#story: love sewn

[jvnghxope]

love sewn | final

final part;

◦ pairing: Jungkook | reader

◦ genre: boy next door au; fluff, angst 

◦ word count: 9k

◦ warnings: angst, mentions of self-hatred, cheating, infidelity

◦ abstract: You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

⇥ prologue | part one | part two | part three | final

◦ a/n: It took me a lot more than anticipated to edit it, but it is finally here! Thank you so much for all your love and support. I hope you have enjoyed this ride as much as I did. 

A numb feeling spreads throughout your body as you stare dumbfounded to his cellphone. 

You don't know if their conversation continues and you don't care. It's like your mind has shut down. You feel a giant knot inside your throat like you just swallowed a big-ass pill without water. This is awfully like that night two years ago and you feel the breath hitch in your throat. 

“Hey," Jungkook says as he appears in the hallway, dressed in jeans and a naked torso as he slides inside a t-shirt. “I was thinking we could go to this park after breakfast. It has a majestic view and you can draw something and I could take some pics– What’s wrong?” He asks the moment he sees your expression and then, his eyes fall to the cellphone. 

“You have, hmm, a new text,” you say as calm as you can and hand him his phone. 

Maybe it's not a good idea that you stay here. Yes. You need to go. You move past him to walk to his bedroom but he stops you, taking your wrist. 

"Did you read these texts?" He asks. A part of you expected him to be mad at you for invading his privacy, but he sounds more worried than anything. 

"It was not my intention," you reply, your voice just above a whisper. "I wanted to check the hour…" 

"Let me explain."

“There’s no need to explain.” 

"It is not what you think." 

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him. 

"What I think is that you have unresolved feelings for your ex."

There, you said it. The confusion in Jungkook's eyes only confirms it. He has an internal struggle. 

"It is complicated," he finally says. 

At that, you smile. "I know." 

You can assume by his expression that he feels genuinely torn. 

“Jungkook," you murmur, taking the hand that was holding your wrist in yours and squeezing it tightly. "I am not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything.” 

Words that are hard to pronounce but the truth behind them might give him some perspective. 

He shakes his head, "Don't do that." 

You frown, "Do what?" 

"Minimize this," he points at you and him. "Come here." He tugs you by the hand and leads you to his couch. 

"I hate to burst your bubble Kook, but we had one date." 

He nods, "I know. We might not be a couple. But that was something I was hoping we could be in the future. That we've dated once doesn't change the way I feel about you." 

The small layer of ice that was beginning to form around your heart warms at his words. 

"What about Zoe? Do you still love her?" 

He sits there, silently, pondering his answer carefully. 

"I'm going to be honest with you," he starts and your heart clenches, already fearing his words. "I don't know. I haven't seen her or spoken to her for over a year. But she was a big part of my life. I just can't forget her completely." 

You nod. You understand that. "I'm not asking you to do that. I just… I think we moved too fast. Last night–" 

"I don't regret what happened between us," he snaps. "Not at all. I thought I made myself clear when I told you about my feelings. I know I am a mess, and yes, maybe it was too quick. But last night was genuine and beautiful. I would do it again." 

The tears sting in your eyes. Jungkook caresses your cheek with his thumb when one of them falls. 

"Last night was special for me too. But there's something you need to understand. I don't think I could be with you until you resolve this. I don't want to be insensitive or selfish, or anything. I just know that, if we continue this, if we continue living inside a bubble, one day it will burst and someone is going to get hurt. What if when you meet her again you realize your feelings for her haven't changed at all? The three of us will be in a more complicated situation than none of us want to be. Believe me." 

At this point, the tears are cascading freely down your cheeks. 

"Don't you think that is a little pessimistic?" 

You sniff and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, "It is realistic. I've been in the same position before. I've been the second choice and I don't want to be again. So, I think I should go." 

You stand from the couch. 

"Wait!" He stops you. "What does that mean for me? For us?" 

"I think that's up to you. But, for now, maybe we should take some time to think and revalue our situation." 

He chuckles dryly, "That sounds awful to 'I don't want to see you anymore'. I don't blame you. I wish things were different." 

"Maybe right now it was not our time."

"I don't believe that. Everything happens for a reason." 

Ugh. Even in times like this, he is so stubborn. He stands from the couch, too. His eyes are red and he looks defeated. It only makes your heart sink even more. You hate seeing him like that. You wish things were different, too. 

Summoning all the courage you have, you take his face between your hands and raise on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips. Jungkook's arms find their way around your waist. 

"Take care of yourself, Jungkook." 

You murmur against his ear, hugging him. At that, his arms tighten around you. 

"Is this goodbye?" He asks, his voice strained and face buried on your hair. You choose to not reply and give him one last kiss to his cheek. 

After you've gathered all your stuff, you walk towards the door. But when your hand touches the doorknob, you hesitate. 

Is this really the right choice? 

It is, you tell yourself. And with that, you walk out of his apartment without looking back. 

Seeing you walking away broke his heart in a million pieces. 

He wanted to run after you so bad. Hug you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t. He knew he needed to let you go. If seeing you walking was heartbreaking, seeing you cry because of him almost killed him. 

Waking up the next day after your departure felt surreal. Like he was dreaming. For a moment, he forgot what happened the night prior. He stood up and made himself something to eat. As he was breeding some coffee, he was waiting for your arrival like every Monday morning.  But of course, that didn’t happen. You didn’t come. And then it hit him. You didn’t swing his door open with that smile of yours he adores so much. 

He wanted to call, even send a text. But every time he picked up his phone, his mind was blank. Would you pick up if he called? If so, what should he say? He wished things were different. He wished he met you in different circumstances. 

He avoided all of Zoe’s attempts to approach him, too. Every call, every text since the last one. It has been a year. She had all those months to do it. Why was she contacting him now when his life was somewhat normal? She made everything more complicated than it already was. 

“...so, that’s the reason why we should keep it casual,” Yoongi finishes the sentence and turns to his friend. “Are you even paying me attention?” 

“W-what?” Jungkook blurts. 

“That’s a no,” Yoongi giggles and punches him softly on the shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. I logged out for a second." Jungkook rubs his temples and takes a sip of the coffee he left on the table. It is not even hot anymore, but the taste is enough to give him some comfort. 

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks. When Jungkook nods, he hums. "You don't seem okay." 

Jungkook glares at his friend. 

“Yeah. I was just… thinking,” he says. "I have a lot in my mind."

"Yeah, no wonder." 

It is strange. He sometimes forgets how close to you he has become in the past few months. He is probably aware of the whole ordeal from both sides. 

"Shut up." 

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something snarky but gets interrupted by a newcomer: a cute redhead in a pretty business dress.  

"Hello. My name is Lisa and I’m the assistant of miss Hyeri. She will receive you now," she greets them and urges them to follow her. 

Then the realization hits him. Jungkook and Yoongi are about to have an important meeting with one of the curators of the most important museums in town. He doesn't have the time to be nervous because the next second the receptionist is opening one of the many wooden doors. 

A gasp falls from his mouth at the sight of the meeting room. It is both mesmerizing and massive. Most of the space is occupied by an enormous table. A woman is waiting for them at the end of the table. Jungkook recognizes her from the gala. 

"Min Yoongi, Jeon Jungkook" Hyeri greets them and shakes their hands. "Please, take a seat. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Maybe something to eat?"

“I’ll have a cup of tea, thank you,” Yoongi says. Lisa nods and disappears through the door. Not much longer after that, she reappears with a cup of hot tea. 

“I’m so glad you guys could meet us here with so short notice.” 

“It is no problem,” Yoongi comments after taking a sip of his tea. 

"We were wondering why we are here,” Jungkook adds. 

“Oh, right,” she claps. “I have good news. One of my permanent artists recently decided to part ways with the museum and now that we have a free spot, we would like to offer it to you guys.” 

For a moment, they just stare at her with wide eyes and mouth agape. Yoongi is the first one to jump into action. 

“Seriously?” 

Neither of them can believe it. 

Hyeri nods with a smile. “The Museum is a big fan of your work. I've been following it for over a year. It is really impressive what you guys have accomplished.”

“Wow. That means a lot coming from you. Thank you,” Jungkook musters and then exchanges a look with Yoongi, slightly panicked. He has always admired Yoongi’s ability to hide his emotions. He is there, completely serious when Jungkook is freaking out. He is both excited and afraid. They have never had a boss. Never had to meet deadlines. To be honest, Jungkook is not very good with deadlines. He likes to work at his own pace. 

“So, how would it work?” Yoongi asks. 

“Unless there is a special occasion, we change the exhibitions every month or two months. If you agree to work with us, you’ll have a little over a month to work on your first one.” 

“Will we have creative flexibility?” Jungkook interjects.

"Totally. Unless there is a special theme or it violates our politics, you are free to create what you want.” Then, she hands them a folder. "Everything is explained in the contract. You can check it out. There is a money offer too. If you want to change it, we are open to negotiation." As if in cue, Lisa opens the door and waits with a smile. “I apologize but I don’t have more time. Please, feel free to arrange another meeting with Lisa whenever you have an answer. I look forward to hearing from you guys.” 

"No, it’s okay. We understand. Thank you again for receiving us," Yoongi says as he shakes the curator's hand. Jungkook does the same. 

"Thank you so much for coming. Have a nice day," she has enough time to wave them goodbye before her phone starts to ring. 

They follow Lisa out of the door with dumb smiles and full of hope. 

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook opens the door of their gallery. 

“I didn’t expect that,” he musters as Yoongi closes the door behind them. 

“Then why did you expect?” 

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know. A part of me thought she wanted to steal Vante from us.” 

Yoongi snorts, “And why would she tell us?”

“Good manners?” 

“Right.” 

"Anyway. It sounds like a good offer, right?" 

"Yeah," Yoongi answers. "I gave it a quick check. They are willing to pay us twice the money we earn in two months at the gallery. That sounds pretty good. But I want to call Taekwoon, first. Maybe he can come next week to check the contract before we make a decision." 

"Good idea," Jungkook agrees. 

“Why are we here, anyway?” Yoongi asks while scrolling down his contacts. 

"I need to pick something up from the office. Do you want to go to grab something for lunch? I am starving and in the mood for Thai food.” 

“Can I pick the restaurant?” 

Jungkook chuckles. “Sure.” 

He leaves Yoongi in the entrance as he makes his way to the office. It was Yoongi's idea to have the office behind a hidden door. More like an office is more like storage. They keep there all the photographs and paintings. Theirs and their artists. But Jungkook didn’t find what he was looking for there. So, he returns to his friend. 

“Hey, Yoongs. Do you know where is the portfolio of my trip to Machu Picchu? I don't find it and I want to use some pictures in the next exhibition…" 

Jungkook stops on his tracks and a gasp falls from his lips. 

"Zoe…" 

She is there, Jungkook's ex, standing in front of him with a very awkward Yoongi. 

"What are you doing here?" He manages to ask after staring at her for a couple of awkward minutes.

"I came to see you,” she says and the sound of her voice moves something inside his chest. 

"You can stand,” he blurts. 

"Yeah,” she laughs, embarrassed. “We have a lot to talk about." 

Jungkook's face turns to Yoongi. "Go," his friend says. "I'll wait at your apartment and I'm still picking the food." 

Twenty minutes later, they are both in one of the cafes near the gallery. 

Jungkook shifts awkwardly on his seat. 

“So, about what you wanted to talk about?”  

"Well, I don't know where to start." Zoe takes a sip of her latte nervously. 

And that is what sets him off.

“Since when can you walk?” He tries so hard not to sound mad but that is an impossible task. All the anger that he has been holding back for a year is finally pouring off of him. 

"Two weeks after the accident, I started to feel the tip of my toes. After a month, I could feel my legs completely. After a lot of physical therapy, I finally can walk without any type of help." 

Her face lights up at the memory and Jungkook doesn't know if he feels relieved or still angry. Maybe a little bit of both. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He deadpans. "Picking up the phone was really that hard?” 

Zoe gulps at that. “I wanted to reach you, but I was not in a good place. I was dealing with a lot and my body was getting used to the medication again…” 

“A text would have been enough... “ he counters attacks. “Do you even realize how I lived the next months? How hard was it? I know is nowhere near what you have been through, but living with the guilt… almost broke me." 

At this point, tears are running down Zoe's cheeks and his heart clenches. 

"I know I'm late, but I am so sorry." She reaches out to grab his hand. He stiffens but doesn't pull away. "Jungkook, the accident was not your fault." Somehow, those words managed to lift some weight off Jungkook’s heart. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words until now. Especially from her. It is like he can breathe properly again. “I know what I said. I regretted it the moment I said those words. You didn't ruin my life… You saved me.” 

Jungkook can’t help but snort. “Saved you? How? I almost killed us!” 

A soft smile spreads across her face. “That night, I was in the middle of a crisis. I was a danger to myself and others around me. You might not understand how much you helped me that night. Despite what happened.” 

She uses one of the napkins to wipe her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe I could have done something more.”

“It was nothing personal,” Zoe replies, taking a sip of her already cold coffee. “I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I was 12. When I told my friends, they started to look at me weirdly. Like with pity. I couldn't bear the look in their eyes. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me. So, when I started high school, I decided to not tell anyone about it. Ever since then, only my family knew about it.” 

Jungkook nods, understanding. 

“I was feeling so good,” she continues. “In my stupidity, I stopped using the medication. I thought I didn’t need them anymore. The first month I was okay. Fine, actually. It was in the second month when the problems started. I guess it was around the time we started fighting over nonsense…” 

Jungkook finds himself squeezing her hand in comfort. Of course, he remembers those fights. But right now, they don't seem important anymore. 

“But, are you okay now?” 

She sniffs. No matter how many times she wipes her eyes, the tears keep coming. “Yeah. The medication is working. These last two months are the first time I’ve been genuinely happy in the last year.” 

A smile tugs the corner of Jungkook’s lips. “Who is he?” 

Zoe looks at him with wide eyes, “What?” 

Jungkook chuckles at the way she is looking at him. “I know you like the back of my hand. Who is he?”

Suddenly, Zoe’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “I met a guy in my support group three months ago. He is an athlete too, with an injury in recovery. We officially started dating a month ago. It's pretty new.” 

“He makes you happy?” 

“Yes," she says with a radiant smile enough to light up the entire cafe. 

"Did you tell him about it?" 

She chuckles, "Yes. I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

“Good. I am really happy for you.” He offers her a smile. 

It is true. There is no jealousy. He really feels happy that Zoe found someone that understands her and what she's been going through. 

“Thank you,” she smiles back. “What about you?”

“Me?” Jungkook can’t hide his surprise and a smirk appears in Zoe’s lips. She still looks beautiful with puffy eyes and smudged mascara. 

"Come on. I know you too like the back of my hand. I know how your 'I'm sad because a girl' face looks like. What's up?" 

"Do you remember my neighbor? ____?" 

She nods. "She's really beautiful. What about her?"

“Well, we had one date," he confesses. 

“And? How was it?” Zoe asks excitedly and Jungkook smiles shyly. Talking about you makes his heart flutter. 

“Good. Really good, actually. I asked her to be my date at the gala.” 

“That’s so cute. So, are you two a thing now?” She coos. 

“No," he says and Zoe notices the change in his mood right away. "It is complicated."

"What happened?"

"There was a misunderstanding… I think… And you are involved.” 

Zoe chokes on her coffee. “Me? Why?” 

“She thinks I still have feelings for you and I was not much of a help either.”

"Do you still have feelings for me?" 

"No." 

"And why didn't you tell her that?" She accuses him. 

"Because I was confused when she asked me!" He exclaims. Zoe frowns and he raises a hand before she starts to speak. "We didn't talk for a year. Our relationship ended literally out of nowhere. We didn't have the time or the will to talk about it. So, I buried my feelings. At the time, they were not worth dwelling on." 

Zoe shifts on her seat. “It makes sense. I think we can both agree that we shared something magical, passionate and it didn't last that much. We never get the chance to celebrate our first anniversary." 

Jungkook chuckles, sharing the nostalgia. "Yeah. We had a lot of plans for that day." 

“Sometimes I think we were so stubborn and more in love with the idea of love rather than with each other. If the accident it would not have happened, maybe we would have broken up in the next couple of months.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah. We need to admit we were not compatible enough,” Zoe shrugs with a smile. “Anyway. One of the reasons I contacted you, besides apologizing to you, of course…” 

“Of course.” 

She ignores him, “...is because I miss you and I want us to be friends.” 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Really?”

Jungkook throws her a bag of sugar, “What do you mean ‘really’? You know my family abandoned me a long time ago. So I made a new one: Yoongi and you. For a while, we were only the three of us and everything was fine. One night, that changed. I lost a member of my family. Again. Of course, I want you in my life.” 

“Owww, Jungkook…” She wipes fake tears. “I forgot you were such a corny.” 

He snorts. 

“I’m going to get another coffee and then you can tell me everything about her and we could come up with a plan because I didn’t raise you to be this stupid.” 

And with that, she stands up and walks towards the bar. 

Just like that, two old friends reunite. As the last months never happened. 

The next day Jungkook wakes up feeling as light as a feather. It felt nice to talk with an old friend. He feels like Seokjin, Anna and the other guys are more friends of yours than his. It feels nice to have someone else by his side besides Yoongi. Finally, he feels he can breathe properly again. After a year of living full of guilt. Now, he can finally move on with his life. He spends the morning thinking about what he should do next. 

He was looking for some of his old photos when he finds one of your sketchbooks. You must have left it here the last time you visited. He knows how important the sketchbooks are for you. They are like a window to your soul. He needs to return them. With that in mind, he takes the sketchbook and walks to your apartment. 

If things were as they used to, he would enter unannounced and straight to your room. But things are different. Now, he knocks as any normal slash civil neighbor and waits. Some minutes pass before he realizes there's no one inside. Jungkook sighs disappointed. Part of him wanted to see you again. 

"Jungkook?" Someone behind him calls his name. "What are you doing here?" 

Seokjin is standing behind him with a lot of bags of groceries.  

“Hey," he greets him. "____ forgot one of her sketchbooks at my place. I was wondering if I could leave it in her bedroom." 

Seokjin nods, “Do you mind helping me first?”

"Ah, yes," he takes a couple of bags of Seokjin's arms. 

“Thank you." 

Seokjin opens the door and Jungkook follows him inside. Seokjin places the bags in the kitchen counter and throws the keys into the table. 

“Wow, these are a lot of groceries.” 

Seokjin smiles sheepishly, “Yeah. I want to perfect some recipes.” 

“More than they already are?” 

He chuckles, “Yes. I want everything ready when I open my new restaurant?” 

“Wait a minute,” Jungkook gasps. “When did that happen?” 

He suddenly feels bad for not keeping in touch with him after the little fight he shared with you. His friend only shrugs, keeping his hands busy as he places the ingredients he is not going to use at the moment in their respective cabinet. 

“I bought a nice place downtown last week,” he confesses. “But I’ve been planning it for a while now. It seemed like the next step.” 

“Wow, congratulations!” Jungkook beams and pats Seokjin’s shoulder over the counter. 

“Thanks,” the older replies. “Actually, I may need your assistance with something.” 

“What can I do for you?”

"Someone told me you are good at video editing." 

A small blush appears on Jungkook’s cheeks, “I wouldn’t say good, but I am decent enough. What do you want to do?” 

"I figured if Gordon Ramsay can teach cooking through videos, I can show my recipes too. Will you help me?" 

"Of course." 

The elder hums and a comfortable silence fall upon them. After a while, Jungkook’s gaze shifts toward the hallway that leads to your room. Seokjin notices, even when he is busy chopping some vegetables. 

"___ is not here," he comments. 

"Oh…" Jungkook already knows that but that doesn’t mean that he feels any less disappointed. "Is she out?" 

Seokjin nods, "She went to visit her sister for the weekend. I thought she told you.” 

“Well, we are not exactly in speaking terms,” Jungkook confesses, his eyes falling to his hands. "When is she coming back?" 

"Possibly Monday after work,” Seokjin throws the vegetables he just chopped to a strainer. “What happened between you two?” 

“She didn’t tell you?” Jungkook asks surprised. 

He shrugs apologetically, “Kind of. But every story has two versions." 

At that, he stays quiet. Seokjin doesn't push him to talk, which Jungkook is thankful for. The elder keeps doing his magic in the kitchen and soon it starts to smell really good. 

“A year ago,” Jungkook starts. “I was in a car accident with my former girlfriend. I was driving. She was the most affected. She had several injuries. She blamed me for everything and I accepted that blame. We didn’t talk or saw each other for a while until she contacted me the night of the gala. She wanted to talk. ___ saw it. We had a little… argument about it.” 

“What happened?” 

Jungkook's face return to look at his friend.

"That night was our first date. I was so excited and nervous. I have never felt like that about someone before. The date went pretty well. Until she saw the text." 

He can still see your face. Trying so desperately not to cry but failing nonetheless. It has been printed behind his eyelids. 

“She told me that we couldn’t be together until I figured my feelings for my ex. She started to ask questions I couldn’t answer at the moment. I’ve been confused for a long time and denied it for a while.” Jungkook groans and buries his face inside his hands. "I think I ruined everything with her." 

“No, you didn’t.” Jungkook raises to meet Seokjin’s gaze. "Is valid to have unresolved feelings when your relationship ended abruptly. Especially after a tragedy. You didn't get closure."

"You didn't see her face." Jungkook chuckles dryly when a shot of tequila appears in front of him. It reminds him of when things were less complicated. 

"She is hiding." 

"Why?" 

Seokjin shrugs, "You know her. Her heart is bigger than her body. She is the type to help strangers when they are at their lowest. She is that selfless."

Jungkook blushes at that. He still feels bad at the way he treated you those first days. 

“But when it comes to romantic feelings… She is scared."

"Why?" Jungkook finds himself asking. You never told him about his past relationships and he never asked.

"Someone broke her heart," Seokjin confesses with a sad smile. "It took her some time to recover from that." 

"What happened?" He whispers. 

"Well…"

Three years ago. 

"So, when is the opening night?" You asked Seokjin over the phone. You searched inside your handbag for your key. 

"Next week," he replied and then groaned. "I still haven't found the perfect hostess." 

"Jinnie, everything is going to be fine. You are an amazing chef. Everyone in the city is going to love your food,” you tried to calm him. “You’ll find the perfect hostess before you know it.”

"Thank you," he replied gratefully, "You are coming, right?" 

You tsked, "Of course." 

You opened your front door and placed the keys over the small table near the entrance. You made your way towards the kitchen. 

"Are you going to bring some of your stuff? Anna brought some boxes the last time she visited and she is going to move in next month. I found this cute apartment. It is kind of expensive, but considering we're four…" 

"Yeah, about that…" 

"You haven't spoken with Jimin, have you?" He interjected before you could continue. It was impressive how well he could read you even when he was a mile away. 

"I will! Is just… Everything is moving so quickly. You moved to the city 6 months ago and you are going to open your restaurant in a week. Anna found a good job. What if I don't get the internship?" 

You finally voiced your worries. 

"You will," he assured you. "You are really talented. And if they don’t, there are other companies you can apply for." 

"I know. Thank you, Jin. I really needed to hear that today," you said as you took your bag from the counter and walk to the mini-studio. "I promise I'll talk to Jimin and of course I will be on your opening night." 

"Sounds good!" He chimed. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I left something in the oven." 

And he hung up before you could say goodbye. You chuckled and placed your phone over your desk. With a sigh, you took your sketchbook out of your bag and opened it. You meant to work on your designs to finish your portfolio but your stomach suddenly growled. 

"Jimin! Do you want to grab dinner?" 

When it became apparent you were not going to get a reply, you left the studio and went to the bedroom. Till then, you didn't realize how quiet the apartment was. You frowned. You were 90% sure Jimin's car was at the parking lot. But then again, one of your neighbors had the same car. 

The bedroom door was half-opened and you heard the faint sound of the shower. Entering the room, you were about to scroll through Uber Eats when you noticed someone lying on your bed and it was not Jimin. 

"Hmmm, Who are you, and why are you lying in my bed?" The blond girl staring at you looked… worried. She opened her mouth but got interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. 

"Hey babe," Jimin murmured, a towel around his waist. "I think you should go. My girlfriend will arrive soon…" He stopped the moment he saw you, standing there, in your shared bedroom.

Every word felt like a dagger. Your suspicions were confirmed. Your boyfriend was cheating on you. You wanted to cry, scream, throw stuff, destroy everything around you. But you were frozen in the same spot, unable to do anything your aching heart craved to. 

Maybe it was a dream. Yes. You were still sleeping and this was a nightmare. Your mind couldn't wrap around the fact of Jimin –your sweet and lovely Jimin– doing such thing as betray you. 

The sound of your name brought you back to the painful reality. You gathered all the courage you could to look at him. 

"What it this, Jimin?" You managed to whisper. 

It was a dumb question to ask when the answer was right in front of you, but a part of you wanted to be a misunderstanding, still hoping this was a sick joke. 

Jimin, the man you fell in love with, was looking at you with so much sadness that it made you sob. 

"Please let me explain. I never meant to hurt you. You were not supposed to know like this." 

What was he talking about? 

"Know what? That you were cheating on me?" You said. "Is this the first time?" 

"I wish I could say yes." 

What?

Involuntarily, your eyes turned to the woman you found in your bed. At least she was dressed now, a pretty sundress hugging her body. You gulped. Did he found her prettier than you? At that moment, when you were using a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, you definitely felt she was prettier than you. You hated to feel this way. 

"Why?" You finally found the courage to ask him. 

"Don't pretend you haven't felt how we've drifted apart."

Oh, you noticed. He had been weird the last couple of months. At first, you thought it was because of school. He gets really moody when it comes to exams. But he graduated and things were the same. There was less communication. He used to be your best friend… And now was like you lived with a stranger with whom you happened to have sex occasionally. 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but you didn’t want to push Jimin in to talk about something he was not ready to share. Who would know that something was him cheating on you? 

“Is that enough reason?”

“My parents are getting divorced,” he confessed then, taking slow steps into your direction. Your whole body tensed. The last thing you needed was him to get closer. “My father started to drink again.” You opened your mouth to say something but Jimin raised a hand. “No, please. Let me finish.” You pursed your lips and let him continue. “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. You were busy working at the cafe or working with your designs… They were not yours to handle, so I didn't tell you anything. Then, I met Hannah at one of my lectures. We clicked right away. I invited her for a coffee one day and it was like I could tell her anything." 

"And you fell in love with her," you finished for him. You felt hot tears running down your cheeks. You couldn't hold them anymore. 

"___, you need to understand…" he took another step closer. “I never meant to hurt you.”

"Well, you definitely did a great job. Why didn't you tell me when you realized that you had feelings for another woman?" You confronted him. By the look on his face, you guessed that was not a question he was expecting. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you looked at him expectantly. 

“I-I tried… But I couldn’t find the right time…” 

He was close enough to take your hands in his. You tried to pull away but he didn’t let you. “Really? In the six months, you’ve known her, you couldn’t mention something?”

“How am I supposed to tell the person who used to be the most important to me that I may have feelings for another woman?”

If you were not feeling like your whole world is crumbling down, you probably should’ve noticed the desolated expression in Jimin’s face. 

“You are talking in past tense…” you murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you repeated. 

Fresh tears fall down cheeks. You closed your eyes. Suddenly, something warm pressed against your skin. Jimin’s fingers. Your eyes slowly fluttered open. Fixed on his face, it was the first time you realized they were tears on his cheeks. Jimin was crying too. A pair of strong arms encircled your body and pushed you against him. You resisted at first, but he was holding you with so much force. Being between his arms for the last time was the last thing you could handle and you found yourself hugging him back tightly. Three years of your life were slipping between your fingers like water and there was nothing you could do about it. 

It was over… 

“I’m sorry, ___,” he chanted against your hair. “I am so sorry…” 

That night, you drove all the way to the city and never looked back. 

When Seokjin finishes the story, Jungkook is speechless. 

His heart aches for you, for what happened to you. 

“She was broken. It took her a while to recover. She is strong. She just needs some time.”

“I just miss her a lot…” 

“I know.”

His friend offers him a smile and continues with his handiwork in the kitchen. 

Jungkook stays silent in the next 20 minutes, lost inside his mind. It takes him some time to take everything in. Now, he understands why you reacted the way you did and wishes he handled the situation better. His trail of thought is interrupted when Seokjin places a bowl of homemade noodles in front of him. It smells delicious. 

“Eat up. I want your opinion.”

“Thank you.” 

The sound of a door being opened catches his attention and Anna appears in the hallway. 

“Oh, Kook. You are here,” she greets him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” She sits in the stool beside him and squeezes his shoulder affectionately.

“Good. How about you?” 

“Full of work but I smell Jinnie’s special noddles and I realized I was starving,” she was and takes a mouthful of noddles.��

“Where can I leave ____’s sketchbook?”

“You can leave it at the studio. I’ll tell her you left it there,” Anna says. 

Jungkook nods. 

The rest of the meal, they talk about random stuff. Jungkook tells them the news about his possible new partnership with a museum and Seokjin talks more about the plans he has for his new restaurant. Soon, the moon sets and Jungkook is full of deserts. Before leaving, he walks to the studio and places the sketchbook on your desk. He takes a blank sheet from Anna’s desk and a pen and he starts writing: 

Dear ___…

"So, in conclusion, you ran away because you are scared," she murmurs softly. 

“Did you even heard what I just said?” 

“I did and you are an idiot,” she stands from the couch and walks to the kitchen. “Do you want more ice cream?”

“Yeah.” You follow after her. “Do you really think I am an idiot for leaving him there?” 

“Yes, I do.” She notices your panic. “Look. I know you are afraid. But this is not the same situation. The story isn’t repeating.” 

She serves two more balls of chocolate ice cream into the bowls. 

"I don’t want to live that hell of self-hatred again. It took me a while to understand it was not because of me and even more to realize Jimin and I were not meant to be. So yeah, I ran. I thought Jungkook would have chosen his ex if he needed to choose. They have a long story." 

She squeezes your hand, "And you removed yourself from the equation so he wouldn’t have to choose." You nod. “That’s why I think you are an idiot.”

“Hey!” 

“I’m serious. He can choose you. There is a possibility. But you decided to run instead to fight for him.” 

She takes the bowls and returns to the living room. Then, she turns Netflix off. You stopped paying attention to the movie anyway. You lay down and place your head on her lap with your bowl of ice cream over your stomach. You feel so tired. 

"Let’s get this clear. For what you have told me, it looks like he likes you a lot. You were his muse at the gala!" She starts to pet your hair softly, "Listen. I know it hurts. Sometimes, you just need to take the risk. You can't hide here forever. Whatever that happens, you'll be fine. You have me and your friends." 

You shift your body to face her, "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

She grins, "What is family for?"

You stayed with your sister the whole weekend, eating tons and tons of ice cream and watching tons and tons of movies. It was soothing and calming. It helped you get your mind off the situation. And it gave you time to think. 

You were back at your apartment morning-evening after work. You are finishing unpacking when Seokjin enters your room. 

“How it went?” He sits at the end of your mattress. 

“Pretty good! I missed my sister a lot.” 

“Maybe you should visit her more often,” he jokes. 

You giggle, "She told me the same thing. How was your weekend?" 

Now that all your clothes are scattered all over your bed, you throw all the dirty ones into your laundry basket. 

"Good. I tried a new noodle recipe... and Jungkook came looking for you." 

He is playing with one of your jeans, folding and unfolding them. 

You drop what you are doing immediately, "Really? What did he want?" 

You try to keep a serene face but on the inside, you were going crazy. The tiny smile on Seokjin’s lips only confirms that you are not very good at hiding your emotions. You’ve lost your touch. 

"He brought your sketchbook back," Seokjin says. "Apparently, you left it at his place. It is at your desk." 

"Oh… Thank you." 

"I’ll have dinner ready in 20 minutes." Seokjin smiles sweetly and walks out of your room. 

You finish unpacking and tidying everything up before going to the studio. You left Jungkook’s place in such a rush that you forgot that your sketchbook was even at his place. You run your fingers over the leather cover. It is one of the fewest sketchbooks that you own that doesn’t have anything to do with your work or designs. It is more like a journal were you draw anything that came to your mind. Flipping through the pages, you remember that one time when Jungkook took you to his favorite park. According to him, the sunset looked majestic from there and he wanted to take some snaps. You were supposed to draw it but Jungkook's beauty was more enticing and you end up drawing him. 

You keep going through the pages for a while. The sketchbook is full of memories of him… of memories of your times together. There is this one, where you draw the two of you.  But before you arrive at that page, you receive a call from Anna. Dinner is ready. With a smile, you place your sketchbook with the others you’ve finished in the box under your desk unaware of the fact that there is a letter Jungkook wrote for you. 

One year later. 

It is Monday morning and you are at your office. It is surprising how much work can accumulate in one weekend. The workload helps you to ignore the curious glances Taehyung sends your way since you arrived at the office. It becomes pretty annoying at the meeting you both attend to check some details about the newest collection before sending it for approval. 

Around 11 am, you go to the coffee station to make yourself some tea. Taehyung is there, too, taking some coffee. And there’s the stare again. “Some say a picture lasts longer.” 

He chokes on his coffee. You take your favorite mug from the countertop and purr hot water. Today is chamomile day. 

"Are you okay?" You ask him. He nods like he has not been acting weirdly all morning. 

"Yeah. I am okay." He leaves his now empty cup in the sink. "Do you, by any chance, have received any texts or calls today?"

"From someone in particular?" 

"You know what? Forget it. I'll see you at lunch." 

And he walks out of the coffee station before you could ask him what he meant. 

Yep. He is definitely acting really weird. 

The rest of the morning passes quickly and you don't have the opportunity to confront Taehyung about his weird behavior. He is hiding something. That much is true.

Exactly one hour before lunch, your phone buzzes, and for a split second your heart rate increases until you see the caller ID. It is your sister. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, stranger!" she chimes. "How are you?" 

"I'm fine! A little busy. And you?" 

"Good! At what time you leave your office?" 

"At 5PM. Why?" 

"I have a surprise for you: I am in the city! So, I was wondering if you want to have dinner with me today." 

"Wait, is everything okay?" You sit straight. If something is wrong, she would have told you, right?

"Yeah, silly. Don't worry. I came to buy some stuff and, of course, visit you. So, do you want to go to dinner or what?" 

You giggle, relieved. "Sure." You start to think of possible choices. It is the third time your sister comes to the city. You want to take her to somewhere special. "Do you want to go to Seokjin's new restaurant?" 

"That sounds perfect." 

"Good. Let me text you the address." 

You put the phone on speaker to find the message with the address Seokjin sent to you a while ago. You know how to arrive there but you don't remember the street name. 

You do small talk with your sister as you do your search, but your Skype goes crazy out of nowhere.

"Hey," you interject between her story. "I will text you the address later. My boss is looking for me." 

"Ok. Don't worry. I'll see you tonight." 

You arrive at 7:15pm at Seokjin's restaurant. 

In less than 6 months, the restaurant is now one of the most exclusive restaurants and one of the best places to eat. That's why the place is at full capacity for Monday night and there are even more people outside waiting for a table or place at the bar. 

Tonight Seokjin is the host. He receives you with a heartwarming smile. 

"Your usual table?" he asks. 

“Yes, please.” 

He nods, “You are lucky you know the owner,” he adds with a smirk and you roll your eyes.  

“Thanks, Jinnie.” 

You walk through the restaurant. The table you like the most is located in one of the corners, near the kitchen. It is kind of hidden but you can see the whole restaurant from there. You’ve spent hours and hours there sketching the people that come by. 

Your eyes scan the menu as you wait for your sister's arrival. Jin adds new recipes to the menu every once in a while. 

"Does this sit is taken?" 

You raise your head to look at the newcomer and you do not expect what you see...

"Jungkook?" 

For a split second, you think you might be hallucinating. But no. He is really there. It is the first time you see him in a year. He smiles sheepishly and you remember that there's a question you haven't answered yet… 

"I'm waiting for my sister…" 

And then, it clicks. 

Do you, by any chance, have received any texts or calls today?

"You planned this with my sister," his smile widening is your confirmation. "But, you don't know her. How?" 

"We have a mutual friend." 

"Taehyung and Seokjin knew about this," you accuse. 

Jungkook nods, "The guys helped me to plan this. So, can I sit?" 

"Yeah, I guess," you reply. "Is my sister even in the city?" 

"Yes. She is waiting for you with Anna at your place." 

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you stay silent. You take the opportunity to look at him. He looks… different. His hair is longer. He is wearing a plain grey shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket that fits him so well. He gained weight. The sharpness of his face is gone. His lips look more full in the way they stretch into a smirk. There’s a spark shining on his eyes. He knows you are checking him out. 

You clear your throat. 

"So, why did you take so much trouble when you just could have called me yourself?" 

Jungkook shrugs, "I thought you wouldn't have come if I was the one who contacted you." 

Before you could reply, one of the waitresses approaches the table. 

"Are you ready to order?"

Jungkook gazes at the menu, "I'll have the Special Noodles, please." 

She nods and turns to you, "And you, ___? The usual?" 

"Yes. Thank you, Eli," you reply with a smile. 

"Right away," she says and walks to the kitchen. 

Once she is gone, the heavy atmosphere around you returns. 

"Did you broke your phone?" You finally ask him the question you were dying to since he appeared.

"I know. I'm so sorry" he takes your hand in his. It feels so good to feel his warmth again. "You don't know how much I wanted to call. Or even go to your place to see you in person. But I made a promise to myself: I wouldn't contact you until I was in peace with myself." 

It is selfish to feel this way. You know it. He did the right thing, but a part of you resents him. He disappeared. For one year, you didn’t know anything about him. Now, he appears out of nowhere and expects you’d receive him with open arms. 

“Jungkook, why am I here?" 

He seems confused, "What do you mean? I wanted to talk to you." 

"About what?" 

"About us?" 

"Is there really an 'us' to talk about?" 

"What?" 

You shift in your seat. “You left without saying goodbye. With no type of explanation.” 

He shakes his head, “What do you mean? I left the letter. Did you not read it?”

You frown, more confused by the minute. “What letter?” 

“The one that I hid in your sketchbook. Do you really don’t know what am I talking about?” You shrug. “Well, that explains a lot,” he chuckles awkwardly. 

“So, what was in that letter?” 

He smiles over his glass of water. “It explained why I left, why I did it, and what happened with Zoe.” 

“Yeah, about that… What happened? Because all this time I thought you ran away with her.” 

A smirk appeared on his lips. It is not the type you like. It is the smug one. It makes you want to smack him on his pretty face. 

“We talked. We resolved things. We stayed as friends,” he replies nonchalantly. 

“G-good,” you manage to say and his smile widens. “Where were you staying, anyway?” 

“I stayed a while with Yoongi and little with Zoe and her boyfriend. He is really cool.” 

“That bastard!” you yelled and sank in your seat when a few customers turned to look at you. “When I asked him if he knew where did you go, he lied.”

Jungkook smiles apologetically, “He promised not to tell you.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” you huff, a little annoyed at Yoongi. He is going to hear you out the next time you see him. “You could have texted me or something. Do you know how much time is one year? That means I spent 365 days wondering if I would ever see you again." Jungkook opens his mouth but you raise your hand, "Please, let me finish." 

He nods. 

"One year is enough to meet new people…" You finish what you wanted to say. 

Jungkook's smile falters, eyes widening, "Ohhhh… Does that mean you met someone?" 

"I had a couple of dates," you confess, watching carefully his reaction. "But the two of them went really wrong."

His face illuminates at your words, "Why?" 

"Because they were not you, idiot!" 

He starts to laugh at your outburst. Wow, you forgot how much you liked his smile. His eyes turn into beautiful crescendos and his nose scrunched. His laugh is contagious you start to laugh back. 

"I'm really glad to hear that." 

A comfortable silence falls between you two. At the same time, Eli arrives with the order. 

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans after his first bite. “They are better than the last ones I ate.” 

“Well, Seokjin had a year to perfect the recipe,” you mock. 

While you eat, you talk about random stuff: how the recent partnership with a museum went; the brand new collection you and Taehyung are designing from scratch. Stuff like that. It almost feels like time hasn’t passed at all. 

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” you say once you have ordered the desert. 

He takes a sip of his water. “What question?” 

“Why am I here?”

“Oh, I wanted to see you and talk to you,” he says, suddenly shy. “I know you didn’t read the letter I left for you. But I want to explain to you, in person, why I left…” 

It doesn’t make sense. How can someone who looks as good as Jungkook does can be shy?

“Go on.”

“I know it was selfish to leave. But I needed to do it. I was not myself when we met. I was lost. Even when you helped me to raise my feet again, I was not entirely okay. I left because I didn’t want to be emotionally codependent of you. If we are together, is because we want to, not because we need each other to survive. The time I spent away helped me to rediscover myself. Now, I am more me than I have ever been. I hope you will give me another chance.” 

His beautiful words make your heart flutter. He is looking at you with so much intensity and hopes that you feel bad for being cold with him for the past hour. You stay silent for a moment, though. You suppress the smile that tugs the corner of your lips. Maybe you enjoy a little bit much the way his expression turns in panic. 

“Well,” you finally speak up. His shoulders tense in anticipation. “Taehyung and I have an important dinner next week. Some important designers are coming to see our collection. Taehyung is taking his girlfriend. So… Would you like to come with me? You know… As my date?”

The end. ♡

[hrina]

just finished watching knives out

[its-vannah]

Let Her Go - Charlie Weasley x Reader

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so bad.

Word Count: 2,922

Warnings: Fluff to angst real fast

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

2014

"Uncle Charlie?" A young boy asked, sitting beside his favorite uncle on the couch, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Let me think about it." Charlie teased, elbowing his nephew with his arm, "You know you can ask me anything, Hugo."

Hugo nodded, fiddling with a stuffed dragon in his lap, not daring to meet his Uncle's eyes, "Why didn't you ever get married?"

Charlie sunk back into his seat, releasing a sigh, "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I almost did."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1986

"Charlie!" You called out, running at full force to catch up to him as he walked through the long corridors.

The ginger turned, a smile spreading across his face as he slowed to a stop, waiting for you to catch up.

Once you caught up, the two of you walked side by side, clutching piles of books to your chests.

"You won't believe what Tonks did in potions." You exclaimed, a laugh escaping your lips as you descended the stairs down to Care of Magical Creatures. It was Charlie's favorite class, the one he was most passionate about. And you had no doubt that he'd probably end up as the professor one day.

He quirked a brow, "Do I want to know?"

"That depends on how much you like Snape." You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

"Well, now I've gotta know, Y/N!"

"Alright, so I was sitting next to Tonks in potions and…"

It was moments like these, when you became so animated sharing a story that Charlie felt his heart skipped a beat. He had never exactly thought about settling down. But one look at you and he knew. He knew you were the love of his life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1987

"Did you hear about the Celestial Ball coming up?" Charlie asked you one day, his heart practically beating out of his chest. He knew that there was a good chance that you already had a date lined up by now, but he held out hope that you hadn't.

You nodded, "I did. Dumbledore did announce it in front of the entire cafeteria, after all."

"I suppose he did." Charlie responded, giving you a small smile, "I was just wondering if you'd gotten a date yet?"

"Oh." Your bottom lip puckered, "I just assumed that we were going together. But if you're taking someone else, it's no harm done. I won't mind."

He shook his head, "No! No, I was going to ask you. I just didn't want to ask if you already had someone lined up.

"You're the only one I'd want lined up." You say, offering a smile, your arm brushing his as you walked to Charms.

"Same for me." His face turned red at the thought of taking you to the ball, "I mean, I don't want myself lined up. I was talking about you. You're the only one I'd want lined up. Sorry, I'm not very good at this."

You laughed, gently patting his back, "Oh, Charlie, you're fine, really. I understood what you meant."

He couldn't help but admire and envy your kindness. You understood him, at times, more than he understood himself. You could unscramble anything he said, even when it didn't make sense. He had plenty of friends, being on the Quidditch team, but at the end of the day, you were the only one he wanted to see in the crowd.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1987

You descended the stairs down to the ballroom, your deep blue robes swishing behind you, golden thread sewn into the fabric to appear as constellations. You were breathtaking.

Charlie waited for you at the bottom of the stairs, eventually abandoning the idea and running up to meet you halfway, skipping a step as he went.

"You look stunning, Y/N." He said, unable to take his eyes off of you.

You smiled in response, "Thank you, Charlie. You don't look half bad yourself."

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, breaking out into a small sweat as the two of you reached the bottom of the staircase.

"I have a confession." He said, his head hanging low.

"What is it?" You asked, a hand resting on his shoulder for support, "You know you can tell me anything."

"I can't dance." He admitted, "I've tried a dozen times and I just… I can't. I don't remember the moves or anything. My leading is even worse."

You thought about it for a moment, "I can lead, if you'd like. It'd take some of the pressure off of you."

"And who said we had to be good at dancing? As long as we're having a good time, I don't see the harm in stepping on your toes a few times." You added, with a teasing tone.

Charlie smiled at you. You always had a solution, a way to fix problems. Not just yours, or his own, but everyone's. Nearly everyone in your year came to you when they needed help. It took a toll on you at times, but you enjoyed being there for them. It was one of the reasons you were made prefect. He wouldn't have you any other way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1988

"Are you nervous?" You asked, adjusting his red and gold tie, "You've dreampt about dragons for years, and now you're finally seeing one. I've got a feeling you're about to jump out of your skin."

Charlie sighed, "I've been waiting for this for fifteen years. I'm afraid I'll mess up or be engulfed in flames. But this could also be the happiest moment of my life."

"You don't think the birth of your child will be the happiest moment of your life?" You asked, "You need to sort out your priorities, Weasley."

"I'd prefer to get married before doing the whole children thing." He said as you finished fixing his tie.

You gazed up at him, "And who's going to be the lucky bride/groom/one?"

His whole time at Hogwarts had been leading up to this. If something crazy happened and he were to die at a dragon's talons, he had to say it. He had to tell you how he felt.

"I'm hoping it'll be you."

Your eyes widened, shock pulsing through your body. He was afraid he had made a mistake, jepordizing your friendship. But it needed to be done.

He turned away, "Sorry, I'll see you after class, Y/N. Hope-"

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, standing on the tips of your toes to reach his face. Then, you turned away, looking back once or twice to see him standing rigidly.

A smile spread on his face, and he stood there for a moment before walking to Care of Magical Creatures. He was on top of the world.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1989

"Tell me, how much trouble have Fred and George gotten into so far? It's what, their fourth time in detention in a week?" You asked, "Mcgonnagal's going to hand her hands tied with those two, you know."

Charlie sighed, "At least Mum gets a break, with Bill off in Egypt and the four of us here at Hogwarts."

"How are Ron and Ginny doing?" You questioned, "With all of their siblings being off?"

"They're doing as well as they can for being nine and eight. They're still young, so they'll probably be trying to get into the attic to see the ghoul."

You stepped back, "You have a ghoul in your attic? Is it friendly?"

"More or less." He responded, "It'll bang on the pipes when the house is too quiet, though. Can't imagine the ruckus it's making without Fred and George there. Probably having a conniption fit as we speak."

"I'm sure your mum will love that." You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand in embarassement before chanigng the subject, "And how about you? How are you holding up?"

Confused, he tilt his head, "About what? The dragons?"

"No, Charlie, not about the dragons. The O.W.L.S.. Have you been studying?"

"I've barely been sleeping from all the studying. This is what will get me into that dragon program in Romania." He said eagerly, although it was a bit of a touchy subject for the two of you.

You would have been content with working for the ministry under the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but Charlie wanted something new, something freeing.

So the two of you had agreed not to talk about it until the end of seventh year. But as the end of sixth approached, you worried that you would lose each other. It broke your heart to think about, but you knew that once he had his mind set on something, nothing would come in his way.

"Well, if you want to get a high score, you need to get some rest." You reminded him, resting your head on his shoulder, "Studying will only get you so far, you need to get some rest, alright?"

He nodded, "Don't worry, I will."

"Good."

Charlie headed back to his room shortly after, slipping under his quilt. He turned on his side, gazing at the picture he kept of you on his nightstand. Your hair flowing rapidly in the wind. With a smile, he closed his eyes, drifting into a deep sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1989

It was a warm April day and you were laying on Charlie's lap, staring at the clouds above you when he asked you a question that had the potential to change your lives.

"Marry me."

You initially laughed it off, "Alright."

"Really?" He asked, surprised, inclining his head to face you.

You lifted yourself from his lap, raising a brow, "What are you going on about?"

"I think we should get married?"

"And when did you get that idea?"

Charlie shrugged, "Always figured it would happen, but I got the idea just now."

"So you think I'll say yes and we'll just go get married?"

"Why not?"

"Charlie." You began, "We're fifth years. We can't get married even if we wanted to."

When he didn't respond, you continued, "Besides, you'd have to propose to me first. And even after that, it takes a while to plan a wedding."

"Oh." He said, slumping in defeat. You went back to your previous position, contentedly laying your head in his lap.

But it didn't last long. He sat back up, causing you to slide off his lap, "Then I'll just propose to you."

You pushed yourself up off the grass, "Bloody hell, Charlie."

"So, what do you say, marry me?"

"Where's my ring?" You teased, crossing your arms.

Charlie merely pulled out his wand, plucked a blade of grass, and muttered a spell under his breath that turned the green blade into a ring. A nearby flower was turned into a shimmering gem that nestled itself into the center of the ring.

Your jaw dropped, "When I asked about the ring, I was joking..."

"Not joking now, are you?"

You shook your head, leaning in to get a closer look at the ring, "It's beautiful for a piece of dirt."

"Grass." He corrected, holding it out, "So, what do you say? Will you, Y/N, marry me?"

Pretending to think about it for a moment, you shrugged, "Hmm... I don't know..."

"Oh come on, woman, what do you want from me?"

"Oh, hush, Weasley." You laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips, "Yes, I'll marry you, but only if you promise to keep it between us."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1991

"Charlie, how is this going to work?." You said, seated across from him in the library.

His shoulders sagged, "How is what going to work?"

"Getting married."

Charlie shrugged, "I dunno, we'll figure out a way to make it work."

"But you're planning on going to Romania."

"So? You're planning on working for the Ministry."

"Which is thousands of miles away from one another."

He let out a long sigh, "I never really thought about that."

"So what are we going to do, Charlie?" You asked, "I don't want to break things off, but I want to have some idea of what my future will look like."

He thought about it for a moment, "Then don't."

"Don't what?" Confusion masked your face, "I don't understand."

"We'll hold off on getting married, stay engaged until we're both happy in our careers. I'll get to experience life in Romania, and you'll get to work here in London. Eventually one of us will get tired of our jobs and want to leave."

"Charlie, it might work temporarily, but we can't keep putting this off." You sighed, placing your head in your hands.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, "I know."

But he didn't know.

A few weeks later, you turned around one of the many corridors after Charms and found Charlie running up to you, a large smile spread across his lips.

He slowed to a stop before you, taking your hands into his, "I got it, Y/N. I got the internship."

"Internship?" You questioned, "What on earth are you talking about, Charlie?"

His heart sank. He hadn't told you.

"Y/N, I need to tell you something and it's not going to be easy, alright?" He said, lowering his voice and pulling you to the side of the corridor, "I applied for an internship at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary a few months ago… and I got it."

You stared at him dead in the eye, "And you just weren't going to tell me?"

"No, I was going to. I didn't want to cause any trouble… I didn't even think I'd get in!"

"No, Charlie. You don't get to go around and do whatever you want behind my back and expect me to go along with it. You said we'd talk about it. And we didn't. You had every moment to tell me. Before you applied, when you applied, even a few days after. And you didn't." You hissed, turning in the other direction.

He reached for your hand, but you tugged it away, turning your head back to him, "And for the record, Charlie, I'm really proud of you. I'm really proud of you for getting the internship. But what I'm not proud of is the fact that you kept this from me."

"I'm done, Charlie. With all of this. I can't keep taking all of this back and forth. It's exhausting. I'm sorry, Charlie, I can't."

With that, you walked towards your common room without another word.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

2014

Charlie spared his nephew the details of how devastated he had been when you had called it quits, but made sure to give him the overall picture.

"Did you ever talk to her again?" Hugo asked, swinging his feet, "You must have really loved her."

He sighed, "No, I haven't spoken to her since that night in the corridor. I've sent her plenty of owls, but I've gotten no response. But I still love her, Hugo, I still do."

"So why don't you marry her?" He asked.

"It's not that easy, bud." Charlie sighed, "If it was, I would have."

Hugo frowned, "I wish I could have met her."

"Me too."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

2019

Charlie held Hugo's hand as he walked him to the platform.

"Thanks for being here, Uncle Charlie." He smiled, "You didn't have to come."

"What are Uncles for?" Charlie quipped, "I wanted to be here."

They ran into the platform, appearing on the other side mere moments later. Ron and Hermione followed suit behind the two of them, "Are we chopped liver, Hugo?"

"No offence, mum, but Uncle Charlie works with dragons. He's way cooler."

Rose scoffed teasingly, "This is why I'm the favorite."

"Are not!" Hugo retorted angrily.

The siblings continued to bicker, but Charlie hardly noticed. He only saw you, your hands smoothing down a teenager's robes, talking sternly to him.

He could just barely make out what you were saying.

"Now, Y/N/N (your nephew's name), promise me that you'll stay out of trouble. You're in your sixth year now, there's no excuse."

"Aunt Y/N…" He groaned, rolling his head back, "I'll behave, I promise."

You brushed his h/c hair away from his face, tapping his cheek gently, "I love you, Y/N/N."

He leaned in to give you a hug, already towering over you at sixteen, "I love you, too."

With that, he turned towards the express and climbed aboard, his black and red robes flowing behind him.

Hugo approached his uncle, giving him a quick hug before skipping off to the train, climbing aboard with a smile on his face. He eagerly waved goodbye as the train started to depart.

Charlie waved back, and within moments, the train disappeared.

He looked back to where you stood, time at a standstill. Then you twist your head back, meeting his gaze.

Without even thinking, he was walking over to you. His heart was beating out of his chest with every step he took. Finally, he was standing before you, offering a small smile, "Y/N."

"Charlie."

"Saying your goodbyes?"

"More like "see you soon's", but yes." You responded, "My sister/brother passed when my nephew was an infant, so I've been raising him for the past fifteen years now."

He nodded, "Is he a hand full?"

"You know all the trouble Fred and George got into?"

"I do."

"That, but with one child instead of two."

Charlie couldn't help but laugh, "You ever have any of your own?"

"Me? No, no, I never settled down. What about you?"

"Me neither." He responded, "Y/N, I-"

But you cut him off, tugging the chain around your neck up so he could see what was on it. He inhaled sharply when he saw the ring he made you dangling from the dainty chain.

"I've worn this ever since we said goodbye all those years ago, Charlie. No one else was ever going to have my heart. It was always you."

He took a step forward, "Your picture is still on my nightstand, Y/N. The same one I had at Hogwarts."

A hint of a smile appeared on your face, "Are you free for brunch?"

"I can make time."

[yoongsisbae]

The Woman with the Black Cat on Her Shoulder | MYG

Fearful, they buried them, stomped them into the dirt. Underneath their boot, scared men were unaware the seeds of hope had planted by their own volition. From the dirt and grime, grew flowers, blooms so tall, eclipsing their hatred. You were strong and unwilling to be cut down any more. 

Dystopian Fantasy AU. Shapeshiftercat!yoongi x reader

Warning: 18+ adult themes, dystopian futuristic society (IS IT THO?), graphic violence against women, animal cruelty, attempted SA, mention of suicide, police brutality, angst, sex so soft and sweet and full of consent

Word Count: 9.1k

---

“It’s her,” they said. Whispers in the crowd, repeating the phrase to one another, like a wave of hope rippling over their bodies, energizing their fight.

It was true. She was there, and the crowd could feel her power, her anger, forged from pain. Because it was their anger too. It was familiar, it was a friend reaching over their shoulder and telling them, ‘It will be okay. I’m here now. You don’t have to fight alone. You won’t lose this time, because you have me now.’ 

The rumors spread far, even the law-forcers knew of her. They knew of her as a myth, a story the people would tell to ease the pain of their subjugation. An empty promise shouted at the law-forcers, that one day they’ll be sorry, that one day victory won’t be theirs to take. She was the woman with the black cat on her shoulder. One look into those feline eyes and judgment is swift. 

Some believed the cat is a creature from the underworld. The beast heard the people’s cries and clawed its way up into this world, collecting souls of abusers and assaulters, dragging them back down to its dark home. Some people believe the cat is part of her, she wields and controls the beast like a limb, that she isn’t human, but an angel, the savior of the people.

But she is neither and the cat is neither. She is like them. Born without wealth, without love, abandoned and alone, she grew up too quickly. A sad story told a million different ways by a million different girls. She lived her life as they all did, she worked and worked and worked and worked, and lived. She didn’t want anything more but to live...

You didn’t want anything more but to live, and perhaps it was by some divine intervention, you don’t know, that you crossed paths with a lonely black cat, so small and broken, so desperate to survive like you. You freed him and in ways you could not imagine, he freed you.

---

From the crowd of bodies, the woman with the black cat on her shoulder stepped to the front. Her clothes were black, pants torn and patched, sewn back stronger. A tight shirt so they made no mistake, it was a woman under that mask. Black cloth covering her face and hair, the amount of her hair hidden under her hood. But they could still see her eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and hatred. And on her shoulder, a large black cat, long wild hair to match its wild eyes. 

The law-forcers stood in a line, guns and shields ready. The angry crowd had nothing but hope now. 

The law-forcers didn’t really believe it was her, looking down at her still. Any woman could find a black cat and pretend. They saw her as a martyr, a faker, their trigger fingers itching to make an example of her.

The cat hissed, mouth stretched wide open and long fangs displayed. The hiss was loud and piercing and the law-forcers flinched, embarrassingly reacting. The crowd jeered and laughed and the law-forcers pointed their guns at the black cat, growing in anger for being made fools. 

You whisper to your companion to wait. Let them attack first. Show the world the true aggressor before them. 

You waited because you knew the beast on your shoulder was a magical being. And the thing about living magic in a world filled with human creation, is that magic and technology reacted like oil and water, coexisting but unable to intermix, and magic was by far the stronger force. 

Red lasers land on you and your companion, but you stubbornly stand tall and the crowd mirrors your actions. The cat growls low and menacing and hisses again. It only took one scared threatened man, one trigger happy finger, and then it was all over...for them.

-

A gun shot rang out, and smoke appears where the black cat on the woman’s shoulder stood, weaving and twisting in the air like black rivers, dispersing and covering the empty zone between the crowd and the law-forcers. Bullets entered the smoke and the magical force created a barrier, stopping them in midair. That is when they all knew, they knew she was not just a myth.

As quickly as the magic appeared, electricity disappeared. The energy sent a shockwave across devices. Cameras and lights, the law-forcers military grade machinery, and all that expensive technology the law-forcers depended on broke and malfunctioned. Precious moments without their weapons that give a perfect window of attack. 

The crowd stands transfixed and the woman screams, loud and deep within her gut…

A roar. 

The black cat appears and reappears, so quickly it’s impossible to follow the cat’s path. Fangs piercing through skin and muscle of the men paid to silence the people’s cries, now crying for help, crying in pain as sharp claws rip through kevlar and tear the flesh from their bones. She runs towards them without fear. That's what the crowd sees, they don't witness her fear of losing what she loves most that carries her feet forward. And then the crowd begins to run forward too, headed straight towards men with bullets ready to fire. 

It’s chaos. 

---

“Dinner’s ready.”

His voice was soft and calming but you startle awake. You don’t mean to, you’re just always on alert and so anxious these days. 

His hand moves from your back to your shoulder, fingers pushing into your tight muscles. His way of telling you to relax. You place your hand over his, pulling him into bed. You’re so tired, he must be too. You wish he wouldn’t worry over you, you could have heated some left overs up instead.

The news plays loud on your home's display screen, events of afternoon recorded right before the blackout replay from many different angles. You listen to the cheers of your arrival, inwardly groaning.

Tonight it’s going to get worse, you’ve bruised the egos of the elite, and men like that always lash out in anger, unable to take a loss so great.

“We should go out tonight, just in case,” you sigh. Your companion doesn’t speak, he’s tired. He fought so hard. And he might have to do it again. But this is the life you both chose. Somehow, it has become this, nights upon nights of this. You wonder, if others had this kind of power, would they be able to sleep at night knowing they could have done something more, or would they be like you?

It wasn’t always like this. Before you were a fighter of the system, you were a victim of the system.

Like the night your companion, Yoongi, showed you what he truly was.

---

“Sweet kitty.” He purrs loudly while he eats, broken purrs between grumbles as he devours his dinner. The sight makes you laugh as he eats the meat leftover from your lunch. He waits for you, always in the same spot. The black cat you saved has taken to following you from work to your home at night. Every night you try to coax him into your house, but he never does decide to join you. He’s a cat of the streets.

You click your tongue softly as his fluffy tail wraps around your calf. Using two fingers, you run them along the cat’s back as he eats. “I have to get going, kitty, sorry for making you wait,” you muse, scratching behind the cat’s ears as he finishes. It’s later than you usually leave. Hours at the warehouse seemed to stretch longer and longer these days. 

You move quickly and quietly, kept your purse tight to your side. You walked behind restaurants, away from drunken men and street girls that took over busy streets at night. Walking these dark alleys alone was daunting, but better than dealing with confrontation and a quicker route. And you had kitty. The animal gracefully walks next to you, happily bouncing along with his tail held upright. You somehow felt safer walking with the tiny street cat.

Age thirteen was the first time you encountered the wandering eyes of strangers, walking the district’s marketplace with your friends from the learning center. Three teenage girls enduring the catcalls of grown men, following you for blocks. You knew the feeling of someone watching you all too well, it was the same feeling you felt tonight.

You stop and bend down, petting kitty, cooing at how cute he looks when he stretches his neck towards you and in the corner of your eye, you noticed them, two men in the shadows following close behind you. There is no safety at night for a woman in this world. You learned that not this night, but you felt the fear of your reality in waves, stronger than any night before.

Standing up again, you ignored them and kept your pace. You were too scared to run. Running escalated things. You learned not to do such things. Once you ran they would chase, they could catch you, they would hurt you. And you knew you couldn’t fight two and win, you weren’t confident in one. You fiddle with your e-bracelet. You could signal an emergency, but the law-forcers took hours to come to this part of town, even as attacks continue to escalate, you knew they wouldn’t save you.

Kitty meows next to you. He meows, he meows, did kitty notice them too? “I know,” you whisper.

You think if you keep this pace, you can make it past the corner, and run then, hide yourself in the crowd. But like you, it was not the first time for these men either. Experienced predators, they noticed your hunched shoulders, the concentrated steps slowly escalating. They attacked.

Dirty hands grab at your body, your hair, yanking you backwards into pavement. It was too quick, too forceful. 

You fought, you fought hard, with everything you had. You kicked and you screamed, and when fingers covered your screams you cried, when stronger arms and legs kicked back and shoved you back down, you pulled your limbs tightly together, protecting what they wanted from you.

You tasted your own blood, felt the sting of cuts and bruises on your body just formed and yet you still fought, unwilling to let them have any of you.

Acting on instinct to protect yourself until your legs were ripped open and your arms were held down and you retreated into your mind, thinking of what you could have done to stop this outcome, was there anything, one small difference, that could have changed everything? You were asking yourself these questions when the heaviness lessened, and your voice was no longer the only screams in the night. 

You lifted your head at a terrifying sight. Limbs reacting quickly to move away from the bloodshed. You reminded yourself to breathe.

Breathe out. You looked down at the scene, the two assaulters were dead, their bodies covered in scratches. 

Breathe in. And another man, black hair wild and covering his eyes. Hands red, covered in blood that wasn’t his. 

Breathe out. He walks closer to you, bends down, covers your bruised cheek with his bloody hand. Street lights flicker and static electricity stings you at his touch, but you don’t flinch away, feeling a familiarity that didn’t frighten you. 

Breathe in. Somehow you knew the most improbable situation was what this was, you knew what he was.

Breathe out. “Kitty?”

Even with all your breathing, you still passed out at the revelation.

---

You sit straight up, yelping, breathing eratic.

‘What's this?’ You stare at napkins and plastic bags, the trash falling away from your body. You're outside on your porch. Your purse had been underneath your head.

“Ow.” Your ribs hurt, your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your temples hurt. You run your tongue over your dry lips, over a cut and wince. Your bracelet beeps. You’re late for work.

You didn’t have time to think about last night until lunch time. Unable to make food, you stood in line to pay for lunch. Waiting for your turn in line, you listened to today’s gossip. The women of the warehouse discussed in hushed voices last night's murder. “An animal attack, they think.” “What kind of animal could do such a thing?” “Not too far from here at all, two men.” “Men?!” “From the Financial District at that.” “No CCTV either. It made the trending headlines this time.” “Maybe now they’ll do something about the attacks.” “Y/n, what happened to your face?”

“Went drinking last night, went home with the wrong one.” you mutter, running your fingers over the cut on your eyebrow.

The women look over at you with sympathetic eyes, “Please, y/n, my nephew is a good one, I wish you would give him a chance,” your coworker says, a lovely old woman who treats you like a daughter. 

“You didn't met him in VR first?! They have apps now to vet men like that,” another says in an accusing tone, “I would never.”

“Men can still pay to scrub that info from their V life,” the older woman says, rolling her eyes.

You wrap your leftovers in a napkin, pocketing the food. “I don’t have time to take care of a man, sorry Auntie!” Hugging her goodbye, you try not to wince when your ribs touch.

You head back to work, lost in your thoughts, piecing together what your mind allowed you to remember from trauma of last night.

After work you wait at your usual spot, clicking your tongue, but the black cat doesn’t come.

So you wait stubbornly, until it becomes even later than the night before. You check behind trash cans and old boxes, huffing. You were so certain you saw him in the morning, scampering away from you as you woke. Where is he now? You're certain you remembered the events of last night correctly, you're sure of it...aren't you?

Your usual route has been taped off, now a crime scene, so you’re forced to walk through the crowds, weaving through drunken bodies.

Drunken men won’t leave you alone, especially one, even when you tell him off, even when you push him away, he jeers and makes fun of your bruises.

“Looks like someone already taught you a lesson on manners. Didn’t you learn anything?” he slurs, following after you.

You turn down a deserted alleyway and feel small pads hit your shoulder, the warmth of a large cat pressing down onto your back, fur ticking your cheek. You reach up to steady the cat's body, pulling him into a protective embrace close to your chest. The black cat purrs as you stand stunned, looking down at the black cat. “When did you get so big?”

The man takes a swaying step forward and the cat hisses and swats a large paw in his direction, making the man flinch back, chuckling in his drunkenness.

“Leave me alone.” 

He’s too drunk, eyes glazed over, unwilling to stop now that it’s started. He lunges forward and the cat jumps out of your hands, claws aimed at the drunken man’s face. He screams as you attack as well, pushing him away as hard as you can, anger overtaking you. You don’t feel remorse as he hits the ground with a thud, blood pooling around his head, just stunned that it actually worked.

The crowd hears the commotion, men begin to head towards your location. Your heartrate spikes, preparing yourself to run, but instead someone pulls you into a hug, concealing you in the shadows, lifting you into his arms easily instead.

You’re both gone before anyone can reach you, left only to look at the drunken man, now dead.

A piercing scream echoes, but you’re already so far away. He holds you in his arms, moving across roofs with agility like you’ve never seen before. You kept your head buried in his shoulder until he landed in front of your doorstep. Placing you down, your legs buckle once they touch the ground, unable to stop yourself from falling into his arms.

You apologize, searching for your keys as he holds you upright. When you finally unlock your door he turns to leave. Just like that. No!

You find his hand, “Please don’t go, please.”

Smoke appears like a gust of wind, black and thick, and the hand you held evaporated in your palm as you coughed. When the smoke clears, a small figure stood, a cat with wild hair, his back towards you. The black cat looked over its shoulder, green eyes piercing yours.

You held in your gasp, and bent down, bruised knees hitting hard ground.

Reaching a shaky arm towards the cat, he stills. You hold your breath petting soft fur, hands delicately lifting his body into your arms. You couldn’t help the tears escaping, the wetness falling onto his soft hairs.

“I’ll stay out here then.” You whisper into fur, body shaking.

A meow erupts from the cat in protest.

For the second time you fell asleep on your front porch, for the second night you watched a man die and felt no remorse.

---

The next day at work the second murder was all your coworkers could talk about. Trending reports of another slashed bloody, a dead man found blocks away from your own warehouse. The news had trended statewide too, the headline was too juicy, too scandalous; a tourist visiting the labor district, brutally murdered on the night strip, presumably by a prostitute, a dirty woman! He was a father, a leader in the community, a good man!

Fuck him. You kept your head down and worked and didn’t entertain their gossiping. You were on edge all day until you stepped out of work and a familiar feline stared up at you, tail swishing back and forth.

You bent down and wrapped your arms underneath his fluffy belly, pulling him close to you, head nuzzling his furry body. He wiggled in your embrace but did not try to leave, paws instead reaching for your shirt and eventually jumping onto your shoulder. 

That’s how your walks went from then on. You talked to him like always, but now with the understanding that he really knew the words you spoke. He never changed back into the man who helped you, and he always jumped off your shoulder before you could walk inside.

“Please come in, please.” you always said.

But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. ‘Stubborn kitty,’ you thought, and your heart hurt.

-

One night, instead of going home after work, you went dancing. 

“Meow.”

“Is it just me, or is that stray following us?”

“Just you,” you joke, giving your date a small unconvincing smile.

You finally agreed to go out on a date with your coworker’s nephew, Hoseok. “Maybe it’s hungry.” He wonders, laying his arm over your shoulder, confused by its strange behavior.

You looked down at the black cat, walking back and forth gracefully, and looking very much annoyed. “Maybe.”

“My house or yours?” He asks, voice gruff, eyes downcast. Even the good ones still act all the same.

You smile. “Yours.”

A loud deep meow erupts from the black cat. 

-

The next time you left the warehouse, there was no black cat. He’s mad at you. Did you deserve it? He doesn’t expect you to feed him every single night, does he? If he just accepted your offer to stay inside your home, he wouldn’t have to worry about such things, you thought, offended and weary to walk home alone, cautiously making your way down the usual path.

You heard soft footsteps behind you. ‘Not again,’ you thought. Fearing the worst you spun around, coming face to face with your ‘black cat.’ You met deep brown eyes with flecks of green that almost seemed to glow when he stepped cautiously out of the shadows.

He crossed his arms over his chest and walked towards and then past you, looking over his shoulder, an annoyed look on his face. You took the hint and stepped in line. “Um, are you hungry?”

He didn’t speak.

You dug into your purse. You held out the leftovers wrapped in foil to him. He took it and ate as he walked, big urgent bites that made you frown, noticing his hunger. 

You pass a man walking in the opposite direction and your companion presses his shoulder to yours. The gesture warms your heart. Usually, when a man passed by you, you were met with questions or a comment about your body. This time nothing. The stranger keeping his head down, walking away without a word, and you almost wanted to scoff at how invisible you became now that you were in the company of a man, annoyed that’s what it took for strangers to leave you alone.

You stopped once you saw your home in the distance. He looked at you in question, turning to you for the first time. “Thank you…for walking me home tonight. And all those nights. Thank you, kitty.” 

You hugged him, his body stiffened against yours and you didn’t let go until he relaxed, arms slowly reaching around you too.

“Yoongi, my name is Yoongi.” His voice was gruff and raspy like he hasn’t used it in awhile. It was the first time, in a long time he felt he had a reason to speak.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you whispered. And then you let him go, smiling, turning back to your home. 

---

The thing about injustice, is that those who wield it, do not have to live with the pain they cause. But for those who are hit, every day the pain builds upon itself, robbing energy and time to tend to wounds caused by injustice, leaving scars that make it impossible to forget. 

You’ve felt it growing inside you, the anger. The past continued to assault you, making you feel disgusted. You tried to ignore it, but the memories were scars inside you that keep opening, making you angrier, repulsed.

And worse, attacks in the district grew exponentially, outcries from the people were met with platitudes by officials.

And worst of all, the latest trending case involved an elite from the e-tech district. It took four women, the last one reported to have died from the trauma. Of course he faced no punishment. He was a powerful man from the e-tech district, and they were powerless labor women. Injustice upon injustice. The wounds kept on opening, your trauma you kept on remembering, again and again in the faces of these women, anger simmering and growing.

So when you walked your usual path with Yoongi high on your shoulder and heard a concealed whimper in the shadows, you didn’t just mind your own business, like you would have done out of fear no less than a year ago, you were too angry to be afraid.

“Get off of her!”

You hit his back, you hit his head, you hit any part of him you can reach. “Go! Run! Hurry!” you tell the woman, who chokes on her cries and looks at you with tearful scared eyes, nodding.

He is startled, but he is stronger, pushing you away, slapping you across the face. “Crazy bitch! You want to die, yeah?”

He hits you again and you don’t care. You kick him and hit him, knuckles hurting the most with how hard you swing.

He is surprised, but he is stronger, and it only take one solid hit to make you double over, wind knocked out of you and curling into yourself.

Legs trap your body to the ground and you feel disgusted all over again, gritting your teeth, angry tears escaping, your nails dig into his face, drawing blood that surprises you both.

He’s angry, and he’s stronger, fingers wrapping around your neck, a murderous look in his eyes that you match. You belt weakened hits down across his forearm. Part of you, furious, makes a promise that if you survive this, you’ll find a way to kill him and every man who hurts another woman with your bare hands. But another part of you, the part of you that’s tired, that expects this pain to never end, would rather just die. 

A single clawed digit runs across the man’s neck, ending the fight and silencing your thoughts. Yoongi pulls the man off with you ease, throwing his dying body to the ground.

Yoongi crouches down, looking over your battered body. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

“We have to leave.”

“No, leave me alone!”

“Get up,” he says, insistent.

“NO!” Your breath out rapidly, unable to calm your nerves or your anger.

So Yoongi waits, sitting down next to you. “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

Finally, you calm down, tension growing as minutes tick by. “Let’s go,” you swallow, pulling off your blood soaked work shirt, revealing a black tank top underneath, standing up to leave.

“This is not the way home.”

“I know.”

Black smoke zips around you, Yoongi appearing in front of you annoyed. “Where are you going?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, you were going to find another drunk man, you were going to see if he deserved to die too. “Why did you save me?!”

He looks at you, “Because I wanted to.” His answer short, hiding his real answer.

“Why?!”

“When you found me, why did you save me?” He asks, temper rising.

You stumble over your words. “Because it was the right thing to do, how couldn’t I?”

You think back to the day you found Yoongi, thin as a rail, patches of fur missing, tape wrapped tightly around his body, barely clinging to life, you thought he was surely going to die.

It was too cruel, what happened to him, you hadn’t expected him to live through the night, but you wanted him to know kindness too, to know there were good people out there too who wouldn’t hurt him. You nursed him all night and all morning, for days, until he found the strength to walk again, and then one night when you came home from work he was gone, the following night began your walks.

“That’s why. Because it’s right,” he replies.

You swallow down angry tears. “This is not going to stop, it’s not going to stop unless someone stops it.”

---

Spring came and it became unbearably hot in your small home. You left the windows open at night to let the heat out. On your day off, you took to spring cleaning. As you cleaned you looked to the side and saw familiar black fur, Yoongi was outside your window. You put out a bowl of water on the window sill, adding an ice cube which he gratefully licked, slurping the water cutely. He looked bigger. Hair longer, he did not look like the straggly stray you first encountered. He kind of looked intimidating, you mused.

You lean your head against your window frame, running your hand through his thick fur. “You can come inside anytime you want,” you let him know, smiling.

With the spring heat, you traded pants for shorts, thinner fabric, your hair up and off your shoulders. Now that nights were no longer cold, that meant even more people outside. More attacks too, some trending cases coming in from the upper districts.

Once the brutality reached the elite, rallies begin to form, marches through the Neostate's capital. You watched on your home display, conflicted in emotions. It looked nice, but did it change anything? Maybe in those districts, but definitely not here.

It didn’t matter to you, because you promised yourself that night, you would die before you let another man take advantage of you.

So when a man put his arm over yours, pulled you out of the dance hall, and he thought of all the ways he was going to have you that night, you thought of all the ways you were going to kill him.

Alone with him, you spoke low and direct, only once telling him to let you go before he regrets it. He laughs in your face, leans into you, whisky smell coming out of his slimy lips as he attacks the corner of your mouth. 

Ever since that night you let your nails grow. It made it a bit more difficult to complete your duties at the warehouse, but the trade off was worth it, watching men crumple to the floor, screaming in pain when you ripped gashes across their face. Oh, it was so worth it.

“You crazy fucking whore!” The man screeches expletive after expletive, anger growing. You don’t care.

Before you can attack again, before he can attack you, Yoongi attacks.

From behind you, moving quicker than either of you, Yoongi transforms into a man. He lands a series of punches, large hand gripping the assaulter’s face, slamming his skull hard into the unforgiving pavement.

He looks back at you and you look at him and you don’t need to speak to one another before you both are running down the alley away from the dead drunk who could have saved his life if he hadn’t tried to impose himself on you.

You walk next to one another in silence. And then you decide to turn back into the crowd. Yoongi holds you back, wearily asking, “What are you doing?”

“I’m thirsty. It’s hot. I want a popsicle.”

He stops you again. “Cmon on, I’ll buy you one too. A milk one.”

You sit on your porch, smiling at Yoongi who holds two popsicles, once in each hand, licking the frozen milk.

“You’re trending on the local page. Well I guess we’re both trending.”

Yoongi nods, focused on licking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Yoongi nods.

“Why won’t you come stay inside?”

“My kind are territorial. If I choose a home, it’s um, important to choose the right one.”

You pout, “I know my house isn't big or fancy, but it’s sturdy. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just... I had a home once. I thought I would always be welcome. I...” He can’t finish, voice shaking.

You exhale, understanding. “I grew up in foster homes. Some were okay, but it never felt like a family. Some were...horrible...” You wince at memories. “Anyways, what’s the saying, ‘Home is where the heart is’?” You nudge his shoulder. “This feels like home right here. Here with you.” you smile. “Yoongi? Are you…purring?” You look over at him with wide eyes, hearing the familiar vibrations come from deep within his chest.

“No!” He looks away.

---

Neostate's capital never seemed to care about the attacks on women, but the attacks on men? More law-forcers tasked to your district. On every corner. Men protecting men. More arrests of street girls. A curfew for women (unless a man was with you). You could almost feel the fear and tension within the night crowds now.

The people didn’t like the constant watchful eye. Rallys were every day now. Violence was met with more violence. The women who were caught in the crosshairs weren’t taken to Neostate run prisons, no, they were taken immediately to special e-commerce owned prisons, forced to work in the gencrop fields with migrants and farmbots, forced to work with cancer causing chemicals that unions outlawed amongst its citizen workers.

And by some accounts, women were given a second, more heinous, option. Better than slowly dying from cancer causing chemicals, they could use their prison time to serve as live incubators, as human birth was always the more desired option to incubator births. That was Neostate’s answer to the violence, a more sinister, pathological brutality.

Where was the justice for the battered women? Where was the justice?

That kind of injustice, that kind of shared pain, it didn’t lessen or become better over time. It stayed, stretched and thinned, like a blanket, almost comforting at times, suffocating most of all. The hypocrisy was sparking an age old fire amongst the people who had let it simmer for too long. And now, that cloth caught fire, and there was no stopping it.

More rallies and more marches, in every district a curfew now.

The fire was flaming.

And inside danced one flame known as her. Rumors of a powerful woman, with a pet, no a beast, no a cat! People have seen her at night, seen her cat move, jumping over buildings. She walks the streets at night to deal out justice the law-forcers won’t, women she has saved talk of her all the time; the woman with the black cat on her shoulder.

-

One night, the men who deserved punishment, to your surprise, were in uniform.

You stood stunned, unable to process. “L-Let her go...”

“Grab her.”

Of course, unfortunately for him, Yoongi would never allow him to touch you. Larger than you have ever seen him, appearance more like a panther than a black cat, Yoongi attacked the law-forcer with ease. 

This was before you learned Yoongi’s abilities were unmatched by bullets. You jumped in the firing path of the law-forcers. Your vision blurred from the blood loss and the immense black smoke that suddenly appeared. It was everywhere, and Yoongi was unstoppable. 

Everything was destroyed. The destruction didn’t look human, didn’t even look monstrous, it looked like a killer force of nature.

You only heard rumors of it like everyone else, the unexplained phenomena that took the lives of two heroes, because you fell unconscious before you could witness Yoongi's true power.

You woke up in your bed, bandaged, Yoongi and an unfamiliar man at your bedside. 

Your throat itches, dry from days of sleep. Your muscles stiff, tight bandages around your stomach.

“Hello,” the stranger besides Yoongi speaks calmly. “I’m Namjoon, a friend of Yoongi’s. You’re okay now, we were able to stop the bleeding, no major organs or arteries were hit, you’re lucky.”

Lucky, he says. You groan. “You’re doctor?”

“Not quite,” he laughs uneasily. “A veterinarian.” He smiles sheepishly.

You fell asleep after the small exchange, and woke up with a small black cat purring across your chest, feet and tail tucked in, head resting under your chin.

You find enough energy to pet him softly. “Don’t leave, please,” you croaked out, half asleep. “You’re my home.”

Yoongi never left.

---

These days, when you walked with Yoongi, he walked in human form beside you. Yoongi stayed more and more in human form. Stray cats were being round up and euthanized. Animal hospital records were being sequestered and families who owned black cats were being investigated by the State. All over a rumor. Well, the rumors of the woman with the black cat on her shoulder had become more than just gossip between warehouse workers. Whispers of you were heard in every home, in neighboring disticts, in Neostate's capital! You and Yoongi have become a symbol of strength, of hope, a battle cry, a reason to keep fighting.

-

“What should we get? Hweh?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, shaking his head no.

“Hmm,” you browse through the food screen at the grocery kiosk, “Well I can’t afford steak,” you pout.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Noodles!” Yoongi visibly grimaces at the thought, making you laugh.

“How about we settle for chicken?” You smile. Yoongi smiles wide. You somehow always ended up buying the chicken set.

“Y/n? Hey! How have you been?”

“Hobi, hey!” You turn around to see Hoseok’s cheerful face smiling down at you. “I’m great, all things considered.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. You know, I pick up my Aunt and some of the other girls from the warehouse after their shift ends. Has she told you? I can take you home too. It’s not safe to walk alone at night.”

“It’s never been safe,” you sigh. You knew, most women now walked in pairs or with a trusted male escort. “I’m fine,” you reassure Hoseok, “Yoongi walks with me.” you look over to your companion, smiling. If Hoseok only knew how many walks it has been now.

“Oh, nice to meet you! Are you…together?”

“He’s my fr-” You feel Yoongi’s hand reach for yours, intertwining his fingers as he stares down a confused Hoseok. “-iend.” You look down in surprise at his hand tightly holding onto yours.

“A-Ah, okay.” Hoseok looks away flustered by the way your companion stares daggers into him.

The screen beeps and the kiosk's door opens, your food bagged and ready to be picked up. “We g-gotta go.” You turn, pulling Yoongi along.

You walk home and Yoongi never lets go of your hand.

You don’t question him, afraid he might take it the wrong way, instead enjoying the moment, because as affectionate as Yoongi was in cat form, he never touched you unless absolutely necessary in human form.

Yoongi, however, silently stews over the brief encounter, feeling more and more threatened by the man who took you on a date so long ago. Once you enter your home you finally ask him, “Are y-you okay?”

“Yes.” He says, still holding your hand. Lips pressed into a tight line, full of jealousy and quiet rage.

You raise your eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

“You see me as a friend?” he snaps.

“You, um, don’t see me as a friend?” you ask confused.

“I see you as more.” He says it softly, eyes staring you down. He looked angry but he looked sincere, confusing you.

“What do you– What do you mean, Yoongi?” You heartbeat escalates in anticipation.

He didn’t have a proper word for it, the closest human word didn’t sound right at all. He saw you as more, yes, he felt a connection so deep to you, words couldn’t describe it.

He lifts your intertwined hands over his heart, struggling to say what he felt. “You’re– with me– You’re home.”

He raises your hand to his mouth, pressing the skin to his lips softly, before licking.

You smile, giggling at his cute affection before moving closer to him, burying your head into his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat. 

“You’re…more than a friend.” You whisper. You look up at him, catching his eyes, irises such a deep brown shade with tiny flecks of green, his eyes so mesmerizing. “I love you.”

The words were barely spoken. He bends his head down, forehead meeting yours, long messy hair still as soft as a cat’s, ticking your skin. He's closer than he’s ever been to you. You took the chance to move one last inch, closing the distance, pressing your lips against his.

His soft lips brush against yours, making you feel so good you have to force yourself to pull away from him. “Was that okay?”

He answers you by kissing you again, this time with intention, his lips moving against yours, soft and hard and soft and hard and so so warm.

Your heart overflows, it makes you feel dizzy, a happiness you weren’t used to, only touching the surface of the love you felt for him but never diving in, and now it felt so strong and all consuming it left you breathless.

You hug him close again, anchoring yourself to him. “Did I do it wrong?” he hesitates.

“No, everything is right, everything.” 

---

You answered Hoseok's chat right away.

“How did this happen?!” You move beside Hoseok, staring at the hospital bed where his Aunt lies, bandaged and connected to tubing.

“She got caught up in the rally. The law-forcers thought she was a protestor. What shit, they hit her thirteen times! She was still in her warehouse uniform!” You put your hand over her bruised knuckles. Hoseok’s shoulders rack with sobs, Mrs. Jung was Hoseok’s Aunt, but she raised him like her own. “The march was so large I couldn't get my car through the crowd, I couldn't get to her!” He cries, feeling guilty and distraught. You turn to Yoongi, exchanging silent words.

You never attended the marches, deciding to pick your battles. But this time, you decided you enemy was not only a misogynistic bottom feeder from the labor district, not just a sadistic elite taking advantage of his status to hurt women, or a sexist law-forcer abusing his power, your enemy had become bigger, a system working against women like you at every turn. You were going to defend yourself and the women you loved, and even the women you didn’t, you decided.

And that is why you and Yoongi revealed yourselves to the world. You had enough. The people had enough. And this time, because of you, the people had won. It showed the world, power is not just given to men.

---

“The Women’s Protection Act,” your coworker scoffs, moving the hospital food around her plate, “Sounds like Enslavement.” She frowns. “My husband is dead, how am I supposed to get to work if I can’t even leave my own house by myself?”

“I could take you.” Hoseok says.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s a nice thought, but doesn’t fix the problem.” 

“It won’t pass, right?” Yoongi asks.

“They’re scared of us, it will pass,” you say solemnly. 

“Then we fight.” Yoongi says. You all turn to stare at him. “Err right?”

“Fighting here does nothing, the elite districts have to join in, for real.”

“Those girls never worked a day in their life,” she groans, “you think they will dirty their hands for us?”

“If they had someone to rally them, I bet they would… The woman with the cat on her shoulder.” Hoseok says wistfully. “They would follow her, look what happened.” You catch Yoongi’s eyes and quickly look away.

“Yeah, can you believe it? Those fuckers’ weapons all jammed. Can you imagine that cat of hers in the e-tech district?” Hoseok’s Aunt cackles, “Oooh, the entire place would combust!” 

You swallow hard while Hoseok joins in on the laughter. “Ahh that would be great. But the capital has technology that hasn’t even reached us yet, I don’t think she could even survive a fight like that.”

“We should still try.” Yoongi murmurs.

“Yeah? Got a way to chat her? I’d love to meet her,” Hoseok laughs.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, huffing.

You ignored Yoongi’s questions all night, until finally you snap.

“What if you die?!” 

Yoongi looks at you stunned, chuckling. “You’re not worried about yourself?”

You scoff. “I should have died a long time ago.”

“Me too, but a woman saved my life when she didn’t have to, gave me…a home.”

“W-We could expand our watch over to the agriculture district instead. That’s something we can fight and win. Maybe we should just focus on that?” Yoongi stays quiet. “Why help the Elites when half of them agree with the act?!” You ask angrily.

“If you want to stay…I’ll stay with you.” 

Every part of your being is screaming at you not to back down now. “I don’t want to lose you.” Yoongi kisses your forehead, hugging you close. 

To the capital.

You didn’t want to disappear and worry Hoseok and his Aunt, so you went to the antique store and bought paper, wrote a note using real ink for the first time in your life. You gave it Hoseok after leaving the hospital for the last time. Now three people knew your secret. Well, three people and a cat.

“Packed?” He asks.

You nod, on the verge of tears. You hated this place, why did it hurt so much to leave it?

Yoongi sensed your sadness, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly,” you sniffle.

“You’re not, it’s okay to feel sad.”

You finally broke down in Yoongi’s arms. You were terrified and you were sad. You felt like you were being pulled away at sea, the currents of the revolution were too strong for you to swim through, you weren’t strong enough for this. You had no real power, it was all Yoongi, you were a fraud, and you were going to drown and take Yoongi down with you.

A soft purr pulled you away from your thoughts, Yoongi trying to console you the only way he knew how. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, damn if it didn’t work. He’s too cute, too loyal, too perfect for someone like you. You didn’t deserve him, but you were too in love to let him go now.

You lay against him, sharing your bed one last time. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my fight.”

“I might not understand everything, but I know what you’re fighting for is what I want to fight for too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. No matter where we go, my home is you.”

He kissed you softly, wanting to make the moment last. Soft kisses became stronger, deeper. Hands wrapped loosely around your waist and became tangled in your hair, cupping your cheek, firm, pulling you into him.

You moved on instinct, nestling your body close to his, pressing tight to his strong frame. Your heart began to beat so quickly it matched his own, your breath escalating against his lips. You didn’t want it to end, you wanted to be closer, always closer. You wanted all of Yoongi.

“Is this okay?” you ask between heated kisses, Yoongi nods quickly, groaning, head falling forward into the bend of your shoulder as your fingers wrap around his shaft, feeling him harden as you pump. His tongue runs along your shoulder, softly scratching your skin, making you shudder and moan.

His mouth envelops your own, this time with more urgency, tongue licking over your lips until you part them for him. He takes his time tasting and licking into your mouth, holding you tightly as you work to pleasure him.

“I want you, y/n.” Yoongi grunts, moving his body over yours, watching you intently, memorizing your heated expressions to memory. “Please?” he asks, licking his lips.

“Yes,” you nod, widening your legs for him. His fingers pull at your panties, growing a claw just to tear the fabric away. You pull your nightshirt quickly over your head before he can tear it off too.

He stills and admires your body before lips kiss the newly exposed skin as he presses his body down onto yours, slowly connecting himself to you, inside and out. You gasp, stretched by his length, try to steady harsh breathing. Having sex with Yoongi was nothing like you ever felt before, it was so gentle even when he rutted hard into you. It wasn’t just sex, it was making love. The pleasure, the love, it was overwhelming, his fingers exploring your body, pulling at your curves, pinching the most sensitive parts of you.

So much love, so much pleasure, your walls began tightening around his length until he couldn’t hold back any longer, mouth finding the sensitive part of your neck and biting down, releasing inside you. He relaxed into you, licking the mark, softly apologizing. It didn’t even hurt, you reassured him, the pain eclipsed by the pleasure and happiness you felt. It felt so good and right.

He kissed along your neck, down your shoulder, across your chest, moving lower and lower, determined to give you just as much pleasure as you gave him. Rough tongue licking across your sensitive skin until he fell in between your legs, admiring your beauty. You shiver as his fingers run along your sex, push the liquid overflowing out of you back inside, his come, possessively wanting to mark you still. He keeps his fingers deep inside you as he licks your core, tongue pressing over your nub sending shockwave of ecstasy  through you, building the pleasure inside you once more until you reach euphoria’s edge again, this time toppling over. He moans into your core satisfied, your walls clenching around Yoongi’s fingers. 

“Come here,” you finally rasp out, as Yoongi is all too happy to continue to lick you clean.

Hugging him close, tangling your limbs together, you fall asleep one last time in the largest district in the Neostate, the labor district.

---

“How the heck are we supposed to get a pass to visit the e-tech district?” you realize, asking Yoongi when you both step out of your home at sunrise.

He smirks.

-

“Hey Joon.”

“Ahh look at you! You look great.”

“Yeah...Well, Yoongi is not happy.” You frown.

“It will wash off, they do this to all the pets in the higher districts.” Yoongi growled and panted in his cage, his fur a bright shade of purple.

“Let’s go, ‘wife.’” Joon held out his elbow to you.

Loud hisses emit from the cage. You laugh awkwardly, wearing clothes that cost more than your entire wardrobe.

“So your family is from the financial district, eh?” You ask trying to break the tense silence. Joon, Yoongi, and you took a bus to the distribution district, and then once you arrived you transferred into a private driverless car sent by his family.

Namjoon smiles, “Yeah, want to know why I stayed down there, I assume?”

“The thought crossed my mind, yes.”

“Love is funny that way,” he sighs. “They really try to box us into different sectors, make it so hard for each of us to find happiness somewhere else, but when you find the one, nothing else matters.”

You clutch the altered ID card of Namjoon’s late wife.

“You stayed, even after, when you could have gone back...”

“I never had a reason to until now.” He taps on the cage, “Plus, I had a very stubborn patient who wouldn’t leave either,” he raises his voice, teasing Yoongi.

You make it to the financial district in Namjoon’s smart car. You walk with Namjoon to your hotel with Yoongi in tow and you've never seen so many...things. Useless things. What is that thing? Pouring out water you can't even drink. Where does the water go? Why are they wasting so much water?! Water is a scarce commodity, it doesn’t make any sense!

‘Neostate’s Safe Sector continues to riot as our Capital’s Citizen’s Defense Force begins deployment to our nation’s largest sector.’

“Did they just call our district…the Safe Sector.” You blink. “Namjoon places a finger over his mouth, signaling your silence.

He turns the hotel’s display screen’s volume up louder, closing the blinds. He clicks the release on your e-bracelet, placing both his and yours in his suitcase. “Surveillance here is much worse,” he whispers.

You mouth the words ‘safe sector,’ aghast.

Namjoon laughs quietly. “I mean, I don’t think they meant safe as in safety, but I see what you mean,” he whispers.

“Can I let him out now?” 

Namjoon nods and Yoongi stretches his tiny cat body outside his cage, bounding towards the hotel room’s bathroom. 

“Wait!” Namjoon whispers urgently, running after him. “Don’t transfo-”

“THE FU-” Namjoon covers Yoongi’s mouth. Finishing the proclamation, “ONLY ONE SINK?!”

“Huh?!” you rush towards the bathroom but it promptly shuts in your face.

“What’s wrong? I want to see!”

You hear snickering on the other end of the bathroom door and the soft whipping of a towel smacking marble, Yoongi taking out his anger on the poor bathroom’s sink. You can only imagine what he looks like now, you sigh, vowing to make Namjoon tell you in detail what happened.

-

“Do you know what a blueberry is?”

“No.” you say excitedly, you wait to hear Namjoon’s explanation.

In your lap, Yoongi bristles, purple tail puffing out in all directions.

-

“Even with your e-braclet completely offline, I’m still worried. An alert might still send off if they notice someone from the labor district in the capital. I sent it back to Hoseok, Yoongi said that it was okay.” Namjoon whispers.

You nod, a little disappointed your v-life was now truly non-existent. ‘Yoongi is home,’ you repeated in your mind, petting a purring Yoongi. “I got you a new one,” he hands you the shiny new tech. “It’s rudimentary, uses old satellite tech instead of the web. I programed my number and a few trusted others from other sectors. Now, remember your lines for the border-forcers?”

“Yeah, I’m visiting for the day to buy a dress because my husband is being honored with an award.” You say, gripping the leash connected to Yoongi as if your life depended on it, “...with my cat.”

Underneath your expensive clothes you wore all black. You walk in hand with Namjoon, pass a large metal installation sticking out of the sidewalk. It’s marked ‘emergency,’ a button with an icon of a woman engraved in the metal. You wonder what exactly would happen if you pushed it.

How many times has that button been pushed, you wonder, would this district even need a use for such a thing? You took in each passerby. There were so many…men. You’ve only passed by one other female and no children. The men here had manners, which only meant they kept their heated stares upon you for only moments before hurriedly going about their day. But as you pass another installation you think there must be a reason.

“I’m in surgery with a patient, that’s why I can’t come with you. But…” he waits for you to remember your lines.

“There’s a family friend waiting to escort me on the other side,” you repeat the lie.

“Great, you got this! Now, try to keep your chin up, act like you belong.”

Ugh.

---

You look across the city lights, so many buildings, so many people. Everything looked so new and clean and so different. The wind was even different here; crisper, fresher.

Under these circumstances, you could see why it was easier for most of them to ignore the abuse. You had to believe they wanted to stop it too. You had to believe the oppression broadcasted from other districts had echoed loud enough with an uncanny cry, familiar to them too.

Well, for now you’re here with just one other by your side and the hopes of your people on your shoulders.

“What do you think, Yoongi?”

Yoongi turns his head and smiles, stealing a kiss. “I’d say I have seven more lives, at least,” he muses.

“What’s the supposed to mean,” you huff, weary. You hold up the plastic map, it generates the landscape, Yoongi studies nine Xs across the terrain. “You know there are only two women on the council? And one of them is in favor of the act! Well,” you sigh, “I guess a 50/50 vote is the best odds we could hope for.” You think out loud.

Yoongi crouches down, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, settling on his back. “Ready?” he asks.

“No,” you mumble, “What did you mean by seven lives?”

“Just that...my last life, I want to spend just being happy with you.”

You hug him tighter, nodding. Smokes appears around you and wherever you and Yoongi go. The power goes out and the city shuts down. It’s not the women who are afraid, it’s the men.

---

The line “forged from pain,” what I meant was, written from pain. This is pain and anger and sadness of a woman in a society that wages war against women. Sorry, no lightheartedness from me for awhile. If you didn’t like this story or its ending, I’m not sorry. I will finish my WIPs soon, but I’m going to keep writing stories like this for now.

Spring Fling Masterlist

[grimmshold]

DETAILS I LOVE ABOUT ENCANTO (2021)

In the opening scene, before Mirabel pulled her bedroom door, she pulled a loose thread on her skirt

When Mirabel wanted Antonio to open his gift, she pointed at it with her lips

When Mirabel gifted Antonio a sewn animal stuffed toy, it foreshadowed his gift

When the kid threw their hat to the wall and Casita caught it to place with the other hats on the wall

When Casita poured everyone's morning coffee

When Casita was urging Antonio to walk down the aisle towards his door

Luisa never rested/was never seen sitting in the film until the end when she was thrown to the hammock with a drink

The way Abuela's expression of losing her Pedro at the beginning was different and more heartfelt because she was telling the story to her young grandchild, and it contrasted how much hurt she looked (I cried so BAD) the second time when the actual and more story was told

When Agustin was copying his wife and when Mirabel was out of the screen, he even pursed his lips to seem like a serious parent

The smile Pepa had on her face when Felix told her, "I'm sorry mi vida go onnnn"

Dolores never yelled. She was always just whispering. Except when she had to blurt out during engagement night about Bruno's vision about Mirabel. And when she finally seized the moment with Mariano

Dolores could only whisper her part of the song bc she knew Bruno was nearby. She pulled Mirabel away bc she knew Bruno was up there behind her and had to hide him (speculation really)

Only Pepa's side of the family and Isa got to have their memories of Bruno but nothing with Luisa and Mirabel, indicating they're not as close* / familiar with Bruno

How Pepa's own family could handle her weather emotions more than Abuela; Felix telling her to be more expressive and Camilo comforting his mami with tea even though he ended up getting zapped by the cloud during it

Times Abuela had put pressure on her family:

- When Mirabel accidentally set Abuela's flower mat on fire = already a symbol of how they aren't close at all and have never been since the day she found out she had no gift

- When she pulled a white flower from Isabela's hair when Isabela was flustered about Mariano wanting five babies

- Abuela always had Luisa calling to go about the house

- When she wasn't really that into Antonio's gift; she was just relieved the magic lived on. In fact during the breakfast scene, when she shooed the animals who warmed up her seat, she told Antonio she'll find something of use to his gift soon

- She always dismissed Mirabel no matter the situation

- Abuela always only said do this and that for the family/encanto but not when Mirabel could possibly be in danger because of the vision

- Abuela always told Pepa about her clouds; same notion when mothers tell you to stop being "moody" / "emotional" even tho it's something you can't control (and shouldn't, unless it could hurt someone)

Bruno was jamming right behind Mirabel and Dolores during their part in We don't Talk About Bruno (LOVE THIS PART SM LMAO JAMMING TO HIS OWN DISS TRACK)

When Pepa pushed the cloud out of the room like a giant pillow (her grunted sHOO)

When Felix wanted Pepa to stand back so Antonio doesn't get wet by the cloud but it doesn't mean he wanted her to stop — two different things

When Dolores associated the sound of sand to "ch" and it LITERALLY sounded like sand + Bruno's room is full of sand

Other signs to foreshadow Bruno lived in the walls: Dolores saying the rats talking in the walls & Dolores saying, "It's like I hear him now" after she told the prophecy Bruno told about her

When we found Bruno drew his own plate on the table behind the photograph in the dining room

Camilo spitting a flower out of him

The literal new foundation being about rebuilding Casita & rebuilding their relationship as well as with the community they grew up with

When Dolores was looking out to Mariano telling about Bruno's vision of the man of her dreams being betrothed to another, aka Isabela

At the end of the film, the doors no longer have portraits on them that separated them

As much as I would've wanted Camilo and Mirabel to have talked at least once in the entire film, I think it's normal that there are cousins who aren't as close as they are with the others

When Dolores took care of calming Abuela down once Casita fell

When Camilo was more worried how Antonio feels without his gift anymore

In Bruno's vision, Mirabel and the house were grey, maybe to portray the sand of it falling but when Mirabel had been under the rubble, Casita still managed to shelter her with what's left of Casita

When Casita waved goodbye after rescuing Mirabel

Bruno's door most likely shut down its power bc he has never used his gift ever since he left from the Madrigals' sight. That's why it glowed when Mirabel asked him for help

He was clinging most to Mirabel since he got back

How Camilo probably either last saw Bruno when he was 5 and bc of that, Bruno looked like a 7 footer or he just wanted to scare his cousin about it

Open your eyes was one of the earliest lines of the film and it was Abuela telling Mirabel that. But then in Mirabel's song it was her wanting her Abuela to open her eyes to see her beyond having no gift. And then again when in the end Casita was rebuilt

The fact that Bruno joked about rain on his sister's wedding day to cheer her up but backfired. Classic brother move

Bruno put a bucket over his head when they were rebuilding the house

Dolores' "mh" expression before or after she speaks (idk how to type that sound but iykyk)

Most of the pressure were on Bruno, Isa, and Luisa as seen in a flashback where Abuela was walking past their doors because their gifts were more useful than Camilo's shapeshifting, Pepa's weather control, and Julieta's magic meals; so that would explain why they were pushed more than the others by Abuela's standard

When Abuela wanted to drop Mirabel's scare about the candle losing flame and Luisa carried the piano over to her father, her eye was twitched for a split second

When Mirabel sat beside Luisa during breakfast, it caused a slight thunder from Pepa but she was calmed by Felix

The patterns on each character's clothing reflects their powers and Mirabel's clothes embodies everyone's color = glue of casita and the Madrigals

The personality of each character reflects their gift

Bruno's superstitions: knock on wood, throwing salt, using sand, meditation, holding breath while crossing fingers, not stepping on cracks

[gwen-novella]

Braids

Pairing: Ivar x female reader (don't be fooled by the beginning)

Word count: 4.9K

Warnings: Brief angst, fluff, insecure Ivar, soft Ivar, my poor attempt at humor, someone who knows absolutely nothing about braiding hair describing just that, un-beta’d writing

Summary: An interaction with one of Ivars brothers leads you to discover your husbands greatest insecurity. Or: the story of how Ivar got his signature braids.

Author’s note: Guess who's back (...back again). This story is based off of this request and has been sitting in my drafts for months. I am not completely happy with it, but hope you enjoy it anyways! Comments and reblogs make my day!

(The picture will come in handy, I swear)

For as long as you can remember you’ve always loved braiding hair. There’s just something so alluring about a beautiful hairdo, especially when adorned with ribbons, pearls or flowers, that you find yourself captivated whenever a man or woman with a particularly well done braid passes you on the market.

As a kid you would always ask other girls if you could practice your skills on them, having learned from your mother, who wished to sate your curiosity, how to weave hair into both practical and intricate arrangements. Of course, with time, your fascination has dulled, though you still braid your own hair and that of others on rare occasions, like Torvi’s wedding, having received many compliments for your work on her hair the day she married Bjorn Ironside.

So, considering your history, you simply can not contain the laughter bubbling up inside you, when you walk past the training grounds during your afternoon stroll along the forest lines, and spot Hvitserk sitting on a small tree trunk. Startled he turns to face the sudden noise and, upon seeing you, raises a questioning eyebrow.

"By the gods Hvitserk", out of breath from your laughter and still slightly giggling you approach him. "You do know there are plenty of trees with nests around?", now standing in front of him you widen your arms for emphasis as you chuckle, "You needn’t grant the birds refuge in your hair!"

Rolling his eyes Hvitserk turns back to face the sparring group of young men he was previously watching, and presumably instructing, giving you a close up view of his hair. His ash blond tresses are tangled beyond recognition, leaves and sticks caught in between different strands of hair and…

"Oh my", reaching for a thick strand atop his head you splutter, "Why is this part so much shorter than the rest?" Giving a nonchalant shrug, whilst never taking his eyes off the fighting men, Hvitserk replies, "There was a big knot and I didn’t have the patience to comb it out - Oi Gorm! You’ve got a fucking shield, use it for Odin’s sake!"

Baffled you gape at him, even though he can’t see it, before promptly smacking the back of his head. "What the…", Hvitserk glances at you over his shoulder whilst rubbing his head, "What was that for?"

"What was that for?", you mock him in an exasperated tone. "By the gods Hvitserk, it is truly time you married, for you appear to be lost without a woman." Reaching into the pouch sewn into your fur coat, feeling around between coins and other odds and ends, you pull out a small comb and instruct Hvitserk to "Sit on the ground".

At this he turns around to fully face you again, obviously trying to figure out why you want him to leave his spot on the trunk. Once he spots the comb in your hands he rolls his eyes, though he does so with no real malice. "Don’t bother", Hvitserk tries to dissuade you, "But if you’re oh so greatly bothered by my appearance I will have a thrall look after my hair tonight, alright?"

Huffing you cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot against the ground, "No, not alright! We have guests visiting from Trondheim and I will not stand by and watch a Son of Ragnar walk around as if he’d just had his head mauled by Fenrir."

Seemingly coming to terms with the fact that there’s no way to deter you now, Hvitserk sighs and slides down to sit on the ground, enabling you to take his place on the tree trunk and leaving you in the perfect position to tend to his hair.

After loosening what remained of the old braids and combing them out, which was quite the feat in and of itself, you start braiding. Picking up small sections of hair, you create a braid going straight down the center of his head, using the short hair you'd noticed earlier, before doing the same twice on each side of his head.

Keeping a more laid back arrangement in mind, as you will definitely still send Hvitserk to his thrall later to get proper scalp braids fit for vigorous training, you create the braids in a way so that only the first few twist run along the scalp, leaving the rest of the braid to hang loosely.

Bringing the five braids together at the back of his head, the combined end hanging only slightly below his neck, you create two more braids, left and right to the joint one, from the remaining, longer hair. Once those are done you join them at their respective ends as well, the tip of this one resting further down than the first, below Hvitserk’s shoulder blades.

Throughout the process easy conversation, as well as jest and banter, flows freely, the occasional silence more often than not broken by Hvitserk’s comments on the men’s fighting. "For fuck’s sake Njal, with stance like that the next gust of wind will knock you over." ;"I’ve seen blind men react faster than you Trygve!" ;"What did I tell you, huh? Use your damn shield or I’ll send you on your first raid without one, Gorm!"

Whenever Hvitserk makes such remarks you chuckle, always having enjoyed your friend’s carefree humor, especially in light of recent events, your laughter only intensifying when your shaking causes you to yank on his hair, making the man below you hiss as if fatally wounded.

Once you announce that your work on his hair is finished, Hvitserk leaps form his position on the ground and charges at who you now know is Gorm, shouting about how he’s gonna show him why he "better use his fucking shield."

Chuckling at Hvitserk’s antics, and sending a quick prayer to the gods in Gorm’s name, you turn your back to the sparring men, intent on continuing your interrupted walk. Only now do you realize how much time has passed, as the colors in the sky indicate that the evening is well on its way.

Deciding that it is way past time for you to head back to the city, you start strolling along the path you came from, letting your gaze travel leisurely over your surroundings. Over the houses growing bigger the further your walk, the waves crashing against the shoreline far off in the distance and the fields near the training grounds, where a few thralls are still busy tending to the crops growing there.

Peaceful certainly isn’t the first word you’d use to describe Kattegat, with the city and its citizens seemingly never resting, but that is precisely why you enjoy your daily walks oh so greatly. Taking things in from a distance, looking down on what usually seems so grand yet so small from up on the hills, being far away from the bustling market, masses of people and your newly acquired duties, everything seems so serene - truly peaceful - giving you a chance to let your mind wander.

Feeling a gust of wind blow through your hair, the cold slowly creeping down your neck, onto your back and into your bones, you pull the hood of your heavy fur coat up over your head, enjoying the last few minutes of your little retrieve, as you can already hear the sounds of the city grow louder.

Eventually stepping through one of the gated side entrances to the city leading directly onto the main market square, you find that even your modest clothing and the hood covering a significant amount of your face doesn’t make you any less recognizable. The few people happening to glance in your direction briefly bow their heads in acknowledgment of your presence and the vendors closest to where you walk by each greet you with some version of "Good evening, my Queen."

Queen. A word you have yet to get used to being addressed as - that you may never get used to being addressed as.

You nod politely at each person that acknowledges you, but keep walking, until your eyes fall onto a girl talking to a man at a stall just a few feet from where you’re standing. "Estrid!" Hearing her name she turns around and, after spotting you waving in her direction, hastily excuses herself from her conversation with the vendor, hurrying over to where you’re standing.

"My Queen", the young woman pants once standing in front of you, now hugging the basket once held in her hand to her stomach, "my apologies, I wasn’t aware you hadn’t returned yet. What can I do for you?"

Queen. Yes - definitely never going to get used to that.

"How many times must I remind you to call me y/n?", you ask Estrid, smiling kindly at her when she lifts her head to look at you, her brown, shoulder length hair no longer hiding her face. "I’m sorry, my Queen, but I hardly think it is appropriate to call you that", chewing on her bottom lip she nervously looks over her shoulder, "especially in public."

"Oh, nonsense", laughing lightly you put a hand on the girls shoulder, leading her to walk with you. This debate, if you could even call it that due to your respective positions, has been ongoing ever since you’d picked Estrid as your personal thrall not too long ago. Not that you’d felt the need for one, much rather having been persuaded by those around you.

"You know how I feel about that title", squeezing her shoulder gently you turn your head to look at her, "it is overwhelming enough to have most everyone else say it, I needn’t hear it said from someone who spends so much time with me as well."

Slowly Estrid’s shoulder relaxes under your hand and you finally hear her sigh out a quiet "Alright". After a short silence she looks up at you and finds herself faced with your expectant expression, one eyebrow raised in anticipation. "Alright… y/n."

Grinning you remove your hand, bumping her shoulder with your own. "Now that wasn’t so hard was it?" At this you hear Estrid giggle quietly, "I suppose not", her response followed by a comfortable silence, until you reach the edge of the market, leaving stalls and vendors behind, houses of all kinds now lying in front of you.

"So", the both of you slowing down to a halt, Estrid turns to question you once more, "What was it you needed, my Q- y/n?" Fondly shaking your head at her almost-slip-up you realize you’d truly forgotten about your reason for calling the girl. "Oh right! Well, as I’m sure you can tell, I may have lost track of time on my walk", you explain, "do you happen to know how much longer it is ’til the feast tonight?"

Tilting her head in thought, a cute quirk of hers that you quite adore, Estrid considers your question for a moment before replying, "I’d say the feast is a good two and a half hours out, if not longer, it is set to happen later than usual. I know the food preparations are well on their way, but I haven’t seen anyone readying the Great Hall yet."

You hum in acknowledgment to her explanation, when she perks up, "Oh, shall I assist you in getting ready? Do you wish to take a bath perhaps?" Smiling at her eagerness, you decline, "No need Estrid, thank you, I truly only meant to ask you about the feast. Actually - you’re relieved of any duties tonight, why don’t you go and enjoy the celebrations as well?"

Seeing her face scrunch up, ready to protest, you lift your hands to shush her, "Ahah, no, I won’t hear it. You do not get to decline." Hardening your expression in mock seriousness you continue, "Enjoy yourself. That is an order", the ridiculousness of it all making the both of you giggle.

Estrid beams at you, curtsying with a small bow of her head, "Thank you." Waving your hand as to say "it is nothing", you turn around, calling a "I will see you later, Estrid" over your shoulder, intent on finding- wait, you have absolutely no idea where he could be.

You stop, spinning on your heel to find Estrid still stood where you left her seconds ago, though making to walk away from you, "Oh, Estrid", you call, catching her attention, the girl promptly closing the few steps between you again. "One more thing - have you seen Ivar?"

Recognition spreads across her face, "I last saw the King in the Great Hall, the earl of Trondheim has left their meeting there not too long ago", Estrid explains, further supplying: "Perhaps he is resting in your bedchambers there?"

King. Now, whilst at odds with your own position, it always seemed to you as though King was a title made to be held by Ivar. It was like the gods had crafted it especially for him - and only for him - any prior bearers only trying it on for size, never quite living up to it. You were sure of this the day you had met him, the day you married him, the day a crown was first lain upon his head - you just failed to prepare for what would come along with your husbands destiny, how it would shape your own.

Shaking your head of those thoughts with a sigh, you thank Estrid, who curtsies once more, before finally heading on your way for good now, this time with an actual destination in mind.

Even though you deeply enjoy the time you spend in your daily walks, with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company, your mood brightens when you think of seeing Ivar again, even more so at the prospect of getting to spend a few hours alone with him before the feast. Perhaps that is why you find yourself at the Great Hall sooner than expected, time passing by quickly with your mind consumed by thoughts of your husband.

Husband. Oh, another one of those words, though you’ve got no thoughts to spare on that right now.

Leaving the grand wooden doors behind you, you’re intent on walking straight to your shared chambers, up and behind the twin thrones, where you’re sure a nice warm fire will be waiting for you alongside Ivar. You’re surprised then, to see him still standing ahead a table, looking down on a map, though you feel like he is more so looking through and not at the paper.

Nevertheless, you’re delighted to see him and wrap your arms around him from the side, once you’re standing next to him. He’s not surprised by your touch, evidently having noticed your arrival despite his apparent distraction, though he does feel tense.

"Hello love." Your greeting is spoken against his cheek, your lips leaving a soft kiss there. You walk away towards your chambers without waiting for a reply, only supplying "I’ll go warm up in our chambers", as you’re sure he’ll follow you, the "Join me?", thrown over your shoulder more so said out of habit than anything else.

"I did not realize how much time had passed", you continue, once you’ve stepped over the threshold to your room, pleased by the warmth there, a glance to your left towards the fireplace confirming at least one out of your two earlier suspicions.

Walking over to one of chairs surrounding a table standing at the wall to the right side of the room, you chuckle as you remember the chain of events that led you to be so late. "I passed Hvitserk at the training grounds, helped him with his hair. You should have seen-", draping your heavy fur coat over the chair you’re interrupted by Ivar replying from behind you, "Oh, I know. I saw."

Turning to face your husband, who’s now entered the bedchamber as well and is leaning against the wall opposite of you, standing right on the rug next to the fire, you tilt your head in question. "I was showing the earl of Trondheim around, all the way up to our fields", Ivar starts and immediately you sigh, wanting to reprimand him for needlessly straining his legs for a task that could just as well have been done by one of his men.

You don’t get the chance to however, as Ivar continues, "And imagine my surprise, when I saw my wife in the distance, sitting behind my brother, braiding his hair … laughing." There’s an odd tone to his voice, an edge almost, that you didn’t notice before, evidently having been to distracted, though you’re not quite sure what to make of it.

"You know", pushing those thoughts aside, as you’re pretty sure you’re imagining things, you keep your words light and teasing, "As I was trying to tell you - before I was ever so rudely interrupted - you should have seen his hair! I swear, no bird could have built a greater nest."

Your snickering dies down quickly when Ivar, who’s normally very eager to joke about his older brothers, doesn’t seem to share your amusement. If anything he seems even more tense than before, making your eyebrows knit together in confusion. You’re about to question Ivar if something is wrong, already fearing him to be in pain from his legs, when he speaks again: "You’ve never braided my hair before."

Baffled a second time this day, you blink at him, now thoroughly confused, for you are unsure whether he is joking with you. Deciding that this must be the case you jest, "Well that would be because you do not look like a scraggly rat when your hair is unkept."

Once again your attempt at humor falls on deaf ears, Ivars expression souring as he lets himself slide down the wall to sit on the rug with his legs spread in front of him. Instead of engaging in further conversation, as you would expect, he busies himself with readjusting and tightening the ties of his leg braces.

Realizing that, for whatever reason, he is giving you the cold shoulder you begin to question, "Alright what is it Ivar? Did I do something?" Receiving no reply, except a scoff, you grow agitated and, crossing your arms over your chest, you raise your voice, "Ivar I am talking to you!"

At this he lifts his head, a defensive look on his handsome face, "I just told you, did I not?" Agitation is evident in his tone as well, and your confusion grows even further, which must show on your face, because Ivar scoffs once more and tries to dismiss you, "Just forget it."

Shaking your head in frustration you reply, "No Ivar we will talk about this, whatever this is." When he fixes you with a stare that clearly expresses that he wants you to leave it, you throw your hands up in the air, "I just really don’t understand why you’re so irked about me braiding -"

"It’s not about the fucking braiding!", Ivar roars, his entire body shaking in rage, giving you a glimpse of the person so many men fear. Despite your elevated position, due to Ivar sitting on the ground as opposed to standing, you feel cornered and you flinch, recoiling a step back.

You’ve seen Ivar angry many times before, though his anger was never once directed at you, since you always managed to calm Ivar, not necessarily with words, but simply with your presence. A blessing you’ve always thought yourself lucky to have - though the Seer had laughed at you for your use of the word 'luck', explaining that Freya herself had crafted your bond with Ivar long ago, the goddess delighted by such a perfect match.

Your reaction to Ivars outburst therefor not due to fear, for you know he’d never hurt you, but much rather a display of shock.

It appears Ivar was startled as well, his face falling upon seeing your reaction, and taking a few deep breaths, he reigns himself in. When he speaks next, all agitation has left his voice, his words now carrying a defeated, almost shameful tone, "Forgive me."

Taking a deep breath yourself, you wave away his concern, "There is nothing to forgive". Your lowered voice matches Ivars, both of you having lost your respective tempers upon seeing the effect your agitation had on the other. Walking towards and then kneeling to the left of him, seeking to be closer, you lift your hand to gently grasp Ivar’s chin, letting go once his eyes have found your own once more, "Talk to me."

Sighing, your lover relents. "It is truly not about you braiding Hvitserk’s hair", he says, "It’s not even about my stupid brother either, it’s…". Seemingly struggling to find the correct words, or perhaps just with his own vulnerability, Ivar looks around the room, as though he’ll find answers in the oaken furniture, or the golden flames of the fire.

When he next sets his gaze on you, there is a sense of resolution in it, though you feel it is not without an air of sadness, and Ivar’s tone confirms your intuition. "I want to make you happy - the happiest woman in all of Midgard", he raises a hand to cradle your face and gives you a small smile, "but whenever I see you with another man I worry that I may not be able to do so - that I am holding you back."

Dropping his hand from your face again, Ivar continues, "And everyday I fear that you will see it too." Your heart squeezes at his admission, to see your husband so insecure unsettles you greatly, even though you’re not quite sure what has him thinking you could ever be happier in another man’s arms.

"My love", you begin, sliding your legs out from underneath you, moving so you’re leaning on your left hand, which you place between Ivars legs, your face now directly in his line of sight, "Where are these thoughts coming from? Why are you doubting my love for you? Why are you doubting yourself?" You shake your head in disbelief, Ivar’s previous words echoing in your head, "Look around you Ivar! Look at what you’ve achieved, all the people you lead-"

"That is not the same", Ivar interrupts you again, though his voice remains soft unlike before, "I do not doubt my abilities as king. But leading people - commanding people, it is a different matter. I can portray myself as I wish, put on any front I want if I so desire to, but I can do no such thing to win your love."

You’re still unsure what Ivar is talking about, but then his gaze falls upon his legs and his expression becomes sorrowful, "You will see beyond the braces holding me up, beyond any titles evidence of status and power, and beyond anything else that people may perceive, just to one day discern that what lies beneath is nothing more than the same cripple I have always been."

By the end of his tirade you have tears in your eyes, but you compose yourself, for it is now your time to speak, and you need him to understand. "Ivar look at me", you request, and when his blue eyes raise to meet yours, the dejection that’s present in them breaks your heart.

"Firstly, you needn’t win my love, for you have done so many years ago." Breaking the eye contact between the two of you, you look down at his legs, your hands following your gaze, starting to unbuckle the braces on his right leg. Sensing that Ivar wants to protest, you give him a stern look, one that tells him that you’re not done talking.

"I always say that I do not like when you call yourself a cripple. Now, that is not because of the word itself, but because of what you make it out to be." Once finished with the buckles themselves, you pause so you can remove the brace and after placing it aside, you then turn your attention to his other leg.

"I know you’re a cripple Ivar - you were sitting when we spoke our vows. I loved you then and I love you now. You speak as though your accomplishments are meaningless because of your legs, when in truth it is the other way around: Your limitations are meaningless, because you did not let them stop you from chasing your ambitions."

Now also done with the buckles on his left leg, you repeat the process of removing and placing aside the brace, and raise your head to meet Ivar’s eyes with your own. Smiling at him, you speak truthfully, "I am as proud of you when you walk, as when you crawl."

At that a smile graces Ivar’s face, the sadness vanishing from his eyes, an air of calmness taking its place, that is, until you speak your next words, "You should leave the braces off, at least for the rest of the night. You know it isn’t good for you to wear them so extensively."

Ivar begins to protest, only getting out: "We have important visitors -", as it is now your turn to cut him off. " know of our guests from Trondheim.", you assure him, "And I understand your motivation to make an impression."

When Ivar raises an eyebrow as if to say "So?", you continue, "Just like me, and anyone else who knows of you, they too are aware of your condition. Your braces won’t make them respect you - your triumphs, words and actions will. If anything, those are even more impressive when one considers the additional challenges you have faced and continue to face every day."

Swinging your left leg over both of his to straddle his thighs, mindful of holding most of your own weight, you cradle Ivars face in your hands. His blue eyes look up into yours with so much adoration your cheeks burn, and, certain you’d otherwise vanish under his intense gaze, you avert your eyes, focusing instead on where your fingertips are drawing invisible shapes on his cheekbones.

Ivars finger lifting your chin is what makes your eyes raise once more, the small wrinkles around his eyes the only indication that he is smiling, before he leans in to gently capture your lips with his own, an action that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. Or are they butterflies? Surely such small creatures couldn’t possibly be responsible for the storm swirling in your stomach anytime Ivar touches you so softly - like you’re precious, something to be cherished.

When Ivar pulls back from the kiss your lips chase his, earning yourself another one of his smiles, those reserved only for you. "I love you", the words flow from his lips, said as though they are some fundamental truth, pulling your own confession from deep within your chest, "I love you too". Though truthfully, you’ve never needed any convincing to speak those words to him, for you couldn’t keep them to yourself, even if you tried, the phrase demanding to be spoken - and you always do, you’d shout it from your throne in the Great Hall for all of Kattegat to hear, if it were appropriate. Speaking of…

"Do you have any more obligations before the feast?", you ask Ivar, who in response only shakes his head, slightly surprised by your question, at such a time. "Good", you beam at him, lifting yourself out of his lap. Ivars expression quickly morphs from intrigued to very much displeased, which you pay no mind, going first to retrieve something from your coat, then from your dresser.

Ivars intrigue is quick to return, when you come back to where he’s sitting, with a comb and a few thin leather straps in hand, motioning for him to reposition himself on the rug, so that you may sit behind him. He does so wordlessly, comfortably sinking into your chest once you’re seated, as to grant you better access to his hair.

Before you can begin braiding, Ivar catches your left hand to bring it to his mouth, placing a kiss on your knuckles. You don’t have to. You lean in closer, your lips pressing to where his shoulder meets his neck. I want to.

Unlike with Hvitserk, no words are spoken in the hour or two it takes you to braid Ivars hair, a comfortable silence allowing you to just bask in the others presence, not even disturbed once you hear the sounds of preparations throughout the Great Hall through the door to your chambers. The steady movements of your hands only occasionally interrupted by the kisses Ivar peppers on your fingertips, the palm of your hand, the inside of your wrist - you matching him one for one, your lips meeting his neck, cheek, that special spot behind his ear.

This intimacy is something so different from anything else the two of you have ever shared, never quite knowing it to be missing, but surely never able to live without it again. So that night laying in bed after the feast, running your fingers over the scalp braids now adorning Ivars head like a crown, you vow to yourself to never, ever, miss an opportunity to braid his hair again.

[derangedrhythms]

any small quotes about blood, flesh, or eating people?

"…I loved blood since I had tasted yours."

⁠— Marguerite Duras, from ‘Hiroshima Mon Amour’, tr. Richard Seaver

"I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow."

⁠— Hélène Cixous, Stigmata: Escaping Texts; from ‘Love of the Wolf’, tr. Keith Cohen

"What a man. You could drink his blood."

⁠— Linda Gates on Ted Hughes, quoted in ‘Red Comet; The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath’ by Heather Clarke

"She feels savage, she could eat a heart."

⁠— Margaret Atwood, from ‘Life Before Man’

"He is part of me now. We cannot go back. He is in my bones; in my blood."

⁠— Katherine Clements, from ’The Coffin Path’

"You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart. And maybe it will be. But he’s so hungry, he’ll eat you all in one sitting, and you’ll be in his belly, and what will you do then? Hear me say it, because I know. I ate all of my husbands."

⁠— Catherynne M. Valente, from ‘Deathless’

"How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood."

⁠— Margaret Atwood, from ‘The Blind Assassin’

"For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love."

⁠— Hélène Cixous, Stigmata: Escaping Texts; from ‘Love of the Wolf’, tr. Keith Cohen

"I drink your blood / and I split your heart."

⁠— Olga Orozco, Torn: Engravings of Insomnia; from 'To Destroy The Enemy'

"She bit him she gnawed him she sucked / She wanted him complete inside her"

⁠— Ted Hughes, Crow; from ‘Lovesong’

“There’s blood between us, love, my love,”

⁠— Christina Rossetti, Poems; from 'The Convent Threshold'

"...I could be a wolf for you. I could put my teeth on your throat. I could growl. I could eat you whole."

⁠— Catherynne M. Valente, The Bread We Eat in Dreams; from 'The Red Girl'

"I want / to mix your name with stars / with blood / to be inside, you"

⁠— Halina Poświatowska, from ‘Indeed I love’, tr. Maya Peretz

"Simone Weil says that when you really love you are able to look at / someone you want to eat and not eat them."

⁠— Marie Howe, The Kingdom of Ordinary Time; from 'After the Movie'

"Know this: / I live beast days. I am a water hour. / At night my eyelids droop like forest and sky. / My love knows few words: / I like it in your blood."

⁠— Gottfried Benn, ‘Threat’ tr. Michael Hofmann

⁠"Please," she said, "you're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else."

⁠— C. S. Lewis, from 'The Horse and His Boy'

"I thought I breathed the perfume in your blood."

— Charles Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil; from 'The Balcony', tr. William Aggeler

"Love is when you suddenly wake up as a cannibal, and not just any old cannibal, or else wake up destined for devourment."

⁠— Hélène Cixous, Stigmata: Escaping Texts; from ‘Love of the Wolf’, tr. Keith Cohen

"if I’ve dreamt or thought you / a pack of blood fresh-drawn / hanging darkred from a hook / higher than my heart"

— Adrienne Rich, Fox: Poems 1998-2000; from ‘For This’

"Give me a pot and let me turn cannibal. I will feast on her with greater delight than he. If she is his titbit then I will gourmet her. Come here and discover what it is to be spiced, racked and savoured. I will eat her slowly to make her last longer. Whatever he has done I will do. Did he eat her? Then so will I. And spit her out."

⁠— Jeanette Winterson, from ‘Gut Symmetries’

"He bit her shoulder / & entered her blood forever."

⁠— Erica Jong, How to Save Your Own Life; from 'The Puzzle'

"She will step across the stage, words coiled, she will open her mouth and the room will explode in blood."

— Margaret Atwood, Dancing Girls and Other Stories; from 'Lives of the Poets'

"Here's a gnawed bone, / it's my own, / I took it out of my arm, / Here's my heart, in a little pile of vomit."

— Margaret Atwood, The Door; from 'String Tail'

"…he ate my heart in half / and I was glad."

— Anne Sexton, The Book of Folly; from 'The Death of the Fathers'

"There is a good look that I wear / like a blood clot. I have / sewn it over my left breast."

— Anne Sexton, Love Poems; from 'Again and Again and Again'

"Suddenly she was eager for his eyes, to bite into them; to gnaw his cheek."

— Toni Morrison, from 'Beloved'

"Now you are at the place of annihilation, now you are at the place of annihilation. She turns her head away from the blue beams of his eyes; she knows no other consummation than the only one she can offer him. She has not eaten for three days. It is dinner-time. It is bed-time."

— Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; from 'The Lady of the House of Love'

"Like the woman / who watered her roses with blood"

— Erica Jong, At the Edge of the Body; from 'Blood and Honey'

"You know, in bed he smells like a butcher."

— Assia Wevill referring to Ted Hughes, from ‘A Lover of Unreason: The Life and Tragic Death of Assia Wevill’ by Yehuda Koren and Eilat Negev

"...I want to swallow you, have you melt into me and flow through my veins."

— Han Kang, from 'The Vegetarian', tr. Deborah Smith

"—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place."

— William Shakespeare, from 'Much Ado About Nothing'

"Long flaps and shreds of flesh rip off the woman’s body and lift / and blow away on the wind, leaving // an exposed column of nerve and blood and muscle / calling mutely through lipless mouth."

— Anne Carson, from 'The Glass Essay'

"Then came the blood – so ravishing it made him feel like a god."

— Georg Heym, Tales of the German Imagination; from 'The Lunatic', tr. Peter Wortsman

"Bring me her heart, she said to the hunter, / and I will salt it and eat it."

— Anne Sexton, Transformations; from 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs'

"Someone has replaced your heart with raw meat. / That delicacy. I'm working on a trick / where I come across sated. / Where I don't remember how to be ravenous."

— Caitlin Bailey, Solve for Desire; from 'Incantare'

[liminalhollow]

Ghost hunting was fun for them.

Back in college, they were ridiculed. "Ectology" was a childish, make-believe term. Something to be laughed at. Not to them. Even if other scientists stubbornly kept their minds closed, they would persevere. They were pioneers, explorers of the unknown. Their sense of wonder and curiosity was alive and well. If anything, being outcasts only gave them a stronger sense of purpose.

The day they got the portal working, their dreams became a reality. Ghosts were real. They had real proof. Real specimens. Right in front of their eyes, just waiting to be studied. They'd made a scientific breakthrough for the history books. Decades of hard work finally paid off. All those insults and slander finally proven wrong.

They gladly threw themselves further into their work. They spent days down in their lab, creating, designing, tinkering. Adapting to this new, fascinating, ghost-filled world. They made weapons. Methods of containment. Ghost trackers. Shields. Anything anyone would ever need to deal with any kind of ghost.

They went out and searched. Real ghost hunting. Armed with equipment made by none other than themselves. It was empowering, being on the frontlines, willingly seeking out danger while others ran in fear. And when they fought, they weren't scared, just exhilarated. It was an adventure. They were monster hunters. They were the ones who bravely rushed into battle and triumphed over evil. They felt like heroes.

And they were the best at what they did. The world's leading ghost experts. Builders of the world’s first ghost portal. It was their biggest source of pride. They were right all along. All that time being made fun of, and now they were so successful that they didn't have to answer to anyone. 

(Certainly not any naive, unscientific people who tried to tell them they were wrong about their field of study. Or how to do their job.)

Jack and Maddie Fenton loved their work. They loved their at-home lab and their hand-sewn jumpsuits and their self-designed Fentonworks logo. They loved feeling like they were living their childhood fantasies. They loved climbing into their car at night, armed with their newest ecto-guns, following a blip on their ghost radar, just the two of them. Every day was exciting. Every day they discovered something new. It was beautiful.

Ghost hunting wasn't just something they did, it was who they were.

.

.

.

And then one day, Danny reveals the truth.

Their entire world is crushed.

The science they were so proud of and confident in, became flimsy, fabricated theories. Silly, embarrassing fairy tales. Just like everyone always told them they were.

The inventions they lovingly crafted with their own hands, like a blacksmith crafting the sword that will slay the dragon, became cold and heartless instruments of violence. Often with their own son's terrified face at the other end of the barrel.

Their best invention, their pride and joy, their ghost portal, became the empty, dangerous killing machine responsible for the death of their child.

They didn't even notice he was dead.

They didn't notice a lot of things about him.

He knew more about ghosts than them, for one. Much more. He spat out facts about the mysterious, unseen ghost dimension as casually as he talked about his day at school. It made them feel ashamed to have ever claimed to be experts.

He was braver than them, for another. He was so brave it made their stomachs turn. He understood danger and pain and fear like they never have. And he never told a soul.

And maybe worst of all, he was kinder than them. He didn't chase ghosts just to chase ghosts. He wasn't looking for specimens or information. He didn't throw himself into battle for the glory of it. He simply did it because he cared about other people.

This whole ghost thing... It was no longer about them.

With one undeniable fact, they're slapped in the face with the brutal reality that they're not the heroes of this story.

Danny's reveal forces them to see the consequences of their actions.

Suddenly, this is bigger than them. Suddenly, they have to be careful. Suddenly, there's real burdens to carry and real dangers to face.

Suddenly, there's a messy, bloody first-aid kit hidden under their son's bed. There's nasty scars littering his body. There's a calculated fear in his eyes, that they now understand the source of.

Suddenly, there's responsibility involved.

And suddenly, it's not fun anymore.

[dmwrites]

A collection of hermit clothing: just a few notices.

———

Joe Hills wore whatever meandered over its way to him. Clothes that didn’t quite fit, but was kept in loving repair. Armor half enchanted, or just whatever he put his hands on first after various deaths. Clothes told a story, but one that was constantly evolving.

———

Impulse lived his life as a walking hug, and dressed acoordingly. He wore large furs and leather like his dwarven kin, which actually weren’t the worse smelling things in the world. He washed his clothes once a week, on a schedule. Despite that, his clothes always shimmered slightly with redstone dust and bits of stone. His armor was immaculate, netherite and fully enchanted. All named, all shiny, kept in perfect working order. As perfect as he could control.

———

In terms of elegance, none could surpass Scar. No matter what character he was playing, his eyes were on the money and the schmooze. That meant perfect hair, perfect clothes, a hat for every occasion. His elven robes were beautiful, hand-stitched with golden thread. He made sure it all smelled lovely- the robes were all treated to a lavender and pine tree perfume. He was beautiful, and he made sure that his appearance matched it. He hardly wore armor so he could show himself off. Plus, beauty dazzles the eyes and makes people buy more.

———

Bdubs smelled like moss and grass. He also kind of looked like he had just rolled around in the mud. Imagine like a wet cat who sounds like a grown man verbally keysmashing who looks like a bush. He wore armor that kind of resembled a physical keysmash- enchanted chainmail armor that he got his first week on the server, but just a bonnet and pants. He had his  fully enchanted boots, that’s all that mattered. There was a rumor that he dressed in moss. He wasn’t around too much, though, so no one was quite sure.

———

Gem had a very cute outfit for every occasion. A number of overalls, all in various states of disrepair, some cute elven outfits, and cloth to make something if she was in a hurry. She was rough and tumble, and a lot of her clothes were full of colorful patches. 

———

Beef lived off of borrowed armor and gear. He had his crisp white shirt and overalls from the first day on the server, which were constantly stained with colors and materials. His armor and gear were all gifts from others. He didn’t mind that, means he didn’t have to worry about it. But also he enjoyed knowing that others cared for him, like a warm hug, even though it was diamond armor.

———

Cleo stunk like death. She was dead, after all. She liked driving people off. She balanced this by looking as wonderful and enticing as possible. Elegant green velvet dress, with a long slit up the leg. People would approach her and then be too polite to tell her she stunk like several dead bodies sewn together, which she was. She liked to watch them squirm. But damn did she look good.

———

Mumbo had at least twenty of the same suit, all lined up perfectly, almost to a mathematical sense. Whenever Grian looked at Mumbo’s closet, he got a headache.

[willowwhispersspeakeasy]

Hello! I saw your requests were open and really wanted to say I love your writing. Also, if I somehow misread about them being open, I'm sorry. I'm just super excited! You can feel free to ignore this too if you want. I'm 23 btw.

Anyway here's the request:

Obey me characters (any you want or all, I don't mind. Though I would like to have at least Solomon and Simeon) with a s/o who works with fibres? Crochet, cross stitching/embroidery, needle felting, sewing, stuff like that. They make anything from toys (amigurumi), blankets, clothes, even jewelry.

And the character(s) of your choice being inspiration for their s/o craft? Ex; stuffed toys that look like them, sweaters in their color scheme/design.

Sorry if this is so long. I'm probably rambling but, it's my first time sending a request.

"that sounds so cuuuute! one of my big sisters used to be real good with a needle and thread. anyway here's some Blueberry Milk to compliment that nicely~" -Onyx, the bartender

OM! with a crafty mc

characters included: Satan, Solomon, Simeon

warnings: gender neutral mc, bonus soft Luke content for the last one

Satan

okay but imagine, sitting by the fire in the library, curled up all cosy with your latest project across your lap. and the gentle voice of Satan reading you his latest novel find.

he loves your work, sometimes you take the books he reads you as inspiration, but your latest project has another muse. you place the small unicorn plushie in his lap when he pauses to take a sip of his drink.

Satan in shocked, but charmed none the less. reach of the joins are sewn on with embroidery, and if you read them all it makes a little story. hes going to treasure it forever.

Solomon

he just loves that you are a creative type, no matter the medium you choose. he loves watching you work, your fingers so precise. he can enchant your yarn or thread if you like.

but your latest piece is a surprise. the small cat plushie with consolations sewn into its fur. you finally finished the mini wizard hat for the feline, petting its fur to make sure it was soft enough.

he absolutely adores the thing. it lives in his school bag and goes basically everywhere with him. he named it David (after his father)

Simeon

he very well may ask you to teach him. whatever is simplest to start with, hes a very fast learner. you had started finding an affinity for embroidering feathers not long after you started tutoring him.

thus your latest project: making Simeon a dove. since you had a good amount of extra yarn, you made a second smaller dove, gifting them both to your angels.

Luke adores them, he treasures the baby chick, even tho its small enough to hold in one palm. and Simeon's heart melted when he saw you hand them over to the little angel. if he knew he loved you before good heavens hes positive hes deep under your spell by now.

[chubsonthemoon]

dear dear @dodici12's books made it safely, so I can post pics now!! :D this is the wonderful See You Upside Down, the killugon reunion fic that made me cry my eyes out at 1:30 am sometime in 2020, and to this day makes me feel All the Emotions. dodici just gets these kids, inside and out, and her writing is such a joy and a comfort--it breaks your heart and makes you laugh all in the same breath!!

this is also a re-bind of one of the very first books I'd ever bound, and it's so much fun to see how I've changed and improved! she got the full makeover--trimmed edges, foil titling (compliments of Charlotte, my Cricut), hand-sewn headbands, decorative endpapers, a newly-designed title page, my new imprint logo, and my updated typesetting style! I am ridiculously fond of both copies, but the story inside is the most important part <3

also re-made some new copies of dodici's Playing With Matches and Feral! These ficlets were so much fun to revisit, and they never fail to make me lose my marbles over pre-CAA killugon T_T

thank you so much, dodici, for letting me bind your work!! love youuuuu :D

[jvnghxope]

love sewn | three (m)

part three;

◦ pairing: Jungkook | reader

◦ genre: boy next door au; fluff, smut, a little angsty at the end

◦ word count: 7.4k+

◦ warnings: sexual themes, penetrative sex, swear words, alcohol consumption

◦ abstract: You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

⇥ prologue | part one | part two | part three | final

“So, we are going to steal clothes and you guys are going to lose your job...” Namjoon comments behind your back. 

You exchange slightly panicked glances with Taehyung. 

"We’re not going to steal anything. We’re just going to borrow,” he quickly interjects before the panic gets the worst of you. You need to admit that you are a little nervous about this, too. 

"Still, I think this is a bad idea," Hoseok laughs nervously. 

“Hobi, everything is going to be okay." You take your friend’s hand in an attempt to ease his nerves. He doesn’t like to lie. He is really bad at that and he avoids doing anything illegal as much as possible. 

“Don’t worry. We have a key. It’s not like we are trespassing.”  

Hobi nods, a little calmer now and followed you inside the building. 

The gala is next Saturday and you still don’t know which dress you’ll use. Jungkook texted you about the gala theme just a couple of hours ago –you finally decided to reply to his question earlier that day (yeah, it took you a whole week to answer)– and is 'Family'. You have no idea what that means or how you are supposed to wear in a gala with that theme, but Jungkook kindly replied to your panicked text with ‘Dress formal. Like the type of dresses you designed last time. :)’ 

Your heart jumped at the emoji, but it’s not like you are going to admit that in front of your friends. 

That’s why you are now in front of the building of your office. Besides Taehyung, you are pretty sure only Joon owns a dress shirt. Luckily for you and your besties, the firm keeps every piece of cloth designed in a big ass warehouse inside the building. You remember seeing a collection of beautiful dresses and formal suits the last time you were honored to be inside.  

Once inside, your group of friends split in the seek for the perfect outfit. 

“There’s no way I’ll use that,” you hear Namjoon says from afar. 

“What do you mean?” you don’t need to see Taehyung’s face to see that he’s pulling the ‘Are you serious?’ Face. “It’s a beautiful color!” 

Listening to your friends arguing, even when is over a simple thing like what color of suit to use, always makes you chuckle. Sometimes is like they are 15 instead of in their mid-twenties.  

“Oh my god! This dress is gorgeous!” Anna exclaims next to you. The dress she is holding is gorgeous. Emerald green, long sleeves, lace-made, Greek-style shirt a little over the knees. It is the perfect dress for your cute friend. “I’ll try this one,” she chimes excitedly. 

“Perhaps it was not a good idea to bring you here. I’ll need to tear that dress from you if I ever want to return it.” 

“Yep,” she quickly agrees before running to the nearest dress room.  

You can't help but smile as you keep searching for a dress. But any convince you enough. It is either the design or the color. That pink is too bright; that blue looks so sad; that orange color is not that cute… You are about to give up. Maybe the perfect dress for you is not around here. 

But then, you arrive at a hidden space that is not properly illuminated. This time, the clothes are not scattered in counters, hanging from hooks or ordered by color. Instead, they are carefully guarded inside boxes. The wall is full of them. 

You know for sure the firm doesn’t throw away the clothes from past seasons. They keep the best designs made every collection. There is a high possibility that some of these designs were used by top models in previous Fashion Weeks.  

You open a few of them, finding cardigans, skirts from all shapes, types, and colors. Each piece is carefully saved. You gasp the moment you open another box.  The most beautiful dress is inside of it. It is a beautiful tone of crimson and made of silk. It is soft to touch. You carefully take the dress out of the box and with fear you look for the tag to see if the dress is of your size. It must be your lucky day because it is. 

“Oh, there you are! I want to use black heels with the dress but Tae told me I should use a pair of silver stilettos. Or even gold ones. What do you think-” She stops talking the moment she notices the dress between your arms and how you are holding it, like is a treasure. “That dress is beautiful! You should wear that one.”

You look at her with wide eyes, “But we’re not supposed to take anything from these boxes…”

“We’re not supposed to take anything from the warehouse. Why don’t you try it on?” 

Well, she has a point. 

Minutes later, you are staring at your reflection in the mirror. 

You look… different. The dress is hugging all your curves in the right way and the color enhances your skin tone. The skirt is pooling around your ankles. You love long dresses. It makes your legs look longer and they are pretty elegant. 

Ok. You will just take the dress for one night, like Cinderella, and return it right away. 

You turn around and see Anna taking some snaps of herself in excitement. Your male friends are in the corner. Taehyung and Namjoon still arguing about which color of jacket Namjoon should use with his tailored slacks. Seokjin is rubbing his temples like he’s tired of that shit and Hoseok, oblivious to the situation folding behind him, is admiring himself in the mirror. He looks handsome in that jacket. Floral print designs are very difficult to pull out but Hoseok is one of the lucky ones. 

It was not a good idea to come here, you quickly realize. Because as you watch the anticipation slowly starting to build inside your friend’s –and your own– chest, you know there's no way you'll be willing to return the clothes, putting your job at risk. But seeing the way your friends are smiling, it'll be worth it. 

The rest of the week passes painfully slow. 

You haven’t seen Jungkook in two weeks and you are starting to get anxious. The last time you saw him he asked you on a date and you feel like it is a turning point in your relationship. 

Since you met, you've been friends. But he asking you out means that he is ready to take the next step. The question is, are you? 

Despite the growing feelings you may have about him, you are still not sure if you are ready to be in a relationship. And right now you don't have the energy to stress more about it. So you decide to follow Anna’s advice and let things flow. 

In the next few days, you focus on work and upcoming projects. 

The firm you work for has a new project and asked you to design a dress for a spring collection. Piece of cake. Or that’s what you thought at first. 

On Monday, you managed to draw some decent sketches. On Tuesday, you figured the design was not that good and decided to start over. On Wednesday, you locked up inside your office to get the job done, without good results. On Tuesday, you stayed at your apartment and did some home-office because your creative juices flow better in your studio. Finally, on Friday, it was decided you were having some... creative issues. 

Saturday arrived finally and the gala is the only thing you can think about. Seokjin makes waffles for breakfast, making the day twice as special –Seokjin only makes waffles in special occasions–.  

Today, it is twice as hard to stay focused on your work. The nerves and excitement make it difficult. You haven't talked that much with Jungkook this past week. He’s been busy with all the preparation for his gala. Your phone chimes with a new text and you are surprised it is of him. 

[2:05 pm] Jungkook

The limo will pick you up at 6 pm. Can't wait to see you.

The smile that spreads across your face is unintentional and you feel your cheeks go warm. You are just as excited to see him. Wow, and a limo. That’s so nice of him. You check the hour. Fuck, it is 3 pm! 

You have exactly 3 hours to get ready. You text Namjoon before entering the bathroom. 

You know the basics when it comes to makeup. But considering this is an important event (and a date), you ask Anna’s help. She was an Ace on that stuff. By 3:30 pm, she already had done her hair in curls and perfectly applied makeup when you were still a mess of wet hair and swollen, bare face.

With his help and an hour and a half later,  you find yourselves already tucked inside your dresses and snapping shots in the enormous mirror of the bathroom. You have time to spare while you wait for the boys to arrive. Seokjin even joins you after a while, looking all handsome with his black tuxedo and taking some photos with you and Anna. 

As Jungkook told you, the limo is waiting for you at 6 pm sharp. Dressed as you do, you feel like you are a movie star going to a Movie Premier. Someone steps out of the car and a part of you hopes it is Jungkook, but when a smile of a stranger graces your face, you can breathe properly again. This man is going to kill you someday. 

“Miss ___? I’m here to take you and your friends to mister Min and mister Jeon’s annual gala. Please, get inside,” he opens the door and motions the inside of the vehicle. Excited chuckles come from behind you as your friends urge you to get inside.

"Man, this is so cool," Hoseok comments while Namjoon pours each one of you a glass of champagne you guys found inside the mini-fridge. This whole thing feels like a dream. Dressed as superstars, riding a limo, drinking champagne. 

As time goes by, you notice the limo heading towards a part of the town known as the Art District. It used to be where all the industries held their big factories. Now, the enormous buildings transformed into luxurious art galleries, beautiful museums, bright dance studios, and lush condos. This part of the town supports anyone and everyone who decides to pursue art for a living. Thus, the firm you and Taehyung work for has its headquarters here. 

Several minutes after, you have in front of you the most glamorous building. It looks like a skyscraper, tall and magnificent. In daylight, the windows reflect the sunlight and it looks like the tower is made of glass. The locals know it as the Glass Tower. Now, the windows reflect the orange-ish of the sunset. 

This is the first time you enter the building, so you are not sure where to go. The driver parks the vehicle near the main entrance and opens the door for you. 

“Mr. Min and Mr. Jeon are waiting for you inside. Ask for them in the Lobby. They’ll direct you from there.” 

“Thank you,” you say with a smile.

The Lobby is just as impressive as the outside of the building. The white marble-like floor, the plants embellishing the corners, the mesmerizing paintings and photographies and the furniture make the room look artsy yet elegant. 

“Hey, we’re here for the gala…” Seokjin comments to the beautiful red-haired receptionist once you and your friends get near the enormous mahogany desk. Then, something weird happens. The receptionist's eyes illuminate like she just saw a star as her glance lay on yours and your friend’s frame. Like she recognizes you from somewhere. 

“Yes!” she chimes with an unexpectedly high-pitched voice. “Everyone is waiting for you. Please, go to the 15th floor.” 

With a nod, you do as instructed, not without hearing the receptionist over the phone: “The special guests just arrived!” 

Special guests? 

You don’t have time to dwell in what you just heard, because the next second the elevator doors open with a loud ‘ding’. The 15th floor displays a small lobby –a perfect combination of glass, ivory, and silver. Another beautiful lady is waiting for you in front of a pair of glass doors. 

“Welcome,” she says with a smile. “Please, follow me.” 

You exchange nervous glances with your friends and follow her lead. The moment she opens the gates is like you are in another world. The room before your eyes is enormous and it is already full of people. Just as you enter, two waitresses approach your group with a silver tray and glass cups with a golden, bubbly liquid. More Champagne. 

A man approaches your group once you take the cups. It is not the man you are hoping for but just as welcomed. 

“You are here!” Min Yoongi pulls you into a hug. You’ve been texting with him after your little –and too awkward– encounter at the café a couple of weeks ago. He’s pretty nice once you get to know him. 

“Yoongi! This is amazing!” you exclaim and he smiles, pleased. 

“Thank you.” He just noticed the way your eyes wander around the room looking for him. “I don’t think I have the pleasure.” He gestures your friends and you’re thankful for the distraction. 

The introductory part doesn’t last very long and Yoongi leads the group to a part he claims to be the beginning of the exhibition, each piece arranged to tell a story. One that ends with his and Jungkook’s exhibition. As you made your way through the mass of people, it is not the first time you feel someone else’s eyes glued to your back. 

“Am I the only one who feels everyone is staring at us?” you hear Namjoon asks. 

“I know, right?” 

The early discomfort soon soothes away as time goes by and the cups get purred with more champagne. Yoongi, self-proclaimed as your official guide, stays with you and explains the story behind each photography embellishing the gallery walls. It is supposed to be explained by its author, see, but with a large number of people filling the room, everyone’s busy and Yoongi, as the great host he is, is glad to help. It’s not like it is a bother to him. He is so passionate about the matter. A rosy excitement tinting his cheeks, a gummy smile displayed as he happily explains each one of the exhibitions.  

It is a pleasant surprise to notice that not only photographies are embellishing the walls of the gallery but paintings and sculptures too.  

Yoongi explains to the group the reason why they decided to arrange their gallery as they did: with fake walls placed to form a somewhat labyrinth, each fabricated room gives every exhibition solitude and protagonism. They wanted to enhance the singularities of each of their artists –even when they belong to the same gallery and built their exhibition under the same theme, they wanted to share the beauty in their differences and unique style. 

Each exhibition is just as beautiful and mesmerizing as the last one. The vivacious colors are still dancing behind your eyelids as your cup of champagne keeps getting re-filled with excited waitresses. You find yourself having a really good time in the company of your friends and Yoongi (who is slowly becoming your friend too). It warms your heart to see them just as excited as they were in the beginning and asking questions to Yoongi about the exhibitions. You even forget that Jungkook is, still, nowhere to be seen and the bubbling champagne hides the disappointment that sets in the pit of your stomach. 

It seems you are reaching the end of the exhibition because a not-naturally shy Yoongi turns around on his heels to face you. “Don’t be so harsh on him, okay?” It is the only sentence he says before he leads you to the last prefabricated room –you don’t have time to register the meaning behind his words before you follow suit. The room is slightly bigger than the previous ones and by the sheepish smile Yoongi sends your way, you realize it’s because it holds not one but two exhibitions: his and Jungkook’s. 

His photos are mesmerizing and you don’t have to be an expert on the matter to know he is talented. 

The pictures are arranged to tell a story and it impresses you how much emotion they can portray: You can feel the sorrow, the disappointment, the pain of a young man you were abandoned by his family because he wanted to pursue his dreams. 

You can sense the relief and genuine brotherhood love he might had felt when he met the younger. He finally had someone who supported him no matter what. 

You see a young man who claims to be a loner and cold-hearted but on the inside, he craves the love of a significant other as anyone else and ended being heartbroken when he realized she was in love with his best friend. 

Yoongi has suffered. But he's is strong. That's why you admire him. 

You reach out to take his hand, "Yoongi, this is amazing." You clutch his hand tightly. 

"Thank you," he flashes the brightest of smiles, showing his gums. 

Then, you turn around to see Jungkook's exhibition… and now you realize why everyone was staring at you. 

The whole wall is full of photos of you and your friends. It is like the last couple of months had been recorded. You remember how Jungkook used to bring his camera everywhere and you didn't quite understand why. 

Now you do. 

Looking at the pictures you remember all the adventures you all have had together. Like that day when Anna made all of you go to an improvised picnic because the boys started a heated fight over a video game and she was tired of that shit. Then, the picnic ended in a random football game and Jungkook took the photo the moment Taehyung threw the ball and it landed directly in Namjoon’s face. It was a great day indeed. 

Or that one time when all your favorite male models got the same stomach flu (weird) and you asked –or more like begged– your male friends to be your models for one day. Taehyung and Jungkook agreed right away but for Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin it took you more to convince them. Using ‘don’t know how to stroll in a runaway’ as an excuse, it took two hours and an express class from one of your girls to finally convince them to help you. At the end of the night, despite their worries, they made it perfectly and Jungkook took some snaps to behold the memory. He now could tell how he was a model for one night and had photos to prove it. 

It seems that the photos that embellish the walls of his exhibition are the memories he holds closest to his heart and you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. 

Your eyes kept wandering around Jungkook’s exhibition with a fond smile, only to find your heart rate rise dangerously high when your eyes landed in a particular photo: just you and none else.

And there are a bunch of them. 

The sound of your friends happily chatting behind you and other people admiring the exhibitions suddenly become background noise. 

Staring at you in the photos is like a third-party experience. It is like you are not seeing yourself but another beautiful woman. And you are doing the simplest of things. Like that one time when it was your turn to feel a little down when one your beloved designs got postponed for the next season and Jungkook took you to a nearby convenience store and he made a super silly joke that almost had you spilling your spicy noodles because you laughed so hard. He took the photo right there. 

Sometimes, you pull all-nighters at Jungkook's when the sanctuary at your apartment didn't help your creative juices to flow. He was more than willing to offer his company and it helped you a little. He took the photo when your brows were furrowed and your tongue peaked in concentration because that skirt wasn't cooperating at all. 

Or that one time when you took him to the concert of his favorite artist and instead of taking pictures of him as promised, he took some of you. 

There are a lot more where you are just laughing, smiling or just doing nothing. There were times when he asked you to take photos of you but you never thought they will end here when you agreed. 

What all of this mean? you muse to yourself. 

"I'm so happy you could make it," a familiar voice chimes behind you. 

Jungkook. 

You turn around to face him and what you see leaves you breathless. He is wearing a black suit. One that you designed. You remember giving it to him as a gift after he helped you with the runway. He is also wearing a black dress shirt that would make Taehyung feel proud. The color makes the perfect contrast with his golden skin. His hair is styled in a way his forehead is exposed. 

He looks amazing and breathtakingly handsome. The mere sight of him has your stomach doing flip flops and butterflies flying. 

“Hi,” you finally salute him with a shy smile. 

“Hi.” 

He reaches you and pulls you into a hug, one that makes the breath hitch in your throat. He surrounds your body with both arms and your face ends in the crook of his neck. The scent of his cologne makes your head spin. He smells amazing. 

“Did you like it?” he asks once he pulls away, too soon for your liking. “The exhibition.” 

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I-” 

“Jungkook, dear.” 

A beautiful woman on her late forties gives a loud kiss on both of Jungkook’s cheeks. 

"Oh, Miss Smith! I'm glad you could make it!” 

A warm smile spreads across his features. The woman –Miss Smith– waves her hand. "That's nonsense. I wouldn't have missed it." 

Then, she notices you. 

"Who's your companion?" 

Jungkook tugs you by the hand and, to your surprise, intertwines his fingers with yours oh so naturally that makes your heart jump. 

"This is ___. My-"

"Your beautiful muse!" She muses, her eyes illuminating as she recognizes you from the photos. "Nice to meet you, dear. You two make a great couple." 

You open your mouth to tell her that no, you and Jungkook are not a couple, that you are just friends but your mouth goes suddenly dry when Jungkook replies: 

"Thank you." 

He offers her a tiny smile. 

Wait. 

Your mind takes a few moments to digest what just happened before you. Your cheeks go warm and you raise your free hand to your chest to make sure your heart is working properly. 

"Well, I need to look for my husband but I will call you later. I want to buy one of the sculptures of this artist of yours, Vante. Nice to meet you, ___." 

And she disappears through the crowd.  

Jungkook turns to you and smiles so brightly. 

"Do you want to dance?" 

Ten minutes later, Jungkook led you to another side of the gallery, where all the people who finished seeing the exhibition is gathered, with upbeat music and their cups are being re-filled with champagne just as they are emptied. Now, it looks more like a high-society club. 

Then, you notice two things. 

One, your friends are nowhere to be found. You lost them the moment Jungkook appeared. Two, Jungkook is still holding your hand. 

Your poor heart beats nervously inside your chest as you follow Jungkook through the mass of people to the dance floor. Just when you arrive, the music suddenly changes to a slow love song. Your eyes scan the other guests in panic. More than one couple is already dancing and you spot a very shy Seokjin dancing with a very shy Anna in the corner. 

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook again, who is looking at you with a charming smile. 

"Can I have this dance?" He offers one of his hands. 

You gulp and accept his offer. He tugs you close, placing both hands on your waist. His cologne fills your nostrils again and you don't have other choice but place your arms on his shoulders. You just hope he doesn't notice how hard you are blushing. 

"It was a really good exhibition, Kook," you say after a while. "I'm proud of you." 

"So that means you are not mad?" 

"Mad? No. Surprised? Flattered? Yes." 

He laughs, relieved. Butterflies erupt in your belly one more time at the way he scrunches his nose. 

“I was so worried these last few weeks. I thought you would get mad at me… or something.” 

“Why?” 

“You helped me to stand on my feet again. It made me part of your family. Opened the doors of our home. I thought you’d think this would be an invasion of privacy.” 

You snort. 

“Kook, look at them,” you point to your friends in the corner. All of them are laughing, having fun. “Do they look mad?” Jungkook shakes his head. "You are part of us now. That means we will support you in everything you do." 

You offer him a warm smile. 

"Maybe you should give us a heads up next time. We spent the first half-hour feeling out of place because everyone was staring at us." 

He chuckles at that. 

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry. It was quite an experience."

You continue to dance. Then, he moves his hands. He is no longer resting his hands on your waist. Now, he intertwines his fingers behind your lower back making you move even closer to him. 

You are so close that you notice the freckle under his lower lip. The curve of his cheeks. The sharpness of his jaw. The way the galaxies are reflected in his doe-eyes… 

"You look so beautiful today," he comments after a while, making you feel self-conscious under his intense gaze. Then, he leans in and whispers against your ear, "Red is my favorite color." 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize how close his face is. His breath tickles the smooth skin of your lips. You nibble your bottom lip nervously and you watch how his attention shifts from your eyes to your lips. As if in slow motion, he moves forward –shutting the remaining distance between you two. When he is mere inches away, you close your eyes and hold your breath. A content sigh escapes your lips when his mouth brushes gently against yours and… -

“Mr. Jeon?” 

To your misfortune, he pulls away immediately. Without thinking, you rest your forehead on his shoulder as you try to calm your heart. It is a pleasant surprise to find his arms are still clutched around your frame even when you stopped dancing a long time ago. It seems he feels so comfortable to have you between his arms to care. 

“Yes?” 

Jungkook's voice sounds so stern you feel sorry for his poor assistant. 

“S-sorry to interrupt you, sir,” she starts and you don’t need to look at her to know she is doing her best to not run for dear life. Talking by experience, you know Jungkook can be pretty scary. “The curator of the Modern Art Museum is looking for you.” 

He lets out a sigh. 

“Ok, I am on my way.” 

Then, he brushes his nose against your cheek to draw your attention. When you meet his eyes, his gaze is as soft as you remember. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

He gives you a chaste kiss to the cheek and disappears behind his assistant before you can think of a reply. 

You join your group of friends 5 minutes later and grab another glass of champagne in an attempt to ignore the smirks and pointed looks of your friends. 

What on earth was that? 

Your cheeks burn again when you remember how soft Jungkook’s lips felt when they brushed against yours… What would have happened if you were not interrupted? Would the kiss have led to something more? 

You shake your head. 

You can't dwell on these thoughts right now. Not when your mind is full of hormones. Certainly, seeing Jungkook in a tuxedo hit you hard. Just the mere thought of it is enough to make you feel week on the knees. It is not the first time you see him like that, though. But the sentiment was different back when he helped you in the runway. What changed? Your feelings. Besides, with the amount of champagne you've drunk in the night –especially in the last 5 minutes–, your mind is a mess right now.  

“Are you okay?” 

The voice of your friend brings you back to reality. 

“Yeah… I’m just so confused…” 

“Hey,” Anna gives you a comfortable squeeze, “I dón think this is the right moment and the right time to think about that. Let’s have fun tonight. Okay?” 

Before you could reply, she is dragging you to the corner of the dance floor where Hoseok and Taehyung are having an improvised dance battle. 

One of the things you love the most about your friends is that they are capable of making you forget about anything when you were all together. Soon, all about Jungkook and the feelings vanish. At least for a while. You don't see Jungkook and Yoongi for the rest of the night. 

Time passes quickly. Before you know it it's midnight and your group is one of the few ones that are still at the gallery. 

"Wow, rich people are no fun."

"Yeah. It is just midnight…" 

Then, Tae suggested moving to the party to a club. 

"Dressed like this, we could enter a high-class club and they couldn't look at us weird." 

Hoseok and Seokjin accept right away. Anna is a little reluctant but Seokjin manages to convince her. Namjoon reclines. Something about finishing an article that is due to Monday. 

"What about you, ___?" 

"I don't know, I-"

"Hey, ___," Yoongi appears out of nowhere. 

"Hey, what's up?" 

"Jungkook forgot this in the office," he hands you his cell phone. "Can you give it to him when you see him?" 

"Where is he?" 

"I don't know. He left 10 minutes ago." Then, he notices your confused expression, "Don't worry. He had a problem with a client. Nothing serious but you him. He has quite a mood. He probably went to cool off. I guess his idea was contacting you later but he can't with his cellphone." 

Now, Yoongi turns to your friends. 

"If you need transportation, the limo that brought you guys here is waiting for you outside." 

"Thank you, Yongs. Everything was beautiful," you say with a smile. 

"Thank you. I'll call you later, okay? I still need to wrap up everything." 

In the end, you decide to return home. It was a long day full of emotions of all sorts and your heels are killing you. You plan to return Jungkook his phone in the morning. You are not sure where he is right now. 

The guys drop at your building and then they take the limo to the nearest club. The elevator dings when you arrive at your floor. You lazily walk toward your door and then stop. That's strange. Jungkook's door is wide open and the lights are on. This neighborhood is pretty secure  but how can you know it is not a thief? You probably should call the police but something keeps you going.

You knock the door.

"Hello? Jungkook, are you there?" 

"Yeah! I'm in the living room!" 

You sigh in relief. No thieves. 

"You forgot your phone at the gallery,” you comment as you walk towards his living room. “Yoongi gave it- Is that my photo?" 

The first thing you see when you enter the room is Jungkook holding one of the photos he exhibited and you are the only one in the frame. 

“Hmm… Yeah?” 

You are beyond shocked to notice the faint blush covering his cheeks. 

“Why is it here?” You stare at him wide-eyed. 

"One of my clients wanted to buy it, but I just couldn't sell it,” he shrugs like it is obvious. 

"Why? They couldn’t pay you what you asked?" 

He frowns, “No, that’s not it.” His gaze returns to the photo. "I don't know. This is my favorite photo of you and it was like I couldn't bear the thought of someone else having it." 

At this point your heart has gone crazy inside your chest, beating so fast that you can no longer hear it. 

"What do you mean?" 

He raises an eyebrow, confused. 

"Jungkook, why you chose me as your muse?" 

There, you asked him the question you wanted to since the beginning of the exhibition. 

"Because I admire you," he replies without hesitation. "You are passionate, beautiful and you fight for what you want. You've helped me a lot. How could I not choose you?" 

Your heart jumps. He thinks you are beautiful. He takes a step closer to you. 

“Ilikeyou,” he blurts out. 

“W-what?” 

Jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face. 

"I like you,” he repeats slower after taking a deep breath. You’ve never imagined seeing him like this. You are used to his self-confident, kind of dork too, demeanor. “And I'm tired of pretending I don't.”

“Why were you pretending?” 

“To be honest, I was scared,” he confesses. “I was scared of how I was feeling; it felt so familiar yet so different. Scared of you not feeling the same way. Scared of the feelings not being real, like they were just an infatuation because you were there for me when no one else was. I wanted to make sure before I talked to you about this.” 

He is now close enough to take your hands in his. 

“So, you are not scared anymore?" You whisper. 

"No, I'm terrified. But in a good way. Now I'm sure my feelings are real and I want to give it a try. You know, go on a date." 

"Aren't we were on a date tonight?" 

He grins, "But I didn't spend much time with you."

He almost pouts and the view makes you giggle.

"But I had a great time, though."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Does that mean you want a second date?"

“Do I need to say ‘I like you’ for you to understand what I feel or-” 

Your words are interrupted when Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

You blink, suddenly speechless.

“No,” he grins at your expression. “I’m sorry. I wanted to do that since we were, uh, interrupted at the gala.”

Jungkook’s thoughts waver when you still don’t say a thing. “Did I cross a line? I won’t do that-”

“Please, do that again,” you cut him off finding your voice again.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, but he takes his time now. He cups your face with both hands and caresses the skin of your cheeks with his thumbs. You hold your breath as Jungkook’s face moves forward and close your eyes when his lips brush gently against yours. The kiss starts at a slow pace. He tastes good; champagne, mint and something more. It is addictive. For a while, you both stay like that. Content with being in each other's arms. You start to feel lightheaded. 

There's no place you'd rather be. 

Suddenly, Jungkook pushes you to the nearest wall and presses his body against yours. He uses his fingers to tilt your face and deepen the kiss. His body accommodates naturally between your legs. His hands slowly start to unbutton your coat, exposing your dress to him once again. Jungkook slides it down your shoulders and the coat hits the floor. He lets out a soft sigh. 

“You are so pretty.” 

His hands find purchase on your waist as his lips attack yours one more time. He kisses you with so much fervor that you need to hold his shoulders for dear life. 

In all these years, you forgot how good this felt. Having this type of… intimacy with someone. He holds you so dearly it makes your head spin. He whispers sweet nothings against your lips between kisses that make your heart flutter. 

Without thinking it twice, you help him to take off his suit jacket and untuck his dress shirt to slide both hands under it. You rake your nails all along his back and Jungkook's whole body shudders at the sensation. He seems affected to the point he pulls away to look at you. When your eyes open, you see Jungkook is staring at you with slightly blown pupils. 

"You don't know how much you affect me, do you?" 

You can feel his erection pressed against your belly. "I think I have an idea," you reply with a grin.

"Yeah?" 

He doesn't give you the chance to reply, because Jungkook is carrying you bridal style and taking you to his room. You've been in this bedroom so many times but your eyes wander nonetheless. Comparing to the first time you entered here, the room is quite neat. 

“So, it turns out you are pretty organized.” 

Jungkook’s arms slide around your middle from behind. He gives you a soft kiss to your neck. “Well, you met me in one of my worsts times.”

You turn around to face him. Lips crushing together, he hungrily seeks the heat of your mouth. With a sigh, you throw both arms around his neck. His palms fall to your waist. The dress you are wearing is soft to touch. He lets out a whine when you tug gently the hair in the nape of his neck. You look at him surprised. 

“You are sensitive.” 

You repeat the motion. 

He groans, “___, you need to stop doing that.” 

“Why?” You kiss his jaw. 

“I may not have mercy when I find one of your weaknesses.” 

Your lips curl, “I’m counting on that.”

Jungkook kisses you again, harder. His hands undo the laces of your dress. 

“Turn around for me, baby.” 

You exhale at the pet name but do as you are told. 

“Are you kidding? These are like tons of buttons!”

“Careful, Kook,” The buttons are one of the things you loved the most about the dress. “If you break it, you pay it.” 

He mumbles something under his breath but with skilled fingers, he patiently undoes every one of them. He even takes the moment to kiss every inch of skin is exposed making it so hard to wait. It only takes him a couple of minutes to finish. Then, you return him the favor and help him rid of his clothes.

At some point, you lay down in the mattress, Jungkook hovering above you. There’s a lot of kissing as if you’ll never have enough of the other. Jungkook preps your body using his fingers at a slow, agonizing pace that makes your head spin. He enjoys every beautiful sound that comes out of your mouth. He keeps his promise and he has no mercy when he curls his fingers inside of you to rub your soft spot every time until you are gasping for air. 

Soon, you are a moaning mess underneath him. Jungkook murmurs words of encouragement as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. Then, he takes his time to play with your chest, giving each one of your breasts the same amount of attention and care. Your release comes so strong, like a tidal wave. You see nothing but starts for a couple of seconds. It takes another couple of seconds before you can breathe somewhat properly again. A soft moan escapes your mouth when he licks his fingers. 

Jungkook massages your thighs, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just wow.” 

He smiles, cheeks flushing. You tug him for another kiss, opening his mouth with yours. He gasps at your passion and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue inside the crevice of his mouth. He melts against your touch. You both make out lazily for a while, both legs wrapped around his waist. Your hazy mind barely registered when he moved forward to grab a condom from the nightstand, but he is already rolling the latex down his length. 

“Are you ready, beautiful?” Jungkook is staring at you so dearly.

You nod. Holding your gaze, he eases himself slowly inside of you. 

You receive him with open arms, hugging his body close to yours. You sigh at the feeling of fullness. He groans at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. 

“At this point, I’m not going to last long,” he pants. 

He starts at a slow pace. Gentle strokes that hit your soft spot every time. The thrusts might be slow, but he is pumping into you with so much force that you feel every inch of him. At some point, he kisses you again. Slow, languid. Lovingly. There's no rush in his movements. You hug him hard, trying to keep his body as close as possible. 

He changes the angle adjusting one of your legs a little higher. His thrusts hit deeper now. Your body starts to tremble and he slides a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, circling it with ease. And then you are coming, your whole body shuddering underneath him. Jungkook only manages a couple of more thrusts before he is following you over the edge. 

He collapses on top of you, groaning into the crook of your neck. You both stay like that for a couple of minutes, until your heartbeat calms down and you are breathing normally again. Then, Jungkook stands up to discard the condom and look for something to clean up the mess you just made. When he is content, he lays next to you and tugs you closer, sliding one arm around your waist and adjusting your head to rest on his chest. He even murmurs something but you are already dozing to sleep… 

When you wake up the next morning, the sun is already up. You stretch your sore limbs and yawn. Your stomach grumbles. You haven’t eaten in more than 12 hours. You open your eyes and… 

Wait. 

Why are you in Jungkook’s room? 

The memories of last night slowly come to your head. 

Oh my god.   

You slept with Jungkook and the realization has you blushing furiously and burying your face between your hands. Then, you notice the spot next to you in the bed is empty. You look around the room slightly in panic when you hear the sound of the shower. 

You take a deep breath. Right now is not the time to panic. Last night he made pretty clear he wanted to date you to figure if things could work between you, so there’s no point to worry about anything. You can talk about what happened yesterday over breakfast. 

But first, what time is it?

You don't know anything about your friends since they went to the club last night. Even when you want to stay with Jungkook, it's probably a good idea to check if your friends are okay. But you are hungry and knowing Jungkook, he is too. You should prepare something and have breakfast together before leaving. With your mind made up, you look for something to wear and walk out of the room. 

You locate your purse on the floor of the living room. With a sigh, you pick it up and dig inside to grab your phone to see the hour. 11:46 am. It is not that late. It is when you see an unread message that you notice that it is not your phone you are holding. It is Jungkook's. Yesterday, you didn’t have the opportunity to give it back to him… and the message is from Zoe… 

With the anxiety striking every fiber of your being, unconsciously you unlock his phone (he doesn’t have a password of any kind) and you wish you haven’t done that. 

[2:37 pm] Zoe 

Good luck at the gala tonight. :) 

[2:40 pm] Zoe 

I miss you.

[3:06 pm] Jungkook 

Thank you.

I miss you too. 

[6:32 pm] Zoe 

Can we meet sometime? 

I need to talk to you. 

[6:55 pm] Jungkook 

I would love that.

To be continued. :)

[bonny-kookoo]

Please continue the home!Yoongi Drabble please for my sanity 🤍🤍

Yoongi sometimes ends up doing things while he doesn't even notice he's doing it.

Like right now; with your head in his lap, watching a boring random drama on the TV, while he's scrolling on his phone. His other hand however is on your thigh, fingers running over a specific spot on the back of it- a small collection of faint stretch marks to be specific. It doesn't seem like he's aware he's doing it at all, focused on something on his phone, before he puts the device away, eyes now scanning what his fingers have been tracing for the past ten minutes.

"you know.." he starts, gaze never leaving that patch of imperfection you've tried to hide skillfully from him for a good while. He knows you did- long shirts, boyshorts, always having a blanket over your legs. "..whenever I see scars like that, it makes me feel odd." he admits, and you turn in his lap, facing him.

"are they gross?" you wonder, and he shakes his head, fingers now wrapped around your wrist; thumb tracing a more recent scar on the side of it- an accidental cut that needed to be sewn, but you never got it checked by a doctor.

"this one for example." he explains, as he looks at the lighter line of skin. "I know how you got this one. You got spooked by your doorbell while cooking and cut yourself years ago." he remembers what you've told him, and it makes you feel oddly fond of him- at the fact he remembers stories you've told so easily and on the side. "I didn't know you back then, and yet it somehow feels like I did." he says more quietly now. "It feels like I've always known you." he mumbles more or less now, noticing how his fingers can wrap around your wrist- before you intertwine your fingers with his instead. He might never admit it, but he loves holding hands. A lot.

It's kind of cute.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" you wonder, and he shrugs.

"I'm not sure." he tells you. "but that's how I feel about you." he says, and you smile sleepily, before yawning. He cant help but notice the way you slightly tear up at it, something that's always happened when you become tired. It's only one of many little things about you he's by now got engraved into his mind- connected to you and you only. When someone wears a similar scent, he thinks of you. When Jimin throws himself into someone else while laughing hard- he thinks about how you do that with him too. When someone rolls their eyes, he instantly thinks of the way you do it to him whenever he's become frustrated over nothing- just before pulling all those dark thoughts out of his head with a kiss and a smile.

He's not just in love, he's dependent.

And for some time he's not been sure if that's what he wants in a relationship. If he can give up that freedom he's used to have- but then you're there, smiling, just like now, finger tapping his nose and making an odd joke.

And he realizes, maybe that's exactly what he wants- simply because it's you.

And he'll always want you.

[library-of-ohara]

I was thinking of maybe some hcs for Perona, Sanji and Robin (or whatever ones you'd prefer to write for!) with an s/o who sews up their clothes whenever they get ruined? and maybe makes outfits for them sometimes?

requested by: @xxtoothachexx written by: lemon ( @eustasssimp )

Perona, Sanji x GN reader

SFW Prompt: Reader who sews their clothes wc: 0.8k

Perona would love having an S/O who sews up her clothes for her. Especially when Zoro lived with them, it didn't take much for her cute skirts and elegant dresses to get tears and tatters in them. And having clothes that aren't in tip top shape or aren't torn by design? Totally not cute.

She'd come running to you with a pouting frown and watery eyes, clothes in hand as she begs you to fix them for her. You'd get a detailed explanation of what happened, how that stupid swordsman wasn't paying attention or how Mihawk (the other stupid swordsman) has no spatial awareness when he's training, there would be some story for her to tell you as she explains what she needs to be fixed.

The ghost princess would always thank you with a hug, a kiss to the cheek or head, offering to cuddle you or make you something cute in return for your services. On top of that, she'd pester Mihawk until he agreed to cook your favorite food for dinner, bringing it to you as you worked as if she had made it herself.

Perona loves to design clothes with you, too. She'd come running up to you, a magazine or paper in hand, eager to show you the new design for a dress she came up with. Designing clothes with you would become one of her favorite pastimes, to the point where the two of you would design new clothes for Mihawk too (who would begrudgingly try on whatever you two came up with).

She would also love looking over your shoulder while you worked, watching what you were doing not so that she would learn it herself, but to spend time learning about your interests and skills

If you were fixing clothes for her, she'd bring you tea and sweets while you worked, asking if there was anything you needed while you worked so diligently.

Eventually, she might ask you to make clothes so often that she no longer goes out to buy them- if she sees a dress she likes somewhere, you can bet she'd come to you a few days later asking if it was within your wheelhouse to make.

Perona loves bragging about clothes you've sewn, from a simple hem to making her a full outfit, she wants to make sure everyone knows that you're the reason she looks extra cute today.

He also absolutely adores it, he thinks it's such a convenient and helpful skill to have that he can't help but swoon in admiration whenever he sees you with a needle and thread.

Sanji would ask you to fix suits after a battle, which provides you the golden opportunity to fix some of his... less fashionable outfits to your liking. He'd be over the moon if you embroidered something as you sewed up the holes and ripped seams, never failing to brag about your handiwork to other people.

Without fail, he'll thank you by cooking you a lavish meal, your favorite cake, anything and everything your heart could desire in the moment. But, the chef wouldn't think it was enough- a pastry is temporary but what you gifted him was much more long lasting, so for the next few days prepare to be doted on and given even more gifts than you would have gotten from him normally.

If there was ever anything that you needed tried on, that button up you tried making or that skit you have to check the ruffles on, you can always convince him to try on something you're making.

You could come to him with any design ideas too. Sanji would encourage you, even, to sit with him while he finished doing the evening dishes (set on not letting you help) and talk about all the designs you thought of. He'd ask you questions about fabrics, sewing techniques, how you did that one hem on that one shirt you made him a few weeks ago.

When you're working, he'd bring you tea, press silent kisses to your forehead, or briefly take your hands in his to massage your muscles so they don't cramp from all of your work. He'd murmur gentle words of encouragement into your ear as he sets your tea on the table, not expecting any response as he walks back out. The curly browed man loves your determination and focus, and doesn't want to break it. But, he also wants you to know how much he loves and appreciates your work.

Overall, he's happy to let you explore and continue your hobby, and would help you in any way he can. From getting you fabrics while he is out shopping for food, to wearing something for you while you fix the seams on it so you have the clothes sitting properly while you make all the necessary changes, Sanji will never say no to a chance to admire your handiwork up front.

[lavendercodes]

Hello! Can i request short story with Ekko x gn!Reader? Maybe where he's working on his invention project and reader, being a part of Firelights, loves watching him inventing things and maybe even helps a little)

Tinker

idk why my thoughts immediately went to tinker bell, but anyways this idea was adorable and i love you for it <33

fluff - slight cursing

gender neutral reader

“dammit.” Ekko cursed under his breath as his finger slipped and the bolt popped out of place.

for the past few nights, he had been attempting to make communicators. after the recent happenings with Jinx, he needed some sort of way to keep in touch with other Firelight members if they lost contact while out on a mission.

you sat on the edge of your bed watching as he worked at your desk.

with every time he messed up, he seemed to grow more frustrated and tired of trying to piece together the communicator.

eventually, Ekko let the tools roll out of his hands on to the table. he turned in the very old, very torn up chair that didn’t pair well at all with your desk. a small smirk appeared on your face as he stared down at you.

“you could try to help, you know?” he said.

“i seem to recall you not needing my help.” you grinned, referring back to the other day where you had attempted to help the male, but due to his stubbornness and frustration, he brushed you off and rejected your offer.

Ekko groaned, “please?”

you cackled and hopped off the bed, almost tripping as the sheet had caught on to your leg. Ekko snorted at your struggle to regain your balance and you flipped him off. he threw his hands up into the air, feigning innocence. you grumbled and trudged over towards him.

Ekko pulled out the extra stool from underneath your workspace and pushed himself a bit away from it, just to give you space to work.

it took you a few minutes of examining what he was working on before you actually started working. there was a few flaws in the wiring, mostly due to the wires all being scraps. however, it wasn’t a huge problem and could be easily fixed with adjusting the placement of the wires.

after touching up the wiring, you screwed the bolts back into place and nervously placed the pieces back into the casing. you glanced back at Ekko who nodded and watched as you pressed the button on the side of the device.

the communicator didn’t do anything for a second.

you bit your lower lip anxiously, hoping that it would work and you hadn’t just embarrassed yourself. just as you were about to give up, it started blinking a bright, neon green. you excitedly hit Ekko on his arm and jumped up from the stool.

Ekko leaned back in the chair and laughed as you danced around the room.

it was always the small things like this that made you smile. he couldn’t understand what it was, but every accomplishment made you appear so proud of yourself and the people around you. despite everything that’s happened to you all, you’ve somehow managed to keep a positive outlook on things.

“told you i could be of help.” you smirked.

“pfft.” Ekko scoffed, “i already knew that.”

you rolled your eyes, “uh huh. is that why you didn’t let me help the first time? your wiring was flawed by the way.”

Ekko got out of the chair and flicked your forehead. ignoring your statement and instead moving towards your bed. he flopped onto the crappy ‘mattress,’ (which was made out of sewn together fabric stuffed with some more fabric), and took up the entire space.

“hey, dude!” you protested, “you have your own bed!”

“yeah, but yours is way more comfortable.”

“that’s because you never fix yours! come on, man!”

~

mm idk idk abt this one…might redo it if i feel up to it. i’ve been really busy with school, so i’m not sure i’m sorry if it’s not too good!!

[chocoenvy]

villain au

but the reader decides "aight yknow what fuck it"

and just decides to go for a flirty thief with a tophat and cape kind of aesthetic

and they just

steal shit

and flirt with those that are the most angry at them

also adding the gold blood idea because yes

READER AS A HOT THIEF YES PLEASE

I may have gotten a bit carried away so there's some concept art under the cut lol (also I imagined reader having a skill tree and they unknowingly put all of their points into stealth so-)

warnings: blood, some torture (reader receiving), drawn golden blood

Your side hurt, your lungs hurt, your heart hurt. You could barely think. The gods were on your tail again. They hunted you and sought to kill you again and again and again and again.

It'd never stop. They'd never stop. You'd be hurting forever if you didn't do something. You could just... sit there... and accept death.

Ha, hell no. You wanted to watch them writhe in anger, wish they hadn't played games. Wish they were powerful enough to kill you.

So you disappeared. Teleported away with nothing left behind but tracks. It was during this time you honned your stealth and thievery skills. It started small, with some food and water - you were dying after all. Then it started getting bigger, you started accumulating clothes and cloth to make clothes.

Stealing the basics first, a mask and a big hat to not get recognized easily. A better cloak you had sewn a primogem onto and you'd fashioned some primogems into earrings. A small fuck you to the gods to show you'd never wish for any of them again.

Then you went for the bigger fish. You stole weapons. Replacing all of their weapons with one stars, all of those that had hurt you were stripped of their artifacts as well. You put them in your own arsenal. Though, you preffered your daggers as you had fully adopted the theivery act.

The artifacts you had merely gone to the character screen to steal, but for the weapons...

You went in person.

You could see their blood boiling as you appeared from seemingly nowhere. At first, the gods were confused.

"Who are you!" Ei had demanded.

"Aw you don't remember me?" Your smile was damning, "Let me paint a picture, Wolvendom, cornering a scared human between three wrathful gods and Andrius. Then, they dissapeared."

The recognition that dawned on their faces was just the beginning of your sweet revenge.

"It's you! The heretic!" Venti shouted, his face twisted into a seething anger.

The three immediately went to attack you, but you'd dodged at an almost inhuman speed.

"Barbie doll, I'd stop jumping to violence if you wanna keep you lyre der hymmel in one piece." You grinned like a cat, "Well, you've already nearly broken it-"

"How'd you get that?" Venti gasped, his bow lowered.

You giggled, "Now you're lowering your weapon? Not when I was helpless and stared at Mondstat with wonder-?"

"Nobody gives a shit about your sob story just answer the question!" Venti snarled, his bow raised again.

You sighed and shrugged, "How'd the traveler and you get it the first time? I snuck in, though the fatui didn't interrupt me."

Venti's breath was stolen, "How do you know about that-"

"Oh! Look at the time! Seems I'm gonna be keeping this, see you later loves!" You made half a heart with your hand whilst you hurridly teleported away. Spears and arrows penetrating the ground where you had stood.

Another time, you had decided to have a bit of fun with Sara.

"How do you run in those shoes babe?" You had appeared beside her, curiously tilting your head.

"Wha- You!" She'd drawn her bow and aimed it at you.

You held up your hands, "Woah! No need to get so angry so quickly. You're reminding me of Ei you know." You pouted.

"Who's Ei- nevermind. I won't listen to the words of a heretic like you." She sneared and let go of her arrow. It whizzed past you and you just barely dodged, seeming to dissappear for a moment before reappearing next to her.

"But seriously, how the hell do you walk in those? Can I try them on?" You smiled innocently as Sara opted to just attempt to stab you with the arrow.

"Jeez! You and your archons really have no chill!" You huffed, dusting your clothes off.

"Soldiers! Surround them!" Sara ordered.

You sighed, but just as you were about to teleport away a bolt of lightning struck the ground near you and with it, the mussou no isshin slashed you just past your shoulder. The cut wasn't that deep, but it still hurt like hell due to the lightning embued into it. It caused convulsions to overcome your body and you crumpled to your knees.

"Can't teleport away now can you?" The cold voice of the Raiden Shogun - no, that was Ei - sparkled through the air.

"Fuck." You huffed, holding your shoulder.

A hand knocked your hat off and grabbed your hair, forcefully lifting you up to meet the face of Ei. More strikes of lightning struck you and your body convulsed.

"What do you have to say heretic?" Ei held her sword up to your throat, "Now that you've been caught and shall now face divine punishment."

You puffed for air, "What... did I ever do... but try to be happy... with the face I have?"

Ei didn't like that answer. She pulled her sword back and you shut your eyes tight as another round of lightning struck your body. Your arms went limp and uncovered your arm just as blood drippled down your nose.

She gasped and let you go. All at once, the pain of lightning and being held up by your hair dissappeared as you crumpled to the floor, breathing heavily.

Ei's hands shook as she dropped her weapon and carefully picked your injured body back up. She looked to your face, your half-lidded eyes, eyebrows and lips drawn back in pain, golden blood dribbling down your nose and shoulder.

"Haha," You giggled, a mad grin on your face, "Hahaha! That's the- that's the softest anyone has been to me."

Ei's heart broke, Sara could barely stand and dropped to her knees. You reached your hand up to Ei's face, cupping it.

You grinned, though your eyes shone with golden flecks of hate, "I hope those months of me terrorizing you was hell, and I hope this is worse." You made half a heart with one of your hands.