporary.

Dana has said grief and hope are core elements of the story, and she chose to tell it through a foiled trope of being chosen/hero's journey, layered with a religious trauma lens.

To me, looking at Luz as the main character, means looking at her as a nerdy girl in need of escapism, wanting to find purpose, and avoiding her emotions about her dad's passing.

The return to human-realm would be, for Luz, a turning point where TOH turns from being about a hero's journey and a journey about the steps of grief and healing - at the end of it, she will find the light.

Vee, to me, is kind of like a new take on the guide character. She is not a guide, in the sense that she has all the answers, but rather all the truths.

She was right when she told Luz she had everything and still chose to run away. They're not the same. Vee is also a lot better than Luz at being normal and fitting in, something Luz has been playing off and avoiding facing. Luz sees herself as being different as a bad thing, she tried to run away to a place where "weird" was normal and that didn't work out. Now she's back home and feels that it's all her fault bad things happened, because she is herself. And the person she is is different. And different didn't mean special, just different. Of course she's depressed.

The same is true for all the other characters. Vee gets to reflect their truths too, simply by being crafted, narratively, into being the guide.

Hunter gets to face his actions as the GG, come to terms with the nuances of his bad actions, whatever reason he committed what he did. Find forgiveness not just from Vee but himself too. He gets to start over, just like her. She shows him it's possible.

Gus gets someone to share his dream with, his love and enthusiasm for the human realm. A place that Vee feels is more home than where she came from. Gus gets to grow as a person, both morally and intelligently. As does Vee, she gets somebody who shows her that she doesn't just have to be a refugee, she can have a purpose here. She can be an ambassador.

Willow was set up to have an arc where she mistook her newfound magical and physical strengths (she is working out a lot in canon after she changed track), for inner strengths. Willow is a sensitive girl, and a bit of a berserk (I mean she was willing to burn her own mind just to hurt Amity). Willow having to face Vee, who isn't physically stronger than her but is significantly further down the road of being internally strong, is something Willow can learn from. Perhaps even have conflict with! (but more so a conflict with herself than with Vee, really.)

With Amity, Vee has a simpler role. I think to Amity it's more so showing that it's possible to live in the human realm, and giving her hope that going back and forth is a future for everyone who wishes to do so. Creatively speaking, I think Amity and Vee more so to bounce off one another for the plot, rather than character growth or decline.

Camila, I think, is the most interesting. Because she has now spent approximately a year with Vee, half of it thinking she was Luz and having feelings about her daughter having changed so much, the line "I'm glad youre still creative" comes to mind. As well as the terror of losing Luz again. But also, because she has had her own unseen arc and development with Vee, and them having bonded into a foster family that we never got to see glimpses of, it goes without saying that Camila has already done the internal work to take on more kids if that's necessary. I think she saw these kids by her door and thought "yep. They're mine now too." Vee, I think, is interesting to toss into the family dynamic between Luz and Camila, who seemingly are misunderstanding one another significantly. Vee sees them both, and can be a voice of reason when it comes to it. Or if it would come to it.

ANYWAY MY RANTS ARE LONG. IM DONE. THANKS FOR READING.

[otsanda]

So @sayuri-of-the-valley and I were talking about the music in Good Omens 2 and particularly the similarities and differences in the music that happens 'Before the Beginning' (that's the song title) and at The Kiss (that's not the song title) and I have accidentally developed Theories and had Thoughts, so I’m gonna share them in case anyone else wants to weigh in.

First of all, the general musical structure is similar. They are both dramatic moments that start quietly, grow to a powerful crescendo at the Big Moment, and then resolve more quietly again, but with subtle changes that make them feel very different. Without actually going through and checking it, they sound to be at roughly the same tempo (around 140 BPM) and comparable time signatures.

Now, I'm treating these two dramatic moments and the surrounding music as two songs, although in the soundtrack the music surrounding The Kiss is actually divided into two songs itself: I Forgive You and Don't Bother, so that's. Fine. I'm normal about that. I'm sure dividing that in half doesn't Mean Anything at all. I'm NORMAL about it!!! Ah... anyways.

The instrumentation for both Before the Beginning and The Kiss is also very similar. Both songs start with orchestral winds and strings and add a powerful choral part (on the same pure round vowel sound, no less!) on the big crescendo. Both add orchestral chimes (bells) for that epic religious feel. Both the nebula creation and the kiss were a revelation. Something like a religious experience.

And then both songs resolve featuring wind and strings again, among other instruments. The "after" part of both songs also features more pitched percussion (harp, maybe a celesta, glockenspiel, possibly a dulcimer or some other fun, ethereal pitched percussion in Before the Beginning, but interestingly a piano in Don't Bother). Ouch. That hurts.

Now, to me: the piano is possibly representing the nightingale, Crowley and Aziraphale's love of Earth and humanity, whereas the glockenspiel and etc. may be more representative of heaven. Just a guess. I would have to do more careful listening for a more solid theory.

I don’t have perfect pitch so it’s hard to tell without getting out my instruments or transcribing the piece, but I’m willing to bet ‘I Forgive You’ is in the relative minor key to Before the Beginning’s mostly major key (I *think* ‘Before the Beginning’ might be mostly in the key of C major and ‘I Forgive You’ in A minor, but I could be wrong). Regardless, the former is major and the latter is more minor, but otherwise a lot of the chord structures, especially at the big moment, sound very similar.

More on instrumentation: ‘Before the Beginning’ uses more (ethereal?) flutes in the wind sections and The Kiss uses more reed-based, (earthy?) winds like clarinet, bassoon, oboe, etc. Different feel, but the same kind of structure. Both moments heavily feature a big string section for the nice full orchestral sound.

Before the Beginning has a lot going on musically before the crescendo and it intentionally feels kind of chaotic and unformed bc each instrument family is doing something a little different, building anticipation, etc. and then at the big crescendo, they all come together. Very powerful. Then after the crescendo, we get a subtle, playful reprise/variation of the Good Omens Main Theme. The strings and the winds are no longer entirely together at this point. They’re sort of playing off one another, leaving space. Having a conversation.

By comparison, in ‘I Forgive You’ the wind/strings start off playing together, in a sad version of unison before the crescendo (they both knew the conversation they were having wasn’t going to end well but they fundamentally *understand* one another now; they’ve been talking for millions of years). And AFTER the crescendo of The Kiss, the song ‘Don’t Bother’ DROPS the majority of the string section and gives the melody to a solo violin (alone!!!!). Even worse (better) the strings and the woodwinds and pitched percussion are no longer playing together. This time, they aren’t even having a conversation. They’re musically doing a separate lines. It feels extremely lonely (because it is). The violin is very exposed. The piano is very exposed. Even the chorus sounds exposed (smaller group of singers?). This ALSO includes a reprise/variation on the main GO theme, but instead of being playful it’s extremely sad (as though you didn't notice). The rest of the orchestra is still there, providing background, but it's not the same.

The Biggest Decision (the song after Don't Bother) has a lot more of those ethereally coded instruments again. Harp, pitched percussion. Full string section. Angelic chorus. Aziraphale is making the hardest/worst decision to return to heaven.

And to round it out, once we get to "The End?" we are back to piano. Our duo is separated. Now in place of the solo violin we have solo cello and piano. Gutting. We get notes of the ethereal celesta (I think). The piano keeps us grounded, but cello is a big focus. We also get more of that haunting chorus and violin runs. And then we end with solo piano playing the same 5-note run three times. Alone. After every other instrument has dropped out. Very lonely.

Just for fun, (and to end on a slightly more positive note), I went back and listened to the ox rib music as well, which was surprisingly consistent with some of my theories from up above and also not on the soundtrack so although I'm sure it has a name, I certainly don't know it.

In the ox rib section, there are more instruments before the first big moment (when Aziraphale tries the food) that are going back and forth. Again it sounds to me like they’re having a conversation… tempting and being tempted. Winds and strings (strings are tremoloing like at the kiss for that sweet, sweet tension), but also brass instruments. We have some more ethereal sounding pitched percussion, especially *before* he tries the food but afterwards it... switches to piano! Like I said: Earth!!!

The choir is on a different vowel altogether for this part (more aggressive and ominous, a taller Ah instead of a round Oh/Aw like the first two musical moments). The choir is also much more rhythmic. Again, increasing tension. And, of course, after he tries the food the music supports the tension of the scene by gradually building, getting louder and bigger after the key moment has already passed. It's super interesting that Aziraphale trying the food is actually quite quiet, but the music grows quickly afterwards. Sort of the inverse of how the other two scenes play out musically! Fascinating!!

Anyways, let me know what you think I got wrong and what I missed and if I thought something was a celesta when it was actually a glockenspiel or something. I am thrilled and devastated by this incredible music.

[yxami]

day 3 or nut or not November

desc: yandere soldier x gn soldier reader, no nsft, mostly angst I think, happy no nut November day, mentions of stalking, obsession, general yandere themes, etc.

Aeon:

You were tasked alongside a familiar face, every mission you went on was with him, your new friend that you’ve made by talking over dinner about how distasteful some of the ‘meals’ were.

The two of you bonded over lots of other things as well, coming from the same town was shocking for the two of you, you were still bewildered by the fact that the two of you didn’t meet once especially since it was such a low populated town.

He looked like someone you used to know, resembling his facial features and a few quirks you only knew your friend had, but there was no way they could be the same person, just a guy very similar to him.

And your original friend was long gone anyways, he was just up and out like there was nothing important in his old life to stay for. As if your childhood friendship with him wasn’t anything other than a way to pass time.

You can’t even remember how many messages you left, but you knew they were all heartfelt as you typed them. Some of the ones you sent were begging him to come back, and that you’d forgive him if he just replied back at least, and a few cursing him out for leaving you without saying a word.

And the ones you never failed to forget were the embarrassing ones about how you loved him, how awful it is to be living in this town without him, he was your everything but you weren’t his. You only sent those when you truly believed he would never answer.

And he never did.

“So, what are you going to do after we finish our mission here?” You asked your fellow soldier friend, walking alongside him before the two of you settled down against an oak tree with plenty of falling bark, it was okay to slack off sometimes in your eyes.

“Dunno’, maybe get deployed somewhere fun, what about you?” He nudges at your shoulder, looking excited to hear your answer, a little more excitement than a casual friend would have.

“I’m thinking about cutting my contract early, going awol and running some place far away” Only complete seriousness dripped from your voice, it was the truth and you knew it but you thought you could play it off as a joke.

“Just joking, of course” You laugh awkwardly, looking beside you to see his uncomfortable expression, you immediately worried on whether he’d report you to your sergeant.

You’ve been meaning to go off into some place that’d keep you sane, you hated everything about this town, it was cruel and lonely, nothing like how it was when you were a kid. There was nothing that managed to occupy your mind other than leaving.

“You can’t leave me, you can’t” He repeats, looking incredibly worried, but not in the way a regular friend would be, you couldn’t place you finger on what emotion it could be originating from either.

“I just got you back, I’m not letting you go” He whispers, leaning towards you, his movement made you instinctively fall back against his forearm that he curled around you to slowly lay you down on the soft wispy grass under you.

“What are you talking about?” You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, staring up at him as you bring your knees up to each side where his hips were, tempted to get up but too confused by his words to do so just yet.

“Do you not remember me? Aeon? I know I look different but don’t tell me you already forgot about me” Your old friend spoke, Aeon was his name and you’ve never forgotten about him not even in the slightest. The suddenly flow of memories was too much of a burden not to get livid about.

He brushed the flowing hair in your face behind your ears after the wind swept it to cover you, as if nature wanted to shield you from the person above you.

“Aeon, you asshole!” Your glassy eyes refilled with tears as soon as a few ran down the side of your cheeks, uncomfortably slipping close to your ears while you still laid against the soft ground. You pushed your hands up into his chest, repeatedly hitting him with no avail of comfort, he sat there and took every little action of abuse even if it hurt his heart to see you like this.

“I waited 2 years, 2 years for you! You didn’t say anything when you left” You sobbed, past sensations resurfacing as he pulled you to sit up, bringing you into his lap, before soothingly running his hand against your back.

“I know, I know” He whispered, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder, he feels awful for making you cry, he always hated when you cried and he was never the reason why until now.

“My parents.. they didn’t want me seeing you anymore” He sighs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand before shifting his weight so you could rest comfortably against him while he leans against the tree.

“They just didn’t like how close we were” He whispered, still calming you down with back rubs and his fingers in your hair, just like he used to do whenever you came to him for comfort, he was the only one that could calm you down.

Aeon wasn’t exactly lying but he wasn’t telling the truth either. His parents didn’t like his growing obsession with you, they may or may not have found thousands of pictures in his phone and photos plastered all over his closet wall with lots of stolen items from coming from your room.

They might’ve first taken notice of his behavior by how much he spent on you, you always insisted that you could pay for yourself but his allowance always seemed to end up in your pocket in the form of gifts.

And the amount of occasions he was punished for beating the hell out of a guy who was hitting on you was too much that they couldn’t just give him a slap on the wrist anymore. They couldn’t excuse his behavior for a regular teenager either, it was an unexplainable obsession and they had to get him away from you before it got worse.

So they moved, not allowing him to say one word since you might provoke a reaction out of him to be more difficult than he already was being. His dad already had a struggle of making him pack his stuff before getting him in the car.

And with those two years, he was cured, he no longer had any pictures of you and didn’t fixate on how he wasn’t allowed to contact you. In his parents eyes, he was finally integrating himself into society with his therapist helping him along the way.

If only they knew he still had his old phone, the one he used to screenshot all the posts you made and watch your texts flood in every time you were missing him, whether it was anger or sadness motivating you he always read it.

He wanted to reply, he really did, but he couldn’t. He had a plan, the same one you’re seeing now, change some things about his looks and enroll into the military you just did. It was all pretty rushed since you only made a post 2 weeks before you were supposed to get on the field.

But he did it! He managed to get in and this was fate wanting to bring the two of you together!

“I thought your parents always liked me.. why didn’t they like how close they were?” You sniffled, eyes red from how much you cried, you were still in his lap as you leaned against his knees that he brought up as your back rest.

“I don’t know but.. they’re not here to separate us anymore! We can be close like how we used to be, doesn’t that make you happy?” He grins, wiping the tears off your face with his sleeves, always keeping your comfort in mind no matter what.

“I guess” You hesitantly frowned, a little too overwhelmed by how much the two of you have unpacked in such little notice, and the amount of time spent made both of you late for dinner.

“Listen, we can talk about it when we finish dinner, I’ll sneak into your barrack right after, I swear” Aeon lifts you with ease, setting you on your feet before holding his hand up with his pinkie extended, something the two of you always did as kids.

“I promise I will and now I’ll always be able to come back for you, no matter what”

[piosplayhouse]

Shi Qingxuan had a pair of blinged out designer cat ears and a slinky dress because they're a really supportive friend but didn't totally follow Xie Lian's explanation that a furry convention was slightly different from a themed costume party.

You're 1000000% correct and please forgive me for springboarding off of this to peddle some hyperspecific bad furry au headcanons:

Sqx: as you said, doesn't really understand what a furry is or what they do. Despite that, has a toyhouse account with thousands of followers on it that her brother made for her. He only has one oc on it, which is an extremely expensive Dainty that his brother bought for him. Otherwise uses the site forums like a social media platform, but doesn't know how to navigate any other part of it (this is understandable if you're familiar with toyhouse). Somehow gained tons of friends and followers anyway, including

hx: her sona is an eel. He lurks the forums exclusively to report drama to hua cheng, who faithfully mass reports and harasses any user who talks badly about disgraced furry xie lian. She's a partial fursuiter (only has the head and paws (fins?)) because even though she made her own suit, hua cheng gave her the stipend to get the materials and he only allotted enough for a bare minimum partial. Yes, he has fucked sqx while wearing his fursuit, and she was really into it.

hua cheng: full fursuiter with 2 suits (San Lang and Hua Cheng) as stated before. He also has custom tailored robes to fit over his suits because he's dapper like that. Obsessively monitors every furry site across the internet to take down anyone spreading rumors about xie lian by using his thousands of sock puppet accounts. Spends more time in his suits than out of them, doesn't even show xie lian his real face until they meet again at Ghost City Furcon together. Full time simp, part time artist/fursuit maker/con owner. Xie Lian talked him down from a suicide attempt after seeing him make a concerning post on a forum, and hua cheng has been gone ever since. Had a bad phase in high school where he exclusively drew xie lian's sona, including one particularly embarrassing self insert NSFW piece of him.

xie lian: full fursuiter BUT regularly takes off his suit head in public for any reason (note: for furries this is considered really weird and somewhat taboo). I've already talked about him quite a bit so I'll keep it brief, but he was blacklisted from the All Furries Go to Heaven Furcon twice despite being a very involved volunteer in the early days of the con. Despite this, somehow in the year 20XX an unknowing green volunteer finds his old artist alley application shoved in a drawer somewhere and calls him up to attend the con again for the first time in decades.

Feng xin and mu qing: THEY DONT HAVE THE SAME FURSUIT OK! Just because they accidentally commissioned the same maker and their suits are like color swapped versions of each other doesn't mean they wanted to match at all in fact mq's sona is a cat and fx's is a dog but the maker they hired makes their dog and cat suits look pretty much the same so that's how it turned out that way and

[thyandrawrites]

On (soccer) partnerships, commitment, and why Nagi and Reo are the poster children for always doing the opposite of what the series is about

Alright fellas, this started out as something completely different, so forgive me in advance if it feels disjointed, but.

Have you wondered why in chapter 18 of epinagi, Nagi’s inner monologue complains that his “heat is being stolen away”? Or why even in the main series Nagi can’t seem to win a single match even after he and Reo get on better terms? Well, if you have, this post might be a fun read for you. If you already have answers, I might sound like I’m stating the obvious because none of this is particularly subtle or particularly new. But since both series have hit the Nagi Flop Era, I thought it’d be fun to take a deep dive into his character and Reo’s, the themes of the story, and how their codependence contradicts the entire premise of blue lock, intentionally so. I’m going to go over why stagnancy is the entire point of their partnership, and why the fact that they keep failing and failing is instrumental to the type of story Kaneshiro is trying to tell. 

So, without further ado. Get comfortable, this will get long. 

So, as I anticipated, Nagi and Reo are very very often written to be at odds with the themes the story functions around, and I think their regression is another instance of that. In a manga that often underlines the importance of making soccer your “reason to exist” if you’re serious about it, Nagi and Reo are the only duo repeatedly singled out as more committed to each other than to the sport itself. This, the story tells us, being the root of why they so often fail. 

The premise of blue lock is that you can’t become the best in the world until you dedicate your whole self to the sport. Only that egoism will push you in the right state of mind to go above and beyond for a victory. 

Time and time again, we see the most outstanding goals happen in what gets called the hottest place in the field. This “center of heat” comes up a couple of times, and it’s usually represented by a person. According to Ego’s philosophy, the idea is that the world’s best striker possesses a soccer-specific kind of charisma. When he enters a state of flow and pulls off a world-class play, he’ll have a ripple effect on the players around him, pushing them to reach flow too and elevating the level of the game itself. We saw this happening in the U-20 match. Ego’s not really aiming to create a national team, or to foster the talent of the new generation. He only cares about nurturing one person into that role, betting it all on the fact that once that striker awakens from its “rough diamond” shell, they will fire up their teammates & lead Japan to victory. 

Because of this, ideally, everyone aiming at becoming the world’s best striker should strive to be that center of heat. To an extent, even Nagi does. His motivation is spotty at best, but whenever a game heats up, Nagi’s ego gets tickled awake the same as everyone else’s. This is not limited to the times Isagi challenged him, by the way. He reacted to Rin’s skill in much the same way. 

Problem is, neither Nagi nor Reo seem to know how to become that center of heat by themselves. They only react to someone else raising the stakes of a match. Even when Nagi feels fired up, his lack of creativity & playmaking sense fail him against any opponent who is more tactical than him. In a similar way, even when Reo starts going after goals alone in the wake of his split from Nagi, he still can't see his vision of a goal through to the end, or gets outsmarted and beaten to the punch by other playmakers. 

The only times they really get their head into a game is when they're working as a duo. Compare for example Nagi losing grasp of his heated frenzy when he splits from Reo to how quickly he reaches flow when they go back to playing together.

So why is this an issue? If Nagi's limit is his over-reliance on instinct, and Reo's is the lack of self-centeredness that's key to scoring, then shouldn't teaming up solve the problem and make them a powerhouse? How come, even after somewhat resolving their communication issues, their soccer still is no match to that of the blue lock elites? 

Well, before I can begin to unpack the answer to that… A big theme driving the soccer partnerships is that you won’t go very far if you rely too much on the other person to carry your weight. This is the reality Bachira faces in the 4v4, when he “disappears”, swallowed by everyone else’s growth. This is also the lesson Rin learns from Sae when his brother returns from Spain a completely different, overwhelmingly superior player. The series tells us that relying on others to pick up your slack makes you less sharp and prone to noticing your weaknesses because someone else will cover your back. 

For a practical example of this, Rin's style when he played with Sae mirrors Nagi's around Reo: they both relied on instinct, trusting that the ball would always come if they just positioned themselves in the right spot to score. And for a time, it did. But that's not the level the rest of the world plays at. Nagi and Reo's winning streak ends when they face an unpredictable, explosive talent like Isagi, who doesn't operate according to any predictable patterns. Similarly, Rin's playstyle gets wrecked in a matter of minutes by a Sae who got to experience the "real" soccer played overseas. 

The point, then, is that Nagi and Reo never really assimilated any of Ego's lessons, instead resisting his philosophy to a fault by choosing each other. From the start, they’re not very good at being apart, given how their strength draws from being a team. Both of them are noted to only ever increase the level of their plays when they are working together, but not as much when alone.

Nagi’s the brawn to complete Reo’s brain, and their dynamic too often falls back on that codependent partnership. In fact, they default to their roles even when they're not playing with each other. During the second selection, Nagi replaces Reo with Isagi, continuing to rely on someone else's creativity and game sense, while he just follows. And in the 3v3, we similarly see Reo fall back on playing the midfielder to Kunigami and Chigiri's forward, offering up the perfect passes to make them shine and get all the scoring options they want. 

But what about when they're together? Aren't they strong then? Didn't Nagi score a crazy super goal thanks to Reo's assist? What do we make of that? 

You'll probably remember how Ego got a sense of foreboding from Nagi's five shot revolver. Of course, you might say, Ego never liked their soccer! He was cussing them out for playing together since day one! Of course he's a hater! 

Well… Yeah. But Ego's also an authorial insert, and he's there to tell us the themes of the story, and comment on the characters growth. Or in this case, their stagnancy. Nagi's returning to his reliance on Reo's brains and Reo's willingness to entertain it are both framed as a bad thing because it specifically contradicts the idea the series is based on: that a real striker is an egotistic, self-reliant existence that doesn't bend to other people's rules, but instead dictates their own, and makes everyone follow or fall through in their wake. 

There are several players this definition already applies to. Rin, Barou, Shidou and of course Isagi all come to mind. Isagi's growth in particular has been rotating around this concept. Isagi not only believes in his (meta) vision, but he also possesses the sharp-wit and the cutthroat resourcefulness to see it through no matter the odds, at times even to the detriment of his teammates. Nagi and Reo, on the other hand, can pull off some incredible plays, but it’s never enough to land them a solid victory, especially in the NEL arc. Usually, in a story, when a character fails enough times to become stagnant, the author is making some kind of point. In this case, as the narrative itself points out through Isagi first and Agi later, it’s the concept that relying on their teamwork is actually making Nagi and Reo’s soccer worse. 

Sure, Nagi might've caught Isagi off guard with those feints once and managed to score, but that's still him relying on instinct over brains. If you dissect that match, you'll see that aside from the fake volley itself, which is the product of a non-replicable state of flow, there isn't a single move Nagi and Reo made during that game that Isagi didn't see through, expect, and match their pace at. This is by design, of course. It's meant to indicate that while Isagi grew, learning from stronger players and assimilating new elements in his arsenal of weapons, Nagi and Reo are still stuck playing the same way they did in the second selection. With Reo as the heart, brain and anchor directing Nagi around, and Nagi as the leg kicking the ball into the net following a momentary burst of inspiration. 

The fact that this is intended as a setback in their path towards a more egotistical soccer is made more obvious by the timing. It's not a coincidence that Nagi went back to Reo the moment he got frustrated by how hard creativity and tactics come to him when he's on his own, without a "handler" like Reo (and later Isagi) taking care of all the hard parts. 

Nor is it a coincidence that Reo was faced with the choice to go back to helping Nagi out right when Reo was beginning to go after his own goals, without help. Nagi comes up to him and shakes him up literally one (1) panel after Reo's dramatic, resolute decision to prove himself alone.

Had they gotten anywhere in their quest to polish their individual skills during the split, maybe their partnership could’ve aspired to become more like Isagi and Bachira’s, eventually. However, they weren’t apart long enough to master their respective strengths, or to consolidate their egos as something separate from their status as partners. Thus, when they resume playing together, they instead hold each other back. 

So is their ego the problem here, then? Ever since that five shot fake volley, we see Nagi’s dissolve, leaving him unmotivated again, grasping for answers he can't seem to reach no matter how many people he asks. And surely, its disappearance is significant, much like how Reo's ever changing definition of his own ego is also significant. But I think the real issue is something else. Egos can take many forms, and Nagi and Reo aren't the only players whose so-called “protagonism” isn’t rooting for their own success. Most recently, Hiori gained an ego too, and it was framed as a good thing even though it doesn’t strictly lead to him becoming the best striker in the world. 

My idea, then, is that it's less that they lack the "correct" ego, but more like they lack the correct attitude towards soccer to begin with. From the start, they're both motivated by something that is not inherent to soccer itself, but only tangential to it: the World Cup—or rather, their promise to each other that they'd win the World Cup. Because of this, I think, they center their football more around their partnership & their shared dream than any genuine passion for the sport, unlike pretty much the rest of the cast (now including Hiori. Yay!). In other words, the problem is that neither of their egos is really about themselves, yet. So it fails them because it's not conductive to "protagonism", but centered around an "us" that drags them off course.

Let's go with Nagi first. On the surface, "commitment" and "Nagi Seishirou" don't seem to go well in the same sentence. Nagi doesn't do anything excessively. He's content to coast through life doing nothing more than he strictly needs to survive. As long as he can put in minimal effort and still have time to play video games and nap, he's happy. When his teachers asked him to fill a form about his future, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do. He's the embodiment of living one day at a time cause it's too much work to figure out his life past that. Yet, he genuinely commits to soccer. 

Or does he? 

Sure, he agrees to not only playing the sport, but to dedicating several years of his life to becoming pro. That’s dedication, for sure. But is it really for soccer? I would argue that no, Nagi’s commitment is to his partnership with Reo, not to the sport itself. And okay, you can’t have one without the other, but the distinction is important to understand Nagi’s (and Reo’s as well) resistance to character growth. 

So, Nagi had no passion for the sport until he saw the level some other elite blue lockers played at, and got curious and frustrated enough to put real effort in it himself. But until then, soccer was simply something he tagged along in. In fact, he was pretty unenthused with the idea of playing until Reo promised him an easy life and made it so Nagi wouldn’t have to work hard for it. Nagi signs up for blue lock with the expectation that he’ll be the one to flunk out first, without being too torn up about it. Clearly, it’s not a career as a professional soccer player he has an attachment to. I’d argue it’s more the fact that he feels comfortable around Reo, and he is invested in what only their agreement can bring forth. That is, a life more exciting than any nap or game. 

The excitement part is the focus here. At their core, both Nagi and Reo’s characters are motivated by the wish to escape boredom. So much so, the epinagi movie made that its tagline. Thematically, dissatisfaction with boredom is the catalyst for every choice they make. While everyone else is motivated by an ambition that is inherent—that draws from their wish to excel—Nagi and Reo are more prize-oriented, lacking the conviction that they’re special on their own. It follows that the challenge of bringing home the World Cup represents just that—for Nagi, it’s the thrill of a final boss with the prospect of an easy life afterwards, and for Reo, something hard to obtain that he’d conquer by his own merit. In both cases, soccer for soccer’s sake is not the end goal. It’s just a tool to achieve what they really want. 

Neither of them ever really dreams of becoming the world’s best striker, and neither swears their entire life to soccer, either. Not even Reo ever brought up a career in the sport, past winning for Japan for the first time. This is why I say their commitment is more to each other than to football, and also why they struggle to advance in the program. 

Let's think about it. The Cup was never really Nagi's dream; beating Isagi was. Yet, when their partnership all but crumbles down, Nagi keeps making choices with the Cup in mind. The boy who never fought for anything becomes determined to honor his promise to Reo even if he's not certain that Reo still cares about it. By his own admission, he chooses Isagi and then England because both of those things bring him closer to their original goal, and Nagi's resolve for that has never waned, even if for a time he thought Reo's had.

It's like he clings to inertia to avoid thinking what the sport means to him. Despite how Reo seemingly turned his back on him, Nagi doesn't want to give up on what made them partners. To him, soccer never stopped being something they shared (to a fault). That's why, I think, when they make up, a big part of their reconciliation is going back to sharing a dream. This time, with Reo helping Nagi out instead of the other way around. And I'm saying that's a flaw because his subconscious need to seek answers and help from others made it so that whenever he's alone, he doesn't have a very defined idea of how to move forward. But again, a striker should be self-reliant, and have the capacity to evolve on his own even as the match is unfolding. But Nagi didn't even believe in himself until Reo convinced him he was special, so how can Nagi have the right mindset to seize his protagonism?

Similarly, Reo’s drive is also not based on anything inherent. From the start, he doesn’t believe he was “chosen by football” the way geniuses like Nagi and Rin are. Because of this, he never bought into Ego’s striker philosophy, nor has he been a very fitting candidate for it yet. Much like with Nagi, his set up as someone willing to step away from the spotlight positions him in defiance of the story’s themes. While Nagi has the talent and instinct to become a powerhouse but lacks conviction, Reo is a born leader outside of the facility, but within blue lock’s rules he can only make it to the U-20 bench, and so far no further. 

The point here is that Reo’s readiness to be Nagi’s crutch is lowkey framed as a voluntary burden he places on his potential growth, a fact that the narrative condemns. 

Reo was born for success—bred and raised with every luxury to make sure he'd step into his father's shoes and be one of Japan's wealthiest and most capable businessmen. And Reo takes obvious pride in his social status, too. We can see it in the flaunted wealth of his spending and daily habits, as well as in the way he interacts with his peers. He funds his Hakuho soccer team and easily seizes captainship. Blue lock teams don't have captains, but he still rises to a similar position even within an environment designated to promote violent competitiveness and a wolf-eat-wolf mentality. Heck, he asks Nagi to call him "boss" and demands Zantetsu recognizes him as "super elite". Pride in being the best and excelling at everything he does is written into Reo's code.

Yet, the moment Ego suggests that there is no such thing as cooperation within his training program, Reo is quick to bargain—take him, he’s the real star. I will tag along and ensure his success. 

Ever the businessman, right? Problem is, renouncing his pride for someone else is the opposite of the attitude he should have. Same as Nagi, Reo puts a lot of weight on their shared dream. Too much weight. Somewhere along the line, “I want the World Cup” became “If Nagi’s at my side, we will win the World Cup”. Being partners until the end became so entangled with Reo’s dream that he can no longer separate the two. When Nagi leaves, Reo’s image of that finishing line crumbles. Iirc, he doesn’t even mention the World Cup as his goal anymore until Nagi comes back to him. When asked to put into words what he wants to achieve with his soccer, Reo tells Chris that he wants to go after goals alone. It’s only later, when Chris questions what happened to his solitary resolve in the wake of Reo’s restored friendship with Nagi, that Reo is like “well, my actual dream was the World Cup anyway, so this still counts.” 

That is both true and a deflection from the truth. Yes, Reo’s real goal has always been the cup… but he also subconsciously sees it as something inseparable from his promise with Nagi. He can’t have one without the other. Or he thinks he can’t, is the point. Partly because of that, and partly because Nagi is his best friend, Reo is very resistant to Agi’s criticism. The story’s trying to nudge Reo towards personal growth, telling him that the only way out of this impasse is to quit what isn’t working. However, because Reo’s meant to resist the themes of the story, the choices he makes are rarely the right ones. That is, the choices a real egoist would make in his place.

This isn’t anything recent, by the way. For this same reason, for example, winning Nagi's trust back becomes his main motivation to survive past the loss in the 3v3. By his own admission, Reo is the only guy in blue lock who not only has a safety net outside the program, but a very comfortable life to fall back on if a career in football doesn't work out for him. But when push comes to shove and he faces the chance of dropping out, Reo resolves to improve by thinking of Nagi and their shared dream.

Let’s compare that to Barou, who was similarly broken down and had to crawl his way up again. Barou goes the egoist way and finds his resolve within himself, vowing to double down on his king shtick and devour Isagi back. To Barou, the simple idea of passing a ball is akin to defeat. When he envisions a future of normalcy, with football as something to only watch on tv, Barou’s hunger to reign the field like a king rears its head again and motivates him forward. Reo, instead, never reaches a point where he embraces the series’ trademark selfishness. In fact, he does the opposite. When he vows to step up his game, he doesn’t do it because he thinks he’s the top dog like everyone else. The root of his despair is not a wounded pride, or a desire to prove himself further, to “devour” others back and rise to the top, but just the loss of his fix against boredom. Remember, chasing an exciting life is both Reo and Nagi’s main motivator so far. To put it simply, Reo doesn’t want what awaits him outside of blue lock. 

That’s the seed of his actual ego, by the way. Not the Cup, not making Nagi the best, but rather obtaining something by his own merit. But because of his reliance on Nagi (and Nagi’s on his), Reo hasn’t yet reached the point where he can realize this and use the knowledge to better his plays. In that sense, their partnership holds both of them back from exploring their inner motivations and individual strengths further.

And I said that this is instrumental to the kind of story Kaneshiro’s telling because it’s meant to show us all the ways a striker can’t be. This is not a manga where the power of friendship will get you anywhere. No matter how stubborn you get about having it your way, obstacles will materialize in your path and set you back the longer you refuse to play for your own sake. 

Yet, Reo doesn't want to advance in the program for the sake of becoming the world's best striker. He never did. He wants to move forward because Nagi left first, and he wants to meet him on the other side (quote, "beyond our dreams"). In other words, to return to being friends, even if he fears that Nagi might've replaced him with Isagi and "forgotten" about him. It doesn't have anything to do with soccer per se. It's more like Reo sees soccer as his chosen tool for self-determination. It was the trial to prove to himself, as well as his father, that his "worth" wasn't handed down to him by circumstance, but was inherent. He could achieve something worthwhile thanks to hard work, and not just reap the benefits of his last name. 

And the thing is…If he were literally anyone else, at this point he would’ve already channeled that into individualism, but because it’s Reo, he doesn’t. Despite possessing that seed of egoism, Reo doesn’t water it. His ambition doesn't make him an egoist in the way Ego Jinpachi intended, but instead becomes something that's meant to be carried by two people, contradicting the story.

Reo’s resolve is then always a bit off from falling in line with the rules of blue lock. Even when he gets something right, he does it for the wrong reasons, stumping his development. For example, his resolve after the 3v3 is both a step forward and two steps back. The positive is that he "engraved despair". He faced his shortcomings, realized his powerlessness, and took measures to improve to avoid being left in the dust again. The negative part is that being on his own should've given Reo a taste for real egoism, a hunger for self-reliance, but it does the opposite instead: it makes him long for what he had, and put all his willpower into restoring that partnership however he can. If the issue was that Nagi's improved enough to no longer be satisfied by the level of Reo's plays, then Reo's solution is to make his soccer exciting again in Nagi's eyes to, quote, "be enough to satisfy" him.

Because of that, however, the moment he has Nagi's trust back, their partnership back, Reo pretty much stops trying to improve. His chameleon style is still a go, but it becomes yet another tool to assist in Nagi's goals. It didn't start that way.

Initially, it was what Reo intended to use to score alone, remember?

Yet, even after coming up with a style that's solely his, that focuses on his strengths and brings no value to Nagi's, Reo keeps committing to stagnancy. In different but similar ways, both do. 

Teamwork and passive codependence are the two things Ego asked all the blue lockers to leave behind, but Nagi and Reo make it their job to bring typical shonen manga dynamics into a series that sets out to break from the norm. And that’s the point! 

In this sense, Reo is more at fault than Nagi, who instead realizes that sometimes being apart makes you better, and doesn’t mean the end of your friendship. If I were to pin down Nagi’s role in the narrative, then I’d say he’s meant to show that talent doesn’t equal success without discipline, self-awareness and determination. So the world’s best striker can’t just be good. He needs to know what he’s doing, and when and where he can do it to make the most of every play, since nothing happens by chance on the field. Whereas Reo’s role is that of showing us the mindset of a real striker. Because Reo enters the program without accepting or even understanding Ego’s rules, Reo’s faulty beliefs get challenged at every turn, with the author basically spoonfeeding us the correct path to soccer stardom. 

So in the end, since they struggle so much to even understand what they should be doing, their fumbling around makes it so the story goes more into depth about its own themes. Their job is to be incompetent, basically, but in a way that doesn’t rule out eventual growth. They just need to come to terms with the rules of the competition they entered first. So far, they’ve been content to just live in a bubble and coast through the increased stakes of the selection. If they’re serious about their dreams, however (and we’ve established that they are!), they will have to make a choice between what’s comfortable and what’s necessary. Cause, to quote Ego from epinagi chapter 2, in blue lock there’s no place for self-conscious babies who don’t want to ever get their feelings hurt. 

So what will they choose? Each other again, or the only way they can make it past blue lock and thus actually chase their dreams? 

[prettyprettypaci2]

Therapy - Part 5

💕 Part 1 💕 Part 2 💕 Part 3 💕 Part 4 💕

"I'm guessing you know what we're going to talk about today."

You're sitting on the familiar couch in Miss Heather's office, swaying nervously back and forth like a rocking horse at full gallop. Your breathing is rapid and irregular, escaping as squeaky little puffs from your frantically bobbing pacifier. You feel your twin French braids slap your bare shoulders with each heaving swing. You hug yourself with crossed arms, digging welts into your thighs with your glittery acrylic nails.

Everything had been going so well for you these last few months. Christmas had come and gone without too much distress; your gifts were all dumb things like patterned diapers and fluffy petticoats, but you had expected nothing less when you saw the sparkling pink wrapping paper. You had started going outside more, with Miss Heather taking you on a short trip or errand every therapy session. Other than a few snickering college girls or confused old ladies on park benches, your diapers and ridiculous outfits had rarely caused a stir, and you stopped whining so much about the excursions after returning to Miss Heather's office.

But now you've ruined everything.

You wait for Miss Heather to give you some words of comfort, to talk you down from your frenzy. But she simply observes you with an unreadable expression. Many minutes pass, and fatigue starts to set in. Your breathing remains heavy, but slows into a normal rhythm. Your violent rocking reduces to an unsteady shiver. You look into Miss Heather's eyes, silently pleading for her to make it better. To forgive you. She remains silent.

You think back to the very first time you met Miss Heather, when your step-sisters first started faking your accidents. She had been unlike anyone you had ever met -- clinical and challenging with her questions, but still deeply kind. You had assumed that as soon as you explained how your family was treating you, she would contact your step-mom and put a stop to the diapers that very day. Looking down now at the pony-patterned cloud of padding taped to your hips, you shake your head at how naïve you had been.

You uncross your arms and grab the end of one of your French braids. It's tied off with a bouncy pink-and-silver ribbon. You hate wearing ribbons, or anything else prissy, but the pink and silver parts have different textures you like to touch. The pink is soft and silky; the silver is coarse and lacy. You never used to care about little sensations like that, but in your constant isolation and boredom, you find yourself exploring them often. Miss Heather encourages it, telling you it's a way to discover the world all over again.

You've calmed down now, remaining tense but still. You close your eyes for a few seconds, then let them flutter open, tickling your brow with the comically long eyelashes Lauren had glued on. You realize your therapy isn't going to start until you speak. You let your pacifier fall out of your mouth and dangle from its purple clip.

"It was stupid. I was stupid."

Miss Heather remains unsmiling, but you swear her eyes soften. You love her for that.

"Why did you do it?"

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. "I didn't want to do this anymore. I wanted to go back to how things were...b-before the diapers." You catch yourself. "Before MY diapers."

Miss Heather crosses her legs. "And you thought you could do that by stealing?"

You quake a bit when you hear her say the word. It was just a pair of cotton underwear. On clearance. Your step-mom had wandered off to find some cartoon-themed snow boots in your size, and you saw them on the shelf. The shortalls you wore yesterday had little pockets at the waist you could hide them in.

"I said I was sorry," you whimper. This is true. When Olivia had found the underwear in your room, she held you down and twisted your arm until you confessed. Your step-mom had driven you back to the clothing store and forced you to apologize to the lady at the register. You're sure the old woman had never seen an adult sob so much.

Miss Heather leans towards you and rests her chin on an open palm. "When would you have worn the underwear? Would you have taken off your diapers and hoped your step-mom wouldn't notice? Would you have left home?"

"I don't knoooooooow," you moan pathetically, leaning away and flitting your pretty eyelashes towards the ceiling as you pull on your braids. "I just wanted to have them."

Miss Heather lets the thought hang in the air before she speaks. "It's normal to want things you can't have. But to feel so strongly about it that you're willing to steal is very concerning. Do you think what you did was wrong?"

You sniffle. "Yeah..."

"Do you? Or are you just saying that because you think it's the right answer?"

You meet Miss Heather's gaze, which still shows more severity than sympathy. You ponder the question for a moment. "It was wrong to steal," you begin slowly, then add quietly: "But some days...it's just so hard to wear my diapers."

Miss Heather pulls out her smartphone and gives it a few taps. The TV screen on the wall lights up with a cartoonish diagram of the human brain. Pulling out a laser pointer, she swivels it around the section labeled "frontal lobe."

"In psychology, there's a difference between moral judgment and moral reasoning," she says, taking on the tone of a schoolteacher. "You can decide that something is right or wrong, but make a different decision based on what your desires are. Usually these two things line up pretty well -- we try to do what we think is right. But when our choices don't match our values, we want to correct the imbalance. We do this by trying to associate the bad behavior with something unpleasant."

Your mouth hangs open stupidly as Miss Heather lectures. She notices your confusion.

"Like a punishment," she clarifies, taking the image off the TV and setting her smartphone down. "Did your step-mom punish you after you apologized?"

You shift uncomfortably on your padded butt. You had kicked and screamed and pleaded, but your step-mom gave you the worst spanking of your life. "Yeah."

"That's normal. But fixing those connections between beliefs and choices is much easier when you recognize they don't match, and you take steps to confront it yourself. This is how guilt helps us. I know you have an icky feeling in your tummy that you just want to go away."

You nod sullenly, shuffling your feet. You watch the butterfly decals on the toes of your shoes glitter in the light.

Miss Heather goes on. "There's an old expression, 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.' The best way to avoid that yucky feeling is to fix the imbalance before you engage in the behavior. If you had told your step-mom in the store that you wanted to steal that underwear, but didn't do it, how would things have worked out differently?"

You hold your breath for a moment, considering the question. "I wouldn't have done it, because she would have been watching me."

"Do you think she still would have punished you?"

The memory of your spanking makes you wince again. "Maybe..."

"And that would have been a good thing! The punishment reinforces that connection between actions and consequences. But instead of feeling yucky guilt, you feel pride that you made the right choice and asked your step-mom for help in a moment of weakness."

You slowly pump your toes up and down, making the butterfly decals dance and shimmer. "So I should get punished even when I do nothing wrong?"

"You should ask to be corrected when you know you need it," Miss Heather replies. "Look at me for a moment."

You tear your eyes away from the trance of your pretty shoes and meet your therapist's gaze.

"Let's say you were left at home for a week. Your step-mom and step-sisters go away on a little trip and you're all by yourself. Do you think you would still follow all of your rules? Would you still wear your diapers?"

You know there's only one way you can answer honestly. It's a fantasy you've described to Miss Heather too many times already. "No," you say, starting to tremble. "I wouldn't."

"Would that be wrong, to break rules when your family is away?"

A lump finds its way into your throat. "Y-yeah..."

"So what do we do now? You know what's right, but your brain wants to do wrong. If it ever happens -- and it may happen someday -- you know that guilty feeling will start eating you up. What should you do about it?"

You grip your braids again, feeling the coarse silver and silky pink of the ribbons more intensely than ever. "A-ask to be punished?"

"Good!" Miss Heather smiles for the first time this whole session, and your heart begins to melt. The tension evaporates, washing away like a sand castle in the tide of Miss Heather's forgiving praise. "Why don't you lie down on your tummy and explain to me why you need to be punished. You can hold Mr. Kazoo if you'd like."

You're terrified by what's about to happen, but you're past the point of being able to fight it. You stretch out on the couch, your fat diapered bottom wiggling in the air. You pull your giant stuffed teddy bear from his perch on the floor and wrap your arms around his neck. "Sometimes I think about not wearing my diapers," you begin cautiously.

You hear the hardwood floors creak as Miss Heather rises and approaches, outside your field of vision. "Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

The shivering returns and you clutch Mr. Kazoo closer. "Um...y-yes."

The floorboards fall silent. You can smell Miss Heather's perfume behind you.

"The rule is that you always wear your diapers now."

You can barely breathe. "I shouldn't break the rules."

You scrunch up your face in frightened anticipation. Miss Heather says something else but you don't hear it. All you can think of is Lauren sneering at you as she delivers one of her favorite taunts: "Good girl."

Good girl.

Good girl.

You're going to be a good girl.

💕 Part 6 💕

[redstayrosie]

Links to posts of Stray Kids to read. PART1

(SUGGESTED READS)

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! Please

I don't own any of these posts all rights to the creators.

| Sweet🌻 | Sad🥀 | Intimate🔥 |

OT8

🔥🌻minsung x reader x ot8 Partner sharing

🌻🥀🔥OT8 x Reader Forget about every other reality TV show that’s part of your guilty pleasure watchlist. This Christmas time, there’s only one you will ever need to know about and get absolutely obsessed with. Red Lights—the perfect combination of your favourite concepts all in a cosy setting for winter. However, the contestants aren’t aware what they are signing up for and how they are already connected to each other before the start of it.

🔥Boyfriend SKZ x Reader You dry humping with your SKZ boyfriend.

🌻🔥Boyfriend SKZ x Reader Different scenarios in which you find comfort in having a member of SKZ’s cock inside you.

🔥No nut november What’s a little healthy competition between friends?

BENEATH KEEP READING YOU CAN FIND SUGGESTED POSTS OF:

|CHAN|LEE KNOW|CHANGBIN|HYUNJIN| |HAN|FELIX|SEUNGMIN|JEONGIN|

CHAN

🥀🌻bang chan x reader Wolf Chan and reader

🥀🌻🔥Chan x Reader In order to get rid off the ridiculous crush you have on your best friend Chan, you decide to project all those feelings on an unreachable celebrity, rockstar CB97, instead to protect your stupid heart. But little do you know that these two guys might be closer than expected. When you get invited by 3RACHA’s company to edit their newest music video, suspicions finally pop up in your head.

🌻🔥Chan x Reader Inexperienced reader with chan where he has a corruption kink.

🥀🌻Boyfriend Chan x Reader Chan seeing you talking to your ex his first thought is Jealousy!

🌻🔥Non!Idol Bangchan x Gf reader Sweet Chan.

🔥Bang Chan x Fem!Reader x Lee Felix Guess it’s true when they say best friends love each other in more ways than one… 

🔥Bang Chan x Felix x reader Threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

Lee know

🔥🥀🌻Minho x Jisung x Reader It's simple, really - you, jisung and minho, you like sharing. you like sharing and watching and being watched and putting on a show. and when opportunities present themselves, why would you say no.

🔥🥀Minho X Reader It was very clear where Minho stood for you, but how much do you have to test his patience to see where you stand with him?

🥀🔥🌻LEE KNOW X READER GRIM REAPER! LEE KNOW, HUMAN! READER

🔥lee minho x reader The last thing you want is to be at this gala. Minho convinces you to stay.

🥀🌻🔥Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Minho was your rock, he was your anchor, your best friend, which was why you just couldn’t stop yourself from falling for him, even when he was, essentially, a supernatural being. One ‘camping trip’ might be the last push you needed to finally confess. Or maybe not.

PART1 PART2 PART3

🥀🌻🔥Lee know x Reader Between anger and sadness caused by being separated from your husband, the situation revolving around the arrest of him thickens. While you finally let Minho open up about his reasons for betraying Chan several years ago, your best friend seems to encourage you to forgive Minho for his mistakes, making you unsure if this is just some type of manipulation all over again.

🥀🌻🔥Lee Minho x fem reader The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

🌻🔥god of love minho au x reader Reader is a hopeless romantic because i am too, greek god themes, he is eros the god of love, modernized greek gods, body worship, vanilla, just pure love.

🌻🔥Roomate!Lee Know x afab!reader Sucking on Minhos fingers while he's got you in a headlock.

🥀🌻Lee Minho x GN!Reader “How many times are they going to lose this same damn thing?”

🔥lee know x fem!reader Minho doesn't forgive easily, especially not when it's his own member calling his girlfriend 'easy'. so when seungmin comes home early from a trip, you and minho decide to fuck with him - by having the loudest sex possible.

🔥Lee Know x Reader Greed was a devilish thing to a man who simply wanted to eat you like an ice cream cone.

🔥Boss!Minho x Girlboss Employee!Reader Your boss has never really doubted your skills, but he does think you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry.

🔥Roommate!Minho x Reader Every time one of you brings someone over, the other gets the live broadcast through your shared wall. It ignites a petty pissing contest between you when all you want is, in fact, each other.

🥀🌻🔥Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader Reader is lifelong friends with Minho and Jisung and doesn't realize exactly to what extent they all love each other.

🥀🌻🔥human owner!minho x cat hybrid!felix x cat hybrid!reader x hamster hybrid!jisung They say getting a pet is the cure to loneliness. but minho already has pets and he wants something more. he is wondering if he should adopt a hybrid companion. he is fairly confident his heart has room for two. but will it be enough?

PART1 PART2

🔥kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho Established relationship, polyamory, rock band!au, smut!

CHANGBIN

🔥CHANGBIN X READER INCUBUS!CHANGBIN, HUMAN!READER

🥀🌻🔥changbin & jisung x reader Double the trouble (triple the fun)

🌻🔥Dragon Shifter! Changbin x Reader You were his precious jewel, and as his jewel, you were to be treated with the same care as the other jewels in his collection - even if the process was slightly different.

🔥Changbin x Reader Lollapalooza had you seeing stars, and now you were determined to make Changbin see the same.

🔥Changbin x reader Changbin agrees for you to give him a massage to relieve some of his back pain, but isn’t prepared for the physical reaction he has to your touch. For context, the reader is part of the management team!

HYUNJIN

🔥🌻🥀Hyunjin x Han x Reader Hyunsung Hybrids

🔥Huynjin x Reader After finally convincing you to come out to his friends’ party, hyunjin starts to regret his decision once he realizes that this isn’t the optimal setting for him to attend to his current needs

🌻🔥Hyunjin x Han x Reader Hyunsung Hybrids

🥀🌻🔥hyunjin x reader

An aspiring journalist, you are the news editor for The Uni Chronicles; the campus newspaper, popular for delivering breaking news at the drop of a hat and providing detailed articles about the various happenings around your university. You think you’ve covered every story there was to cover before you’re tasked with producing an in-depth editorial on a student whose name is on everyone’s lips—Hwang Hyunjin.

🥀🌻🔥Hyunjin x fem!reader You and Hyunjin were never on the best terms but when you're cheated on and your ex is trying to get you back, Hyunjin does everything he can to prevent it from happening.

PART1 PART2 PART3-FINAL

🥀🌻🔥Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Your boyfriend, Hyunjin, gets jealous after a night out and punishes you for supposedly flirting with his friends.

HAN

🔥🌻🥀Hyunjin x Han x Reader Hyunsung Hybrids

🔥🥀🌻Minho x Jisung x Reader It's simple, really - you, jisung and minho, you like sharing. you like sharing and watching and being watched and putting on a show. and when opportunities present themselves, why would you say no.

🥀🌻🔥changbin & jisung x reader Double the trouble (triple the fun)

🌻🔥Han x Hyunjin x Reader Hyunsung Hybrids

🥀🌻🔥Han x Reader Jisung’s initial plan for tonight’s party was to finally gather up enough courage to talk to his long time crush. But for some reason spending time with you instead feels so much more natural and when things get a little more serious, your friend starts wondering if you will notice his lack of experience…

🥀🌻🔥Jisung x Reader For your birthday, Minho manages to get tickets for the hyped club show “Topline”—a concept that offers the spotlight to a surprise artist every week. Your other best friend Jisung declines to come with you and it all makes sense when 3RACHA, the mysterious newcomer indie rock band—that’s pretty overrated in your opinion—appears on stage, featuring him as their guitarist and singer.

🔥Jisung x Reader Jisung could have a PhD in pussy eating, if he wanted to.

🔥Jisung x Reader Nonchalant handjobs w/ Subby! Jisung

🥀🌻🔥Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader Reader is lifelong friends with Minho and Jisung and doesn't realize exactly to what extent they all love each other.

🥀🌻🔥human owner!minho x cat hybrid!felix x cat hybrid!reader x hamster hybrid!jisung They say getting a pet is the cure to loneliness. but minho already has pets and he wants something more. he is wondering if he should adopt a hybrid companion. he is fairly confident his heart has room for two. but will it be enough?

PART1 PART2-FINAL

FELIX

🔥FELIX X READER DEMON!FLELIX, ANGEL!READER

🥀🌻🔥Felix x Reader Felix was a cat shifter, living most of his days in his cat form due to unfortunate living circumstances. That is, until you found him one rainy night and his life changed for the better. Years later, he decides that it's time to finally reveal himself to you fully.

🔥Bang Chan x Felix x reader Threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

🔥Bang Chan x Fem!Reader x Lee Felix Guess it’s true when they say best friends love each other in more ways than one… 

🥀🌻🔥human owner!minho x cat hybrid!felix x cat hybrid!reader x hamster hybrid!jisung They say getting a pet is the cure to loneliness. but minho already has pets and he wants something more. he is wondering if he should adopt a hybrid companion. he is fairly confident his heart has room for two. but will it be enough?

PART1 PART2-FINAL

SEUNGMIN

🌻🥀🔥SEUNGMIN x READER Seungmin knew what he wanted since the first time he laid eyes on you. The problem is that you have a boyfriend... Actually, that's not a problem for him.

PART1 PART2

🔥kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho Established relationship, polyamory, rock band!au, smut!

JEONGIN

🔥JEONGIN X READER SIREN!JEONGIN, PIRATE!READER