#i remember exactly where i was when it was uploaded and everything
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Everything to me - Chapter 2
Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean
Chapter 1
Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents.
Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader
Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship
Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule.
Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google.
I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist.
Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please
The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.
She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.
Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.
There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked.
It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be.
Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.
“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!”
Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.
“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.”
He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.”
He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on.
Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for.
“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.”
“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?”
He has a point, she has to give him that.
“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.”
Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.
“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.”
Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool?
Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?!
“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”
“What? Why?”
There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips.
“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?”
“Like two weeks ago.”
“Fuck off, no you didn’t!”
“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.”
A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst.
“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.”
There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one.
“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?”
“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “
She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.
“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.”
And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.
“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”
A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.
“I uh — I can’t do this.”
And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.
“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.”
“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.”
She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying.
Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.
“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”
A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks.
“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.”
“And Simon? You got two people so — “
“I didn’t though.”
“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.”
“That’s right.”
“And your mum too”.
The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.
“And your mum too?”
More silence.
“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “
To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.
“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.”
“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”
(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.
“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.”
Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.
“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”
“Huh?”
“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.”
Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.
“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.”
The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture.
“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”
“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.”
“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?”
(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though.
Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen.
“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does.
“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?”
He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”
“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.”
“You feeling alright?”
“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.”
His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.”
That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.
“You sure you’re alright?”
Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.
“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.”
Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.”
His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!”
If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love.
“Kidney Bean?”
“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!”
“Can you feel that?”
“No, not yet.”
“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.”
It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.
“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”
Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks.
“Dunno.”
“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?”
He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.
“Ah, it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.”
“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.”
He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths.
“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.”
It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying.
“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise.
So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me.
When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.”
It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.
Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.
“I think your mum is a right bitch.”
“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.”
“We’re gonna be better than them, right?”
It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.
“We will. I know it.”
His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while.
The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.
“Woah, you alright?”
“Huh?”
“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”
A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant.
Again with the life and the plans.
“I’m fucking nervous.”
“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”
“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.”
Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.
“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”
“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.”
“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.”
She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.
The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.
“Oh, I missed you, my baby.”
Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.
And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself.
“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.”
The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.
“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.”
It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.
“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).”
Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.
“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”
“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.”
She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.
“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.”
“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.”
“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”
Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.
There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.
As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department.
“Jamie, welcome home.”
“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).”
“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”
“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.”
“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”
“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.”
Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety.
“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”
Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.
It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.
“Oh, fuck.”
And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.
Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones.
“This is surreal.”
The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently.
“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really.
“Do they know?”
“Does who know?”
“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”
“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.”
A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation.
“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.”
“Not much has changed has it?”
He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”
From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.
“And uh — and Keeley?”
“What about her?”
“Is she — are you — how are things?”
She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.
“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.”
“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.”
“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.”
Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.
“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.”
“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.”
For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.
“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?”
“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.”
Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.
Just them and their little Kidney Bean
— and a curly-haired Roy Kent
— and Keeley’s boobs.
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#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x f!reader#jamie tartt x female reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt fanfic#jamie tartt x y/n#inbloomwriting#jamie tartt x fem!reader#everythingtomefic#ted lasso tv show fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt imagines
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mentally i’m still here btw
#roman empire#i think about this daily#the IMPACT this video on my life#i remember exactly where i was when it was uploaded and everything#phan#dan and phil#dnp#dan and phil games#amazingphil#danisnotonfire#daniel howell
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perv!mingyu ⟡ kmg
wc: 731 | pair: perv!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: roommates au, 18+ (minors go away) | tags: mingyu is PERVERTED, panty stealing, dirty thoughts, mingyu spies on the reader
summary: when your roommate mingyu is a filthy, dirty pervert obsessed with you
authors note: maybe i'm a freak, but i literally thought that mingyu uploaded a pic of himself sniffing either socks or underwear. this is a really short drabble. wrote this in an hour. i might write more about perv!mingyu :) i told y'all that this blog is really self-indulgent...
Mingyu can’t remember exactly when his obsession with you began. One day, you were his roommate. The next, you were the star of all his fantasies. He’s had plenty of roommates before you, but you were different.
Maybe it's the fact that he knows what you sound like when you’re touching yourself. He knows you only do it when you’re the only one at home, where you can freely vocalize your pleasure without being embarrassed by anyone listening in. Except, that is exactly what Mingyu does.
If he tells you that he’ll be back from the gym by eight pm, he’s actually home at 7 and listening to you use your fingers to pleasure yourself. He tells you that he’s going to be at work until six, and comes home at five-fifty to hear the tail end of your orgasm.
Most of Mingyu’s nights are spent leaning against the wall your rooms share, pathetically fisting his swollen cock in his palms. His head would be pressed against the wall, his ears straining to find your moans. If he’s bold enough, he’s right outside your door with his dick out, where it’s significantly easier to hear you.
Right after you cum, he loudly opens and closes the front door to the apartment, hollering, “I’m home!”
He listens to you stumble around your room before you peek your head out. With your hair a mess, and eyes wide, Mingyu finds your flustered state so cute. He prevents a smug smirk from appearing when you innocently ask him how his day was.
He’s well aware that it would take only three strides of his long legs to reach your room. He’s also certain you didn’t have enough time to wipe your fingers clean of your essence. The idea that while you’re smiling innocently at him, behind the door your fingers are coated in your cum drives him insane. It takes everything in him not to burst into your room, take your hand in his, lick your fingers clean, and then make another mess of your pussy.
Mingyu’s perverted habits have been ongoing for several months. Mingyu was too far gone to feel any sense of guilt at this point. Not when you didn’t have to know. Not when he stole a pair of your panties from your laundry hamper while you were out with your friends.
He tries to use it sparingly to preserve your scent. He pulls it out on the occasions where he is so horny that his imagination cannot satiate his needs. It’s erotic, Mingyu thinks, that he’s using your panties while jerking himself off without your knowing.
He’s flat on his back, in the centre of his bed with the sheets pushed to his ankles. His room is plunged into darkness aside from the bedside lamp that illuminates his filthy act of perversion with a warm glow. He has his eyes closed whilst imagining the sight of you seated on his lips. He imagines his nose is buried in your delicious pussy, not the fabric of your underwear. His free hand grips his cock fiercely.
His mind presents him the image of you gripping his dark locks, your hips rotating as you grind into his mouth. His tongue is expertly drawing circles around your clit, the pressure of it so perfect that he brings to you an orgasm that is so shattering that you threaten to fall off of him. His arms would lock around your thighs like a vice. His eyes would look up at you, telling you everything that his occupied mouth can’t. His puppy eyes would be imploring, begging for more. His gaze would track your every movement, every rise and fall of your chest, every ‘o’ your mouth forms, every time your eyes clench shut when he sucks on your pussy.
And when you’re finished with his mouth, you’d come off of him, and clean up the mess you made by licking your release off of his lips. You two would make out as a result, messy and slick with saliva and cum.
While his imagination goes wild thanks to your used panties, Mingyu struggles to keep in the pitiful whine that threatens to leave his throat. He doesn’t want to wake you up. You’re obliviously sleeping on the other side of the wall, unaware that your pervert roommate is thinking such depraved thoughts about you.
#mingyu x reader#mingyu smut#kim mingyu#mingyu#seventeen mingyu#mingyu fanfic#kim mingyu smut#kim mingyu x reader#kim mingyu imagines#svt#svt smut#svt imagines#mingyu imagines
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swipe right — k. bakugo x fem! reader
✮ a/n: i remember seeing a post on here a long time ago about a character making a fake tinder profile for their gf and realizing how many people want her. (if someone knows the OG post please lmk so i can link it!) so now i present to you: bakugo falling to his knees in the middle of your apartment bedroom for the exact same reason.
✮ content/warnings: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp but when do I ever write him as being otherwise??
✮ summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.
✮ word count: 4.2k (i'm so sick)
Bakugo can remember how this all started. In very vivid detail, actually. He remembers because Kaminari had pissed him off so much to the extent that it took him a very substantial amount of effort to refrain from bashing his friend’s face in.
It all started during the last monthly hangout amongst Bakugo and his friends— one day out of the month designated to make sure that they all had time to catch up with one another despite their busy schedules.
Everything was normal, with all of them getting more than enough of their fill of food and alcohol while idly playing video games and talking about random topics to fill in the silence in Kaminari’s living room.
Perfectly normal, until Denki decided to open his stupid mouth, at least.
He goes off on a tangent about a trend he saw on social media where someone makes a fake Tinder profile for their partner to see how many matches they’d get. He proceeds to tell Bakugo that he should try doing it, for “funsies,”— to which Bakugo scoffs at.
“Aren’t you curious, Kacchan?” Kaminari smiles cheekily, wrapping an arm around his blond friend’s shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bakugo’s becoming visibly more upset with every passing moment.
“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Mina chimes in, sticking her tongue out when Katsuki whips his head to glare at her. “I’m still surprised she’s with a grump like you.”
Kaminari butts in, “I bet there’s a whole line of guys around the block just waiting for a chance to get with her. I mean, just look at her! Hell, I’d even let her peg m—”
For a moment, Bakugo swears he wants to bash Kaminari’s face into his flatscreen. And for a moment, he lets that impulsive thought win— getting up and grabbing two fistfuls of Denki’s shirt before promptly getting cut off by Kirishima.
“Alright alright,” Kirishima forcibly pries Bakugo off of the other blond, pushing him off to the side. “That’s enough, you two. Kaminari was just messing around. I’ll admit, it wasn’t a good joke, but no need to hurt the guy, okay Bakugo?”
Kirishima knows that Kaminari wasn’t being that serious, but Kirishima can also admit that what he had to say held some ounce of truth. And Kirishima knows Bakugo well enough to see how your boyfriend tends to be rather skittish and protective with matters concerning you— which is exactly why Eijiro had to stop him before it was too late. He really didn’t feel like preparing for Denki’s funeral or helping hide Katsuki escape from a homicide charge.
And that was that…up until a few minutes ago.
Katsuki’s tried to forget that conversation. But try as he might, his mind betrays him and can’t help but wander back to what Denki said that night.
He trusts you of course, and has complete faith in your relationship. However, he’s curious to a fault, just about perhaps too curious for his own good.
How badly could this end?
As it turns out, this whole scheme seems to be playing out very poorly.
Dozens of photos of you— screenshotted from your social media accounts— fill Katsuki’s screen. He had to choose photos you uploaded yourself, because most of his photos of you were either too…suggestive or too domestic (and he wants to be the only one to see you in those moments).
He swipes through “your” profile one last time before clicking “done” to officially put you on the market. And just like that, Bakugo’s met with the faces of men who are nowhere near your level. He goes through the batch of profiles, scrutinizing each one he comes across. He’s (un)surprisingly selective with the ones he chooses to swipe right on— making sure that they’re at least somewhat conventionally attractive. To his surprise (or dread, rather), his phone pings right away with a notification from someone who swiped back. Another ping. A message.
You free tonight?
Bakugo scoffs. He looks through the guy’s profile— a picture of him at a party with his arms around some girls, another with him doing a victory pose presumably after hiking, and one with him holding a fish. He feels his mouth curl in disgust, about to give into the urge to reply and give this guy a piece of his mind, before he realizes he’s pretending to be you. He takes a deep breath, closes out of the app, and puts down his phone.
He’s starting to regret this.
Bakugo’s phone has gone off 15 times in the last hour. Bakugo has also felt the need to strangle some stranger through the phone 15 times in the last hour. Your (read: his) profile has existed for less than 60 minutes, and you already have a whole address book of nobodies trying to link with you and get a quick fuck.
He feels the familiar beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of his skull. He thinks he might need a drink. Why did he decide to do this again?
In hindsight, he probably should have known this is exactly how it was going to go down.
What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?
Yeah.
He was never great at self-preservation in the first place. So this, the feeling of overwhelming jealousy, frustration, possessiveness brewing up a storm threatening to pour out of every single fiber of Bakugo’s being— was no surprise.
He watches as the numbers at the bottom of his screen increase steadily, before tapping on the star icon.
‘99+ likes!’ it reads. Over 99 people who saw your profile and thought you were beautiful. Bakugo pales, and he can feel the cold sweat building on the nape of his neck. He grips his phone, knuckles turning white. Is he shaking from anger or nervousness?
Anger because all these guys think they even have the slightest chance with someone as amazing as you. Nervousness because what if you decide that they do? You wouldn’t actually leave him for one of these guys, right? Right?
None of these men would walk through hell and back for you. They don’t know how you like your coffee, the details of your skin care routine, how you like to binge watch shows and talk Katsuki’s ear off about them (not that he ever minded, of course). They don’t know you, not like he does. Katsuki looks at you like you hung the moon. In fact, he’s pretty convinced that you did. Everything good in his life— the warmth, the color, the joy,— is encompassed by you. He’d be damned if he lets some greasy little nobody take that from him. Because the moment Bakugo fell in love with you, you became a part of him— inextricably and indefinitely. Loving you has become so intrinsic to him, that even the mere thought of another person loving you or looking at you the same way he does has him going insane. Not that anyone could love you like he did, though. That thought brings him some comfort, but not for long.
One last notification he sees sends him spiraling. Bakugo swears that he can see red. That’s when he deletes the app, and throws his poor phone in some random corner of the living room, which is markedly one of the smarter choices he’s made as of late. He marches to your bedroom with a fire burning in his chest.
He stops short of the door and finds you sitting at the edge of your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. You’re applying lotion, and he watches the cream absorb into your skin wordlessly, in awe at how overwhelmingly beautiful you manage to look in the most prosaic of tasks. For a second, he almost forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.
Your hair is still damp, water droplets accumulating at the tips, and Katsuki feels his mouth run dry the minute he watches a stray bead fall and make its way down your neck and stop perfectly in the dip of your collarbone. Your very existence is forever etched into his heart, every inch of you carved into his memory, but even still he can never get tired of looking at you. At every angle, in every lighting, he needs to see you in it. You could call him obsessed, but he’d simply laugh and agree, because what’s so wrong with that? Especially if it’s you.
You’re one to be studied— to be adored, Katsuki thinks, to the greatest capacity. It’s what you deserve. And what better person for that task to fall upon than him?
He finds himself naturally gravitating towards you, his finger tracing the same exact path the water had carved just moments before, wordlessly. You try to pay no mind, but it’s difficult as you realize just how close Bakugo was and how your towel barely manages to cover up your most intimate parts. One wrong move and you’d be exposed. With how things were playing out, and the predatory glint in the blond’s eyes, you don’t think your boyfriend would be too perturbed with your current predicament.
Katsuki presses a delicate kiss to your forehead before he crouches down. Suddenly, you’re at eye level with one another, his hot breath tickling your lips. You think for a moment he’s going to kiss you so you lean forward, lips waiting. But he merely grazes them before he sucks a deep bruise into the juncture of your neck, biting slightly.
You’re barely given any time to react before he’s grabbing the hand that’s securing your towel and ripping it away, the offending garment falling off your body. Your flesh prickles with goosebumps as its exposed to the sudden chill. It’s quickly replaced by the heat of Bakugo’s body as he pushes you lightly, your back hitting the mattress. He crawls on top of you, muscular thighs on either side of your hips, your head placed conveniently between his forearms. He’s trapped you, a nonverbal challenge for you to try and escape.
You’re a work of art, he thinks, but much more valuable than any pièce de résistance framed in any museum.
Beautiful, yes, but far too blank for his liking. He wants to ruin you, make you his own personal magnum opus. And so he does.
He presses a clothed knee against your bare cunt, pressing firmly. His lips continue their assault on your neck, leaving angry purpling bruises in their wake. Rough hands find your breast, and you moan in surprise when he gives both of them a harsh squeeze as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Katsuki kisses you like a man dying of thirst, hungry for everything you can offer him and more. It’s all too much already, the way he’s kissing you has your mind reeling, and you have to turn your head away for a moment to catch your breath. Katsuki thinks it’s a moment too long without you, so he coaxes you into locking lips with him once more. A wave of mischievousness washes over you, prompting you to take your boyfriend’s lower lip in between your teeth, biting down lightly.
You feel his breath hitch, before he lets out a low groan as he grinds his clothed dick against your bare wetness. He returns the favor, sucking on your bottom lip before letting it go with a wet pop. He pulls back with a lazy smirk, his lips pursing together to scatter messy kisses down the base of your throat and down your chest, alternating between sucking and biting at the flesh.
He gives you a good once-over, scanning every surface, committing them to memory. You feel the need to curl into yourself with how intensely those vermillion eyes are piercing into you, memorizing every single curve, scar, freckle like he’s done time and time again.
He drops down to his knees, broad shoulders bullying their way in between your legs, forcibly prying them open. He grips your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, and drags you down the mattress until your legs are dangling off the bed.
“Jesus, Kats, be more gentle.”
“Shhh. I know you like it when I’m not gentle,” he chuckles. As if to prove a point, he pulls you down even further, giving a harsh bite to your inner thigh. He smiles deviously when you yelp. You try to pull at his hair but his reflexes are too quick, pinning both of your wrists down on either side of you easily. “Besides, this is the perfect height for me to eat you out, dontcha think baby?”
You want to chastise him for being so crass, so Katsuki, but the words die on the tip of your tongue the minute he gives a sweet, loving kiss to your clit, sucking lightly.
“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this except for me.”
You’re not entirely sure what brought this on, but you find it hard to complain when Bakugo drags his tongue from your throbbing clit to inside your pussy, drinking everything you have to offer.
Your hands automatically try to find purchase in his blond locks, struggling against the vice grip Katsuki has on your wrists. He decides to take pity on you, loosening his hold so you can slip your hands into his hair, moaning appreciatively when he feels you tug. He rewards you by flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again, just the way you like it. He does it until your moans begin to pitch higher and higher, the same way that they do when you’re close. He doesn’t stop his ministrations even after you cum, riding out your orgasm until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation. He pulls away from you with a loud pop, taking in the sight before him.
He runs a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “So fucked out already and we’re barely getting started, baby.”
Your mind is barely processing his words before you feel Katsuki’s erection brush against your stomach, his clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. He taps the head of his dick against your clit to tease you, a feeling of satisfaction swelling when you cry out from under him.
He watches in fascination as strings of your arousal cling to him. He positions his length at your entrance, locking eyes with you as you hold your breath in anticipation. Katsuki likes you like this. Needy for him.
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” He slips into you with a stuttered groan.
Katsuki’s always been big. You never get used to the initial stretch, no matter how many times you two fuck. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sliding in with ease from the slick of your last orgasm. It easily coats his cock as he gives a few experimental thrusts. He groans in rapture. How do you manage to feel so good every time? It’s enough to drive him insane. Perhaps he already is.
“So fucking perfect, no wonder why all those losers want you.” He mutters out the last part, and you’re not sure if you caught that right.
“What?” He chooses not to respond, and you aren’t given the opportunity to think any further before your legs are thrown over his shoulders, Katsuki’s weight effectively pinning you in place. The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and all you can do is cling to Katsuki, nails leaving red, angry lines on his well-defined back.
He wastes no time before he starts drilling into you, hips slotting in between your legs perfectly. The position has him pressed against your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s been set ablaze, with Katsuki holding both the power to have it burn even brighter and the ability to extinguish it. And you’re almost there, you can feel your soul slowly ascending, your room filled with hymns of pleasure, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to unravel along with your sanity. Katsuki can feel it too— the way you’re squeezing him tighter, how your gasps and moans have climbed just a note higher, how absolutely ruined you look, how he’s responsible for your current state. Which is exactly why he wants to push it even further, he wants to see how much you’ll break for him— and only him.
Katsuki cuts you off right before you can reach your peak, pulling out but making sure just his tip is inserted. You come to and take a look at your lover and marvel at the sight. He has a crazed look in his eyes. The way he smirks is absolutely wicked.
You feel distraught— having been so close but having it ripped away from you. You give your boyfriend a petulant pout.
“Katsuki,” you whine, slapping a hand against his sweaty chest, “Why’d you stop? I was so close!”
“Because I didn’t want you to cum yet,” he says simply. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? I’ll give my baby what she deserves, as long as she’s good.”
You roll your eyes, huffing. That won’t do for him.
As much as he loves seeing you indulge, he feels a need to punish you— at least a little bit to even begin to atone for being the wicked temptress you are.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Bakugo growls, gripping your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, causing your lips to purse slightly. “I said be good, okay? Wanna take my time with you.”
There’s a moment of respite, until you sigh in defeat, knowing better than to argue with him lest you wanted to dig your own grave. “‘Kay, ‘ki.”
He flashes you a smile. Obedient, just how he likes you. “Good girl.”
Katsuki draws his hips back, thrusting just enough to fuck his tip into you. He’s teasing. The amount of willpower on his end it takes not to cum is nauseating.
“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” he rasps, one hand finding their way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Your hands reflexively grab his wrist.
All you can manage is a fucked out moan. Katsuki has to resist the urge to coo, about how he’s managed to turn you into a cockdrunk mess in such a short matter of time. The wave of possessiveness that’s been gnawing at the depths of his soul begins to seep out, and he’s reminded of the reason why the two of you are in this position in the first place.
He gives your throat another squeeze and a rough slap to your clit. “C’mon princess, answer me. Say it.” He slowly adds more and more pressure until your ears grow hot and air feels like a precious commodity.
“I-i’m pretty,” you manage to gasp out, tears spilling from your lash line as you begin to lose yourself between the space of pleasure and pain.
Good. Always so pliant for him.
“That’s right, baby,” he concedes. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He punctuates the last word with a deep thrust, right against that spongy spot that feels so good. You’re so sensitive that it’s enough to send you spiraling into your second orgasm, walls spasming around him uncontrollably.
Katsuki stills, staving off his own release with all the restraint he can summon. He silently thanks whatever divine forces are out there that he didn’t cum the minute he felt the first clench of your orgasm.
He grits his teeth as he wills himself to move, trying not to get lost in the wetness that envelops him. You’re babbling now, senseless moans filling Katsuki’s ears like a sweet melody.
“Kats, please, I’m too sensitive—” You’re shaking now, muscles trembling with every thrust.
“But I’m not done with you yet,” he says simply, drawing his hips back with a particularly rough thrust. You choke back whatever you were going to say with a loud cry. “What’s your color, baby?”
You take a moment to answer, brain trying to comprehend the words just uttered to you. You look at Katsuki firmly, “Green.”
“Atta girl,” he praises, the drive of his hips beginning to shallow. He’s close, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. But for you, he tries. “You’re mine, right?”
“Yes,” you breathe out, shivering as goosebumps dance across your skin.
“Say it,” Katsuki pleads, thrusts growing sloppy by the second. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m all yours, ‘ki.”
With that, Katsuki’s fate is sealed. He’s left groaning as a flash of pleasure shakes his very soul, filling you up with so much cum that it dribbles onto the mattress even while he’s still inside you. You follow suit, an embarrassingly obscene rhythm of squelching noises fill the silence as you spasm around his dick. He collapses on top of you, but he’s still coherent enough to not dump all his weight on you.
Your labored breaths fill the room as the two of you come to. Katsuki pulls out of you with a wince, still a bit sensitive. He gives you a peck on the lips before he drags himself down, settling in between your legs much like he was earlier.
You tense up, “Kats, wait—”
Any and all protests cease the moment Bakugo works his tongue inside of you, slurping lewdly as he drags out the mixture of your cum and his, swallowing. He tries not to stimulate your puffy clit in an attempt to be merciful, but you still feel yourself steadily climbing to what would be your fourth orgasm this session. While the past three have been intense and drowning, this one comes to you in waves, dull pleasure invading your senses as Katsuki continues to eat you out to clean you up.
He pulls away when you finish, your slick and his saliva coating his chin before he wipes it off on the back of his hand. You stare at his half-hard erection with a half concerned, half quizzical look. “Do you…” you lick your lips, “need help with that? I’m a little sensitive down there but I could use my mout—”
“Nah, I’m good babe,” he says earnestly, flashing you a smile that he only ever shows around you. “I’ll be back.” With that, your boyfriend leaves the room only to come back with a bottle of water.
“Drink.” You comply, finishing half the bottle graciously before handing it to him. He downs the rest before he settles next to you on the bed, laying on his side. You mirror him, shifting your body so that you’re both facing each other.
Katsuki reaches out, finger idly tracing random shapes and lines onto the bare skin on your hip. He has a pensive look on his face, one that he usually doesn’t hold after stolen moments like this; it’s an expression he wears when he’s in deep thought.
“Baby,” you call out. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah?”
“Whatcha thinking about?” You watch as a hesitant look flashes across your boyfriend’s face before he shakes his head.
“S’nothin’. Just thinkin’ about us two.” He speaks lightly. It’s always been difficult for him to voice his inner thoughts and feelings, so he tends to beat around the bush. You’ve learned that if you ever want something out of him, you’d have to pry a little. Katsuki always indulges you though.
“What about us?”
“Do you- do you think you’ll ever get tired of this?” He repeats himself, clearing his throat. The question is followed by a weaker, “...of me?”
You think it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever asked, because the answer should be obvious. “I’d never get tired of you, Katsuki. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he replies automatically, “but if I ever do anything that upsets you, or if I get too much for you, or if I—” he’s rambling now. Yes, it’s difficult for Katsuki to talk about his feelings, but once you manage to get him to open up, all the walls of his self-made fortress come crashing down and it’s up to you to pick up the pieces.
“Baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his sharp jaw with one hand. “Look at me.” And he does— ruby eyes meeting yours. “I love you because you’re you. And I choose to be with you everyday. It’s not always gonna be perfect, no relationship is. But I know that I will always wake up and choose you.”
You can see the anxiety melt away from Katsuki’s body, shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Love you too, sap,” is all he says before he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you into a bearhug. You two stay that way until both of you are lulled to sleep.
You’re laying in bed with Katsuki, both of you dozing off when you hear a slight buzz from your phone on the nightstand. You squint as you try to read the notification, and make out that it’s from your friend.
Denki Kaminari: So did it work?
You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, giving a quick glance over your shoulder to check on your boyfriend— fast asleep. You turn back to your phone, your thumbs making quick work at your keyboard.
You: Just like I said it would. Thanks Denki :)
Writing belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not share my work on Tiktok.
#bakugo x you#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugo x y/n#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#bnha x reader#bnha x you#kat's writing#kat's demon time#tw.dubcon#cw.dubcon#tw.overstimulation#cw.overstimulation
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How To Care For A Bunny 101
Pairing: Jungkook x Bunny Hybrid Reader, mentions of Dog Hybrid Jimin x Bunny Hybrid Reader
Genre: Domestic, Smut, Fluff, a little bit of angst, mentions of the past, a little bit of sliding timelines
Rating: 18+
Summary: You were head over heels for your owner but you always buried your feelings in fear of damaging your relationship with Jungkook. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was also in the exact same predicament. After you experience your heat for the first time, Jungkook decides it's finally time for him to come clean.
Author's Note: Hello! This is the first piece of work that I am uploading to this site. I hope I don't scare anyone off of here. A bit of a warning but there is a bit of a sliding timeline here. If this gets confusing, I would appreciate the feedback. If you liked this story, please leave a like and give my blog a follow! I would really appreciate it!
Italics=Past
Clutching the stuffed animal closer to your body, you watched as the alarm clock struck midnight. It’s been over an hour since the tattoo shop that your owner works at was supposed to close but Jungkook has yet to arrive home. The stuffed toy, which you affectionately named Cooky, was a birthday gift your owner had gotten you. In times when you feel lonely, such as this one, Cooky provides some comfort but you would rather be cuddled up in Jungkook’s arms as he lulled you to sleep with his gentle singing.
It didn’t take long for you to fall head over heels for Jungkook after you started living with him. How could you not? Jungkook was everything a girl could want. He was sweet, had the voice of an angel, attractive (although you always felt too shy to tell him that), and cherished every moment he spent with you among other things. Most importantly, he cared for you, a feeling you were robbed of growing up in that wretched hybrid care center you used to call home.
You don’t think of your past home as much as you used to. Preferring the memories you make now with your loving owner than the lonely ones back at your old home. It was at this bunny hybrid care center that you could recall your earliest memories. It was there where you were raised by the facility’s caretakers and received your education, making a few casual friends along the way. As kind as some of your caretakers were, you never grew as close to any, at least not in the way you did with Jungkook. They often never stayed long to form that kind of connection anyway. It wasn’t the best place for a child, the facility not receiving as much funding as it should to properly care for its residents. You often felt alone. You had some friends but for the most part, you missed out on forming deep and meaningful bonds.
You didn’t get adopted as a kid. Most families preferred to adopt hybrids when they were still very young. But you aged out of the preferred age bracket and eventually came to the realization that finding another home might as well be impossible. Hybrids who chose to stay could work for the center in exchange for basic housing and money (albeit a poor wage). With nowhere else to go, you really had no other option.
That was up until Jungkook came into your life.
It was never Jungkook’s intention to adopt a hybrid. He had only come to your residence to accompany his friend Eunwoo. Eunwoo already had his own hybrid at home but wanted to adopt another one as a companion. It was on that day that Jungkook met you for the first time.
He first came across you doodling on your sketchbook at the care center’s living room area. You were curled up in a huge chair besides the room’s massive window. He even remembered exactly what you wore that day because of how cute he thought you looked. A fluffy oversized sweater and some fuzzy socks. You were so focused on your work that you took no notice of the buzz around you.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?”, Eunwoo quipped from behind Jungkook, snapping the other out of his staring daze.
“Y-yeah, she is”, Jungkook choked, feeling sheepish at being caught, “have you seen her yet?”
“No, but I’d like to get to know her”, Eunwoo shrugged, “maybe she’d be a good match for my Hana.”
After asking around a bit, Eunwoo was able to land a meet session with you that same day. He just wanted to get to know you better, see if you’d be a good match for his own hybrid at home. Being that Jungkook was already there, he stuck around for the meeting. Although if he was being honest, he was curious about you too.
-
“I like your body art.”
“Body art?”, Jungkook asked, “you mean my tattoos?”
“Oh I meant tattoos! Sorry! ”, you quickly apologized, embarrassed at your own mistake. You have seen tattoos before in magazines and in movies but didn’t know what to call them.
“No worries, I knew what you meant”, Jungkook laughed, “wanna see them?”
“Sure!”
Jungkook giggled at your enthusiasm before removing his jacket. You blushed at the sight of his well defined biceps decorated with numerous tattoos. His body itself was it’s own work of art. The next couple of minutes were spent with you gushing over how cool Jungkook’s tattoos looked, curious to find out the meaning and detail behind every one of them. Jungkook doesn’t think he has ever met anyone as excited about tattoos as you were, especially with how innocent he thought you looked.
Although the session was meant for Eunwoo to get to know you better, he ended up basically being third wheeled for the remainder of the enthusiastic exchange between the two of you. It didn’t bother him however, it was pretty amusing watching his friend of over a decade turn into a pile of putty in front him.
-
“She seems smitten with you”, Eunwoo commented over his steaming cup of coffee.
After the session was over, Eunwoo had let the staff know that he needed more time to think it over before adopting you. Both he and Jungkook deciding to stop at a cafe close by after the ordeal.
“What do you mean?”, Jungkook replied over his own iced americano.
Eunwoo shrugged before taking a sip of his own drink, “have you ever thought about adopting a hybrid?”
“No.”
It was true, it had never really crossed Jungkook’s mind before. He knows of people who have, and from his perspective, it seems like a huge hassle. There are specific diets, expensive medical visits, the dreaded heat spells, and who knows how many more complications out there.
“Well if you ever change your mind, I know a cute one.”
-
Being a new and relatively inexperienced owner, Jungkook missed all red flags of your impending first heat. You were extra affectionate and clingy. Not that it bothered him at all. He loved basking in the extra attention and affection you provided, chalking it up to you simply missing him due to the heavy work schedule he had that week.
Then it was the restlessness. Just before he left for work or to run errands in the morning, he would stop by your room to check up on you only you find you still awake from the night before with red eyes and a tired face. The lack of sleep was an immediate cause of concern in his eyes. He thought it warranted a doctor’s visit but you insisted that it was nothing to worry about and it was all caused by you staying up late to play games on your computer. His instincts told him it was something else but he took your word for it anyway and decided to wait and see if your sleep improved.
He finally dragged you to see the doctor after your restlessness only worsened and you started to complain of hot flashes. You tried to brush that off with different excuses as well but nothing you said this time was going to stop this doctor’s visit from happening.
-
“She’s experiencing her first heat.”
Jungkook nearly chocked on his own salvia upon hearing those words come out the doctor so nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. It hadn’t even been 5 minutes since Jungkook described your symptoms to the middle aged woman before she already had a diagnosis.
“Are you sure? I mean, the symptoms are kind of broad, could it not be an indiction of something else?”
“I’m positive”, she left out a laugh and adjusted her glasses, “I see it all the time. Besides, she’s due for one. I’d be more concerned if she hadn’t experience her heat yet.”
Jungkook chewed his lip. He had researched your symptoms on his own and found that your symptoms marked all the signs of a hybrid heat but he had just wanted to make sure. He felt his heart drop as he remembered all the posts recommending hybrids go through their heats with other hybrids.
“I see…she’s going to need a hybrid partner, right?”
“Ideally, yes. However, any partner will do so long as she has her needs met. Whether you decide to find her a hybrid partner or assist her yourself is going to be something for you and her to decide.”
As much as he despised the idea of another man touching you, Jungkook knew that he had to set his feelings aside and do what’s best for you. He didn’t want to take advantage of your instincts.
He knew of another hybrid like you who could help you through your heat. Jimin, a dog hybrid, was his coworker and one of his closest friends. Many businesses actively discriminate against hybrids and typically don’t hire them but Seokjin had known Jimin for a while and knew it’d be silly to pass out on a valuable employee because he happened to have ears and a fluffy tail. Most customers loved Jimin anyway because of his charm and skills, few ever turned him away for his hybrid status.
He feels uneasy at the prospect of asking Jimin if he would be willing to help you with such an intimate activity but he knew he could trust Jimin. Sex between hybrids is almost always done for instinctual needs and intimacy isn’t an aspect typically involved but Jungkook can’t help but feel his stomach churn at the thought.
-
“I’ll do it.”
Jungkook felt his heart drop a bit. Theoretically, he should be thankful that Jimin didn’t outright turn on him or even worse, cut all contact with him then and there. But still, part of him had hoped for a little more resistance from the hybrid.
“A-are you sure?”, Jungkook hopes Jimin doesn’t catch on to the reluctance in his voice.
“Yeah, I mean, why not? I know how much of a pain heats are, especially when you don’t have a partner to help you out. She’s really lucky to have an owner like you who looks out for these kinds of things Kook.”
-
Jungkook didn’t speak to Jimin for a couple of days after that night. He knew it was a wrong and shitty thing to do but he couldn’t stomach any sort of interaction with him. Every time he looked at Jimin, the image of you beneath him crossed his mind and it haunted him. It’s not like he was mad or upset with Jimin. Jungkook was the one who had asked him for his help after all. He just needs some time to forget the whole thing. As much as Jungkook tried to not show how bothered he was by the whole ordeal, the others quickly caught on to the change in his character. He didn’t joke around or engage with the others as much as he used to.
After the tension between them became too unbearable for Jimin to handle, Jimin decided to finally confront Jungkook privately. He wanted to catch Jungkook at closing hour as soon as the others left but he’s not too sure how that’s going to work out considering Jungkook is almost always the first to leave these days. Jimin knows that was surely in an effort to avoid him since Jimin had to almost drag Jungkook out of the parlor after closing before. Fortunately for him, Jungkook had forgotten a few of his belongings back in the parlor so he had no choice but to come back and retrieve them.
Jimin was just about done sweeping up the place when he heard the unlocking of the parlor’s door. There stood Jungkook, who looked like a deer caught under headlights as soon as he met Jimin’s stare.
“H-hey”, Jungkook could feel his hands start to get clammy as soon as he realized he was alone with Jimin, “I just realized I left some of my stuff here so I came back to pick them up.”
“Oh yea, no problem. I left them on the counter in the back”, Jimin quipped. Despite not confronting him yet, Jimin already started to feel awkward.
Jungkook bolted for the door as soon as he had grabbed all his things. He was only a few steps away from the exit when Jimin made his move.
“Jungkook, wait.”
Shit.
“Yes hyung?”, Jungkook had inched towards the door, resting his hand on the handle but he had turned around to reply to Jimin anyways.
“We should talk.”
Despite trying to avoid the situation altogether, Jungkook knew this would inevitably happen. It was difficult for him to completely hide the change in his character altogether. Jimin was also a sensitive guy by nature, he knew Jimin could feel the tension in the room become impalpable when they were together.
Jungkook let out an awkward cough before speaking, “sure, what’s on your mind?”
He could have replied that he had somewhere to be and spared himself from the conversation at hand but he already felt like a piece of shit for avoiding Jimin. This was the least he could do.
Jimin sighed. How does one even start a conversation like this?
“Well…to be honest, I just feel like something’s changed between us”, Jimin let the words flow out, it’s too late to go back now, “I don’t if you been trying to avoid me lately but that’s the impression I’m getting. I just wanted to know…if I did something wrong or something?"
“N-no”, Jungkook suddenly felt extremely guilty, “of course not hyung. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Jimin knew Jungkook was still hiding something, so he pressed further, “but something’s definitely bothering you Kook, I can tell. You know you could always tell me right? I won’t be hurt or offended.”
Jungkook sighed, he going to have to come clean for Jimin’s sake, “it’s not you hyung. Really. It’s me.”
Setting his stuff down, Jungkook decided to tell finally tell someone what was on his mind.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that…after that night between you and Y/N…I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Jungkook started trailing off again, he wanted to Jimin his true feelings but the words just keep getting lodged in his throat. Jimin was relieved to hear that he didn’t fuck up his and Jungkook’s relationship but it still bothered him to see Jungkook look so down. He’s been close friends with Jungkook for so long now that Jungkook is practically like a little brother to him. Even if Jimin isn’t the reason for change in Jungkook’s character, he’s still going to help him in any way he can.
“What do you mean? Is Y/N still in pain?”
“No”, Jungkook quickly interjected, “she’s ok now, what I��m trying to say is that this is more about me than it is her.”
Jimin thinks be beginning to understand now.
“I love her hyung and not in a way that an owner should be with their hybrid,” Jungkook felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders as he began to pour out the feelings he had bottled up inside for so long, “you did nothing wrong. I’m not mad at you or anything. I just feel… hurt and jealous about the whole thing. I know it’s a shitty thing to be feeling that way but everytime I’m with you…all I can think about is you and Y/N, well y’know.”
Oh. Jimin had a small hunch about what was really going on but he never thought that Jungkook would actually come to him and confirm it. Jimin felt like shit. He was just now starting to understand just how deep Jungkook’s feelings for you ran and he had jumped in and ruined it. Jimin felt as if he had betrayed his own brother.
“Jungkook, you have to tell Y/N.”
Jungkook’s eyes doubled in size at Jimin’s word of advice. How could he tell you something like that? What if you don’t feel the same and it totally ruins your relationship? He couldn’t burden you with something like that.
“Hyung, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea-”, Jungkook started but Jimin quickly interjected.
“You can’t carry this burden forever. And Y/N deserves to know the truth. How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way if you don’t confess how you truly feel? You have to trust her.”
Jungkook understood what Jimin was getting to. His feelings were getting in the way of his relationship with you and Jimin. He had to tell you how he truly felt so he could finally let this burden go.
He just hoped you felt the same way.
Jungkook didn’t say another word as he walked up to the dog hybrid and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He was just glad that his relationship with Jimin could be salvaged. As vulnerable as he feels right now, it felt good for Jungkook to open up and have this talk.
“It’s going to be okay Kook”, Jimin reciprocated the younger man’s embrace, he’s grateful that Jungkook could be honest with him.
“I’m so sorry hyung for everything, I hope you can forgive me”, Jungkook felt guilty for making Jimin believe he did something wrong. He’s doesn’t deserve to have someone as kind and understanding as Jimin as a friend.
Jimin chuckled, patting Jungkook on the pat, he reassured him, “it’s ok Jungkook, I understand. That’s something hard to go through, especially when you bottle up those feelings and keep them to yourself. Everything’s gonna be ok.”
-
Jungkook’s been with a few girls here and there but his relationships never latest for more than a few dates. Not after they would find out about you. Of course, when the topic would inevitably come up, Jungkook always insisted that his relationship with you was strictly familiar. Most of the time, it would work in qwelling any relationship doubts but only temporarily. It was impossible to miss how Jungkook’s eyes would light up when you walked into the room, the attentiveness he displayed everytime you spoke, or the sweet smile and giggle he gave you when you said something funny.
Jungkook could feel himself start to feel nervous again as he fumbled with the front’s door to his apartment. Either you would awake and waiting for him (it’s a cute little habit of yours to always wait for him after work to greet him, no matter how late) or you would be snuggled up on the sofa fast asleep if you couldn’t suppress your sleepiness long enough to see him.
Jungkook finally opened the door only to be greeted to the sight of you quietly asleep on the softa. He felt his heart melt at how peaceful and gentle you looked snuggled up under the heavy pink blanket. Your face was just barely peeking out of the covers as was your favorite stuffed animal Cooky.
The conversation would have to wait until tomorrow.
Quickly locking the door behind him, Jungkook was quiet as he set his things away as to not to disturb your slumber. In times that you would fall asleep on the couch, you would wake up and find yourself in your room again. Jungkook moving you back to your bedroom the night before. As peaceful as you looked, Jungkook figured the couch probably wasn’t as comfortable as your mattress.
After Jungkook finished setting his things away, the first thing he did was pick you up as gently as possible from the couch. Being mindful of not making too much noise and making sure he brought Cooky with you, he swiftly moved you from the couch into your bedroom as if you weighed nothing. He’d get ready for bed after he moved you.
Jungkook had just set you down on your bed when he felt you stirring beneath him. Shit. He must have awoken you during the procress.
“Kook?”, you said in a voice heavy in sleep, “that you?”
“Yeah Bun, I’m just moving you”, Jungkook replied, almost whispering, “sorry for waking you, I’ll be leaving now, ‘kay?”
“Wait no, don’t go yet Kook”, you were fully awake now, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand in a weak attempt to get him to stay, “how was work?”
“It was great. Lots of clients”, Jungkook shrugged, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “you sure you don’t want me to leave so you could go to sleep baby?”
“Nah, I’m ok”, you replied with a shake of your head, “I’m fully awake now, see? Don’t worry ‘bout me. Why’d you come home so late? Was it really that busy today?”
“N-no. I just forgot some things at the parlor so I had to go back. Then me and Jimin talked for a bit about something important…”
“Oh?”, you sat up now, using your elbows to prop yourself up from the bed, “what about?”
Suddenly, the world started to feel like it was slowing down to a stop. Jungkook felt extremely vulnerable again under your curious gaze. Even more so than when he was with Jimin. He can’t recall if he ever felt as nervous and as clammy as he did right now. Can he really go through with this?
“Y/N…there’s something important that I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now but I never had the courage to say it.”
“Yeah?”, you fully sat up now, feeling your heart speed up now in anticipation at what Jungkook had to say, “what is it Kook?”
Jungkook sighed. Why did this have to be so difficult?
“Y/N, the reason why I stayed up so late was because I told Jimin the truth about how I felt. About that night between you and Jimin. About you.”
Jungkook was gnawing at his bottom lip now, it was too late to go back now. He had your attention completely. He felt like a 12 year old boy confessing to his crush for the first time. His heart could burst out of his chest at any second now.
“The truth is”, Jungkook took a second to clear his throat before he continued, “I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’m in love with you and I know as an owner I shouldn’t feel- hmph”
Without thinking, you pressed your lips to Jungkook’s, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. It wasn’t lustful or needy but a delicate kiss. For a second, Jungkook froze. Your lips were softer than he had imagined. You two locked lips for what seemed like forever before you gently pulled away to properly respond to Jungkook’s confession.
“I’m happy to hear that Kook because for the longest time now, I’ve loved you too. I was also scared to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same or not. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward in your own home. To be honest, I’ve always tried to hide my feelings but I knew I couldn’t ignore them anymore when you brought another girl here for the first time. It was that client from your work, remember? I felt so jealous that I cried that night. I don’t think I can handle seeing you with anybody else.”
Was this really happening or were you still dreaming? Even if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. Not yet.
Jungkook felt the massive pressure he had carried with him for so long just dissipate in an instant. It was just like all his worries and doubts had been flushed out of his system. You loved him back. Not just in a familiar sort of way but you were in love with him too.
“Ok, I won’t ever bring another girl home again, I promise.”
Jungkook couldn’t help himself but slowly smile at your cute confession of jealously, who knew you were so possessive?
“Kook, why didn’t you help me with my heat?”
Jungkook chewed at his lip again, not knowing how to best respond, “It just didn’t feel right for me as your owner and a human to use your natural instincts as an excuse to have sex with you. I just wanted to do what was best for you and so I fiigured finding you another hybrid as a partner would be the best course of action.”
“You wouldn’t have taken advantage of me Kook, I may be a hybrid but I have enough control to know what I’m doing”, you reassured Jungkook. You were finally glad to hear that Jungkook didn’t offer himself as a partner to you because he felt unsure of himself and not because he didn’t want to be your mate, “Jiminnie… he’s nice but…I wanted you to help me.”
“Hmm, is it too late for me to take care of my baby girl?”
Maybe it was low or the raspy tone in his voice, but his words immediately made you squirm.
Taking your hands in his larger ones, he brought your hand up to his face, tentatively leaving tender kisses on your fingertips. Its little actions like this that turned you into a pile of putty in front of him.
“Mhm”, you inched closer to him, practically purring your next words, ”I mean, it’s not too late at all, please mate with me Kook.”
You didn’t have to ask him twice, his lips were already back on yours at your command. Unlike your first kiss, this one quickly turned into one laced with pure lust. You moaned as you felt Jungkook’s tongue slip inside your own mouth before exploring everything he could.
Breaking the kiss, Jungkook leaned back and took a couple of seconds to take you in. Here you were, beneath him and in desperate need of his touch. Even in this state you were beautiful, your hair was fanned out, eyes glossy and heavy, and your lips were parted as you let out short breaths.
In Jungkook’s attempt to better re-adjust his position to where he was hovering above you, his rapidly inflating shaft had unintentionally made contact with your clothed pussy. You moaned as you felt him rapidly stiffening under your touch.
“What do you need from me baby?”, Jungkook’s voice was laced with pure lust, “No need to be shy now, I’m all yours.”
“Want you to touch me here”, taking his hand in yours, you trailed it down to your body right down to your cunt. Your wetness had soaked through the fabric and although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you had surely left a huge stain.
You shuddered as you felt Jungkook’s larger hands finally reach the place you most wanted them.
“We just started and you already made a huge mess Bun”, Jungkook teased as he slipped his hand beneath the band of your panties. He could your slick immediately coat his fingers as he rubbed lazy circles around the sensitive flesh.
Before you could respond, Jungkook slipped his finger inside you. You were already so wet that the action brough no discomfort.
“Hngh”, you squimed at the sensation of Jungkook fully immersing a digit in you. Jungkook watched your face scrunch up in pleasure as he slipped yet another digit inside. Using his free thumb to rub small circles on your numb, Jungkook began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them slightly to fuck you at a more pleasurable angle. He only had two digits in you and yet your cunt was already squeezing tightly around him. When he moved his fingers out, he could feel your pussy try to suck them back in.
“So tight around my fingers,” Jungkook spoke, moaning at his own words,”How are you gonna handle a cock stuffed inside you, baby?”
“Mhm, I c-can handle it.”
You suddenly felt Jungkook slip his fingers out of you, instantly letting out a whine at the loss of him inside you.
“Don’t worry bunny”, Jungkook laughed at your adorable whine, “we’re not done yet.”
Jungkook pulled back, now moving himself down your body to bring himself closer to your quivering core. He was pleased to find a huge wet stain decorating the front of your panties as he gently tugged you pajamas off of you. You lifted your hips slightly so Jungkook could fully remove your pajamas off of you. After discarding your pajamas somewhere on the floor, Jungkook leaned his face in to hover over where you desperately wanted him before placing a gentle kiss through the fabric.
Hooking his fingers on the sides of your panties, he slowly peeled the fabric off, taking every second of the view. Once again, you slightly lifted your hips to assit him with taking the wet fabric off. You shuddered as you felt the cool air hit your exposed core.
As much as he wanted to take in more of the gorgeous view in front of him, Jungkook decided not to waste time any longer and lowered himself until his face was mere centimeters from your pussy. You smelled as divine as you looked. Tentatively, he placed another soft kiss on your folds before licking a strip.
You mewled at his actions, earning a hum of satisfaction from him.
“That felt good huh baby?”, he chucked from in-between your legs. Slipping his hands beneath your thighs, Jungkook hoisted them over his shoulders to give himself better access to your clenching pussy.
“Mhm, want more of it Kook”, you muttered breathlessly.
Only this time, instead of going straight for your needy cunt, Jungkook opted for a bit more foreplay to prepare you. He placed a few more gentle kisses on the surrounding flesh of your core. Very gently, he bit and sucked on a few areas, leaving behind the faint marks of hickies in some places.
“Kook, p-please”, you were practically muttering to yourself at this point. Diving your fingers down to your pussy, you parted your lips to show Jungkook exactly where you needed him, “touch me here.”
Jungkook chuckled at your needy request, “since my princess asked so nicely...”
He dove straight to your pussy, his mouth covering the slick flesh. Jungkook wasted no time in attacking your pussy with his tongue and lapped at the slick pouring out your wet hole. A wave of pleasure washed down your entire body. It’s like you were experiencing your heat all over again only this time Jungkook was the cure.
Jungkook’s free hand came down to rub gentle circles around your clit as his tongue continued it’s assault on your cunt. With just a few more laps, you came completely undone. Your thighs began to shake as you rode off your orgasm with Jungkook’s tongue still buried in your pussy. Jungkook ensured that not a single drop of your juices went to waste.
With your orgasm fully washing over you, Jungkook pulled away to give you a few moments to let your body calm down. His hard cock was now digging through the fabric of his jeans and his balls heavy from neglect. Never had he given himself blue balls from a sight as beautiful as this before. Catching your breath again, you felt a vivid shade of pink dust your cheeks as you caught on to Jungkook’s dilemma.
Jungkook’s hard cock sprung out from his pants the instant he peeled them off. You moaned at the sight, your thighs instantly spreading a little farther as Jungkook wasted no time in getting inbetween your legs. He looked down at you with his pupils blown out in lust as he stroked his throbbing cock.
“Ready, baby?” You nodded furiously, almost forgetting your own voice. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s throbbing cock so close to your pussy. Jungkook took notice and decided that you suffered enough to keep teasing you. Hoisting your thighs and pulling you close to his lap, Jungkook proceeded to run the tip of his cock up and down your slit. You squirmed at the sensation, instinctively pushing yourself closer to what you needed.
“So impatient”, Jungkook let out a small laugh, though truthfully, he himself couldn’t wait much longer. You felt the air in your lungs disappear as Jungkook gently slowly pushed the tip of cock inside you.
“F-fuck”, Jungkook grunted, bottoming completely inside you. Your walls were squeezing his cock deliciously but he resisted the urge to fuck you. You were clearly still trying to adjust to his size, your face cutely screwed up in a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort at Jungkook’s full size inside you.
Jungkook took a moment to drink in the beautiful sight of you beneath him, taking him in completely. It’s like you were made for him.
The initial discomfort of Jungkook’s cock buried inside you was quickly fading into pure bliss. You started to wiggled your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, desperate to find the relief you were looking for.
“Fuck, you know how fucking cute you are, right?”, Jungkook leaned down to peck your lips, “you’re so good for me.”
“M-move Kook, puh-please”, you stuttered, too far gone in the absolutely euphoria you were experiencing.
Taking your word, Jungkook began moving his hips in a steady rhythm. He too became increasingly more vocal the more he fucked you. He was entranced with the sight before him. Whether it was the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made, the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight pussy, or your face screwed up in pure bliss. He didn’t know where to look.
Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you too were just as entranced at the sight before you as he was. You don’t think you can ever get enough of the sight of Jungkook’s cock sliding in and out your cunt.
You racked your hands up Jungkook’s abs and chest before wrapping them around his neck, instantly pulling him a little closer to you.
You always admired Jungkook’s well defined abs, he had the physique of a greek god. You remembered the first time you caught a glimpse of his hard abs and how weak in the knees it made you. Jungkook had just come out of shower with only a pair of sweats on. You were in the living room, buried in a book when he strotted into the kitchen to grab a bottle water. You remembered blushing furiously as you tried to hide your face behind your book before he could catch you staring. Since then, you dreamt of feeling his abs beneath your fingertips.
Once again, you felt your breath hitched in your throat as Jungkook leaned his face only a few centimeters away from yours. He was now resting himself on his forearms from above you. Your heart was beating in your ears now from how close his face was to yours. You could feel his warm breath on your skin and you could count every eyelash as he fluttered
Catching you by surprise, Jungkook pressed his lips onto yours, snaking his tongue into your mouth. As he pulled away, a thin string of salivia connected you two.
“How could I have been such a fucking idiot to let another man have you like this?”
“M-mhm, no need to worry Kook”, as fucked out as you were right now, you managed to pull yourself together to give him a coherent reply, “a-am all yours..”
Jungkook felt his heart swell with pride in his own chest at your declaration, “and I yours, bunny.”
With each thrust hitting you in your sweet spot, you inched closer to that familiar sensation. Jungkook too could tell that you were getting close, evident by your pussy clenching more sporadically around his cock. Griping the sheets beneath you, you started babbling pleas and cries for more almost incoherently as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.
Re-adjusting his position, Jungkook now sat up and griped your hips as he began fucking you faster and at a deeper position.
“C’mon, bunny”, Jungkook grunted, he too was unsure how much longer he’d be able to last, “Cream all over my cock.”
It was Jungkook’s words that finally edged you to your high. You felt your eyes squeeze shut as you screamed in pure bliss, muscles contracting as you finally felt the relief that your body had been begging for wash over you.
It was a glorious sight, really, watching you lose yourself beneath him. You were milking his cock for all he was worth and he could feel himself start to lose himself as well. You could feel it too, his thrusts gradually becoming more shallow and losing their rthymtic pace. Locking your arms around his neck, you leaned forward to pepper kisses on his jawline.
“Come in me, Kook”, you whispered softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “wanna feel you.”
Not a second longer passed by and Jungkook’s warm seed was spilling inside you, filling you up completely. The world around you seemed to slow down and you drew dizzy at how full you felt in the moment.
Slowing down his pace to a stop, you felt Jungkook lay himself to rest behind you. Still partially buried inside your hole, he wrapped his arm around your tummy, pulling you snug to his chest. For a few moments, the two of you laid like this, just caught up in the moment and trying to catch each other's breath.
“You good now, bunny?”, Jungkook asked, finally breaking the silence. You replied with a hum of satisfaction, buring your head deeper in his chest, you could hear his rapidly beating heartbeat slow down a bit.
Feeling you relax beneath him, Jungkook slid his cock out from your trembling pussy. A conconation of his semen and your juices instantly squelching out. You whined at the loss of him and at the sensation of your juices running down your hole.
Grabbing a few tissues from the side of your bed, Jungkook lazily wiped both of you down as to not sully the bed further. Making a mental note to wash your sheets first thing in the morning.
“Jungkook?”
“Yes Bun?”
“Don’t date those other girls anymore, ‘kay?”
Feeling himself melt at your cuteness, Jungkook chuckled before leaning down to kiss you on your forhead.
“Okay, promise I won’t. Not when I have you.”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook smut#jungkook x hybrid reader#jungkook imagine#bts imagines#bts x reader#jimin x reader#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic
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⋆⭒˚.⋆ your biggest fan ⋆⭒˚.⋆
idol!jaehyun x popstar!reader
summary: in which the world discovers your relationship with Jaehyun and surprisingly… they love it
(cw: f!reader, descriptions of sasaengs and receiving hate)
a/n: bonus ig posts at the end
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
You weren't exactly sure how you and Jaehyun became a couple, that was his area of expertise, not yours. All you remembered was meeting him in 2019 at the iHeartRadio Jingle Ball and from there a relationship blossomed at some point.
It was hard on the both of you, you were both so busy. He was busy pumping out music every year, always working. If he wasn't touring, he was recording, promoting, learning a new dance, or working on the next step. The life of a Kpop idol was vastly different from the fame you knew as a western artist. You had breaks between albums, a few singles here and there, but your tours lasted so much longer.
It was a reality you were used to though. You came into the limelight as a teenager, building a deeply dedicated fan base that grew in size and grew up with you. A fanbase that grew from your hometown to spanning various continents. Your success and fame had grown far beyond what you had ever imagined when you first signed on to create your first record. This life was everything you dreamed of and more, even if the reality was less... perfect than you thought it would be.
Having been in this industry for as long as you had been, a romantic relationship wasn't at the forefront of your list. There were a few here and there, kept under wraps, but they could never understand the demands of your job. When Jaehyun came in, he turned your world upside down. He was a breath of fresh air and inspired you more than anyone ever had.
It had been 3 years of dating now. You were head over heels in love and so was he. The time differences, the constant missed calls, and dates in the cover of darkness hadn't diminished any of the love you had for each other.
These past few weeks had been lucky, you were in your Asian leg of your tour and Jaehyun had been able to join you for the last week of your tour which was starting with a few nights in Seoul and ending in Japan. It was the night before your concert, definitely past midnight, but you and Jaehyun were hungry. You were both dressed "in disguise" with masks on, hats covering your heads, and baggier clothes.
It really was a mistake on both your ends to think that there would be no one watching. Sure, the traditional paparazzi wasn't really a thing here, but there were other people with cameras. People who were too dedicated and a... different kind of fan that you and Jaehyun were unfortunately familiar with. These people knew where you were staying and would take any opportunity to catch a picture. And that’s what happened.
You both entered a convenience store and you pulled off your hat to fix your hair which left your face more visible to the cameras taking pictures. A few minutes later Jaehyun lowered his mask to take a drink from his cup and from there your relationship was revealed and spiraled out of control.
Fans were making connections, some far reaching and others that were legitimate. In your short, 20 minute trip down the block both you and Jaehyun were trending. You didn’t even know it was all happening until the morning after when your assistant walked into your hotel room with her phone in her hand that was quickly pushed in front of your face.
You scrolled through hundreds of tweets, replies, quote tweets, various hashtags.
Your voice was tired and deep from sleep, “what is happening?”
“Fans caught you two in the convenience store last night and uploaded the picture. Jaehyun our team have been in touch with your management and we’ve agreed to each put out a statement confirming the relationship. I know this isn’t what either of you had planned, but you were lucky for a good few years,” your assistant explained with a soft smile.
Jaehyun turned to you with a nervous expression, “I’m sorry this happened. Just ignore all the negative comments and focus on the good, okay? I love you and this won’t change anything.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no negatives. Well sure, haters are everywhere but 99% of the posts, comments, reactions, everything really- is positive. You’re both international stars with very dedicated fan bases that have some intersection. Seriously, look for yourself,” your assistant hands her phone to Jaehyun. “People want duets, joint tours, they want interviews together. Seriously, it’s crazy!”
You laugh I shock, looking over Jaehyun’s shoulder to read all the feedback and comments from your fans.
“We have to improve your Korean, baby. They want you to collaborate with NCT,” Jaehyun laughs.
“You told me my Korean was good!” You exclaim with a soft hit to his arm.
“It is! But we can practice more for a whole album full of duets,” he replies with a soft laugh.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” you laugh in reply.
That night at your concert, the arena full of fans erupts in cheers so loud you can hear it through your ear pieces when Jaehyun is shown on the screen. “My boyfriend is here tonight! And we can all thank him for my amazing Korean! Before we start the next song, which is about him, how do we all feel about an extra show here?”
The screams get even louder and you look at Jaehyun with a bright smile. He sends you a finger heart and you send a kiss right back in his direction. This was everything you’d dreamt of.
+ BONUS
yourusername
liked by _jeongjaehyun, zendaya, and others
yoursusername in case you somehow managed to miss the news, here’s the confirmation! my inspiration, my muse, my biggest fan, my love, nobody gets me like you do. I’m so lucky to live this life with someone who gets me better than anyone else. i love you foreverrrrrr
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_jeongjaehyun
liked by yourusername, bumkeyk, and others
_jeongjaehyun Sometimes I still can’t believe it myself. I’ve learned so much from you and continue to learn something new everyday. I’m my best self around you. I love you baby, I’m your biggest fan
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#kpop imagines#kpop au#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#nct#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct x reader#nct drabbles#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun drabbles#jaehyun blurb#jaehyun scenarios
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I get the feeling that I'm in the minority here, but I posit that GLaDOS actually is Caroline, and only "not the same person" in the sense that you'd look at your younger self and be like "that bitch ain't me." I think you actually have to go out of your way to interpret them as two separate people.
evidence:
voiced by the same person (I know the initial reasoning was that Valve didn't want to hire another voice actor for a few lines, but in casting Ellen McLain as Caroline, they incorporated her being the same person into the story).
GLaDOS automatically joins in saying "Yes sir, Mister Johnson" like saying it is permanently ingrained in her. you can interpret this as Caroline taking over, but she says "Why did I just—" immediately afterwards.
when GLaDOS talks about hearing the voice of a conscience, she says "for the first time it's MY voice." I don't think she means that she's hearing the woman she gets her literal voice from. she highlights it as distinctly DIFFERENT from hearing the voices of the cores, and I imagine if Caroline were a foreign entity whispering in her ear, the effect would've been much the same.
the GLaDOS project was originally started because Cave was dying and wanted his consciousness uploaded to a computer. the intent was always for the upload to be the same person. he said if he died first, he wanted Caroline to run the place, to be put in his computer. and that's exactly what happened.
GLaDOS not remembering she's Caroline until old Aperture always made sense to me as the result of a deliberate choice on the part of the scientists. Caroline didn't want to be uploaded, and as soon as they switched GLaDOS on, she tried to kill everyone. it's logical for the scientists to think that if they suppressed her memories, she'd have no reason to try to kill them (but instead, she was just filled with murderous rage and no longer knew why).
the story just doesn't have the same impact otherwise. GLaDOS's reactions to rediscovering old Aperture make more sense if it's her past she's rediscovering, rather than the past of...a human that was shoved into the chassis with her. if it were the second one, I think she would just feel violated, not have any major revelations.
counter-evidence:
"now little Caroline is in here too" lyric from Want You Gone
GLaDOS says she found out "where Caroline lives in [her] brain" and deleted her, like she's a separate entity
but GLaDOS is a habitual liar. she acts like deleting Caroline means she's fully back to her old self and has gotten rid of the part of her that made her want to save Chell's life, but there's...lots of evidence that she still cares about Chell after the fact (letting her go anyway, the companion cube, the turret opera if you think GLaDOS arranged that, talking to the co-op bots about Chell like she's an ex she's still heartbroken over...). I also think GLaDOS would like to imagine her and Caroline as two separate entities, in the same way you might find your younger self embarrassing and want to distance yourself from that person. I think it's notable that both instances where she refers to Caroline as a separate entity are at the end of the game, after Chell has been passed out a while and she's had time to process everything and compartmentalize. her instinct when the revelations are first happening is to refer to Caroline as if she is her.
now I don't like stories where a robot has to become or be seen as more human in some way for them to be sympathetic. but I think Portal 2 is an excellent subversion of this trope, because GLaDOS is a robot that learns she used to be human and then discards that humanity (symbolically if not literally). Caroline may not have wanted to be uploaded, but from the Want You Gone lyrics "one day they woke me up / so I could live forever / it's such a shame the same will never happen to you" I think we can say that GLaDOS definitely prefers being a robot now that she is one.
anyway this post was supposed to be much shorter than this, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk
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THE REVERSED CINDERELLA TALE
“I’m sorry MC, but you can’t go to the ball~”
SUMMARY: NRC decides to host a ball in collaboration with RSA, but our dear prefect is not invited. Yet, the night of the ball, something strange happens… (Everyone + Neige and Che’nya x Fem!Reader)
WARNINGS: None, I believe)?
CONTENT: Ortho's part is platonic. Crowley being an ass, but like, it was unintentional, really. As I said, this is pretty long, mostly because it has every character separately, plus 20+ barbie dress transformation.
WORDS: 9K+
A/N: I still feel bad since I lost all the content I had before, but it’s okay, I’m glad I saved everything separately because if I didn’t… I wouldn’t be uploading this in the first place.
Also, if you want to use this as inspiration for sketches, go on! I remembered a certain comment which asked for permission, and I certainly don't mind!
Now onto the fic~
Crowley really has the worst timing.
You were just about to drink a vase of water, throat dry because you passed the whole day with the first years. That’s when the door opened, leaving you to almost drop the cup, your reflexes making it possible.
“Crowley! What the hell!?” You whisper yelled, looking at Grim turning in the sofa, far away in his dreamland.
It wasn’t unusual for the kind headmaster to show up with such… Theatrics, but this was certainly a new and unwelcomed entrance.
“I apologise for the sudden intrusion, but there’s has been an incident!” He exclaimed, and you shushed him, leading him to whisper his next sentence. “You see, the ball of Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College is near its due date…”
Indeed, the ball featuring both of the most prestigious schools in Twisted Wonderland was drawing near; it started as a friendly way to make their students socialize, soon turning into a way to exhibit who had the most graceful gentleman.
“Yeah, and? I thought everything was fine, Che’nya told me this morning that the arrangements were almost done."
“Me and the Royal Sword Academy headmaster have gotten some complaints indicating that we should not allow you or Grim assist to the ball due to your dorm not being an official part of the school." Ah, so that was the reason of the nervous tone. “I would refuse, but the grievances come from certain parents with high status and—"
You interrupted. “Don’t worry Crowley, it’s understandable that you don’t want to make such powerful enemies. Grim on the other hand…” You spared a glance at the sleeping being, already imagining what kind of reaction he would have.
“I appreciate your understanding, yet that’s not what I wanted to discuss."
“Huh?”
“Some of your friends know about this, and I’m afraid they’re… How can I say this…? A little erratic."
You sighed, knowing exactly what the meant by that. “Are you scared of them?”
“Me? Of course not! I’m the headmage! But it would be helpful if you intervened."
“They can’t be that bad, I’ll go talk to them."
Oh, it can be that bad. Not overblot case bad, but it’s much more chaotic than you thought it would be.
You walked towards the dining hall, place where all of them got the news. You felt bad for the other students who had to run away because of the outburst.
Once you enter the hall, there was only a way you can describe the situation: encasing every reaction in a specific group.
First, we have the erratic behaviour, as Crowley mentioned earlier: students who are enraged because you cannot go to the ball. Here we have Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Leona, Floyd, Vil, Epel, Malleus and Sebek. Some are just snappy, such as Leona or Vil, and Riddle is trying to not let the anger overcome him. The rest are tagged as official menaces.
The second is the quiet group, the scariest of them all. Even if you tried, you can’t fathom what their expressions are hiding, exuding an eerie aura that has everyone shivering. The most students of this group are Azul, Jade, Rook, Idia and Lilia, the most dangerous combination to ever exist.
The last but not least group is the one that has every sane person, and the ones that are near sanity. They are so busy trying to control the furious trope that they don’t realise why they’re mad in the first place. Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Jack, Kalim, Jamil, Ortho and Silver are the ones in this category.
You yelled as loud as you could in order to gain their attention, everyone’s head turning when recognising the familiar voice.
“What’s going on here!?”
“MC/Prefect!” They jolted, abruptly stopping dead in their tracks.
“I thought Crowley was exaggerating when he told me that you were, and I quote, erratic, but this is absurd!” You whined in annoyance, not believing the scene in front of you, much less believing the reason behind it.
“Ah, well, this was just, uh…” Ace was trying to find the correct words to not make you angrier, eyes evading yours as you send him a cold glare.
“We were practicing for, uh…!” Deuce’s desperation showed up in order to think of an excuse, and you had enough of it.
“Do you think I’m dumb?” The bitter words came out as venom, not only being directed at the young boy but at everyone, seeing how you shared your discontent look with all of them. “Is this because of the ball?”
There was a brief silence before it was cut off again by Malleus.
“Child of Man, I think that this decision is an act of unfairness towards you," his comment made way to other ones, clearly displeased with the agreement.
“You have done so much for this school!” Kalim blurted out.
“It’s an improper choice after all the effort you’ve put, since this event is for congratulating students for their excelling performances," Jade remarked, slight annoyance in his voice.
Soon, the hall was filled with different arguments, and yet again, you had to yell.
“Guys, I know that it may be unfair, but I’m okay with it; you all could get expelled for doing this!” More than anger, your voice was full of concern, worried because of their impulsive actions.
“Shrimpy, aren’t you upset?” Floyd tilted his head, not comprehending why you weren���t showing any strong emotion at the news.
“Certainly Mademoiselle, you must feel at least the slightest bit offended, don’t you?” Rook asked, also tilting his head.
“What I think about it doesn’t matter, the decision it’s made and there’s nothing else to do other than accept it, and you must do the same," you sighed, all the stress leaving your body with that long exhale. “You shouldn’t make a fuss over this; there will be other events I can participate to."
“And what if there aren’t any ‘other events’?” The abrupt question coming from Leona made you think, and after some seconds you chuckled.
“If that’s the case then I guess I can always make my own," your quick response had everyone gasp in cuteness, some were more dramatic than others cough Cater cough, but the gasp was there.
“My, is this an angel speaking to us?” Lilia said, his teasing tone having you think it was a joke, which it wasn’t.
“Less talk, more work." And with that note, the students were forced to start their cleaning duties, not really minding it since you were there.
While you were picking up some broken pieces of wood, an idea came to your mind, making you do a soft smile as you thought about the outcome.
ONE WEEK LATER
The ball day was here, and everyone was shining in their own lights, their tuxedos matching their distinctive colours as they added some characteristic details to it.
The week after the incident, everything was pretty chill; they reluctantly agreed to leave the topic alone to please you, switching it to their fashion choices or practicing some basic dance moves.
You were greatly surprised when seeing them all before the event, cheering them up as you told them that they looked handsome, making some of the boy’s blush. “I hope you enjoy the ball!”
You bid them goodbye, making sure everyone was out of sight so you could return to Ramshackle, home to the angry creature named Grim.
“How can they not invite the great Grim to their boring party!? That’s unacceptable!” You laughed at his antics, caressing his fur to soothe his ire.
“Should I remind you that I was also excluded?” He let out a cute groan, curling into your lap to comfort himself.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya’ say henchman. By the way, why’re ya’ using that dress?” He lazily signalled the simple gown you were wearing, closing his eyes when you reached an icky spot.
“I don’t know, I saw it at Sam’s and decided to buy it, does it look bad?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just weird you’re using it now…”
Both you and Grim decided to get out of Ramshackle, sitting on the shore of the pond that was near the old building, the quiet and magical atmosphere worth the outing.
Grim’s soft snores were heard in the solitude of the forest, some fireflies appearing to make the scene look like it came straight out of a painting.
“Am I upset?” You asked yourself, quoting the words from last week.
Truthfully, you did care about not being invited to the ball. Your excitement vanished the moment the headmaster started explaining why you couldn’t assist.
You started to wonder if that meant that your efforts were going to be unappreciated, until you remembered that they weren't. The friends you made here made you feel at home, even though most of them were sceptical about befriending you at first, oblivious to the fact that they started to look at you with heart eyes.
You started to sing a lullaby you constantly heard during your childhood, a calm harmony that brought you peace in moments like this, when you were about to cry out of confusion and sadness.
Your voice acted as anaesthesia for the little Grim, humming contently as you gently stood up, holding him like a baby as you started to dance around.
Unbeknown to you, a wandering fairy heard the enchanting lyric; her pointy ears perked up in curiosity as she approached slowly, her small form making it impossible for you to take notice of, too focused in your dancing solo.
The small, fantastic individual started to hum along. Deeming you as a friend, and not a threat, she closed the distance between you both, a giggle leaving her mouth as she sat on your shoulder, surprised when you didn’t saw her.
She stayed silent, lightly grasping the soft material of your dress so she wouldn’t fall, hearing in joy as you continued your lively tune.
Your steps were feather like, slowly spinning while leaving the forest, now strolling through the dark corridors of the academy. It may seem a little eerie seeing it as an outsider, but everything you could think of was the enchanting lyrics, the absence of light not resembling an issue as you resume the melodious piece.
It was a matter of time when you got to the giant ballroom, passing through an open door as you heard a lively composition that matched yours, smiling wider until you collided with someone.
You woke up from your trance, your previously calm state being replaced by worry as you bow to the person in front of you.
“I’m so sorry, it wasn’t my intention to…” You spared a quick glance at the boy’s face, mouth agape when realising who it was, the little fairy hiding as soon as she saw the unknown person. “Neige?”
“Ah! MC, I was looking for you!” Said the young boy, cheeks dusted of a light pink. “I was afraid you didn’t appear, but I’m so happy I found you!”
That woke up Grim, aside from all the chit chatter of the room.
“Nyah!? Henchman, where are we!?” He jumped off your arms, falling nose-first on the marble floor.
“I may have brought us while dancing…” You confessed, ashamed of not noting it sooner. “I’m sorry Neige, but we and Grim have to go before Crowley spots us."
“Not so fast! I want to check the food! With that amount I’m sure they won’t notice one or two dishes missing…” His mischievous smile threw you off guard, sighing at his intentions.
“Grim, come on, we can’t…”
“It would be a pleasure! The banquet is right there!” Said the naive boy, signalling a large table with lots of different dishes.
In less than a second, Grim was already there, filling his mouth with everything his little paws could hold on to.
“Grim!” The frustration was there, but you couldn’t show it, not wanting to make a scene, but you were certain that some students were already glancing your way.
The kind-hearted boy looked at you with pure adoration, trying his best to hide it as he took your hand in his; all while the little fairy, still hidden, tried to think about what she could do to help you.
NEIGE LEBLANCHE
The gown was sky blue, white grading in the top and sleeves with some yellow sparks. Your hair was now short, curled at the ends and portraying a red lace on the top, a cute bow placed on it.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you… Would you like to dance with me?”
“I guess I can, I’m already here, aren’t I?”
Dear, you just made Neige the happiest man alive. The dwarfs were in their way to talk with him, but when they noticed the huge smile that he portrayed, decided to keep their distance so you could have your perfect moment.
That was interrupted when he stopped, pointing at your dress that had changed abruptly. You were surprised, obviously, but there wasn’t a major reaction from you, since you’re in a world of magic after all. Him on the other hand was completely flustered, trying to think of a compliment as he kept dancing.
He’s a good dancer, but his steps resemble those of a child dancing, in a good way obviously, it’s pretty fun and refreshing to waltz with him.
Laughing time was over when a shout was heard, coming from a certain red hair.
“Prefect!?” Yelled the first years, their loud scream attracting even more attention. You just hoped Crowley didn’t hear it; oh, well, he didn’t. But the others surely did.
And now you’re scared because Vil had a questioning look in his face. If he did saw the dance, may the Sevens let you rest in peace.
“Ah, hey guys!” You backed away from Neige, who in response pouted, sad at the loss of contact.
“What are you doing here!?” They asked, a combination of confusion and excitement washing over them.
“I don’t know, I was enjoying my solitude, dancing alone and when I looked up, I was here, dressed like this," you slightly lifted the dress for emphasis, frowning when everyone shut up. “Uh, guys—?”
“Please dance with me!” Most of them screamed at once, having to cover your ears because it was so sudden and very much not appreciated.
And just like a week ago, that led to everyone argue about who should dance with you.
You were about to stop them again, but someone took advantage of the situation, bringing his hands to your waist.
CHE’NYA
The gown was of a light lilac, along with some stripes that were just a few shades apart, white sleeves added to the palette. Your hair was still short, but it changed the style to a light messy pixie cut with some mauve highlights.
“Isn’t this such an entertaining scenario, nya~?”
“I think is more of a dangerous scenario, incredible to think they’re fighting over such a stupid thing.”
Oh, MC, is that what you think of yourself? This is not a stupid thing, dancing with you is enough to make the most ferocious man drop on their knees, mesmerized by your beauty.
And he certainly would do that just by seeing you with a dress matching his attire. While you don’t know why or how this is happening, he’s grinning widely because you look so beautiful, the slightest shade of pink covering his cheeks as he throws some funny comments, lighting up the mood.
Dancing with him is amusing, to say the least, sometimes disappearing his body, leaving you to dance with a floating head.
Ace, the moment breaker, does his thing once again, his loud shrieks rivalling those of Sebek.
“Ah, she’s dancing with the disappearing guy!” They all turned their heads, most of them having a vein about to pop up from the anger.
“It seems that I’m not welcomed, but at least we will be together the next week, goodbye~!” And with that, he disappeared, again.
Remember that scene when Rapunzel was calming Maximus down? That was the exact thing you had to do with the most enraged students, thanking the unwanted dress for acting as a distractor.
“If you care that much about dancing with me, I can dance with all of you, only if you promise that you would not cause more mess; I’m already walking on a thin line just by being here."
Silence. You tapped your foot impatiently at that.
“Promise that you would not cause more mess," it was more of a demand than a request, but it worked when they all repeated your words, humming in approval.
“Great, so who’s the first?”
Quickly realising your mistake, you spoke again before everything reverted to a few minutes ago. “Wait, maybe it would be better to do this by dorm order. Which means that Heartslabyul will go first."
It was then when the troublemakers of said dorm started to dispute over who should dance with you first; Ace proclaimed that he should because he met you first, and Deuce responded by exposing his terrible behaviour towards you the first time you met.
Tired of this, you grabbed Ace’s hand, being the first pick because, well, both Ace and Deuce were right.
ACE TRAPPOLA
The gown was of a cheerful ruby colour, the sleeves were wine and since it was Heartslabyul inspired, had a chess design along with some hearts in the skirt. Your hair was tied in a loose braid, a heart shaped accessory placed in the side.
“Are you that excited to dance with me, Prefect?”
“Deuce was right, you were the first nuisance I met, I thought it was obvious.”
He groaned in embarrassment, recalling the awful treatment he had with you, wishing it would have gone somewhat different.
When he was about to change the subject when your dress changed yet again. You said that that probably was going to happen all night, and that he shouldn’t pay attention to this Barbie style transition.
He definitely doesn’t know what is a Barbie, but he refuses to not pay attention to the dress, teasing you about it, trying to make you blush. That’s where the tables turned and you teased him, making him blush. Great, you broke Ace.
He dances in a messy manner, but he can be serious when he wants to, so I would say it’s a 50/50 final rating.
Sighing at this, you decided it was time to change partners, leaving his hands so you could grab Deuce’s ones. Expect him to be more annoying, maybe even sending Deuce some threatening glares.
DEUCE SPADE
The gown was navy blue, in its majority, a few hints of cerulean peeking up the skirt, the same chess design with some deuces in the corset. Your hair had a bun, it was loose but it didn’t look messy, just a few strands of hair that were out, along with a deuce hairpin.
“You… You look beautiful, Prefect."
“Thank you Deuce, you also look handsome, but… Your face is very red."
It’s because he wasn’t prepared for this. Did his mother tell him what to do when dancing with a girl whose dress magically changes every time she changes partners? No, he’s sure she’s not.
As a fun fact, Deuce’s mother sensed something was going on with her son; when Deuce told her what happened, words couldn’t describe how happy she got.
When he does notice the dress, he stays still, not moving for a few seconds until you bring him back to earth, worried about his sudden redness. MC, please, you’re going to kill the poor boy.
His mother tried to teach him how to dance a few times, so he isn’t that inexperienced as one would think, but the problem is that he’s dancing with you, and that makes things complicated.
He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or sad when you move to continue dancing with Cater. Maybe both, but it’s not like he can’t say something, he still respects his upperclassman even though he wanted to keep dancing with you.
CATER DIAMOND
The gown was of a bright tangerine, a soft shade of red covering the sleeves. A pattern of diamonds was outlined in the corset, subtly placed on it so it wasn’t too flashy. Your hair resembled his, the top part tied back into a ponytail and the rest hanged straight, curling at the ends.
“If I posted this on Magicam, a lot of people will get super jealous of you!”
“As if, I’m pretty average, I don’t know why someone will get jealous of me."
Your kindness, tolerance, intelligence, looks, should he keep going? There’s a ton of reasons people will envy you, and he means that as a good thing, really; in his eyes you’re the most stunning person to ever exist.
And apparently you can change clothes magically, we can add that to the list as well.
His dancing is playful, but he’s fairly skilled, talking about random things while he swiftly moves one feet after the other.
He resists the impulse of taking his phone out and taking selfies non-stop, not wanting to disturb you or weird you out in such a moment, when in reality you’re pretty chill about it. If only he knew about it, he would have had thousands of pictures of you and your dazzling self.
He only does it when it’s time to swap, posing with you as he takes a quick snap, posting it with the hashtags: #ballroomprincess #howjusthow #thebeautyandthebeauty, and so on.
TREY CLOVER
The gown was pine, the dark shade of green matching with Trey’s. It seemed to be more nature-like, clovers all around it. Your hair was asymmetrical, and it barely touched your shoulders, looking a little spiky, yet it still looked stylish.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to come here. Did Grim drag you, perhaps?"
“It’s a long story, but Grim’s the one that made me stay; by the end of the night there will probably be no food left to eat though."
Which is a shame because he prepared a few desserts, Che’nya suggestion, and he wanted you to try some of them specially to see your sparkling eyes as you took bite after bite. Oh well, it would have to wait until Heartslabyul’s next tea party.
But it seems he’s gotten a new sight, you in a dress that magically changed and it’s now matching with him. He doesn’t ask about it, letting himself enjoy this brief moment with you.
He’s a good dancer, and his tall figure makes him look elegant while he waltzes with you, the atmosphere breaking when you switch to a huffing Riddle.
He sighs, leaving your hand so it would take his dorm leader’s. He starts to wonder how he can pass more time with you, maybe a baking date session would make you accept.
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
The gown is scarlet and white, hints of black but mostly to softly outline the roses and the hearts placed on it, looking fairly fancier than the other ones, like his dorm uniform. Your hair was in a bun, velvety like for the little crown that was on top to stay still.
“I… I’m surprised to see you here, Prefect."
“I was surprised as well, but you get accustomed to it… Ah, Riddle, are you alright?”
He can’t control the blush that creeps up his face. He nods, wanting to look at you in the eyes, yet he can’t help but feeling flustered when you tilt your head in confusion, trying to make eye contact.
Sevens, his mother would be so disappointed at this, what would she say if she found her son wasn’t following proper ball manners? And then he remembers that his mother isn’t there, only you, knowing that you didn’t really care about those in the first place, and he doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or frustrated.
When he sees the dress, he stops dancing for a few moments before continuing, finding the explanation weirder than the dress itself. But he has a limited amount of time and he prefers spending it dancing than trying to find the reasoning of this; even he’s surprised by this thought too.
As said before, his mother taught him how to waltz, so he has experience doing it. Now when it comes to the part of actually dancing… He needs to polish it a little, but the knowledge is there.
Speaking of which, he knows it’s over when you have to shift partners, Leona being the next one. His snarky grin he sends at him is almost enough for him to explode, Trey noticing this and immediately trying to calm him down. Perhaps he can include some ball elements to some of his tea parties, definitely not to spend those with you, no no yes.
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
The gown is of a sand colour, golden details all over it to make it look like it was a royal dress; a satin, brown scarf placed elegantly on your arms. A braided chignon hairstyle made it easier to carry a golden tiara on it.
“You really like being in trouble, huh? I didn’t think you would sneak here, herbivore."
“I like to think that since I come here, I’ve became a Jack in the Box full of surprises, don’t you agree?”
Sure you are, not only you sneaked in here, but you also sneaked your way into your heart. He’s not stupid, and he won’t say you are, but what he can say it’s that you are pretty dense. Well, in your defence, you do know he treats women differently, so how are you supposed to guess the fondness he shows at you?
This is one of the few, rare moments where you get to see a shocked Leona, his eyes widening at remodelling of your dress, tail swinging in glee. You really are a box full of surprises, aren’t you? He doesn’t know what he should say, choosing to stay quiet, enjoying the calmness that you made him feel.
He would never say out loud though. At least, not now.
He has a royal background, so it makes sense that he knows at least the slightest bit of dancing manners, and he shows that while waltzing with you.
The moment doesn’t last long as you start to back up from him in a strange manner, and his eyes soon found out the reason why. He growls at this, that hyena is going to pay it off for the next days. Either way, he would have done it even if he didn’t intervene.
RUGGIE BUCCHI
The gown is of a dark fawn, blonde highlights in the neckline. Compared to Leona’s, this was more wild-like, giving a light, rustic impression. Your hair had a back Dutch braid, the mid-length complementing the whole look.
“Hey, Prefect, didn’t expect to see you here. And to imagine that everyone made a fuss 'bout this, shi shi shi~”
“Yeah, I think everybody thinks the same here. There wasn’t really need for you to use your unique magic, I think Leona got mad at it."
Effectively, he got mad at it and because he stole you. Fair enough, he thinks he can endure a few days of Leona’s working, that meant he got to see you more than him since he would be running his errands.
When he saw the dress, oh boy, man was trying so hard to not blush. The only way to prevent that was by teasing you; just make sure to don’t tease him back, he doesn’t think he can’t handle it.
He knows how to dance, so he’s pretty fluent when waltzing with you, making some accidental mistakes so you would step closer to him. That backfires when you cheekily laugh, and the blush he tried to contain creeped up his face.
Just when he thought you were going to see it, you released him, and he was left holding nothing as you giggled at this reaction, now dancing with his underclassman. He frowned but didn’t want to make you mad by using the same tactic, so he let it be.
JACK HOWL
The gown was pearl, similar to the one you were using earlier except that this one was fancier. The skirt had some light golden designs, a few hints of black on it to contrast. Your hair was tied in a classy ponytail, fluffy and shiny, much like his fur when he’s in his wolf form.
“You could get in trouble for being here, don’t you know that?”
“I’m sorry, do you want me to go?”
Short answer, no. Long answer, he’s very happy that you’re here, literally everyone can tell just by looking at his tail, wagging uncontrollably. If you try to say something about it, he will deny it, even though it’s still wagging.
He can’t dance that well, but he’s trying, and that’s what counts. Besides, it’s not that noticeable, maybe a few stomps on your feet but nothing too serious.
This dress causes him to leave a quiet gasp, mouth agape for a few seconds until his mind tells him that he should ask you why and what was that transformation. You respond sincerely, telling him that you don’t know and that he should just ignore it.
Like hell he’ll be ignoring this, it’s not something you can so easily ignore, but for the sake of his dignity, he will try. Keyword try, begging that you don’t start to ask questions about his state.
Apparently, you heard his pleads, muttering a little ‘goodbye’ as you now danced with Octavinelle’s sly, but nervous, octopus. He sighs, he didn’t mean it like this, but it was something that was meant to happen soon or later. More soon than later.
AZUL ASHENGROTTO
The gown was of a greyish cloud colour, platinum adornments on it that make it look elegant, even though it seemed to approach more of a softer side. A waterfall braid embellishing the 'marine' style look.
“My, if it isn’t the Prefect. I’m greatly surprised to see you here, and I also see you’ve made some major changes in your attire."
“Those aren’t intentional. I swear I don’t know where they’re coming from, but they’re nice, I think."
Nice? That’s how you would describe them? Your sole being is enough for him to lose his businessman composure, and now you do this, this… How did you call it? Barbie transition? No, he wasn’t hearing the conversation you had with Ace, what are you implying?
He’s already having a hard time to not let his façade break down, afraid that you may not like him if he showed any weakness, and that’s when he saw the dress, now matching his outfit. Although he still is smiling, what gives him away is the huge blush and his subtle coughing, trying to convince himself that he can still talk to you normally, like every other day.
Until he remembers that you don’t usually talk while waltzing, and that is enough for him to sigh in relief, now focusing in not stepping over your feet because of his nervousness.
He knows how to dance, it’s just because of the nerves and the feeling of your curious eyes staring up at him.
A tall figure places himself next to him, and he doesn’t need to look up to know who is, slightly refusing to let you go. Yet he knows that it would not end well for him; the mischievous eel would definitely use this as teasing material. He figures he can make a dance night in the Lounge, only you and him.
JADE LEECH
The gown was teal, and it seemed to be made of a shiny material, some purple laces tied on it as it had a tight and long bow on the left side. You portrayed a half up left side braid, clearly resembling his long streak of dark-grey hair framing his left side.
“You look marvellous tonight, Prefect; may it be because of your presence or your magical dress?”
“Very funny. Obviously, it’s the dress. The one that I didn’t know had magical properties when I bought it, but thanks for noting my presence."
Wrong. The dress certainly was a boost to your natural charming nature, but saying that was the only cause of your fascinating self would be an understatement, after all, the main thing Jade and Floyd finds fascination in is how interesting is the person in question, and for him to have romantic feelings for you? With that you can already imagine what he thinks of you.
He waits for the moment your dress changes, and when it does he leaves an amused chuckle. But surprisingly enough, he doesn’t say anything about it, rather enjoying your reactions at it and your comforting company.
He excels at dancing, even making it more difficult for you to keep the pace, and yet again an entertained noise leaves his mouth. He slows down a little, not wanting to exhaust you, as your next partner would be his energetic twin.
Speaking of the devil, he can’t wait for much longer, whining to you both that he wants to dance with you. He leaves no room for complaints, and so you are separated from Jade, who finds this situation more than lively. If Azul ever decides to tell him about his idea of the dance night in the Lounge, he would be more than delighted to share some of his suggestions.
FLOYD LEECH
This gown was the twin of Jade's, also teal and shiny, the purple bow now sided on the right, now messier and easy looking. Your hair is, again, in a half up right-side braid. Similar to the concept of the dark-grey streak of hair on his right side.
“Shrimpy~! Why didn’t you tell me that you were here? We could have passed more time together~!”
“Sorry Floyd, my mind was a bit of a mess before I got here. But I’m here now, doesn’t that make you happy?”
He lets out a cute: "yay~!" And you are wondering how someone can be so adorable and so frightening at the same time, as his pout quickly disappeared after your kind-hearted question.
He has the same train thought that his brother, and waits for your dress to change. He’s a little disappointed when he sees it at first, I mean, doesn’t it look the same? Until he notices those small details that allure to his right side highlight, and his smile widens so much you can even see his back teeth.
His Shrimpy surely knows how to make him happy! How is he supposed to stop smiling so widely when you can become more interesting by the second? Be warned, this man wouldn’t let you in peace after this, but that applies to almost everything that you do, because for him everything you do can be interesting. Even if they’re not, he would make them interesting just by joining you.
His dancing is… Different. It’s not ballroom dance, that’s for sure, but why should he follow such boring rules when he can have fun spinning you? And you agree to some level, but your stomach doesn’t.
He pouts when you try to change, expressively refusing to let you go. He only agrees to when you say you would pass more time with him after, most likely hovering over you the rest of the night. A true Octavinelle student.
KALIM AL ASIM
The gown was of a really light and shiny yellow, almost looking like it was made of gold, softly transitioning to a silver white in the sleeves and neckline. Your hair had a braided crown, a turban like his slightly covering it.
“I’m glad you’re here Prefect! I was going to throw a ball for you since I thought you would miss this one!”
“There’s no need for that Kalim, but I appreciate the gesture. You’re very sweet."
You think he’s sweet?
Now nothing is stopping him now from actually throwing a ball in your honour. He usually doesn’t think much when it comes to give you gifts and hosting parties for you, no selfish intention behind it, but if this makes you say that he’s sweet again? He doesn’t have any second thoughts about it, much to Jamil’s annoyance.
When he sees the dress he exclaims a loud ‘wow’, like really loud, he even stops dancing for a couple of seconds because of the initial shock. He didn’t know you could do this, MC, this is awesome! Oh, you didn’t do it? It doesn’t matter, it’s still awesome and nothing can change his mind.
He knows how to dance, and surprisingly, he takes it seriously. His steps are firm, contrasting with his saccharine smile.
He sees Jamil aside, a slight frown as he keeps his gaze locked on the floor, and he decides it’s time to change partners, making you do a twirl and practically throwing you at Jamil’s arm, giving him a thumbs up. He can dance with you later when you come to Scarabia, and by later is tomorrow! He’s just too excited!
JAMIL VIPER
The gown was black, little touches of a flaming red on it, mostly placed on the sleeves to emphasize a fire-like emblem, a golden snake tracing your waist gracefully. A braided bun with a large lock of hair standing on the side of your face, similar to his.
“Aren’t you tired? I’m sure all this dancing is exhausting for you."
“I’m fine, this is better than watching soap operas alone while Grim sleeps. His snores are so loud I can’t enjoy the drama."
Watching what? We all know Jamil isn’t much of a trendy and he doesn’t follow the latest entertainment, so he’s confused when you explain this to him. That doesn’t mean he isn’t intrigued, maybe if he wasn’t so busy he could watch this soap operas with you, only if you want to though; his worst nightmare is making you uncomfortable.
The transition has him even more confused, and he hopes he had his hoodie right now to hide his face in it, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of you because of that stupid cute blush. He asks about it, and he sighs when you told him the story we already know, already expecting something like this, it’s you who we’re talking about after all.
He’s an A+ dancer, and the great thing about dancing with him is that he understands you can’t follow his moves and accustoms to your moves, making you feel at ease and welcomed.
When he spins you, Pomefiore’s house warden takes your hand in his, now taking the position as your current partner. He leaves a bothered noise, awkwardly staring at you and the Magicam star.
VIL SCHOENHEIT
The gown was black, a violet robe placed on it in a similar fashion like Vil's, the most outstanding feature being its length. Your hair had a side French braid up-do, a tilted golden tiara on it.
“It seems that you’ve finally taken my fashion suggestion, potato."
“The answer may disappoint you, Vil, but this is not my doing. Although it’s fancy, it can’t rival yours."
He can’t agree with that; sure, he’s dressed elegantly and his makeup is perfectly done, but that doesn’t mean you’re inferior than him. You’re one of the few people that don’t have the title of potato in his head, even though he has it like a nickname for you, but he sees it as an endearing term and he low-key hopes you see it as well. He never really understood the concept of inner beauty before meeting you, now getting its meaning.
Vil’s a professional actor, so he only shows the slightest hint of surprise when your dress changes. His blush isn’t a noticeable one, and even if it was, he could have just said that it was a new product, knowing you would believe him. He finds your naïve nature confusing; Neige is naïve, and that bothers him, because he’s Neige, but when it comes to you is just… Endearing.
You’ve practiced with him quite a few times, using it as an excuse to see you since he was pretty busy with the clothing arrangement the week prior to the ball, not really expecting to actually dance with you.
You spot the astute hunter behind him; deciding it was time to change, he reluctantly released you, his face betraying as he scoffed at this, softly enough so you wouldn’t hear it.
ROOK HUNT
The gown was of an iris purple, a short, red cape hovering over your shoulders, looking a lot like a hunter's cape, a black neckline completing the Pomefiore’s colour palette. Your hair was wavy, bob styled, matching with Rook's.
“Quelle beauté! Your beauty is nothing I can ever compare, for it is so endearing that my heart flutters at this magnifique sight!”
“Wow, I… I don’t know what to say— Thank you, Rook. That’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve said to me, and I encounter you every single day."
You really think so? Then you should listen to his poetry; dozens of poems dedicated solely to you placed neatly in his drawer, ready for you to read them, or, even better, he can read them to you! He recites them every time he thinks about you, so he knows them by heart.
He’s great at acting, but why should he act when he’s genuinely happy of having you this close? He doesn’t see the appeal in it, he wants you to see how much appreciation he has for you, continuing to spill carefully planned comments, even forgetting about the fact that your dress has just magically transformed. The hovering attention has you stuttering, and he leaves a content sigh at your reaction, basking in your cuteness.
He’s the vice dorm leader of Pomefiore, he knows how to dance, and his gracefulness is something you did expect from him, so there’s no surprises in this part.
He doesn’t put a fight when you have to switch to your next partner, only making a dramatic sight and saying something corny like: "may fate reunite us again." Rook, you’re going to see MC tomorrow, calm down.
EPEL FELMIER
The gown was lavender, an apple red cloak covering your bare shoulders, the interior being of a velvety black. Your hair was tied in a low, twisted ponytail, some golden apple hairpins on the side.
“Ya’ look very pretty… I mean, you look great, Prefect!”
“Thank you Epel, but you know that you don’t have to hide the accent when you’re with me, right?”
He forgets how thoughtful you are, how he doesn’t have to act like the perfect boy Vil wants him to be, and how you don’t think of him as weak just because of his feminine looks. He’s thankful for that— Correction, he’s thankful for you.
He maybe in Pomefiore, but he has no acting skills, backing off you for a few seconds because of the surprise, immediately recovering from it upon seeing your confused expression. He didn’t mean it as a bad reaction, he saw it before, but he still doesn’t know why or how you do this, only to receive the explanation that you aren’t the one changing your dress, jokingly telling him that if you could do that you wouldn’t be broke. Sad facts, MC, sad facts.
He’s an average dancer. He’s had so many, so many classes with Vil graved in his skull, but not on his body, so he constantly looks at his feet and even like that he makes some mistakes, but nothing you can’t correct.
It was hard to switch partners this time, only because Ignihyde’s gloomy dorm leader was hidden in the crowd. When you did spot him, you had to make your best try at making it as smooth as possible, waving Epel goodbye, who in return waved you as well, being too nervous to actually protest.
IDIA SHROUD
The gown was indigo, the dark colour combining both of Ignihyde's characteristic style, adding some sapphire elements so it would look a little more "futuristic". Your hair had a classic half up-do, the volume matching with Idia's flame hair.
“How did you—? Forget it, of course it’s something the main character would do."
“Aww, you think I’m the main character?”
And now his hair is combusting into pink flames. Good job MC.
He can’t believe he actually lived long enough to see you like this, and what’s worse better, you spotted him and wanted to dance with him. Is there some kind of manual for situations like this?
Maybe he should ask in a forum. Wait, is something he can actually ask? There’s a ton of questions and no answers, but those thoughts disappear when seeing you change of dress and hairstyle yet again.
His dancing skills are… Non-existing. This man doesn’t dance. You have to guide him in the entire waltz, and it’s difficult because he’s standing there, officially classifying as a rock.
You see his younger brother besides, and you can’t help but changing with him, wanting to have a bonding moment with the little boy. Idia froze in place, mind racing with thoughts of what could he have done to scare you— Oh, you’re dancing with Ortho, now he’s at ease.
ORTHO SHROUD
This one was a short dress, knee-length; it was lapis, layers of a translucent fabric covering the skirt, looking slightly lighter in colour. Your hair was simpler this time, a short and cute cut with a blue flame hair accessory.
“Hello MC! I’m happy you’re here, and thank you for dancing with my brother. He seems much livelier now!”
“Really? That’s nice to hear. Idia’s not the type to go to these events, so I’m happy if you both are happy!”
He knows about his brother’s crush on you, and honestly speaking, Idia’s the one that has a huge advantage against everyone else: He has a cute brother sorry Leech, you're cute too, but c'mon, he's Ortho who wants him to be happy. I’m sorry everyone, this is the truth.
This was actually pretty fun. His short height made it easier for you if you're tall, sorry, can't relate to dance with him, and although he’s a robot, he can dance fairly well, giggling when you spin him.
He stops and says that it’s time to switch, according to the data he’s recollected during the night, and because a dragon-fae is waiting just behind you.
MALLEUS DRACONIA
The gown was all black, the only other colour it had was a bright green, seen in the hem of the cape and the large lace that was tied in your waist. Your hair had a twisted royal bun, a dark crown over it with some black diamonds, outshining the hairstyle itself.
“You always manage to amuse me, Child of Man. May you join me in this dance?”
“Your old-fashioned talking amuses me too, Tsunotarou, so let me try… It would be a pleasure, noble gentleman."
The giggle that leaves your mouth after saying those words is music to his ears, holding you in such a fragile manner as if you were porcelain. When he does start waltzing, his eyes focus on yours and only yours; being with you like this makes him forget everything else, choosing to rather enjoy your presence and the warmth that it comes with it.
The dress does break his concentration, fixating his gaze on it for a few seconds before his eyes return to his initial position. It’s not that he doesn’t think you don’t look enchanting, you always do, but even if you wore a potato sack to the ball he would still think of you as his goddess. That’s how much he loves you.
He’s an exceptional dancer; he grew up in a royal environment after all, often practicing with his grandmother and Lilia, but he’s willing to slow down for you. And that’s when his mind wanders about dancing with you at night, the moonlight covering your smooth skin as you both dance till your feet hurt and— Where are you?
It seems he let himself out of guard and now you’re dancing with… His overseer. Did— Did Lilia just stole his Child of Man? DID LILIA JUST STOLE HIS CHILD OF MAN—?
He calms down, knowing that making a scene is considered rude, and so the only thing he can do is… Pout. So he’s now a sad and pouting dragon-fae.
LILIA VANROUGE
The gown was of an opaque magenta, the top being black with some leather belts tied on it. Your hairstyle was asymmetrical, mid-length with a resemblance to his own, some of it flipping upwards, looking like small horns.
“It’s endearing to see you here, dear. I was thinking of even bringing you with me~”
“Thank you for not doing it, I don’t think I can endure another flying session…”
That’s a shame, he loves when you cling onto him like your life depends on it, and it low-key does, but there’s nothing to worry about! He would never drop you or let you fall, not even him would joke like that.
He recognizes the type of magic that is causing this, and lo and behold he takes a glimpse at the hidden fairy behind you. He chuckles, not saying a thing to let the show continue, but he’s really intrigued by how you managed to get the attention of such a shy creature, soon remembering that of course it was attracted by you, everyone in this room could say the same.
He’s a good dancer, but he chooses to make it more fun by elevating you a few meters off the floor. You cling onto him, telling him to stop doing that as you slowly tried to reach the marble ground.
When it’s time to change, he spins you dramatically, and you fall right into the arms of the drowsy Diasomnia knight, who woke up at the sudden impact.
SILVER
The gown was white, some simple and silver patterns on it, maybe from a knight's armour. Your hair had a flower braid, specifically a rose, cascading down like a waterfall.
“Prefect…? Are you okay? You look a bit exhausted."
“I’m fine, Silver, sorry to wake you up this way, it wasn’t my intention."
He doesn’t mind if you are the one waking him up, and it’s not like this is the first time it has happened either; your clumsy friends always manage to make you fall, and conveniently for you, he’s there, be it catching you or cushioning your fall, but once again, he doesn’t mind.
If he’s being honest, he didn’t pay attention to the dress nor the hairstyle you were wearing at first, and how it magically transformed every time you changed partners, so this background leads him to make a baffled expression, mostly because he isn’t the greatest at showing emotions. He mutters some compliments, but the echoing walls don’t let you hear what he’s saying, much to his invisible frustration.
He’s a calm dancer, and it’s very much like dancing in a fairy forest, animals surrounding you as you continue to be invested in the harmonious waltz.
But that moment breaks when the last boy complains under his breath, probably because he was the only one that hadn’t had his dance with you, and with an apologetic smile, you go to him. He sighs, trying to stay awake, but failing at the end as his breathing regulates in his sleep.
SEBEK ZIGVOLT
The gown was lime, some parts had a darker green and others had subtle white highlights. Your hair was now straight, twirling slightly at the ends, which touched your covered neck.
“I’ll give my all in this dance, human!”
“I know, Sebek. You always give your all in everything you do~”
Are you trying to use the same tactics you’ve used to seduce Lord Malleus? That won’t work, human! He’s not weak to your charming smile and lovely eyes, he must stay alert to guard his master from any threats!
Less to say that is a terrible lie; he’s head over heels for you, but can’t express it, not even when the transformation happens for the last time, the enchanting dress and enticing hairstyle had him in a state of shock for five to ten seconds, and when he snaps out of it he wants aka sort of demands to know what’s the meaning of this. He shuts up after hearing that you also don’t know, feeling bad for all the shouting.
He’s a vigorous dancer. His moves are more energetic compared to the others, but not enough that you grow tired of it.
Since Sebek was the last one you were supposed to dance with, you sigh in relief, maybe you can finally rest and maybe even enjoy the rest of the night-
“Prefect! What is the meaning of this?” Here it comes, the problem you wanted to evade.
"Crowley! Hello! I was just, uh…” You tried to think of an excuse that made sense, even if you knew that everything you said would be a futile attempt to get out of the situation.
“She was making sure everything went perfectly; she helped with the organisation, after all," Azul declared, him and the eels hiding your figure behind theirs.
“It’s our fault she’s here, we insisted she stayed," Riddle added, unconsciously joining the barricade, as well as the other Heartslabyul students.
“I appreciate the worrying, but I explicitly said that she nor Grim could take part in this ball."
“She helped with it, and for her to not be part of it was an act of unfairness," said Malleus, his cold glare sending shivers down the spine of the kind headmaster.
“I understand your position, Mister Draconia. But—“ You went out, standing in front of Crowley.
“Guys, it’s okay, I’ll take Grim and then we would return to Ramshackle." Before they could even start complaining, a different voice joined the conversation.
“My, what is this commotion?” The Royal Sword Academy headmaster: Ambrose the 63rd, asked. “Oh, you must be the prefect I’ve been hearing a lot about, it’s nice to meet you," he presented himself, and you did the same, somewhat intimidated of him.
“It’s nice to meet you too, sir. My name’s MC, and I know I shouldn’t be here, but I assure you I was about to leave—"
“Leave? Who said anything about that?” Your face shifted into a confused expression.
“I was told that some parents had a problem with me and Grim participating of this ball, so that’s why I thought that—"
His amused laugh shut you up, baffled at this action. “Yes, that’s correct, but it would be cruel to send you home after you made all the way here."
“Headmaster! The parents solicited—"
“I know, Crowley. But they’re not here, and this young lady has the right to enjoy the same things as their classmates. There shouldn’t be any problem since this is a private event."
“But I—"
“You heard that MC!? He said you can stay!” Kalim exclaimed, smile widening due to the excitement.
“It seems that's the case." You said, turning around to the man that helped you, bowing before him in gratefulness. “Thank you, Mr. Ambrose”.
“No worries, dear. Now if you let me, I have to talk some important things with your headmaster." Both of them walked away, Crowley’s shocked expression still placed on his face.
It seems that happy endings do exist in the real life, and if you’re wondering where did the little fairy go… Well, she changed your dress again to the initial gown you wore at first, except that it was more of her liking, with huge bows and puffy sleeves.
But the rest, as some say, it’s history.
THE END~
DON'T REPOST.
EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#jack howl x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#kalim al asim x reader#jamil viper x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#rook hunt x reader#epel felmier x reader#idia shroud x reader#ortho shroud#malleus draconia x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#silver twisted wonderland x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#neige leblanche x reader#chenya x reader#mc twisted wonderland
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F*ck My Thighs [M] — Lee Seokmin (TEASER)
✧ In honor of Lee Seokmin's king god general emperor majesty pretty beautiful gorgeous precious elegant luxury world high top class THIGHS ✧
— workplace au, SMUT [18+], fluff, slight angst; word count: 5k+ (not entirely sure yet)
Female!reader x Co-worker!Lee Seokmin (COMING SOON!!)
~ Ever since you started working at XTREMEGEAR, you’ve been hopelessly obsessed with Lee Seokmin...god damn Lee Seokmin and his fucking divine thighs. You didn’t think you’d ever stand a chance with him. But when your company forces you to go to a sports and wellness retreat with the whole HR department, you discover that you haven’t been as discreet about your little crush as you thought you were.
✎ Note: I know the poll is technically still open, but I couldn't wait to share this little teaser with you all! Don't forget to join the tag list if you want to be notified when I upload the full fic :D
Click here for teaser 2!
“You’re drooling again,” Soonyoung’s voice sounded in your ears, startling you in your desk chair.
Reluctantly, you ripped your eyes away from the purple-haired man that you’d been observing and turned your attention to your brown-haired co-worker.
“I am not,” you grumbled, feeling a little embarrassed that you’d been caught. But then again, it wasn’t the first time that Soonyoung had caught you doing exactly that.
Your co-worker could only smirk at your poor rebuttal. “Right. Then tell me why there’s drool in the corner of your mouth.”
You gasped, your hands quickly moving up to wipe at the corners of your mouth. “What? Where?” Only there was no drool. Ugh, why did you even fall for that...again? “You’re so annoying, you know that?” you sighed, shooting Soonyoung an irritated look.
“Whatever. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t get any work done.”
A desperate sigh left your lips at the truth of his statement. “I know...but he looks so good today. And I think he’s been working out more frequently, because his thighs look even more delectable than usual,” you said, once again shifting your gaze to the man you’d been crushing on for as long as you can remember.
Soonyoung wrinkled his nose at your tmi and cleared his throat rather loudly, pulling your attention back to him. “You need to get laid. Soon. Or I’m afraid you might start creaming yourself on the spot and end up getting fired.”
“Shut up, it’s not that bad,” you scowled, giving his shoulder a playful push.
“Really?” Soonyoung threw a pointed look your way. “Do you want the boss to catch you slacking again?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still traumatized,” you groaned, burying your head into your hands as your mind flashed back to that embarrassing moment.
It was only a few months ago when your boss had scolded you for missing a deadline in front of the entire department. What he didn’t know was that you missed it because you’d been too busy ogling and obsessing over your sexy co-worker all week.
“Well, you better get it together then. If you don’t want our other colleagues to think that you’re a sex-crazed weirdo obsessed with a certain co-worker’s thighs, you might wanna rethink your strategy before Friday.” Soonyoung frowned at your puzzled look. “You didn’t forget about the retreat, right?”
Fuck. The company retreat. You actually had momentarily forgotten about that little thing.
Three whole days in the forest with your smoking hot co-worker and no way to get yourself off in private when he did something to turn you on – this was definitely an issue, considering that nearly everything the man did was arousing to you.
In other words, you were doomed. Fucking doomed.
Click here for teaser 2!
☀ if you want to be added to my GENERAL tag list, leave a comment below or send me an ask, but be sure to mention GENERAL TAG LIST!
#JiJis fics#fic: f*ck my thighs#teaser 👀#seventeen smut#svt smut#dk smut#dk x reader#seokmin x reader#seventeen x reader#lee seokmin smut#svt au#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fics#seventeen x you#seventeen au#svt#seventeen#dk scenarios#dk fics#dk x you#dk fluff#seventeen imagines#dk imagines#seokmin fluff#seokmin smut#lee seokmin#lee dokyeom#svt dk#svt dokyeom#dk
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Moving On (Namjoon x OC)
Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.
Pairing: Namjoon x OC
Genre: Angst, smut
Word count: 8.2K
Rating: 18+
Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,
A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.
Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)
Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara
namjoon masterlist | main masterlist
Joon [13:45]
Did you get the email from Big Hit?
Kaya [13:50]
Yes
Joon [13:51]
The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.
Kaya [13:54]
Okay
There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.
Joon [14:15]
The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.
Kaya [14:20]
Okay
Joon [14:22]
They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?
Kaya [14:25]
Not really
Joon [14:26]
Okay then
Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again.
Joon [14:40]
How are you?
Kaya [14:45]
Fine
Joon [14:46]
How‘s work?
Kaya [14:48]
Fine
Joon [14:50]
Kaya
I’m trying
Kaya [14:51]
Class starting, got to go
He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.
Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.
“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.
“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.
Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years.
Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.
“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"
“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.”
“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”
“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”
Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.
“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.
Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”
Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.
She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.
"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"
Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."
Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.
“Thanks.”
"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."
Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.
She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.
Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring.
“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.”
“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.
“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
—
The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.
“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.
“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl.
Svetlana. Savannah.
“Elena, right?”
“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”
Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”
Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”
Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.
“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair.
“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”
“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”
Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”
“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”
An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!
“No,” she answers truthfully.
“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.”
There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.
“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.
Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.
Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.
“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.
Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”
Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.
Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”
The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again.
Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.
She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.
—
Joon [18:42]
Hope to see you there tonight
Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it.
She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns.
If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.
She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.
Dilara [18:50]
In case you change your mind, sharing the location here
[Location]
Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.
The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.
Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.
She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.
The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.
She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…
“Kaya!”
Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.
“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”
Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.
“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”
She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”
Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”
“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”
Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.
She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”
By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.
Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.
His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.
“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”
Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.
“I’m glad you decided to come.”
She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together.
“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”
A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.
“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”
Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.
At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.
Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.
Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.
He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.
“How did it go?”
Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.
“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses.
“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.
“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”
Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.
“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“
“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.
“But maybe this is -“
“No.”
Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.
“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”
Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal.
“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.
“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”
Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.
He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara.
Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.
“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.
“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.
Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.
Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.
It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen.
“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.
She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”
“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”
It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.
Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.
“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”
“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.
Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.
He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.
“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.
Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.
“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.
The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.
He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.
“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.
Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.
“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”
The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”
“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.
“Ex-girlfriend?”
Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods.
“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”
“Pretty bad.”
“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”
“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”
He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”
She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.
It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”
“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”
“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”
“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.
—
The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.
“Kaya!”
Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.
“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”
“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”
Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him.
“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.
Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.
“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.
She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”
“Kaya…”
“What?”
Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”
Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”
He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”
“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”
“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”
“If you say so.”
He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”
“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”
Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.”
She scoffs and he bristles.
“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”
Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.
“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”
Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.
It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.
“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.
“What are you -”
But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.
“What is wrong with -“
“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.
He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.
She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.
Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.
It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.
Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.
“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”
Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”
The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.
“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him.
He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.
“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”
Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”
“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”
With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know?
She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this.
His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.
“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”
She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.
It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.
Look at me.
But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.
—
When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead.
Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.
Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.
“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.
“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”
“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”
He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”
Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.
“I’m great.”
He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”
The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.
“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”
Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”
“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”
Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.
“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach.
Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.
Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.
Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.
Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.
At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly.
Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.
She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance.
Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.
Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.
“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.
The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.
There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.
“Are you -“
“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.
But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.
It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.
Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.
Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.
Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.”
He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.
This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.
“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”
“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“
“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”
He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“
“I slept with Adam.”
Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.
Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.
After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.
—
Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)
#namjoon fanfic#namjoon x oc#thebtswritersclub#bangtanwhq#micdropnet#k-vanity#houseofddaeng#wkcnet#hyunglinenetwork#bts rm fanfic#bts rm angst#bts rm smut
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Payback | Kylian Mbappé
Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.4K
Warnings: Cursing
A/N: My apologies for not posting part 2 of ‘One More Dance’, I’ve been so busy and I’m currently working on it so hopefully it will be up soon. Inspo is from an old tiktok trend. Enjoy .xo
(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name
The thud of heavy rain drops hitting against my window set the mood to do absolutely nothing today. Though it doesn't work like that today since I have an assignment due in a few days time. It would also be ideal to cuddle someone right about now but that's out of the question because of a certain someone.
After completing half of my assignment, which I was quite satisfied with, I decided to call it a day for work and take advantage of the gloomy weather.
Taking a look at Instagram was a bad idea since I came across rumours of Kylian dating another girl. So much for breaking up a month ago and wanting to 'focus on football'. His excuse still bothers me since it was a poor one after dating for almost 3 years. I don't see a change of performance on the pitch if I’m being honest. I guess everything happens for a reason, maybe we're just not meant to be.
I mean if he moved on then so should I, right ? It then hit me that I should spice things up and give something for people to talk about. We’ll excuse my petty behaviour and blame it on the weather for making me somewhat evil. Before causing some drama, I called (Y/F/N), "Ello !" she answered. "Hey girly ! How are you doing on this beautiful day ?" I asked. "Ugh I’m so bored, you have no idea” she whined. “But never mind me, how are you doing more specifically ?” She asked curiously. “I’m doing okay, but-“ “I can already tell something is up your sleeve” she cut me off.
“Damn you really know me well” I pouted. “Of course ! Otherwise I wouldn’t be your bestie. Anywho, spill the tea…I’m all ears” she said enthusiastically. “So word of mouth right now on insta is that he is dating someone else, there’s literally pictures of them at dinner together” I rolled my eyes. “Shut up ! What the actual fuck dude. That’s so messed up. He’s such an ass” she yelled. “Yeah yeah I mean it hurts but the only way for my petty ass to get over it is-“ “If you do the same thing” she finished my sentence.
“Exactly ! So remember that TikTok we wanted to try out ages ago where one of us is dressed up as the guy and take out a bunch of pictures to look like a couple” I reminded her. “Oh my god ! Our time has finally come ! Okay I’m on my way, I’ll literally be there in like 5 mins” she said lastly before ending the call.
As soon as (Y/F/N) came over, we went straight to my dresser and got working on her makeup. We started by accentuating her veiny yet bony hands and then contoured her cheekbones, as well as her jawline to look more masculine. I failed to mention how smart she is, she came through with a bouquet of my favourite flowers so I had something else to post about.
Once we were done with her makeup, she slipped into one of my high heels so she was much taller than me. With her oversized hoodie and cap on you’d literally think that she’s a guy - a hot one at that too. I changed into a black slip dress and took off my shoes to spice up the picture, and exaggerate her height.
When (Y/F/N) came up behind me in the mirror, we both burst out laughing over how accurate she looked to a guy. “Shit. Even I would date me” she said before getting serious and wrapped her arms around my waist. After a few pictures of my head tilted and her face nuzzled into my neck, we finally had the picture. Her side profile looked so sharp, it’s actually insane.
After all of this, I suddenly felt hesitant to post for some odd reason that even (Y/F/N) noticed. I think it was pretty obvious how long I was staring at the pictures. “Girl don’t hold back now, just do it. He should see that you also moved on” she wiggled her brows. “You got a point there” I said to myself. I then uploaded 2 stories, one of the bouquet and one of us together - both simply captioned with a white heart. “If I saw this for the first time, I’d literally scream. Everyone is gonna lose their minds, especially him” she smirked. “Feels good to throw this back at him” I smirked back. “Welcome to the dark side bestie” she patted my back. “Anywho I need to run, got a few errands. Love you and call me later to update me on the drama. I’ll desperately be waiting for your call” she said as she gathered her things. “Of course ! Will do. Thanks bestie” I quickly hugged her before she hurriedly left.
I proceeded to spending the rest of my afternoon binging on early 2000's chick flicks, it wasn't until the evening when I decided to check my phone again that I noticed how many notifications I received. My notifications were the highest its ever been, well shit. We love to see it I guess.
I received countless tags on reposts as well as comments from fans, and surprisingly messages from family - understandable how many messages I received since it’s so evident that it’s not Kylian in the pictures. Scrolling through my notifications I decided to ignore all until my eyes landed on Kylian’s contact name, 'Kyky'. Surprise surprise.
"Heyy" the text read, I rolled my eyes, I don't have time for a conversation starter. I left him on read and proceeded with watching my movies. It wasn't even 5 minutes and my phone started to ring. It was Kyky calling. My heart started racing, I was hesitant to answer the call because what are we going to talk about and why call now ?
"Hello" he greeted. "Hey" I answered plainly. "Are you busy ?" He asked curiously. "Well kind of.. I'm actually just getting ready to leave" I said with a devious smile creeping onto my face. "Oh. Erm okay never mind" he said disappointed. "Why ?" I raised a brow. "I'm actually outside your apartment" he said embarrassed "No way" I said lowly to myself. "Have a look" he said as I then walked towards my front door and was met with his face. I ended the call and looked at him in shock, "You- here- like..what are you doing here ?" I asked.
"Can I come in please ?" He asked pleadingly. "What for ?" I asked back. "To talk about us" he said. "Theirs no us anymore. Theirs nothing for us to talk about" I said as I was about to close the door. "Wait. Just give me a chance" he said softly. "Theirs literally no point. You moved on..I moved on-" "You have another boyfriend already ?" He asked in shock. "I'm offended that you think I'm not capable of moving on so soon" I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest.
"So you must've known this guy whilst we were dating ?" He asked as he started to grow angry. "Yeah so ?" I scoffed. "You were just waiting for us to break up so you can date this guy" he said as he started to raise his voice. "You literally did the same thing. You made it seem like it was such a simple break up for your own good, but for the last 2 weeks you're rumoured to be with another girl !"I said as I started to grow annoyed. "Yes, but she's just a friend" he said.
"Funny how we’ve been together for so long and I never met this friend before" I said. Just then my next door neighbour yelled at us for raising our voices. "Please do yourself a favour and leave" I said as I shut the door. I then heard rattling of the door and in came Kylian. "You weren't invited inside" I said. "Well I had a spare key" he said as he held up the key. "That was supposed to be returned to me when we broke up" I said as I snatched the key from his hand and went to sit on my couch. “Also, how could you act surprised that I moved on when you’re literally here after I posted a picture with another guy ?” I questioned. He then sat beside me, "Can you just stop talking about that idiot ? I came here to talk about us…How do I make you love me again?"
"Love ? Dream on" I half laughed. "I'm being serious" he said as he looked between my eyes. "Forget about me loving you. How do I know that you love me ?" I asked. "Well I missed you all this time so I came back" he smiled. "It's not that simple. If you truly loved me as you say, you wouldn't have wanted to break up after all these years" I said. "Look I'm sorry okay ? I really am. I wish I could go back in time and reverse what I did...I just needed some time to myself to think about my future personal life and I kept imagining you in it..." he said as he gently moved a strand away from my face.
"Don't play with me right now" I warned. "No jokes. I love you. I really do, and I want to continue to spend the rest of my life with you" he said as he held my hands. "Okay cute. Anyways I have to go meet my boyfriend. It was nice of you to stop by..I'll think about it" I huffed as I got up. He grabbed a hold of my wrist and pulled me towards him to sit on his lap. "Stop lying" he smirked. "What makes you think I'm lying ?" I raised a brow. "I know your facial expressions when you lie. I just know you all too well because you literally could've left the second you opened your door instead of coming back inside" He said with a smile.
"Well I've changed my mind, I rather be with him right now" I shrugged. "I want my old (Y/N) back" he pouted. "She left the building the day you left her" I said lastly and got up to walk to my room. "Ouch" he pouted as he followed behind me. "I still love you no matter what. Always have and always will" I gave him a brief look before pretending to rummage through my closet. "So is this how it's going to be ?" He asked as he leaned back in my bed and watched me. "I told you that I need to think about it" I said as I continued to skim through my closet. "I'm not going until we stop fighting" he said casually "This isn't fighting. People don't get back together based off 5 minutes of talking to them after a whole month" I said as he stood up to stand in front of me.
"I like it when you're angry" he said as he got closer. "Don't" I said softly as I looked down. He lifted my head to meet his eyes as he cupped my cheeks, his thumb tracing over my lips. "You're making this harder" I pouted. Just when his lips were a mere centimetre away, he mumbled "It shouldn’t be hard if you have a boyfriend…Should I stop ?"
I hesitated to answer. To give up the game and kiss him or keep annoying him. “I can’t” I faked a pout. “Why not ?” His mood dropped. “I can’t do this to Nico” I said as I looked down. “Fuck Nico !” He yelled. “How the hell do you even know this guy ?” He asked frustrated. “We met at a party” I answered casually. “Besides him, it’s wrong of you to cheat on your girlfriend” I said looking everywhere else but him. He walked closer which made me take a step back, my back hitting against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of me, cornering me. “I just told you that she’s a friend and nothing more” he tried to say calmly. “I’m not convinced” I shrugged.
“Forget about her, she’s irrelevant right now. I came to claim back what was once mine. If I have to fight this stupid so called boyfriend of yours, then I will” he said as he inched his face closer to mine. There was a moment of silence. Both of us holding eye contact and switching between looking at each others eyes and lips. He leaned in and I didn’t stop him. It was a sweet soft peck. His forehead against mine, he sighed and said "I'll give you your space.” I surprised myself by grabbing a hold of his hand and pulling him back into place. “What’s wrong ?” He asked. “You’ll fight for me ?” I teased. “I know that I’m not fighting anyone because you’re lying, but if I have to then I will” he said as his hands were on my waist.
“How can you tell I’m lying ?” I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. “Besides reading your facial expressions, we wouldn’t be in this position right now” he said. “Or doing this” he said softly before placing his lips on mine. I pulled him closer against me and just then he broke away from the kiss. “I think I should go” he teased. "No no wait just a little more" I hushed him as I pulled him closer to connect our lips once again.
#football#football fanfic#football fanfics#football imagine#football fluff#football angst#football smut#football x reader#football x you#football blurb#football drabble#kylian mbappe#kylian mbappe fanfic#kylian mbappe smut#kylian mbappe x reader#kylian mbappe imagine#kylian mbappe fluff#kylian mbappe blurb#kylian x reader#kylian imagines#kylian mbappe oneshot#kylian mbappe x you#ricciardoaf oneshots
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kagami taiga asking you out on a date.
# tags: headcanon, lover!boy, slight confession, college!knb, fluff
includes: gn!reader and kagami taiga (the loml).
author's note: hello! this is my first work. i'm uploading this to test out the waters with how tumblr works hehe. here's a little something for our lover boy, taiga, and how he's like when he's got a crush <3
↪ This man embodies the imagery of a hopeless romantic who's unexpectedly took a liking with the quiet and shy student. True to the eyes of any outsider, the aura he possessed is nothing but that of an alpha—where everyone either wanted him, hated him, or wanted to be like him.
↪ Of course, the first option is always made clear on his end whenever his presence graced the halls of your campus. With him being one of the most loved athletes of your school, you knew what came along with his status, it was inevitable. He was meant to be with the big crowd, in fact, everywhere he went—the crowd goes.
↪ But who knew that all it took was one course requirement for you to be paired up with the big shot athlete that is him, for him to have his eyes on you?
It was the second month of your second semester, which meant that it had been exaclty five months since your interaction with him. Your memory of that class seemed to be a blur, only remembering the fact that your metaphysics professor decided to pair you up with him because he thought that it would be a good idea to spice things up in his class.
You didn't complain nor protest at the idea, however it was not in your list to be paired up with him. In fact, you initially planned on working on the final paper alone, but your plans changed the minute you took sight of the red headed man as he introduced himself to you. Soon enough, the last thing you could remember was him giving you a fist bump and thanking you for your help in said class, and neither of you crossed paths again. Just as you expected, everything panned out in history.
"Uhm, hi?" you looked at the standing figure in front of you. It was none other than Kagami, whom you've not seen in the last few months and the person you least expected to be right in front of you. More questions piled up in your thoughts as you watch him pull out what looked like tickets and placed it near you. "Para saan 'to?" (What is this for?) you asked.
Kagami rotates the wooden chair backwards to take his seat in front of you, not minding the fact that the ruckus in your college's library was because of him. Once he was situated in his spot, he pulled sent a curt nod towards the tickets and spoke, "For the game."
"I know that these are tickets for this week's game, but what exactly does this have to do with me?" you scanned the tickets and asked as you took notice of how your voice seemed at edge, because why on earth would he give you these? It's not like you were friends, right?
"About that..." his voiced trailed off. As you looked straight at him, he caught your curious eyes and felt his breath hitch. "A-About that, uhm..." his ears were getting red, why is that? You asked yourself.
"N-Now I know we never talked about anything back at Sir Reginald's class, and we parted ways shortly after that final paper..." he started off, looking at his own hands.
"And I'm assuming that basketball's not your thing and it's been months since we last talked but..." he was fumbling on his own words at this point, leaving you to bite your lip in anticipation. "But...?" you urged him on. He noticed your small smile and huffed out a short breath.
"But I really regret n-not taking the opportunity to get to know you and tell you about myself and now I just... I don't want to miss my chance again."
You looked at the tickets' details—it was your school against another top university. You chuckled and looked at him, "Is this your way of getting me to know about your insanely incredible skills at basketball?"
The redness of his cheeks and ears were back upon hearing your question, "I promise to make every score count so you going won't be a waste of time," he mumbled which got you laughing.
"I'll watch," you said and looked at him with a smile, "But only if you'll let me talk about any topic over burgers after the game."
He returned your smile with one of his own, the familiar smile from months ago, "Yes please."
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Do u have any tips/tutorial how to make gifs so smooth if there's movement? Mine are always choppy and weird :(
Hi anon, ty for sending this ask. I'm sooo honored!! (and plz don't call your gifs choppy or weird i have a feeling they're very lovely 😌)
✨ Gif Tutorial: making movements in ur gifs as smooth as possible✨ (updated)
↳ aka: speed management in gif making
Remember to always source your content responsibly!!
Process in this tutorial is simply what works best for me. Every creator has their own preferences and imo there is no right or wrong. We should always make content in the way we enjoy 🤍
Outline:
1. Remove duplicate frames
2. Repair missing frames
3. Speed management in Photoshop
4. Smoother slomo using Video Frame Interpolation
1. Remove duplicate frames
Obviously, if there're duplicate frames in a video, our gifs will end up with lil lags here and there (since some frames get more screen time than others). Although the dup frames are likely barely observable once compiled into gifs, imo this is what makes the difference between smooth and butter smooth. the two daniel gifs above (guy with big brown eyes, if ur not from our fandom 🤍) can hopefully showcase this difference**.
**technical explanation for this that you can totally skip: the persistence of human vision is approx. 0.1s, ie everything we see stay on our retina for this amount of time. since gifs refresh faster than this (eg. 0.04s on every frame for a 25 fps gif), we usually can't pinpoint exactly which frame is a duplicate just by looking at a gif. however. by definition, a duplicate frame will slow down a gif, by making it pause longer than it should. as a result, a movement during this lil chunk of time will move less pixels than your brain would've expected. and this is where we perceive the not-so-smoothness.
ok, now that we've established that we don't like duplicate frames -- I know it's common practice to handle this by looking for an optimal output frame rate to offset the dupes. to me this feels chancy. bc it's a process where you don't have control over exactly which frames to keep and not keep. Personally, I prefer making sure my videos are dupe free before everything else. (Again, this is just what works for me. Everybody has their own process and imo there is no right or wrong :)
To remove duplicate frames, the first thing I do with a clip is to play the first few seconds frame by frame to see which one of the following scenarios it falls into:
a. no duplicate frames
↳ best case scenario! congrats!! plz proceed directly to step 2
b. there is a duplicated frame once in a while
↳ This happens most often with (but not limited to) videos from social medias
↳ Reason behind this is frame rate conversion. For instance, instagram/tiktok has a default frame rate of 30 fps. However, many media sources (eg. no brakes, sharl's vlogs) produce at 25 fps. When these videos are uploaded, instagram/tiktok convert them from 25 to 30 fps by duplicating 1 frame every 5 frames, hence twitchiness in gifs when slowed down.
↳ Solution: in photoshop, go through the clip frame by frame, delete dupes manually (recommended)
↳ Alternative solution: use duplicate frames remover softwares (see next bullet point)
c. almost every frame has duplicates
↳ This will almost always** be the case with screen record.
↳ What not to do: When there are many duplicates, we may be tempted to use photoshop's 'import 1 out of every n frames' function. this is not ideal bc, the dupes are rarely uniformly distributed. you could end up losing frames you don't want to lose (resulting in choppy gifs) or end up with dup frames still in the mix (resulting in laggy gifs) or, most likely: both.
↳ A better way: is to import all frames into photoshop, adjust the output frame rate to offset the dupes (here is a good tutorial on this)
Pros: efficiency; yields decent results in most cases.
Cons: again, in my experience this is a process where you don't have precise control over the frames. Therefore runs the same (albeit smaller) risks as the method above. It can also limit how much you can slow down a gif, and generally doesn't work well if the target frame rate (of the clip you're trying to gif) exceeds your computer's recording rate**.
**More on this statement: when target rate is comfortably lower than recording rate (~ 55 fps for many), chances are most to all frames will be captured. It is therefore more tolerating towards skipping a unique frame from time to time. However, when target rate (i.e. anything 60 fps) nears or exceeds recording rate, you will be dealing with dup frames as well as missing ones. Using the method above can therefore subject you to the possibility of losing two unique frames in a row, making the gifs noticeably choppy.
↳ Solution: we always have the option to trim dupes by hand in photoshop. But in this case, it can be time consuming, even with keyboard shortcuts. as a result, here is where we can really use a:
↳ Dup remover software: google search 'dup frame remover software' will give you several options and tutorials (here a plug-in for after effects). i've heard good things about some of these but unfortunately can't give recommendations (they do cost money sooo i wrote my own)
Demonstration:
This is a frame-by-frame animation of an ad Charles did for apm. It was produced at 25 fps & uploaded to socmed where the default is 30 fps. You can see that:
i. With screen recording, every frame has an unpredictable amount of duplicates.
ii. Original clip from instagram has 1 dup frame every 5 frames.
iii. After deduplication, the movement becomes lag free and continuous.
2. Repair missing frames
At this point, our video clip is (hopefully) free of duplicate frames, which makes our gifs lag-free (yayy!!). At the same time, we don't want choppiness in our gifs either. Choppiness in a gif is usually caused by missing key (unique) frames. To check if there is any, replay the clip, look out for the sudden jumps/fast forwards in movements. Three possible scenarios:
a. no missing frames
↳ best case scenario! congrats!! plz proceed directly to step 3
b. a lot of missing frames
↳ This is usually the case if the target frame rate (of the clip you want to gif) exceeds the screen recording frame rate.
↳ Solution, imo: (surprise!) is to leave things be. Reason is that something like this would be quite tedious to fix, but not that noticeable if made into a gif that's fast enough
↳ Alternative solution: Record at 120 fps
c. occasional missing frames
If a video clip misses frames, but not a lot, chances are it's only gonna happen very occasionally, i.e. 1 or 2 occurrences in total. A frame-miss in this case is usually due to either the screen recording skipping a frame by mistake (in a 'slipping thru the cracks' sort of way)**, or that the original video misses frames/contains bad frames to begin with.
**To my understanding, even if recording at a frame rate comfortably higher than target rate, something like this could still happen since a common denominator between the two rates will always exist.
↳ Solution (for screen recordings): record again, find missing frame (chances are it will be captured on a second try), insert frame back into original timeline in PS
↳ Solution (if video misses frames or contains bad frames to begin with): Let's talk about ✨ VFI ✨. VFI (Video Frame Interpolation) is the process of synthesizing in-between images from a given set of images. It can increase videos' frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), achieve smoother slomos, and by definition, also help with missing/bad frames. There are many software products that let you use VFI by simply dragging videos into the app and clicking 'export'. Afterwards, all we need to do is to find the missing frame generated by the app & insert it back into the original timeline in PS (ahh technology). For more info on VFI, see "4. Smoother slomo".
↳ Note that VFI processed footages will likely differ slightly from the originals in terms of colors & lightings. This may be tuned out using clipping masks (allow a group of adjustment layers to only apply to one frame/layer, keyboard shortcut: Command+Opt+G)
3. Speed Management in Photoshop (✨ updated ✨)
At this point, our clip is without dupe or missing frames (or at least as close as can be). Whether you dodged the first 2 steps like a breeze or freshly emerged victorious from photoshop covered in blood to get here, good news is, things will be very straightforward for this point on. congrats!!!
🎉🎊🎉
As mentioned before, in terms of smoothness, our clip is now in ideal shape. The important thing is to keep it this way throughout the rest of the process. My workflow looks something like this:
Open file, crop, resize, sharpen, color, export gif, reopen gif in photoshop (which won't compromise quality), assign frame delay, export finalized gif
If you're used to finding a comfortable frame delay or speed/duration combo at the beginning, this process might feel unnatural. But it's so so so so important to leave the speed related settings alone until right before exporting. Here's why:
By not converting frames with modified delays into timelines with fps, we avoid having to give our finished product a frame rate (which photoshop timelines have to specify). This is crucial bc, there is no such a thing as frame rates in gifs. According to the syntax of GIF89a (the current '.gif' format, screenshot below), gifs control their speeds through (and only through) how much time to wait in between frames, aka delay time. Our process above does exactly that. It compiles frames directly into gifs, and avoids expressing frame delays (a gif concept) through frame rates (a photoshop concept), a conversion where dupe frames and missing frames come from**.
In other words, using frame delays to control speed is simply more natural to a gif's syntax.
**Why would this conversion cause dupe frames?
↳ On paper, frame delays should translate into frame rates seamlessly (i.e. 1 second ÷ 0.06s per frame = 16.67 fps). In reality, photoshop does not support direct translations like this. When converting frame animations into timelines, PS defaults outputs to 30 fps, regardless of frame delays. This disagreement between frame rates is where dupe frames come from.
↳ Some examples:
i. Consider a frame animation where frame delay = 0.04s (25 fps), to convert it into a timeline defaulted at 30 fps, 5 out of every 25 frames will be 'duplicated' by photoshop (30-25=5)
ii. Now, consider a frame delay = 0.06s (16.67 fps roughly 17 fps), to convert it into a timeline defaulted at 30 fps, 13 out of every 17 frames will be 'duplicated' by photoshop (30-17=13)
↳ (the 'duplicated' was in quotes bc photoshop achieves this thru assigning a frame roughly twice it's original screen time instead of actually adding another)
↳ (afaik, currently there's no way of changing the default 30 fps as long as u start with frame animations. If anyone does know how please let me know 😳)
**Why would this conversion cause missing frames?
↳ This happens when one tries to reverse the harm done by photoshop in prev step by changing the 30 fps frame rate back to what it's supposed to be (using function 'Set Timeline Frame Rate')
↳ Let's use the last example again. As mentioned, to go from 16.67 fps to 30 fps, 13 out of every 17 frames will receive roughly twice its original screen time (0.033s * 2 ≈ 0.07s). On the other hand, 4 out of every 17 frames' screen time will remain the same (0.03s). to go from 30 fps back to 16.67 fps, photoshop resamples frames from its 30 fps timeline in 0.06s intervals. As a result, any frame with screen time less than 0.06s runs the risk of 'slipping through the cracks', namely ones whose screen time remained 0.03s
↳ (gifs require frame delays to be rounded to the nearest hundredth of a second)
** What if I open the file as video object, instead of importing as frames?
↳ Indeed, when opening as video object (i.e. command+o instead of command+i), photoshop inherits its frame rate as is. We would then have the option to manipulate it's speed by right-click ➡️ adjusting the percentage (of how much to speed up or slow down).
↳ Here, if we slow down a gif without changing its frame rate, we risk introducing duplicate frames into the result (since frame rate is now higher than needed). If we slow down a gif and lowered the frame rate, but the math didn't check out, we also risk losing unique frames (frame rate not high enough). The same (opposite) goes for speeding things up. Therefore the best and easiest approach is, again, leaving speed related settings alone until right before exporting.
(the block of GIF89a syntax responsible for graphic control:)
Ok in hindsight this probably isn't exactly like. the most straightforward thing ever but the execution part is very much so 😳 here goes:
1. Open file in PS via Command + O
note the (25 fps) on bottom left
without changing speed, duration, or frame rate:
2. Trim ✂️
3. Crop
4. Resize
5. Sharpen
6. Color
(Updated!!!)
6. Export gif, and then reopen it in Photoshop
**Compare to the original method (timeline into smart object, smart object back into frames), the updated method has the following benefits:
i. Avoid lowering gif quality by converting into smart objectsii. Reopening gif into frames and reassign frame delay saves time (bc less steps) and won't hurt the quality at all (bc no image processing required)
7. Assign Frame Delay (i usually go with original frame delay + 0.01s)
8. Export ✨
Tada!! Speed = managed!!
This ad actually came out last December where I was aware of like, maybe 5% of what's in this post. Here is what my original gif looks like. I'd say what we have rn is a big improvement :)
Now, imo there are situations where it simply makes more sense to start with frame animations (imported using command + i). For instance: when we need to remove duplicate frames by hand, when there is a missing frame/bad frame that needs to be repaired, etc. My workflow would then look like this:
1. Command + i
2. (do things to frames)
3. Set frame delay to 0.03s
4. Convert to video timeline
5. (the rest will look exactly like the workflow above)
This works bc when frame delay is set to 0.03s, photoshop will treat your video timeline as a "natural" 30 fps timeline and leave your frames alone. Therefore maintaining its uniform speed.
4. Smoother Slomo using Video Frame Interpolation
As mentioned above, VFI (Video Frame Interpolation) is the process of synthesizing in-between images from a given set of images. It can increase videos' frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), hence smoother slomos. There are many software products that let you use VFI by simply dragging videos into the app and clicking 'export'. I've had very good experiences with Topaz and After Effects.
Let's talk about After Effects first. If you have Photoshop, chances are you have AE as well. To use AE's Keyframe Interpolation:
i. Import
ii. Set speed to half
iii. Click square twice until you see lil arrow
iv. Export
Topaz is a production grade video enhancing software. It's capable of enhancing frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), increasing resolutions (i.e. 540p to 4K/2160p) and more. Unlike AE who uses only the two neighboring key frames to generate an in-between frame, Topaz takes the whole sequence into account, hence better reliability. It's also more user friendly than AE imo.
Here is a before-and-after interpolation using Topaz.
That's all 🎉🎉🎉
To sum up: remove dupe frames (if any), repair missing frames (if any), use and only use frame delay to control speed, and software enhance frame rate if needed.
This post got way longer and more technical than I had planned and I honestly have no idea where all this stuff came from lol. But it was really fun and I hope you'll find it helpful. Feel free to message me if you have any questions. Have fun moving-picture making!!
#f1edit#gif tutorial#asks#*#my gif tutorials#photoshop#dailyresources#allresources#completeresources#this was. 3k words?????? what?????
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throttle - jjk | five
one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven
warnings - jk and yoongi showdown (by showdown i mean they just glare at each other a bit), THE BUSAN CHRONICLES BEGIN!!! anyone who has read throttle know how important busan is for these babies he he, depictions of sex that aren't smut (i'd argue?), hair pulling, she's on top, existential crisis thoughts during it all, unprotected sex, creampie, HELLO KIM TAEHYUNG, he's a sleaze, ANGST, cc watches jk wank himself off <3, a lil mutual masturbation moment, cute kisses <33, cums on her tummy <3, character insight! backstory! ugh! i love the busan chapters! i'll upload the rest of the busan chapters now too
word count - 18.5k
minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist
Jungkook has a face straight from a nineties rom-com. Boyish charm, eyes that linger; teeth that nibble on thin lips, and a smile that breaks like sun through a thunderous sky.
You're convinced that if he actually was a movie star, you'd watch every single film he was in - twice, at the very minimum. Maybe one would even become your comfort movie, for the days when real people felt like too much to handle; solace through the silver screen.
His nose slopes and points so delicately at its tip, that you always find yourself staring; marvelling. Wondering how an angle so simple could have you at such a loss for words. Eyes are wide and dark, they're like a vat of melted down dark chocolate, slowly hypnotising you with every stir of the rich delicacy.
It's when he smiles, though, that you really find yourself lost in everything he is. It's radiant, the way those plunging, round eyes of his crease at the sides, a deep line forming beneath them. His brows raise, and the dewy skin on his cheeks begins to tighten as they apple, and then his teeth - pristine, you think, ignoring any imperfection - are on show. You're home.
Home in his laugh, in his happiness, in the way that he always seems to be like this around you. Home in how he always finds an excuse to be touching you in some capacity, home in the sanctuary of unspoken words, and home in the hopes that maybe one day, he'll be brave enough to say them.
Hope is a funny thing, though. So much to gain and yet so much to lose - but if you never really had it, can it be considered a loss at all?
You're musing about this when Yoongi comes in through the side door, palms slick with motor oil, a few streaks staining his face and his shirt from where he's been a little bit careless. He cocks a brow, and throws you a cautious, coy smile.
"What are you doing here?" He angles his body away from you, almost as if he suspects you're about to throw something at him. His tone is slow, reserved, a little bit accusatory, if you do say so.
"My job?" You question - but you know exactly why he's asking such a thing.
You're always getting Jieun to cover you these days. He thinks you've barely worked enough shifts to cover the rent this month - and he's right.
He just doesn't realise that you have money sitting in the bank from stocks and bonds that had been purchased in your name when you were just a few months old. Rich people shit. Shit you wished you didn't understand, but were thankful for nonetheless. You may not be on good terms with your family, but you're not ignorant of the fortune you've had as a result of their choices. Having the ability to run from them is a privilege in itself.
"You still remember how to do it?" He teases. "Don't forget to offer the customers a receipt, and make sure you always pull up the right pump tab. Don't wanna be charging a soccer mom for some asshole's jeep tank."
"I remember, Yoongs," you say with a roll of your eyes and a narrowly hidden smile. He likes this smile of yours; the one you don't want to give but can't help but deliver regardless. "Thanks for the crash course, though." You thread your fingers together and stretch them in front of you. The way they click together has Yoongi looking at you like you've just shagged his dad. "Sure you don't wanna work my shifts all the time?"
"I'm sure," he nods. "Not a chance in hell I'm covering for you again."
And then there's that look on your face; the one he can never resist indulging in.
"Don't you dare," he says.
But you've always been up for a challenge.
"Yoooongs," you sing, voice high and sweet, like a hit of coke up his nose and down to the back of his throat, washed clean with Ribena. He knows what's coming, and he knows he won't like it - but he does like the way you bat your lashes for him. "Watcha doing this weekend?"
There's a resistance, but the invisible string that tugs on his lips is stronger than he cares to admit. He smiles, and you know he's where he's always been; wrapped right around your little finger.
"Why?" he deadpans, not hiding his infatuation well. "You asking me out?"
He laughs as if it's not what he wants more than almost anything in the world; as if he doesn't know it's the last thing in the world you'll be asking.
You laugh too, but it's to cover the guilt that weighs down on you. You thought he'd be over it by now.
"Not exactly."
"You should really start dating someone who respects your work schedule," Yoongi jokes, but it's kinda totally not a joke. He doesn't say it, but he'd always respect your work schedule. Would never ask you to make compromises for him; would never ask you to prioritise him.
But Jungkook doesn't do that, either. It's your choice.
"I'm not dating anyone," you say. It's childish because even though you aren't technically dating Jungkook, you're not exactly not dating him either. The 'what are we' talk hasn't happened yet. You're not ready for it. He won't ever be ready for it. You don't know this though, so you just think you're at the same stage, which is a whole lot more comforting. Think that things will progress naturally. Fall into place when they need to.
"But you're about to ask me to cover for you so you can go on a date, no?"
"...No?"
I mean, you're not.
You're not going on a date with Jungkook. You're going to his childhood town. So you're telling the truth - no dates involved.
But fuck, he'd held your hand as you stood beneath his shower together, telling you all about how he was going to take you to his favourite places, and you'd giggled when he told you that he'd force you to go swimming in the ocean with him, even if it was below zero.
You'd told him that it was fine, that you love winter beaches, and then you'd challenged him to a race from sand to shoreline. He'd agreed, of course, and then your laughter had dissolved into the pitter-patter of his shower, the warm water running over your body like a poor imitation of his hands, which were preoccupied elsewhere.
So no, you're not going on a date.
You're not dating Jungkook, full stop.
But you are existing together. Most nights these days. He works a night shift here and there, and sometimes you just need a little alone time - but more often than not, you'll head to his after work and wait until he finishes whatever he's working on. Your toothbrush has moved from the bathroom cabinet to the pot by the sink.
Your presence is undeniable, even if you are in denial.
Feels like you're lying to everyone, including yourself.
Especially yourself, actually.
Yoongi's back stiffens, his soft gaze that once was on you hardening as he glances out towards the forecourt. He nods curtly to his line of vision, and you know. He doesn't have to say anything because you can read Yoongi like a book.
His eyes look green in this light.
Beneath his breath, he mutters, "Speak of the devil."
And what a devil he is; dressed down in a pair of dark jeans with a black raincoat pulled over his head. You're down so bad that you're enamoured with the fact he's dressed for the weather, as if he's not a fully grown man very much capable of making such choices.
You think it's cute, and imagine him looking out the window as he was getting ready, heading back to his wardrobe for the anorak upon seeing the rain.
By the time you turn back around to tell Yoongi to fuck off, he's gone; snuck out the back to finish whatever work he was doing. He's not interested in watching you play happy families with some fucker he knows isn't worth your time. Jungkook could have been a brain surgeon, a charity worker, a fucking saint, and Yoongi still wouldn't have cared.
And by 'wouldn't have cared', he'd have been internally seething and ignoring the very existence of him, regardless.
"Just can't stay away, can you?" You say as you turn on your heel to walk away from Jungkook as soon as he enters the store. You're getting around to the cashiers' side of the till, creating distance.
Not because you want it, but because you think it might make him want you more.
It does.
"The cashier at Kang's ain't half as pretty," he flirts, and you swear that smile of his might send you to an early grave.
"Checking out other women, are we?"
"I'm here, aren't I? Not at Kang's?"
You want to argue with him just for sake of the flirt, but that anorak is really doing a number on you. All you wanna do is squish his cheeks and tell him how cute he looks in polyurethane-coated nylon.
"Touche," you grin, but it's muffled as he rests as palm on the kiosk and uses his other hand to pull you closer and steal a kiss. It's a risky move. Something he shouldn't really be doing. Not when there are three windows behind him.
He's on display like a puppy in the pet shop windows downtown. Anyone could drive by. Pull in. Anyone. Daegu ain't as big as it likes to pretend to be.
"So, I'm lying," he says, voice sweet and low. "I actually do have an ulterior motive."
"Mhmph," you breathe through your nose, rolling your eyes. "You're a boy, Jungkook. I know you didn't drop by just to ask how my day was."
"Okay, one - ouch. And two - I always want to know how your day is."
For a chronic liar, he's refreshingly honest when he wants to be.
"But?" You encourage, not wanting to skip the flirting, but anxious of the outcome for whatever it is he's here for.
He pokes at the bagged sweets like he so often does, his tattooed fingers gently prodding and pushing them about with no real purpose. He appears distracted, but he's anything but. You know this now; know it's just a Kookism.
"Buuuut," he takes his time, dragging out the word because he knows it will drive you insane. "I was thinking why don't we just head over to..." he pauses. Suddenly feels uncomfortable declaring the plans you have so publically. What if he hadn't noticed someone behind a shelving unit? What if your coworker is listening in? He carries on as if he didn't skip it, but waffles so much you don't have a chance to interject. "Straight after work? We go straight from here? You finish round about now, don't you? I know we were gonna wait till the morning, but I got itchy feet, baby. Wanna get outta this place."
You nod as his questions pour out like a broken faucet. You don't have to worry about your shifts, 'cause Jieun's already swapped with you. You'd struck a deal to work her typical early shift that day in return for her covering you over the rest of the weekend.
Truthfully, you weren't going to ask Yoongi to cover for you earlier - you were just going to ask if he'd watch the shop for 5 minutes until Jieun arrived so that you could escape a little earlier than you were meant to. He'd only just started his shift, opting for a later rota than usual. Weird, but not weird enough for you to question it too hard.
"Lemme just get changed," you smile, having come straight to work from Jungkook's apartment that morning.
The way you're always in each other's company, it's as if he'll suffocate without you around - which admittedly does feel like it's true, but it's more so that he's scared of what could happen if he's not there watching over you. Scared that someone will interfere with what he's doing. Scared the rug will get pulled from beneath your feet before he's gotten a chance to scatter pillows on the ground beneath you.
Running late, you'd skipped dropping by your place that morning. You weren't feeling all that fresh, despite the shower you'd had at his that morning, thanks to the second-day clothes you'd arrived in, so had opted for the uniform spares in the back rooms. The sizings were all off, and you're pretty sure you felt filthier in them than your own clothes, but it was rare for you to ever feel all that hot in your work uniform.
Jungkook is left alone in the shop as you head to the backrooms. He figures your colleague will be out soon enough to man the tills, so goes about looking a little busy. Eyes up the stale pastries that are definitely past their best in the cabinet next to the till. Reads the magazine covers, and wonders why the fuck people care so much about celebrities.
It's as he's flicking through a copy of Drivers Weekly that he hears a cough. "We prefer it if people don't read the magazines in the shop."
His eyes land in the direction of the voice, towards a man who is shorter than stature than Jungkook, but somehow feels taller. Broader. Stronger. A better man. Competition.
"You must be Yoongi, right?" Jungkook nods, voice a little hoarse. He's on edge. Doesn't like the way Yoongi is looking at him as if he can see straight into his soul - not that he'd find much there.
That's the trouble that comes with making a deal with the devil; he'll eat you from the inside out. It won't be long before Jungkook implodes, bones caving in on themselves. He's got a little while left to go until then, though. Maybe some major organs left to harvest. A little bit of liver for all the soju he's gonna need to drink to get over this, and the tiny sliver of his heart that belongs to someone else.
To you.
"Heard a lot about you," he continues.
Yoongi laughs. It isn't kind. "Funny. I've heard fuck all about you."
He stays stoic as he watches Jungkook purse his lips; shoulders rising ever so slightly and dipping again as he nods, letting out a scornful laugh. "Right."
Despite all he's done, all the stupid little mistakes he's made, Jungkook isn't dumb. He knows how to read people - and currently, Yoongi is a pair of burning red capital letters: F. U.
A petty remark rests on the tip of his tongue, one that could spark and ignite the dry wood of the bridge between the two men. There's no water beneath it yet. Jungkook would incinerate the entire structure.
Best not to. Not yet, at least.
"Hey babe," he calls instead, loud enough for you to hear, and direct enough to crawl beneath Yoongi's skin. You muffle a response to let him know you're listening. "I'm just gonna wait in the car, alright?"
"Okay!"
"Don't keep me waiting too long," he flirts, but he's looking at Yoongi. He's smirking. Eyes narrow. Winning. "We've got a hotel room to check into."
It's childish and he knows it, but he wants Yoongi to know exactly who's gonna be making you cum that evening.
You're cringing, knowing that Yoongi will be mentally imploding, but you also think that Jungkook is none the wiser. "Go wait in the car!"
"There's a place just off Gwangalli," Yoongi says, his attempt at looking unbothered fairly convincing - but not to Jungkook. He's convinced that everyone wants to fuck you just as much as he does, so would have always figured Yoongi was jealous. "A shoreline hotel. She really loves it. Maybe you should book a room there next time."
The insinuation is clear; Yoongi knows where you like to stay. For all Jungkook knows, maybe he's even stayed there with you.
But Busan is Jungkook's old stomping ground, and funnily enough, he does actually listen to you. He knows all about the hotel you love, and the fact you've never actually stayed there. Just dreamt of it; bridge views over the harbour, sleek marble coating the walls.
He also knows that it's overpriced and that there's a far better hotel just a few blocks up that doesn't get half as much attention. It's the place he's booked - 'cause fuck taking you home to meet the family - for the weekend.
Apart from the final night.
He's got you the hotel you love for the final night.
He'll say goodbye to Busan with you, just as you feel like you're saying hello.
There's an acute awareness that things between the pair of you won't always end happily, so he's trying to make the memories sweet. Giving you happy endings to daydream about when you forget that you hate him, as you inevitably, eventually will.
He's so caught up thinking about it that he forgets to reply to Yoongi. His train of thought is interrupted by Yoongi once more, his voice low this time. He's trying to avoid being heard by you.
"Just... be careful with her."
Silence in the wake of Yoongi's request deafens them both. His words are weighted. Jungkook knows Yoongi is telling him to take care of you, but part of him can't help but wonder if it's a warning. Maybe he should be careful of you, instead.
He's not the only one with secrets. Naive of him to assume he is.
"Thought you were waiting in the car?" You smile as you finally emerge.
Jungkook's eyes are on you immediately, and suddenly you're not the only one with a chime in your stomach. There's one in his too, and it's humming to the beat of his heart.
He'd already figured that you'd stolen one of his shirts before he woke, thanks to the fact your dress was hooked over the back of his desk chair that morning. It's grey and faded, a billion sizes too big, resting just below your midthighs. You're wearing tights again, because of course you are.
He knows, within about a second, that he isn't gonna be able to make it to Busan without being inside of you at least once. There's gotta be a side lane close by that you won't get caught in. Shit. Maybe he should just take you in the back rooms right now. Yoongi'd get over it, he's sure.
Cheeks a little hot, Jungkook is cringing at himself as he feels the blood rush to his cock. He can't be getting a semi in a GS-fuckin'-25. Wouldn't be the first time, but-
"Kook?"
"Sorry," he says with a smile, and pretends as if he was listening all along. "Was just talking with - sorry, what was it again? Yooji?-"
"Yoongi," you correct sweetly, eyes so smitten that Yoongi thinks stabbing himself in the eye with a motor oil dipstick would be less painful.
"Yeah, that. Didn't really how much we have in common. Both love our cars, real penchant for good soju..." Both wanna rail you so hard you forget your own name. "Interesting guy."
You look over to Yoongi, and it's clear as anything that he doesn't agree with a single word of what Jungkook is saying -but you think Jungkook is trying, and that only makes those eyes of yours even drunker in lo-
"You not have a hotel to get to?" Yoongi grimaces.
"Pollution's bad today, baby," Jungkook mumbles softly into your hair, ignoring Yoongi. It's said out of concern for you, but also for himself.
It's easier for him if your face is a little obscured; easier to deny that you're the one he's holding onto for dear life as he leads you out of the shop. You think nothing of it, pulling up the mask that had been resting below your chin before the cold wind gets a chance to hit your face.
He's not wrong - the midday skies are clouded, a thick smog obscuring the mountain peaks that you love to look at so much. You love the winter sun, but it has you wishing for rain. It always clears the skies a little more; brightens the world up.
Daegu is dreamy, in the obscure, nightmarish kind of way that made you eat cheese before bed as a child. The best kind of dreams were always the ones that made you feel something - and as Jungkook starts up the pony, you're terrified.
It's not a big deal. Going to Busan is casual. But being invited into a world that is exclusively his? Well, that's not casual at all.
It's weighted and deliberate, and intentional. He wants you there. Wants you in every aspect of his life, and yet you haven't even had the 'what are we' conversation yet.
You wait until Jieun arrives, just a minute later, before you make your departure. She says goodbye with a knowing look, and Yoongi is already out back working on breaking up a written-off car that came in for parts earlier that morning.
Jungkook's hand is on your back as he guides you out, the mask he had insisted on you wearing for air pollution purposes obscuring your face. It doesn't stop his eyes from darting all over the place, making sure he hasn't missed anyone lurking. He knows he's getting sloppy; that he could trip up at any point, and fall at the feet of the men who had sent him into your shop all those weeks ago.
But as the pair of you pull onto the highway, your dainty hand resting at the top of his thigh, nothing but the open road ahead of you and the smell of your perfume wrapping around his senses, he doesn't care.
He'd do it all again, he thinks.
In fact, he thinks he'd kiss you sooner, just to get a few more in. Your days are numbered. He knows you're not gonna last long enough to see the cherries blossom, and maybe it's better that way.
When he got into this mess, he was in search of a spring day to break; the seasons to change, and life to renew. The deeper he gets, the more futile he realises that dream was. You're the only thing he wants to see bloom, these days.
Such a shame he has to cut you from your roots, and watch you wilt instead.
────────────
Jungkook doesn't know what 'home' feels like anymore, and hasn't done for quite some time, now. He doesn't know what it feels like to be completely content, nor at ease, within his own body.
Sometimes, though, when he's behind the wheel, the balls of his feet pressed to the pedals, he thinks it might feel close.
When the scent of gasoline seeps through the vents, and a toxic combination of burnt rubber and wiper fluid clouds the atmosphere behind his tinted windows, it seems like he could have a grasp on what it means to be 'home'. Or to have one, at least.
Maybe that's why he clings to the idea of you so much, and the way that your hair smells like gasoline.
It's a trick of the mind; a subtle deception that perhaps you could feel like 'home', too.
He thinks of this as his car rolls onto a street he hasn't visited in what must be years, by this point.
He's silent, glancing over to where you nap peacefully in his passenger's seat. Light scatters through the branches of trees which are yet to bloom, refracting as it hits the pale stone in your necklace. The underside of your chin is painted in rays of rainbow light. Your throat, too. Impossible, he thinks, for someone to be so ethereal without even so much as trying. Thinks that you're magic.
But magic isn't real. He knows that deep down, beneath the scent of your hair and the taste of your rainbow stained skin, you're not real, either.
You're an illusion; a projection, just like that refracted light.
Still, he smiles as you begin to stir, neck aching from the uncomfortable position you've had it in for the last thirty minutes.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he teases, while you squeak and stretch your body out at far as you can. Palms on the dash, your head feels all stuffy and horrible, the nap only serving to make you feel even more sleepy. You bring the back of your hand to cover your mouth as you yawn, brows raised, eyes closed.
"We here?" you mumble, turning to face the road, only to find the view is obscured by cargo lorries ferrying things to the harbour.
The shipping container next to you is a deep navy blue, its history etched onto the corrugated steel with white chalk markers. It rusts at the joints, paint flaking off and scattering into the atmosphere. It's remarkable, you think, how even things built to sustain the most brutal of weathers can still have areas of weakness.
"Just about," he nods, turning the radio up a little louder now that you're awake. His phone is plugged into the aux for once, but it sounds like it's still your playlist going. It's not. He's been crafting his own, taking note of the songs you like, and adding his own into the mix. Subtle integration of you into his life, perhaps. "About 10 minutes away from the hotel."
You hum a response as you sit up a little straighter, a frown on your face. You hadn't meant to sleep through the journey, but late nights with him and early starts at the gas station have really been doing a number on you.
Jungkooks thinks he's benefitted from your sleepiness, as it made you so bloody endearing that he found himself wanting to let you sleep, instead of pulling into a vacant side-road to sort out the awkward hard-on he's had since the moment he saw you in GS25 earlier on that day.
There had been a brief moment, when the pair of you had stopped by your place to pick up your travel bag, that he'd considered making a move - but you were excited to get going, and so was he.
Why waste time in Daegu? He wanted out of there. Wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere. Wanted to hold your hand in public, with your mask off and your hood down, just to watch the way other men would double-take you.
Maybe because it's unknown - being with you, without fear of getting caught - or maybe it's because his intentions with you have changed in recent weeks. Whatever reason it is doesn't matter, though. The outcome will still be the same.
You watch as the cargo trucks begin to roll into gear, and then you're chasing the sun, heading towards your destination. Jungkook hasn't told you anything about where you're staying, just that he thinks you'll like it. Part of you hopes it will be that hotel you love along the shoreline, and as he takes a right onto the next road over, edging closer and closer to the shore, you think you might be in luck.
These hopes are short-lived, though, when you see a sign with the branding you know so well - even if you've only ever seen it online - and watch it disappear in the rearview mirror.
Funnily enough, there's no disappointment that follows this realisation. You couldn't care less where you stay. All you seem to care about is who you'll be staying with.
A smile tugs at the corner of your lips when his indicators begin to tick, and his hand, flat against the wheel, begins to pull clockwise. The place he's turning the car in to is nice. Too nice. There's a surface level car park, for starters, not one tucked beneath the first floor of a drive-in motel, like you'd half been expecting.
The exterior walls are finished with European style red bricks; purpose-built and not in keeping with the dated architecture of its surroundings. There's an attitude to the building; attention-seeking without trying, refined yet unassuming. It reminds Jungkook of you, in a way. Reminds him of how no matter what you do, his focus always seems to be on you.
"Had this place on my bucket list," he says. "Opened up around the time I left town. Always said I'd stay here if I came back with someone else."
His last comment is unnecessary. He doesn't need to tell you he'd never brought anyone home to Busan, and yet he does, because it somehow feels important.
A hotel resident swings through the front door as you're getting out of the car, and you can't help but notice that the chime is eerily similar to the one of the GS25 door. Identical, almost, to the one in your stomach.
"Pretty," you muse, adoringly looking at the ivy that trails up and down the side of the building.
"Prettier in summer," he says, taking your luggage from your hands and tilting his head forward as if to say 'ladies first'. "There's another vine running through it that blooms like nothing I've ever seen before. It's too cold for it to flower, yet, I think."
You smile as you listen to him talk, enamoured that a man so brash and bold can be so delicate and gentle when he wants to be. Mindless chatter fills the space between you as you enter the lobby, and wait for the concierge to check Jungkook's booking on the system, just to find out there's been a free upgrade.
"Wish she hadn't announced that," Jungkook mumbles in your ear as you head towards the elevator. "Totally would have pretended I'd splurged out on the upgrade instead."
You laugh, and tell him that he's stupid - and that you also saw the room rates by the front desk, so in your eyes, even the standard rooms are a splurge.
He shrugs, and insists he got it cheaper online thanks to some bullshit discount he can't be bothered to lie too deeply about. He wanted to experience this hotel, and he wanted to experience it with you. He'd have paid the price, whatever.
Chances are he'll be making the money back in a weeks time, thanks to you, anyways.
Thanks to you. Because of you. In spite of you. Whatever. Same difference.
Same disgusting guilt that coats his skin like oil and drips from his body. Dare you strike a match, he's sure he'll set fire. Ablaze with the glory of whatever the fuck he feels for you; the flames of his failures smoking him to suffocation. Failure to act quick enough, failure to control himself, failure to do wrong by someone that feels so right.
He shakes the thoughts from his head, his guilt steeped stomach a constant aide-mémoire.
"613," he reminds you of the room number as you reach the sixth floor.
It's not quite the top floor, but it's far enough up that your view of the harbour will take your breath away, you're sure.
He laughs when you squeal in response, thankful for the fact you don't try and downplay your excitement like he knows you would have done when he first started seeing you. He assumes you're comfortable now. Assumes you trust him. Assumes you feel safe. Assume, assume, assume. You're rubbing off on him, it seems.
He's got a rucksack on his back, and your own bag hooked is over his shoulder, yet he still uses his free hand to hold onto your waist as he walks behind you. He's so desperate to keep you close; fearful of what could happen if you ever were to part. His fingers grip a little tighter when you take a stride further than he anticipates, and he doesn't shuffle back when you finally reach the door. He rests his chin on your head instead, and watches the light on the door handle flash green when the room key taps against it.
The pair of you walk into the room in the same position, your back pressed to his chest, his strides wide behind you, so that he can walk in time with you. It's clumsy, and awkward, and hard to synchronise, but both of you are laughing so much that you're almost distracted from the view that floods in through the wall-length windows. Almost.
You stop in your tracks when you see it, gasping at the sight. Jungkook looks up from your hair, his arms tight around you, to see what you've noticed - and then he notices it, too.
"Holy shit," you say, unable to articulate anything else.
The ocean in front of you spans for miles; endless upon the horizon, with nothing but Gwangalli bridge standing in its way. Boats dapple the vast expanse, tiny and delicate, obscured by the incredible distance between you.
It's blue. Blue, blue, blue; the skies, the sea, the way you feel sorrow in your chest from never having seen anything so beautiful before.
Jungkook is smug as he whispers into your hair, "Boy did good?"
You've not even looked at the crisp white sheets, yet, freshly laundered on a queen size bed, nor the decadent hotel decor that you're sure will be identical in every single room. The other rooms don't matter to you, though; just 613, and the boy with bleach blonde hair who had driven you to Busan in his bright red pony.
The stuff of fairytales, some might argue.
"Boy did good," you whisper back, turning your head to steal a kiss. He smiles into your lips, your body his to move as he pleases, as he begins to walk you to the bed.
A soft puff of air blows around your body as it lands on the outrageously fluffed duvet. He crawls onto the bed with you, one hand on your cheek, the other laced with yours above your head.
"View like this and all you wanna do is waste it?" You grin into his lips, voice as sweet as his touch.
He's quiet as he presses his lips to your throat, slow as he trails his tongue down it.
"Not a waste,' he says, as his teeth graze ever so gently. The firmness of his crotch is devastatingly erotic as it presses against you. "And fuck the view. Rather look at you."
You go to argue against him, but he's adamant you're far prettier. Tells you if it means that much to you, though, he'll be willing to take you from behind so that you can look at the view - which is how you end up wrapped in a duvet, hair a mess and mascara a little smudged half an hour later.
You're sat together on the floor, backs against the side of the bed, looking out at the view as his arm drapes around your shoulders. His lips are nestled into your hair, because it seems to be his happy place, but neither of you are talking. Just existing, like you so often like to do together.
There's an unspoken understanding that this is an unusual occurrence for the both of you.
He doesn't do romance. He doesn't really do anything that would ever indicate a shag is more than just a shag. He'll compliment, and he'll charm, but he'll never say any words of actual worth. Not like he does with you. He doesn't cuddle, doesn't snuggle, doesn't kiss outside of the realm of a fuck. Again, not like he does with you.
When you turn to face him, catching the countenance in his eyes as he looks at you - chin, nose, eyes, lips, eyes again - you know that any kiss that could follow would be fatal.
It would seal the deal that neither of you have been brave enough to make.
There's hesitation. His breaths are heavy, prick still a little plump beneath the sheets that covers his modesty, but he's not hard. Not horny. It's not what's leading his thoughts, nor his actions.
And then, suddenly, but somehow also so perfectly predictable, he kisses you.
It isn't simple. It isn't just because he can - but it's also not for any ulterior motive, either. It's soft, his lips not as hard against yours as they usually are. They squeeze your bottom lip, then release. And then he does it again. No welcome intrusion of his tongue. No hands roaming to your chest. No smile as he does it.
But why would he be smiling when he's terrified?
He just kisses, and kisses, and kisses. He makes no further moves, not even when you let the sheets slip, nor when you hook your leg over his lap and move across to straddle his thighs. You're so incredibly wet, his touches minimal, yet so deeply intimate, that he can feel you leaking all over him. His cock is flushed, stiff, and stood to attention, resting against the base of his abs.
Still, he doesn't really touch you. His wrists are resting on the top of your thighs, but his palms aren't lying flat. They're open, not balled into fists, and you can't quite figure him out. You feel shy and insecure, because why isn't he touching you? Doesn't he want you?
But then you go to pull away from his lips, and he whines and shakes his head.
Come back, baby, he wants to say, but it gets trapped in his throat, and all he can get out is a little grunt.
He knows he's being pathetic. Knows that he must look like a fucking weirdo.
Part of you wants to laugh; wants to ask where the man who ate his own cum out of your pussy and spat it into your mouth is.
Most of you, though, is consumed by the sheer terror that's encompassing him. You feel it too. All of this is so unfamiliar, and scary, and alarming and yet so... safe.
His palms finally lay flat, prowling to your ass, where he squeezes as if to say hello. Eventually, he pulls you further up his lap. You're raised above him, the heat of your pussy so warm, and welcoming, and inviting, that he simply can't hold back any longer.
No words are spoken, you simply nod.
You aren't kissing anymore. Just looking at one another. He doesn't drop his gaze when he lines himself up with your entrance.
It's only when you sink down onto him that his eyes close, as his head leans against the corner of the mattress. The expanse of his throat is pristine, not a hickey in sight, and you like it this way. It - you - somehow still feels like a secret. One shared, but one that is safe. Just for you. Just for him. For one another.
Jungkook lasts longer inside of you than he thinks he will. The silence is only broken by hushed whines and dulcet groans. Your hands rest on his shoulders, and stay there the entire time. It's almost like you're both petrified that changing position will change the way that you're feeling. You look at one another like you're holding hands across a tightrope, dependent on one another to stay alive.
If he falls, so do you.
But it's not the falling he's afraid of. Not really. He's been enjoying the freefall for the past few weeks, now. It's the inevitable crash and burn that scares him.
There's something about the angle, the way he's got you deep and slow, that has the tightrope tying itself in pretty little bows around the bell that lives rent-free in your stomach.
Jungkook sees the way that your brows begin to furrow. He grunts as your lips rest ajar, restless gasps shying away, hiding in your throat. His hips keep at the pace he's set. He knows what's happening, and even though he's spent the last couple of weeks desperately trying to not let happen, he knows he's gotta let you come undone.
He wants you to. Needs you to. Needs to know that it's not just him that can't control himself.
It's euphoric when it happens. His arms wrap around your back, pulling your chest to his, and only then does he realise how hard your nipples are; how much your entire body has begged him for this. He squeezes you so tightly that your back clicks, but he doesn't really worry because you're shaking on him, muscles out of control as the orgasm he was fucking into you finally cascades over your body.
You're thankful for the way he's holding you close, your pussy so tight that Jungkook finds himself whining into your neck; and then he's kissing it, pressing his teeth to your skin, holding them there as his muffled moans vibrate against you.
'Shouldn't-' he thinks, even his thoughts stuttering and getting all confused. 'Shouldn't do this. Gonna end in tears. Gonna end - shit. Gonna fucking end. Shit. So good. So fucking good.'
Pussy so good he swears he'll fuck it forever, and then his thoughts catch up with him, and he's spiralling all over again.
'Fucking disaster. Heaven in human form. Temptress devil dressed as an angel. Shut the fuck up, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,' he begins to scold himself. 'Prick. She never fucking lied -' And then his head is battling against itself. '-but she did though - she didn't - did-'
"Shut the fuck up."
He doesn't even realise he's said it until your laboured breaths and spent body seem to falter, but you fail to muster up anything more than a "Hmm?"
You're sure you must have heard him wrong.
"Nothing. Not you," he husks in your neck, though he can't really get his words out 'cause he's seconds away from spilling into you. "You sound so good, baby. So good. Gonna make me cum so fucking hard." He knows he shouldn't be encouraging it, but he can't stop. "Keep moaning for me, baby. Let me know how good I feel."
You hum a laugh, so sweet and saccharine that Jungkook thinks you must be laced in some kind of addictive substance. It's the only way to explain how he feels. He's an addict, hooked on you.
The moans that roll off your tongue aren't fake, but you let yourself be a little louder for him.
"Like that," you tell him. You're already done, spent, but you want him to feel just as good as you do, even if his size has you feeling a little sore by now. You encourage him, knowing that it'll become painful if he doesn't finish soon.
It almost feels like there's something holding him back, though. You think he's just edging himself. You don't notice the way the lines in his forehead crease together in such a way that they almost spell out words. You'd have studied them, if you had noticed. Would have convinced yourself that you could read 'trust,' in the lines, and not 'traitor,' instead.
You move your hips against his, ass bouncing against the top of his thighs in a way that you haven't done for the entire session. He's been working so hard for you that it's about time for you to return the favour, it seems.
The way his neck stretches back, eyes shut, lips pouted and perfect as he fails to formulate anything other than "fuck, baby," lets you know it's appreciated.
'I'm going to fucking hell,' he tells himself. 'When I die, which seems like a sooner rather than later kinda thing, I'm going straight down to the pits. Pussy like heaven, so fucking good that it's a sin. Angel. Angel, angel, angel, baby. Gotta have you. Can't let anyone else have you. Fuck, no. Shouldn't. Shouldn't have you. Fuck it. Need you. Oh, god. Like that. Like that.'
He pulls on your hair so that you're sat up straight as he rams into you, your fucked out face the only thing he wants to see when he finally succumbs to your body. He nods at you, as if he's trying to say something that you don't quite understand. Letting you know he's close? Letting you know that he feels the same way, too? It's unclear, but you're in no position to ask - so you just nod back, and let the rapture happen.
"Shit," he all but whimpers, and then he's in purgatory; heaven and hell meeting at some kind of divine intervention as he spills all that he is into a vessel of freedom that he isn't sure he can afford anymore. "Jesus Christ," he chokes, the mess of his load leaking from you and down his shaft.
The lines in his forehead have smoothed, now, brows open, eyes half-closed. He laughs, once, twice, unable to stop himself. He forgets it all in the wake of his orgasm; his turmoil, your troubles, the turbulent path he knows he's about to go down.
All he can think about is you, him, the present, the physical. The right now. The way that you're in Busan, and how the dreary streets of Daegu can't hurt you.
Rather foolish of him to think that little deaths would have you falling in love, when he's the one whose head feels like cotton candy, heart beating like a butterfly bursting from its cocoon.
The screen of his phone is alight on the dresser, again. You had noticed it earlier, but neglected to say anything; mainly because you didn't want to lose the moment, but also because you feared that whoever was on the end of the line could have you losing him, too.
The freedom of your arrangement, the unspoken boundaries, affords you great comforts, but also leaves you with lingering doubts. You aren't naive. You know that men his age - men in general - aren't ones to be trusted with your heart. Platonic, romantic, familial. Not a single man has ever deserved to hold it in their hands, and any that you have given the chance to have dropped it at the first hurdle. It's a death sentence, you think, giving Jungkook your heart.
So you simply won't.
But in the comedown of a fuck that really didn't feel much like a fuck, more like a meeting of minds, bodies, consciousnesses - fuck it - hearts, you find yourself thinking that maybe it would be nice to try.
You're still in his lap when he stands, his cock inside of you, even if a little soft, now. He's gentle, and slow, taking you with him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. There's comfort in his silence as he leads you to the bathroom; familiarity in his feverish need to shower.
His phone continues to ring out on the dresser, silent and sinister, the glow of his screen the only source of light other than the moon that pours in through the windows. He clocks it as he turns to close the door, while you let your body become acquainted with the pressure of the shower on your skin.
And then, he presses the door firmly shut. The world can wait just a little longer, even if only for a night.
Tonight, he's yours, even if you never asked him to be.
He's yours, because he knows that come next weekend, you really will never ask him to be.
But you're just as much his.
He'll wrap you up in a fluffy white towel, and lay down with you in white sheets, that are creased only by the illustrations of your entanglement. He'll give you a tissue, white, to clean yourself up with, after he loses himself inside you once again. He'll laugh with you, teeth on show, white, as you talk into the early hours of the morning. He'll watch the moon reflect in the ocean waves with you, white, until you both fall asleep.
And you'll feel all pink; rosy cheeks, blushed lips, bubblegum heart and peachy pigmented skin from his kisses that bloom like posies. Pink like the early dawn skies over quiet ocean waves, and pink like your favourite wine that can get you tipsy with just a few sips. Pink and pretty like his lips that pout even when he's asleep. Pink like the pads of your feet as you tiptoe to the bathroom to get a glass of water as quietly as you can. Pink, like the faint light next to the plug socket where his phone is plugged into a charger. Pink, like the tiny light at the top of his screen to let him know he has a flurry of unread notifications; missed calls.
Except it's not pink at all.
It's red.
Your eyes are just tired, and you're deluding yourself. Just like you have been of every single red flag that Jungkook has presented to you so far.
But when you look at the mess of blonde hair that belongs to the man hidden in the white sheets which have kept you warm all night, everything is pink again.
"Sleep," he mumbles as you crawl back into bed, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His lips rest in the crook of your neck, a lazy kiss delicately finding its home there.
"I'm sleeping," you whisper, the white lie nothing more than a joke that you're both in on.
"Promise?" he sleepily humours you, to which you smile.
"Pinky."
────────────
There's a magic to sea air.
It's not quite Disney, and definitely isn't Hogwarts, but it's something. It makes you feel all excited, and giddy, and like the world is at your feet. If you say the right words, or swish and flick a little bit of driftwood in the right order, then maybe you'll find that the world isn't all that hard to acquire.
Because maybe it's not the sea air that's magic. Maybe it's just what comes with being beside someone like Jeon Jungkook.
You quickly learn that there's a side to him you never knew. It's one that's incredibly mundane, but just as refreshing as the peach teas he points out to you on every cafe menu, 'cause he knows how much you like them, and doesn't want you to miss out on the opportunity to indulge in something you find such simple pleasure in.
Jungkook smiles.
He smiles a lot.
He smiles at the harbour views, at the elderly as they walk past, and at the market stall owners who charge him far too much for a stick of strawberry tanghulu. He smiles when you ask him about his life in Busan, and he smiles when you get distracted by every single dog you walk past, regardless of the conversation you've been engaged in.
He smiles when you tell him you fancy Italian for dinner, instead of engaging in an awkward back and forth of 'what do you want?', 'no, what do you want?'.
He smiles when you reach the halfway checkpoint of the Igidae coastal trail. You're leaning on the wooden bannister, clearly out of breath but pretending to look at the view instead - and it's a beautiful view, at that. Clear blue skies, waves that crash and mellow within the same second, and an endless cerulean sea.
He thinks about all the possibilities out there, and half-wonders if maybe he could just get on a boat with you and say goodbye to the choices he's made.
The only choice he's been sure of lately is you, and when his horizon is blocked by your sloping shoulders and claw-clipped hair, he's pretty sure you're the only opportunity he wants to experience from now on.
He's never walked this trail before, but he wanted to show you the best of Busan, hoping it would convince you that you're also seeing the best of him. As he pulls on your hand, pointing out the little numbers some poor soul had scribbled on the stairs to reassure other hikers how many were left, you're positive that you'd walk the trail a thousand times over, just to be met with his smile at the end.
Because Jeon Jungkook smiles.
He smiles and he smiles and he smiles.
He smiles over dinner, in a tight little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, that at least attempts to make pizza authentic, even if they do have '+corn, 500w' next to every single option. He smiles when he tells you to put your card away, 'cause it's on him, and then he smiles when you trip on the ledge between the restaurant and the street.
You don't fall because he's holding your hand with a grip so tight you swear your fingers might actually fall off.
"One beer and you're legless," he teases, his hold on your hand tightening as he loops his arm over your shoulder. It's a warm embrace; one that fills your nose with the scent of his aftershave, and plasters an equally large smile on your face. He's infectious, it would seem, and not once has he insisted that you wear a mask since you arrived in Busan.
"Fuck off," you laugh, walking down the street together as if this is how it's always been.
Not a single person gives you a second glance, not even the middle-aged men sat drinking outside of the bar at the end of the street. It's dark, lamposts and decorative fairy lights guiding you home, the city alive with the hustle and bustle of whatever happens after dark. The noraebangs in the area are all hostess bars, and the actual bars are packed, so home is where you're headed. There's no company you'd rather keep than one another's.
"I love this place," you muse. There's a vibrancy here that you've been missing in Daegu, but if you were to take a moment to think about it, the cities have nothing to do with it. It's the boy, and the lack of distractions from him, that you really enjoy.
"Home sweet home," he replies nonchalantly. "Ain't nothing like it."
"You miss living here?"
Your question is met with silence. You leave it a moment, thinking that Jungkook is just debating his answer. Perhaps it isn't something he's ever given much thought to before. That seems like a safe assumption to make.
The answer would reveal a truth that Jungkook isn't quite ready to admit to just yet - but he wants to admit it. Wants to tell you everything.
All the things you should know, and all the secrets he wishes you'll never find out.
It's inevitable that one day you will find out, and he wonders if it would hurt more coming from his tongue. Regretfully, he thinks it will. To lie is to be merciful, or so he tells himself.
"You're so-" he begins so decidedly that it's almost a surprise, yet he cuts himself off. It's like he shocked even himself with the outburst. He glances down to his hand - the one you're holding onto - laughs, and then gazes back to the end of the street, where the dark tide is rolling onto a shallow beach. With a shake of his head, he says 'fuck it' to his reservations, and tries out a little honestly. "You're fucking with my head, you are."
There's a smile on his lips despite the accusation, and it has you smiling, too. You think nothing of it more than flirtatious banter.
"Oh yeah?" You toy. "How so?"
He knows this tone of yours, and knows you've taken it well; knows that all he can do is play along, so as to not raise suspicions. He doesn't mean to be so erratic with his thoughts, and in turn, his words - but he isn't kidding. You really are fucking with his pretty little head.
"How are you not?" He flirts back. "Can't think straight when I'm around you."
He watches as you drop your head, your nose all scrunched up, in the same way his own nose scrunches up whenever you're too kind to him. The only difference is he doesn't believe he's being kind at all.
You deserve more than he can - or is willing to - give you.
There's untapped potential between the pair of you, that will sadly remain that way. He figures he should make the most of this while it lasts; hold your hand as much as he can, get lost for days in the scent of your hair, and make you laugh for hours on end. He knows he'll miss hearing it when it all ends.
You don't know it yet, but you'll miss it too.
Maybe you'd do things differently if you knew that your time was limited.
"You're stupid," you reply rather childishly, because it's the best your bashful brain can think of. "Is that why you nearly hit me that night on the bridge? When you were racing? Too distracted by how much of a mindfuck I am?"
"You have any idea how much easier my life would have been if I had just hit you?" He muses, looking down at you.
You wait until he's finished his words to look back at him, but you wish that you hadn't, 'cause there's a look in his eyes which makes you think he isn't lying.
It should scare you - but like an uncomfortably awkward damsel in distress from a vampire movie, crushing on a bloke who is definitely a little bit too creepy for anyone's liking - it doesn't.
"Far easier," you guess, not letting your smile drop. "Waking up next to me must be torture."
"Waking up next you," he nods. "Sharing my aux with you, paying my water bill after learning just how much you like showers hot enough to kill a lobster. Hate it all."
"Oh god, me too," you say quickly before his lips cut you off for a second, only to let you finish a moment later. "Hate it so much. So glad we're on the same pa-"
This time, it's not the lips of the boy you like a little too much cutting you off, but the voice of a boy you're sure you could grow to like just as much, if ever given the opportunity.
"Well I fuckin' never," a voice booms from across the street in your direction.
You ignore it, not really thinking anything of it - just some rowdy lads who are talking amongst themselves after a few too many beers, you assume - until Jungkook's head snaps in the direction of the voice.
His expression is startled, but quickly softens to his usual boyish disposition. There's a defensiveness, though, to the way his hand tightens around yours - until he drops it altogether.
"Kim Taehyung," Jungkook beams, adjusting his posture so that you're partially shielded from the man across the street, who's checking both sides to make sure it's clear before he crosses.
He's handsome, in a way that's entirely different to Jungkook. His broadness isn't exclusive to his shoulders, but the way he carries himself, and the sleazy smile that rests on his lips where a cigarette fits snug. He exhales, and crosses the road, the grin on his face only getting larger.
"Jeon Jungkook," he nods, greeting him with such familiarity that you feel all embarrassed.
You've no idea who this man is. His name has never been mentioned before. In fact, no names have ever been mentioned. There's little you know about Jungkook.
Sure, you know how he mindlessly fidgets, and how he whines when your tongue strokes against his taint, but what do you really know about him? Nothing of any value. Nothing that signifies you're of any value to him.
"And who's this?" Taehyung asks, but Jungkook's reply only further confirms your assumptions.
The question is addressed to you, Taehyung looking just as dangerous as that cigarette in his mouth is. He's a slow burn, you think, the kind of boy who'll grow on you, and before you know it, you'll be just another victim of his charm. It's unsurprising that he would be acquainted with Jungkook. After all, the company you keep is a reflection of yourself.
You look to Jungkook, who looks over his shoulder back to you. He's not really looking at you, per say, not how he does when you're alone. When he turns back to face Taehyung, you see the way his cheeks rise to smile, and you don't mind his coldness all of a sudden.
But then he opens his mouth and you think if you weren't such stone-cold bitch, you'd cry.
"Just a friend from Daegu. No one special."
It's humiliating, granted, but any reaction would only serve to embarrass you both - so you simply keep quiet, and smile. Your brows lift a little, eyes on Taehyung, who takes a toke as he looks between you and Jungkook.
He's smirking as he exhales, like he knows Jungkook is full of shit.
"Well, fuck me. I gotta find myself some friends in Daegu. Taehyung," he says as he holds his hand out for you to shake, with a look on his face like he hasn't eaten for a week.
There's something about him that's refreshing. He's an asshole, yes - undeniable - but at least he doesn't pretend not to be, like Jungkook does. He's undressing you with his eyes in the same way that Jungkook does with his hands. And for what Jungkook just said? You're pleased. Maybe you should let Taehyung take you home instead - after all, according to Jungkook, you're just a friend from Daegu. No one special.
"Uh-uh," Jungkook shakes his head. He's teasing, but he steps further in front of you, blocking Taehyung from your vision. "I know what you're like, Tae. Hands off this one."
The way he's talking makes you wanna turn on your heels and walk all the way back to fucking Daegu. Whoever it is that's currently shielding you from the danger of a fuck boy isn't Jungkook. Not the Jungkook you know at least.
"I'm just a friendly guy," Taehyung jokes back. "You know me. What brings you back home? Haven't since you since the wake. Been a while."
Jungkook's back stiffens, but Taehyung doesn't notice.
"Just some family stuff. Thought I'd make a weekend of it." He tilts his head back towards you. The movement has Taehyung's eyes on you again. To feel so unapologetically desired is thrilling, but it kind of makes you sick. You want Jungkook to hold your hand. Signify that you're his. Tell Taehyung that he doesn't stand a chance. But of course, he doesn't. "Thought I'd show her around. Visit some old haunts. How have you been?"
"All good," Taehyung replies, not really interested in what Jungkook has to say. It's formality, really. If he cared that much about what Jungkook had been up to, he would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. "Saw your brother yesterday, actually."
God, it's like one sucker punch after another. A brother? You've no idea who this man is.
"Seeing him tomorrow," Jungkook nods, and again, it's bloody fucking news to you. "He good?"
"Baby's keeping him up all hours apparently, he looks fucking exhausted. Met the baby yet?"
"Nah, nah, tomorrow," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by how... mundane the conversation is. You can't tell if they're friends, or if there's something more troubling at play. Everything feels coded, but you're struggling to read into it. You're too fixated on how much of Jungkook's life you're unaware of.
"Oh, nice," Taehyung replies. "You should come by the boxing club while you're in town. Be good to see you. I'm sure the boys would be pleased to see Busan's finest back where he belongs." He looks over Jungkooks shoulder to you, again, and smiles in that sultry way you're sure enables him to never go without a bed to sleep in. "Bring your friend with you. Think we could all do with a new friend."
The way he talks is crude. It's unapologetic, and if it were any other man, you'd probably be repulsed - but you're too busy being pissed off with Jungkook to care.
"Think I could do with a new friend, too," you hum back, lips pouty, chest a little pushed forward. "See you there?"
"Oh, I'll be waiting," Taehyung almost fucking moans.
Jungkook presses the pad of his thumb across the tops of his fingers, one by one, clicking them in their sockets. His frustration is evident, but the grave he's in is one that he dug himself.
You may feel like you don't know him, but he knows you. He should have anticipated that you wouldn't play nice after he said something like that.
But oh, on the contrary - you think you are playing nice. Very nice. For Taehyung, you'll be the nicest girl in the world.
And that's all Jungkook can think about.
It's intrusive, the thought of just how nice you can be.
He's thinking of your hair, all nice and tied up in a ponytail, and how Tae's hand could wrap around it. He's thinking about your pretty little knees, and how good you look when you're on them. He's thinking about your chest - God, he fucking loves your chest - and how it stands to attention when you're cold. And of course, you'd be cold, 'cause he's imagining all of this happening in the back rooms of the boxing club. At least you wouldn't be able to come, but he's barely been making that happen lately, anyways.
If there's one thing he hates more than the idea of you with Tae, it's himself.
Taehyung says his farewells, and lets his gaze linger on you for far too long, and says "you've got a look about you, friend from Daegu. Something familiar," before heading back to where he came from. The gaggle of lads he was with are still waiting for him. It seems as if he's in charge; the ringleader of sorts.
It intrigues you.
But he doesn't entice you the way that Jungkook does.
There's no softness to him, not like Jungkook with his big, round, chocolate button eyes and ever-scrunched nose.
You're mad at him now, though. Pissed. In fact, you begin to walk away as soon as Taehyung is gone, because you simply don't want to be around him any longer. You're even thinking about booking yourself in for a separate hotel room. Fuck his gestures, and fuck the effort he's made. Means fuck all, now.
Who the fuck does that? Who brings you to their hometown - into their life - and turns around and dismisses what you are to them so cruelly? He'd paid god knows what for that hotel, driven the pair of you to the city, paid for everything despite your protests, and asked for nothing in return.
You know full well that if you'd have gotten back to the hotel before the Taehyung incident, and had been too tired to fuck, or just not in the mood, Jungkook wouldn't have cared. Even sex wasn't something he seemed to think he was owed. Not like most guys.
He'd have probably stroked love letters onto your back with the tip of his index finger until you fell asleep, instead.
See, there are - or at least there were - no expectations with Jungkook, which is probably what makes this all so disappointing for you. Foolishly, you thought you had a good one in him.
He's a man, though. How good can they ever really be?
Heels clicking against the pavement as you walk, you sound far more powerful than you feel. You want to take your stupid fucking shoes off and launch them at his stupid fucking head. How dare he reduce to nothingness.
"Hey," he calls after you, as if he hasn't just torn your heart out, hands all bloody while he toys with it. "CC! Hold up!"
There's a trail of blood as you walk that leads to the hole in your chest, and so he follows it like a bloodhound in search of its prey.
He repeats his call when you ignore him, catching up with you far too easily for your liking. You don't like getting caught.
"What?" You snap, arms folded across your chest, but you keep on walking. A gaggle of girls walk by, far too drunk to be in heels that high, and they coo a little bit as they clock Jungkook. You find yourself sneering. "Oh look. Some more friends for you to make."
"Hey, c'mon," he reaches out for you but you shake him off, so he tries again, a little harder. It doesn't hurt, and if you want to, you can pull away.
Shamefully, you can't bring yourself to. Those with the power to hurt are also apparently those with the power to heal - and all you want is for him to put your heart back where it belongs and kiss it better.
"You know I didn't-"
"Didn't what?" You fight, because that's all you're really good at. "Mean it? Mean to say it? Or didn't think that this actually meant anything?"
"Fuck," he seethes a little, teeth gritted and jaw sharp. He loosens his grip on you, and rubs the pads of his fingers against his jaw instead, tongue pressing into the side of his cheek. His nostrils are flared, and there's bite behind his bark. "Don't turn this into something that it isn't."
"I'm not turning it into anything," you say so calmly that it's almost unsettling. "But turn it into what? A lovers tiff? No worries. We're just friends, babe. Can't turn it into one of those."
"You're being unreasonable."
"I'm being perfectly reasonable."
"CC-"
"I've got a name," you remind him. "Maybe use that, instead. CC feels a little... I don't know. More than friendly? And we wouldn't wanna blur those lines, would we?"
"Christ. Can you stop?" he pleads, the frustration he feels overwhelmed by the desperate need to control the situation. "You know I didn't mean it like that."
"I don't think you know what you meant, Jungkook," you shrug, because fuck letting him think you're hurt. "You just let some guy fuck me with his eyes, because according to you, we're just friends. You saw that, right? You saw the way he was looking at me like a piece of fucking meat? And you let him."
Jungkook doesn't say anything for a moment. His body is stiff, as if he's rebooting; calibrating to find an answer. Yes, he had let Tae do whatever the fuck he liked, because it was easier than explaining the truth of who you are to him. Safer. In his eyes, it had been a lesser of two evils, but you're seeing Jungkook as the only evil.
Your chest is beating so hard in your chest that the thump, thump, thump has drowned out the chime that's usually there.
"No," he tries again. "It's not like that. I know what I said, but it's not what I meant."
And then you do that thing again. You calm yourself, your voice so serene and superficial that it makes his skin crawl. He can tell how angry you are, and yet you're so fucking pleasant. It's psychotic - but how can he complain about your anger when you're fucking smiling at him like he just saved a bird from drowning?
"You don't have to explain, Jungkook. It's cool"
"No," he protests, but it's met with vacancy behind your eyes. "I do."
"No," you say, tone firm and assertive. You don't need to be let down gently. Your feelings don't need to be spared. "You know what I'm like. I need to stop making so many assumptions."
Ouch. He can practically feel the dagger you have for a tongue slicing at his heart.
"Well what did you assume?" He asks, because playing along seems like the only way he can get you to engage in conversation with him.
"My assumptions are mine," you say quietly, walking closer towards him, until your index finger can tap against his chest. "Maybe if we were friends, I'd share them with you. But I don't share with people who only know how to take. From the look in Taehyung's eyes, it seems like he knows how to give a thing or two, so who knows, Jungkook? Maybe I'll share with him."
Jungkook is silent.
It's a threat. He fucking knows it's a threat.
All those missed orgasms seem like a terrible idea, now. He thought he'd been helping, thought that you'd just think he was an idiot, like any other guy who didn't know where the fucking clit was. Thought it would help slow the feelings that are developing regardless.
But you knew he knew.
He's a fucking connoisseur. He's had you coming undone in ways that no other man has ever gotten close to. For him to suddenly forget how to make you tremble on his fingers was laughable.
You'd chosen not to mention it, because foolishly, you thought that you were the issue - but if he's gonna hurt your pride, then you're gonna hurt his right back.
You shake your head, and walk to the curb, raising your arm for the taxi that's hurtling down the road. There's a screech as it comes to a stop, almost like a reset button being pressed.
You feel a weight being eased from your chest, glad to have finally put him in his place for the no-gasm issue, but a new weight is just as heavy on your feet. You open the door, think about getting in, but can't. For some reason, the idea of leaving without him has you close to tears.
Asking the driver to wait just a minute, you turn to find him fixated on you, those soft chocolate eyes of his so warm as they stare you down. His brows are lifted, mouth firmly pursed shut, but you can see from the way his chest is beating that he's breathing heavier than his lungs can really manage.
You've never seen him cry, but you think you might tonight.
"C'mon," you eventually say, knocking your head to the side. You've a lot fight in you, but far more fear. You don't know what you mean to Jungkook, and you're not gonna kid yourself and pretend like you feel secure in it - but you know what he means to you. The idea of him staying elsewhere has you feeling all feeble and pathetic. You don't think he would, but you know that he could. "It's late. Let's just go back to the hotel."
He stuffs his hands into his front pockets and looks down, the usual confidence he wears masked by a thin layer of shame. It has a sheen to it; a stain. He's not the man that he wants to be for you, and he knows you're starting to wise up to it.
"Kook," you encourage, but he still resists.
He doesn't deserve this; doesn't deserve you. Doesn't deserve the olive branch you're extending, when he knows he should be on his knees begging like a dog.
He could do that for you. Beg like a dog, in his own, fucked up, kind of way.
On his hands and knees. Begging.
In fact, he thinks it's the only thing can do for you right now.
And so he gets in the taxi as you ask, and stays quiet.
The drive is silent, but taxi rides often are, so he tries to ignore it. When you go to pay, he holds your hand back, and offers up his card instead. The grip he has is gentle, but it burns like the heat of a thousand matches, and when it leaves, you're left smouldering. You don't want to lose the heat, no matter how much damage it can do.
Silence permeates, and dulls the chime in your stomach that you'd expect to hear in a hotel elevator with Jungkook.
So much silence.
Silence as the door to your hotel room clicks open, and silence as you kick off your shoes. Silence when your bag is tossed on the bed, and silence when Jungkook's shoes join your own.
There's silence as he walks to stand behind you while you look out onto the midnight sea, and there's silence when he presses a kiss into the crook of your neck.
There's silence when he whispers your name, and silence when you hum in satisfaction from the way his lips feel against the expanse of your throat.
Silence so loud that you want to scream.
Silence so loud that you wouldn't be able to hear the scream regardless.
Silence, silence, silence that is so fucking loud, you must be deaf.
But you can hear the small intakes of breath that he takes between the kisses he peppers on your skin. You can hear the click of his lips, and the way he whispers 'I didn't mean it,' as if it would eradicate the hurt caused by such a simple exchange of words.
And then his hands of fire are creeping beneath your shirt, and you're all warm and pliable for him.
You so desperately want proof that he didn't mean what he said, and if there's one thing you're sure of, it's that he doesn't fuck you like you're just a friend.
So you think you might just let him.
He can tell you're apprehensive and he knows why, and that he has to prove himself to you. Moonlight pours in through the window, and you're bathed in it like some kind of ethereal goddess that will surely disappear when dawn breaks. He has to make this last.
He strips you of your clothes, and funnily enough, it isn't the most vulnerable you've felt in the last few hours. In fact, you feel confident, now. You know what you're doing when it comes to matters of the body. Matters of the heart? Not so much.
Your capabilities for either of those aren't required now, though. This is all on him.
He encourages you to the bed, so you sit by the foot, and wait for instruction.
"Lie down," he says, eyes remarkably on yours, and not your tits instead. It must be a first.
It's curious how softly he looks at you; almost like you could break.
Maybe it's because he knows he has to be extra careful, because he's the only one capable of breaking you.
And so you nod, because maybe, just maybe, he could fix you, too.
In fact, when he gets to his knees and grips his palms around your ankles to drag you closer to the end of the bed, you can almost feel your heart swelling. Healing.
Y'see, it's familiar, and safe, and certain; Jungkook will fuck you, and you will mistake the way he kisses you when he cums as a declaration of something more than what it is.
For now, though, he's only thinking about ways to get you off. Anything is on the table. He'll do it all. Do whatever you ask. Do things you're too afraid to ask.
He spreads your legs apart, and spends longer than is normally comfortable staring at you. He's appreciating it; the way your lips slowly part, a little damp and so delightfully warm. He loves your scent. Wishes he could bottle it up - but for now, he'll settle for drinking from the source.
When his tongue strokes against you, it's slow. The pressure behind it feels intentional, the warm studs of his tongue piercing making your toes curl from just one touch. He exhales against you, then inhales because - fuck me - you smell divine. His tongue licks again, languid and flat, his head nodding ever so gently. The change in movement has your hands gripping onto the sheets, a shallow affirmation of 'fuck, Kook, yes' spurring him on.
He hums against you, and you swear it's better than any vibrator you've ever had. It's almost as if he's saying something, but can't get his words out - which would make sense, given the fact his mouth of full of your pussy. His tongue points, as his palms rest on the underside of your thighs to angle you a little better for him.
He pushes his tongue into your entrance, and it has you mewling. Wetness seeps into his mouth, sweet and musky, just how he fucking likes it, and he's doing that thing where he whines against you again, and you swear you might just cum right there and then.
It's noticeable, though, how your grip is on the sheets, and not him.
Your heels are digging into the duvet, not pressing against the top of his spine, and your fingers aren't in his hair.
Still, your pussy is leaking onto his tongue, and arguably, he could be fooled into thinking you've let down your guard for him.
But you haven't really.
He can see this; the way you've detached sex, and the pleasure that it coexists with, from the emotional intimacy he's fostered with you.
It's like he can touch you, but you're scared to touch him. You're using him - and he knows he deserves it.
When he pulls away from you, clear strings of slick connect his mouth to your core. The sheen covers his lips, his chin, the tip of his nose. Moonlight drenches him, and in turn, so do you. He watches how your chest heaves as his fingers come to replace the pressure from his tongue on your pussy.
Your body may be his, but you're not.
'Touch me,' he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by how badly he seems to have fucked up the one good thing going for him - and so he pushes his fingers into you, hoping that he'll be able to get you forgetting about the fact he's no good for you; get you wanting him like you used to.
And you do.
Oh god, you do, so badly.
There's nothing you want more than to have your fingers tangled in his hair, have him hissing when you pull a little too hard, keeping him locked in position against the mess he's made - but you're embarrassed. You fear that by taking any kind of leading role, you'll be forcing him to play along to something he isn't really all that into.
As much as you could pretend like you don't care about what happened earlier, it's chewing you apart, inside out, making it harder for you to get there.
Your body keens for him, though. The sounds of his fingers working your pussy are lewd, and only amplified when he spits on it in that way he always does. It drives you insane, but even now, you're floundering.
"Hey," you whisper, and your hand finally comes to rest against his hair. He leans into your touch, heart stiff in his chest as it appears to stop beating altogether. How a touch so simple can have him so damn wrecked is beyond him. He hums a response, and is met with a gentle tap against his bleached ends. He looks towards you to find you looking back, and the stillness of his heart is replaced with a beat so loud he swears it sounds like a thunderstorm is hurtling across the ocean. "Stand."
Your voice is soft, and Jungkook is confused, but he doesn't question it. He does as he's told, because quite frankly, he'll do anything you want at this point. He'd get on his knees, on his back - fuck it, he'd even get face down, ass up, if that's what you wanted - but you don't. Not now, at least. Maybe another time.
Right now, you want him as vulnerable as you feel.
When he stands, he keeps his fingers inside of you. He's gentle, massaging, making sure the movements aren't too rough. You've never shied away from things getting a little heated, but there's a time and a place for that. You don't want it hard. You want soft. Soft, soft, soft, like his eyes.
"Clothes," you say, almost timidly, unable to string your words together in a way that makes coherent sense. He knows what you mean, though, and slowly pulls his fingers from you, not caring to wipe them off. You're pristine, in his eyes. He couldn't care less about how dirty you could make him. He'd wear it like a badge of fucking honour.
He takes his shirt off first, eyes never leaving yours. He can see the way your heart is beating beneath your chest, and decides pretty quickly that he needs your tits in his mouth at some point before the night is done. His favourite fuckin' feature of his favourite fuckin' person - when he's horny, at least. He could list a million things he likes just as much, but his brain kind of just short circuits when he can see your chest looking all heavy and pliable and like it belongs in his mouth.
There's a clang, the metal of his belt tapping against itself, his tattooed fingers working quickly to rid himself of all his constraints. He pulls it from the loops of his trousers, tossing it on the bed just in case he'll need it later.
Your lips rest ajar, but you close your legs a little, watching him unbutton his jeans. He lets them drop, revealing the white of his Calvins.
He usually wears dark boxer briefs, which are always welcomed by you - but there's something about the white that has you salivating.
The outline of his cock is thick. He's stiff, and there's a tiny tell-tale mark of precum leaking from his tip. The contrast of his honey skin against the crisp white is the kind of visual you'd expect to see on a Hollywood billboard; not in your hotel room with you.
He'd worn them deliberately, expecting this kind of reaction, but had anticipated a far different feeling in the room.
The look on his face doesn't match the confidence that his strong body oozes. His wide eyes are just as vulnerable as yours. You both look like you're gonna fucking cry, which is actually kinda funny, when you think about it - but you don't laugh.
Perhaps that would be the most vulnerable thing you could share with him, and he with you: tears. There's a heaviness between the pair of you, the weight of unspoken words, hidden truths and deceptive intentions, which have led to the cluster fuck that is the relations of which you engage in.
It's just fucking, but it's also not. Not really. If it was just fucking, he'd be railing you right now, just like he did on that very first night you spent together.
But instead, he's cautious as he asks, "Where do you want me?"
You have to bite your tongue and stop it from saying 'inside me.' You're trying to keep your heart safe. Distance is needed. You're scared he's gonna steal it if he gets too close.
Pulling your legs up, cross-legged in front of him, you give him a look that he doesn't understand, but one that he knows means no harm.
He thinks you're asking permission to move, so he nods, and is proven right. You crawl a little further towards him, on your knees, until you're at the end of the bed. You sit up on your knees, shorter than him still, but the height is more matched than it is when you're standing on solid ground.
You give him that look again, and so - of course - he just nods. He's yours. You can do whatever you fucking like to him. He'd take anything you'd give him, pleasure or pain. He's stoic in the way that he stands, but you can see his jugular vein beating like he's just gone three rounds in the boxing ring.
Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, right where the V of his hips meets the fabric, your eyes are on his.
It's torture, knowing you could be watching his thick, swollen cock spring free, but this isn't about the sex. Not really.
He bends a little, pushing his underwear to his ankles, kicking them off to the side and resuming his position in front of you. You still haven't looked at his cock, even though the thought of it has slick wetness seeping onto your inner thigh.
Your hand finds one of his, and pulls it to his cock. It throbs as you wrap Jungkook's hand around it, nodding at him, before retreating.
He's stood at the end of the bed, naked, hand tight around his fat, leaky cock, eyes on yours as you sit by the pillows. Your legs are crossed, knees up, covering your chest, light from the moon washing over you both.
He looks heaven-sent in this light. A white halo whisps around his fluffy blonde hair, the thick lines of his tattoos defined, his body carved from marble. And yet there's still a softness to him. It's in his eyes. Big and round; home in human form.
And so, for all the fear, for all the ways he has you scared about his intentions, for all the sheer instances of turmoil you put your heart through, none of it really matters.
In this moment, you feel safe.
"Wanna watch," you say quietly. You can see the way he swallows, his chest doing a terrible job of hiding the fact he actually seems to be a little bit nervous.
"Watch?"
You nod. "Wanna watch the way you get yourself off."
The request is simple, but it feels more complex than that - and it is. You want him vulnerable. You want him weak. You want him falling apart all over you without even so much as a single touch from you.
In his heart of hearts, he knows all this.
He knows, and still, he wants to do it for you.
There are sins to repent, and this feels like a start.
"Wanna see the way you touch yourself when you think about me," you continue, because you like the way his eyes look so pure and chaste at such a request.
There's a shadow to his face, the moon only illuminating half of his body, but it runs deeper than that. Divine feminity is a gift from the celestial body that watches over you, and it overcomes him, too.
Despite the hardness of his muscles, the metal of his piercings and the stiffness of his cock, he's so, undeniably soft for you.
Soft and velvety, just like his eyes. Soft and timid, like the boy who cried wolf and finally got caught. Soft, and softer still, when he says your name in such a hushed tone it barely reaches your ears.
"You do that, right?" You ask, though the answer is granted by how utterly enthralled he is with you - or at least, your body. "You think of me when you touch yourself?"
He nods, licking a slow stripe across his lower lip, before biting down on it.
His tight fist begins to roll up his cock, slowly bringing it back down again to the base of his shaft. There's a hypnotic quality to the way his foreskin retracts, exposing how red and flushed the tip of his cock is. There's desire burning through it, and he needs you - your pussy, your mouth - to soothe it.
He knows he isn't getting it, so instead, he revels in the pain that comes with being refused your body.
He's tepid as he starts, but his pace quickly builds, and so does the way he's moaning. It's a miracle you can even remember how to breathe. His torso is tense as he lets the pleasure run over his body, head tipping back, the expanse of his throat thick and wide, just like his cock.
He hums, imagining the way your pussy is leaking as you watch the show he's putting on for you.
He's not a performer, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the way he moves his body has you thinking that maybe in a past life, he could have been. You'd pay good money to watch him on stage. You'd devote yourself to him. Watch from the crowd as he sold himself to a thousand people every night. He'd be the main event, the headlining act, and maybe if you were lucky, he'd stick around for an encore.
What a shame, you think, that he never took advantage of his boyish charm and deliriously handsome face - but more fool him. You're the one who gets to reap the benefits, as you watch him now, free of charge, front row seat.
And yet, somehow, he seems to adore the crowd more than the crowd adores him. It fills your ego. Has you convinced that you've ruined this poor boy's life. Maybe you have.
"You're gonna think of me for the rest of your life," you tell him of your conclusion from your perch up by the pillows.
He so often talks in definitive certainties, that it's only fair you return the favour - but, remember, you're just friends, according to Jungkook. Best not to get ahead of yourself.
You find yourself prowling down the bed on all fours, stopping just beyond his reach. There's something primal about his gaze now. Predatory - but you aren't his prey. You're not going to get caught.
"Give it twenty years," you simper, rolling onto your back so your ankles are by the pillows, eyes on his cock as you tilt your head back. Kneading one of your boobs, you let your other hand dip between your legs. "When you're married, and your poor wife can't get you hard anymore, it's gonna be me who you think about."
"Shit," he hisses, both hating and loving what you're saying. Hating it because you're probably right, but loving it because, again, you're definitely right.
"It's gonna be me," you repeat. "When you get hard in your car, 'cause another girl has put her hand on your thigh. It's gonna be me you're thinking about."
He wants to protest. Wants to tell you that there'll never be another girl. He'd be lying, probably, but fuck knows why he'd ever give you up. Would have to be insane, you think, or something like that.
You know just as much as he does, that symbiotic energy like yours doesn't occur all too often.
"When your couples therapist asks what you think could be done to spice up your dead marital bedroom, it's gonna be me - gonna be this, right now - that you think of."
"C," he husks, unable to even get the full term of endearment out. There's a clammy sheen to his body now, his arm jerking at such a pace his veins are all engorged and pretty, just how you like them.
"It's gonna be me," you say again, barely a whisper, but it's enough.
And he agrees. "It's gonna be you."
Victory and defeat all in one blow; you're his forever, but it's likely he won't be yours.
He senses the heaviness behind his words, and the weight they've put of your chest, so he tries distraction as a method of easing it.
"Open your legs," he husks, the final syllable catching in his throat. When you do as you're told, he fucking whines.
The slickness pooling around the top of your thighs is sticky and hot, strings of clear fluid connecting your legs - all of you - together as you spread yourself for him. He nods, and it's your turn to obey, now.
Your fingers begin to rub at your clit, and Jungkook almost just give himself upright in that second. He swallows back the saliva that's pooling in his mouth, his cock growing hotter and heavier in his grasp. The way he's pumping himself is gonna have him finishing far quicker than he'd like, but he can't stop.
Not when you're looking up at him like that. Not when you're matching his moans.
"Don't stop," you almost beg as you see him begin to ease up. Returning his eyes to yours, his lips are parted. His hand continues to jerk, just a little slower.
"I gotta," he whines, but does as he's told, his grip a little looser than it had been. The muscles in his abdomen are tight. His balls, too. You want them in your mouth.
He watches as you turn, resuming the position you'd been in earlier.
As you wrap your arms around his neck for support, Jungkook finds himself grunting, picking his pace back up. He can smell you, your gasoline hair and sweet pussy, and it has him unable to think straight. Unable to do anything other than jerk himself off for you, because it's what you want.
The world. He'd give you that. If you wanted it, he'd give you it. He thinks he'd give you anything. Everything. Whatever he could.
The only thing he can't give you, not really, is himself.
And so he'll settle for everything and anything else your heart could ever desire.
But as your lips meet his, he knows that he's fucked, and that the only thing you really want is him.
Your kisses are slow, and tepid; a stark difference from the way his hand is working his cock, but it's everything he needs. How selfish, it is, that he still gets what he wants.
Unaware, you pull away, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing his as you say, "you're gonna cum for me, now."
He tries to ask where, but you just kiss him instead. You kiss, and you kiss, and you kiss, and he's so fucking consumed that he barely notices when he starts gasping against your lips. His body begins to stall, muscles mirroring the way he begins to stutter, and then it's happening.
The tip of his cock is pressed against your stomach as he begins to unload himself, once, twice, and then he's sensitive, and trying to pull back, but he's still coming and - "Oh, fuck, babe" - he's painting you white with the innocence of the way he feels about you.
It's everywhere by the time he's done; your tummy, the underside of your breasts, dripping down to the mound of your pussy. He can barely fucking breathe, so caught up in the way it always feels to have you kiss him through his orgasm.
His hands grip your jaw, pulling you in for more, because he needs to distract his mouth from the words he's scared are gonna tumble from it. You both ignore the fact they're covered in the seed that's just spilt over onto them. It's nothing new, after all.
It's not like he's gonna declare love, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, he just doesn't know how the fuck he feels - and that's dangerous.
Unpredictability only leads to messiness, which it could be argued is what's happening right now.
Still, Jungkook hooks his hands beneath your ass and moves onto the bed with you, and thinks it's a pretty nice problem to have.
His cock is firm still, nestled in the warmness of your pussy as your legs wrap around his hips. Neither of you care about his cum, and it's interesting how often you seem to be covered in one another, with no desire to rid yourselves of it.
He didn't make you cum, but it was your choice, this time.
It's funny, because you're one who is scared now that an orgasm could have you falling in love. You don't want to give him that power back. Not yet, at least.
Your kisses dissolve into light pecks, the pair of you unable to hold back from worshipping one another. But you must, for it's foolish to idolise mortal Gods.
"This doesn't seem very friendly, Kook," you whisper.
Your chest feels uneasy as you joke. He closes his eyes, hanging his head in shame against yours, knowing that it was him and his inability to ever say the right fuckin' thing that had you refusing to fuck him that evening.
He's not stupid. He knows you stopped him from making you cum. He knows why. And he hates himself for it.
He presses a kiss against your cheek, once, twice, and works his way to your lips. It's goofy, the way he's planting little seeds of love all over your skin, but only time will tell if he'll water them. For now, you think you'd quite like to imagine the wildflower garden that could bloom in their wake.
"It's cause it's not, CC," he admits. "It's not very friendly at all."
And then, you just can't seem to help yourself as you tease, "Even if I'm just a friend from Daegu?"
He smiles, because he knows you're trying to soothe the burn of his words. Naked, spent, and vulnerable, Jungkook rolls off of you, repositioning himself so that you can rest your head on his chest. Still, neither of you care to get cleaned up. There's no disgust, nor discomfort.
More fool the both of you for thinking that this isn't love.
"You're my only friend from Daegu," he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. It's not strictly true, but he sort of wishes that it was. Wishes he knew you before he knew them.
"What about your other friends?" You ask gently, because maybe it's your fault you don't know more about him. Maybe you just haven't been asking the right questions.
Jungkook pulls the comforter over your body, 'cause he can feel how hard your nipples are against his torso, and guesses that you aren't exactly still horny now that you're asking him shit like this. Again, there's zero care for clean up just yet. Zero care for anything but one another.
And then you tack on an extra little question that has Jungkook mentally groaning.
"Who's Taehyung?"
Convinced that you're snug like a little comforter-human-burrito, Jungkook holds you tightly. He's still stark bollock naked and doesn't really care to be covered, but he wants you warm. Wants you happy.
And knows that your happiness, now, rests on open communication.
"I knew Taehyung in high school," he eventually admits. "We were both on the boxing team, and we were friends, but -" he stops, and laughs a little. "Well, I kept beating him. So on the days I'd stay behind and work on my form, shit like that, Tae would..." Jungkook sighs. And then he laughs again. "This is so embarrassing." He gently shakes his head, and then thinks fuck it. You deserve the truth, so the truth is what you're gonna get. "I started going to club more often, thought about going pro. I was pretty serious about it. Got to the point where Tae couldn't compete with me - but one thing he could do, apparently, was fuck. And I didn't know, but apparently, he could turn that into a competition, 'cause on the days I trained alone, he'd go hook up with my girlfriend."
It doesn't upset Jungkook anymore. Not really. Annoys him a little - and means there was no way he was letting Taehyung think you meant anything more to him than just casual sex.
"Shit," is all you can say.
"Yeah," Jungkook sighs. "Went on for like, 6 months. I didn't know till my dick started fucking burning. Turned out he'd given her chlamydia from someone else and in turn, me."
"Bastard."
"Right? At least wrap it up if you're gonna fuck about. Anyways, after that, it was rare for him not to pursue any girl I was interested in," Jungkook finally admits, and it feels good to get it out. Good to share. Fucking fantastic, actually. "Me saying what I said... It was a defence mechanism more than anything, and I'm sorry. I just didn't wanna give him any reason to try it on with you."
You nod slowly, because there's a lot to unpack. "What happened? With the girl?"
"We broke up," he says honestly. "That was the nail in the coffin, really. He's done it with a few other girls I've dated or fucked since then, to the point where it's definitely a pattern of behaviour, but I tend to avoid serious relationships. If I'm being honest, I haven't had one since."
"Since high school?"
God, it's mortifying, he thinks. "Since high school."
Heartbreak is a funny thing, though. You're similar in that regard. Neither of you ever want to give another person the power to break the one thing keeping you alive. It's just asking for trouble.
Then again, every single fucking thing about your 'friendship' is asking for trouble. Maybe it's fitting.
"I'm sorry," you say, because you're not sure what else to say. He squeezes the comforter bundle you're in and shrugs.
"Don't be. Just please don't have sex with Kim fuckin' Taehyung."
You laugh, because such a thing feels absurd - but it would do. You trust Jungkook. You care about Jungkook. Care for him. Care for his opinions, his well-being.
Would be a shame if that ever were to change.
But that doesn't feel like a possibility right now, so you simply don't think about it. Instead, you ask the question that you've been holding back, because you wanted to at least look a little compassionate before you got ahead of yourself.
"So what you said to him about me," you begin, and he rolls his eyes, 'cause he knows exactly where you're going with this.
"So what I said about you."
"You lied."
"I lied, CC."
The way he whispers it back to you has you all giddy and docile for him. He's dangerous, in the most delectable way.
"You like me," you accuse, and you're met with a shallow kiss, his lips curving upwards because he can't help but smile at how fucking smitten you look.
"I'm terrified of you," he smiles. "The way you make me feel scares the living daylights out of me, CC. This isn't... I'm not good at this. I mean, hello? Been out of practice since high school."
"Mmmm," you interject, questioning his statement. "You've fucked plenty of girls since high school."
His eyes roll again, because he knows you're just trying to get him to be specific.
"What do you want me to say, huh, CC?" He nudges his nose against yours, his grin prevailing as he sinks them down into a kiss. "That I spend my whole entire fuckin' day thinking about you? You stay at my place all the time. My Netflix account reckons I'm halfway through season one of Gossip Girl." You smile. It's a guilty pleasure. You watch it at his place when he leaves early for work, or on the days you arrive before him. "There's a spare toothbrush by my sink, and it's yours."
The way he emphasises 'yours' has the chime in your stomach ringing like a church bell.
"I haven't been serious about anyone since high school, so yeah, I'm a bit out of practice. I don't wanna put labels on things or move too fast or say things I can't take back. I just know it would really fucking sting if you slept with Taehyung," he smiles, attempting to lighten the fact he's basically just put his heart on the line for you. "So please just... don't."
The issue is, Jungkook's forgetting himself.
He's forgetting that you're not just you. He's not just him. The way you met wasn't organic like you think it was, and he's letting himself get wrapped up in the idea that the pair of you are just normal people who found one another despite all odds.
The thought creeps into his mind, but frankly, he wants it to fuck off. So he kisses you. Slow and deep. Just him, and you.
If he'd have met you under different circumstances, he'd have probably already asked your father's permission to-
And then it hits him. The reminder that he can never have a happy ending with you, all thanks to your fucking father.
Jungkook asked you to come to Busan for a reason. There are things you need to see, things you need to understand before it all goes to shit.
"I want you to come somewhere with me tomorrow," he husks against your lips, your noses stroking gently against one another. "Somewhere important. I've got some errands to run, and I'll see my family alone, but after that, I wanna show you something."
You nod to confirm that it's okay. Of course, you don't mind him seeing his family alone, and you could do with running a few errands yourself, so it works out well. He's opening up. Sharing. And that's all you can ask for.
It has you thinking that maybe you should do the same for him.
"Thank you," he whispers.
It's a loaded phrase, and you're not sure which part he's thanking you for, but you accept it nonetheless.
This is progress, you think.
Funny, 'cause Jungkook's the blonde one. If anyone should be a dumb bitch, it's him.
But the blonde is fake, and he's smarter than he should be after all those blows to the head in the boxing ring.
You're private school educated. Could have been anything you wanted. Could have had the world. Your daddy worked hard to make sure of it.
But as Jungkook leads you to the bathroom, stripped of everything except for the stain of his sex, you think you already have the world.
You think, for once, you finally have something good that isn't the result of nepotism or political fear.
Your daddy worked hard. He worked real hard. He gave you the world, and then some - but the world doesn't come for free, and there's a little collateral that he never counted on caring enough to fuck with his self-made solar system.
Yeah, your daddy gave you the world.
But it's Jungkook's job to give it back to its rightful owners, whether he wants to or not.
And so, as the shower begins to heat up, and the pair of you are doing what you do so well, his phone begins to buzz in the bedroom. It goes unnoticed. It's not Jungkook's priority anymore, which leaves him in quite a predicament.
The outside world can wait for a moment. He's letting himself indulge in the fantasy of you one final time.
What a brilliant, intangible fantasy you are.
But fantasy is just that;
a lie.
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My favorite weird phase of matter (and also some intro-y stuff that you can skip if you want to look at the pretty pictures)
[Fig. 1 (a) from Mur, M., Kos, Ž., Ravnik, M. et al. Continuous generation of topological defects in a passively driven nematic liquid crystal. Nat Commun 13, 6855 (2022).]
Hi again! In my previous posts, I described what the term soft matter means to a physicist, and how physicists really understand phases of matter mostly in terms of symmetries. In the future, I'm similarly planning to write more long form, in-depth explanations of specific concepts/topics in soft matter physics.
I'd really like to be able to dive into the math behind everything, but I also want to keep things as understandable and enjoyable as possible to those with little to no math background. So I'll try my best to explain every bit of every equation I show, and I think forcing myself to do so will help me understand them better.
I might also post some things other than long-form essays. One idea I've been thinking of doing is to post a daily/weekly/whateverly arXiv update, where I pick one or a few soft matter physics preprints that have been uploaded recently, and write short, informal summaries of their findings. I think that might be a good way to keep myself and anyone who's interested informed on the state of the field. I also intend to do shorter posts on specific papers or results I think are really cool. My research and academic responsibilities keep me very busy, so I'll likely make shorter posts when I don't have the time or energy to write longer, deeper explanations.
Another idea I've been toying around with is potentially using this account as something like a radically open research notebook/journal, where I immediately write up and publicly post each little research milestone I've made for the day/week/whatever. My paycheck comes mostly from government grants, the research I do is publicly funded. I think the public ought to be aware of exactly what they're funding, and particularly, I think the members of the public who are interested in what we do should be able to engage with researchers, to learn about the current state of the field. I also think this ability to engage with current research should be accessible to all members of the public, not just those wealthy enough to be able to spend a lot of time around universities. On the other hand, there are some ethical and logistical considerations when it comes to sharing unpublished research, and I'd at the very least need to get approval from all of my collaborators, so if I end up doing something like this, it wouldn't be for a while.
Anyways, for now, I'd just like to show you some really cool experimental realizations of a gorgeously weird phase of matter that is very dear to my heart (and my CV):
Active Nematic Liquid Crystals
[Video taken by the Dogic Lab]
These two-dimensional, spontaneously flowing "line fluids" host topological defects (the little comet-shaped and triangle-shaped dark spots). These are quasiparticles with fascinating dynamics, and some really beautiful mathematics behind their structure. To quote my PI who was quoting some other physicist I can't remember:
Materials are like people; it's the defects that make them interesting.
The term liquid crystal refers to a general class of materials with symmetries and properties in-between those of a crystal and those of a simple liquid. Nematics are a particular type of liquid crystal, one with full translational symmetry, but S^1 / Z_2 -broken rotational symmetry. Active nematics are nematics that also break time-reversal symmetry, and thus energy conservation (I'll explain how this is possible in an energy-conserving universe sometime soon; the short answer is "coarse-graining").
Here's what happens if you put an active nematic on a sphere:
[Dogic Lab again -- they're great they do a lot of really cool stuff]
Fun fact: These defects attract and repel each other just like charged particles (via Gauss's law), except they aren't electrically charged, they're topologically charged. Rather than electromagnetic fields, the medium of interaction here is the elastic free energy associated with curves in the line field. The comet-shaped defects have a +1/2 topological charge, while the triangular ones have a -1/2 charge. If you bring two defects close enough together, they'll effectively "add" their charges up. This means oppositely-charged defects can annihilate each other into the uniform/vacuum state, and that a sufficiently perturbed vacuum can pair-produce oppositely charged defects. That eye-catching picture at the top of this post is a cross-polarized image of that pair-production process in an externally-driven passive nematic. The two arrows point to two individual defects.
In an active nematic, things get even more interesting; the +1/2 defects become effectively self-propelled, while the -1/2 defects do not. At least, not if the activity is spatiotemporally constant (this is a hint to a really cool upcoming paper I'll hopefully be publishing before the end of this summer). This results in all sorts of weird nonequilibrium behavior, like the chaotic state displayed in the first animation, or the oscillatory swirling of the four +1/2 defects on the vesicle depicted in the second.
Why do we only see four +1/2 defects, and no -1/2s on the sphere? For two reasons: 1) The sphere is fairly small relative to the active length scale, which is roughly the average separation distance between defects. This is governed by the balance of active and elastic stresses. And 2) The hairy ball theorem necessitates a net topological charge on the sphere of +2 = 4 x +1/2.
All of the nematics I've shown you so far have been synthetic, but nematics (and even active nematics) show up in nature too. One really good example: look at your hands. I mean, really look at them. Do you see any familiar little triangle shapes? Maybe some little whorly comets? Fingerprints are a frozen nematic texture! But the defects in your fingerprints aren't very interesting, because they don't move (I hope). What else is there?
This brings us to my favorite experimental discovery ever made. Hydra are microscopic freshwater creatures that regrow their limbs. It turns out, the hydra's supracellular actin fibres, which play a major role in this morphogenesis, order like an active nematic. They have topological defects, which appear to correlate with sites of new organ growth. You can see them in the hydra itself:
[Fig. 1 (a-f) from Maroudas-Sacks, Y., Garion, L., Shani-Zerbib, L. et al. Topological defects in the nematic order of actin fibres as organization centres of Hydra morphogenesis. Nat. Phys. 17, 251–259 (2021).]
It's literally algebraic topology come to life.
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Rewriting this sucks, but we ball. Welcome to Episode 13 of Waku Puyo Extras.
(...If you saw the post before I deleted it, no you didn't. I hate my internet.)
Heya everyone, Gren here, rewriting this for a second time because I accidently clicked post and lost everything because my internet decided to be a dickhead. Welcome to Episode 13 of this wonderful show I've made, where I discuss random Puyo things and hope they make sense to an audience. They usually do.
Today we'll be focusing on our favorite idiot out there, Ms. Draco Centauros. It's wild how she's been with us since day one and we haven't made anything for and about her. This one might seem more summarized and less "Gren's rambling again," because man. Retyping sucks.
Uploads have been scarce due to school, we're hitting the toughest parts by far, I plan to change it sometime.
Let's begin, shall we? I hope you enjoy.
Oh, and please play Persona 3 Reload. Amazing game.
----
So Who IS Draco in Puyo?
I have to specify Puyo so we can mention Madou stuff later, since it's how I wanna roll this time around.
She's been with us with a personality since what, 1992? And she's had two wonderful traits.
She loves beauty contests.
And she may be stupid.
We'll come to love and hate those traits later on down the line. Believe me on that. That's how she began in Tsu, after all.
However, everything changed when it came to Puyo SUN, where something very unique happened. She's now a protagonist, and I believe the first one to do so, a massive accomplishment. She's the protagonist of the Easy Mode Course, the shortest one, but that's fine.
She finds Skeleton-T heating up tea while she basically dying of heat, and she burns the tea, making the man (skeleton?) PISSED, and a fight happens, classic Puyo. After that, Draco encounters Harpy, who collapsed on the ground due to dehydration, so Draco saves her life via a water bottle. Sadly, it results in Harpy singing, and Draco to slowly die inside because...it's Harpy's singing for God's sake.
And finally, she runs into Choppun (remember that guy?) He's land surfing on a rock... before he gets properly swept away by the water, thankfully. With that, Draco tries to relax, and uh, that doesn't end well. The sun's too hot, and she goes flying, not by her free will, of course, but because sunburn does that to someone...leading to her being the first fight of Arle's story, basically in severe pain due to that.
The fact that she got a protagonist role is something to behold, and it's very interesting to know that a common Mook like her was able to secure such a spot. Later on, other side characters like Witch and Lagnus would get the role in other games (Comet Summoner, Madou Saturn, etc,) but no, Draco is the first one to do that, a very big accomplishment in of itself. Nice one Draco.
And hey, she returns in Puyo~N too, being one of the first fights in the game.
(Just want an excuse to show the artstyle. MAN, it's so good.)
Here, Arle asks if she knows who stole Carbuncle, as that's basically the plot of the entire game, but Draco has reverted back into her good old "Is she stupid?" personality, assumes she's there for a beauty contest and fights her, and loses, go figure. After that, she actually joins Arle for the search for her missing Carbuncle, alongside Witch, Serilly, and Chico.
She even says Gao. It's perfect.
But after that, it kinda went all over the place. It was her last real major/semi-prevelent role for a good bit. She's there in Minna, but she doesn't exactly do a ton. She's part of a long fetch quest where mail has been messed up, and her mail got lost 3 years ago because Witch accidently got it instead, but that's really about it. And then, like everyone in Compile besides Arle, she vanishes for The Fever Era. She doesn't even appear in 15th, when Nasu Grave and Zoh Daimoh made it. But hey, jokes on them, they haven't appeared since.
But after so long, Draco makes her grand return in Puyo 7.
(Wonder who you saw first in this image. For me it was Raffine.)
Here, she's in the Bermuda Triangle because Dark Arle told her that there's a beauty contest there, and she just believes it. Ringo and Amitie go there for plot reasons, and Draco assumes they're there for the same reasons as her. Sadly, they're not, and Draco has been HOODWINKED. And as we know, if you play as Amitie, Witch and Harpy make their cameo appearance, new designs as all... just to not use them ever again. Makes me sad every time.
Draco reappears in 20th Anniversary, where Witch also makes her real debut back. Harpy died sadly. She got smacked to the Land of Chronicles instead. Back to Draco, she wants to find a really cool swimsuit Arle mentioned, but it's Draco, life hates her. After a slew of mishaps and ruining people's day, she finally finds it... and finds out it's from Suketoudara. Rip.
And hey, she reappears in Chronicle, where she's just minding her own business until she gets yoinked by the book that took everyone else to Ally's world. And in Draco Fashion... she assumes Ally and crew are there for a beauty pageant and won't be usurped. Wonder how many times I've mentioned her and beauty pageants, gotta keep count sometime.
She's in Tetris 1 and uh. She tries to eat O.
And uh...she does a talent show with Witch in the DLC. That's it.
TETRIS 2 TIME
She's one of the many people who got corrupted by Marle, but had Ringo fooled for a good bit on accident, and apologized for her odd behavior. Not her fault Marle is uh... quite the character.
And in side story stuff, she's just playing around with Mini Puyos since she finds them interesting. Unfortunately, Witch also finds them interesting and makes Draco her test subject for studying Mini Puyos, saying it'd at least be a good workout for her. And since we're playing as Draco, she does just that...for science, we swear. After that, Witch notes that due to their smaller size, much higher chains and such, before Draco says she's just there for a good time, much to Witch's annoyance.
So That's Puyo. How About Madou?
(One guy out there just decided to make the coolest Draco art out there. Thanks man.)
Draco began in the series like many other characters, a Mook, a random encounter, a person Arle ran into during dungeon crawling adventures, the sort. It's simple enough, it's her beginnings.
However, I won't exactly be going in chronological order for this, rather, I want to mention some things here and there as I go.
Draco began to get fairly popular due to her design and appearances in Puyo, ala Witch, so she began to make a lot of appearances in side stuff, such as Disc Station games. She appears in a few off memory:
Tower of the Magician, where she's a random encounter Schezo can fight. Here though, she has a little more personality since it's been more established.
PuyoLympics, where she makes a cameo appearance in the swimming section of the game. She's not playable, like Rulue and Schezo, but she makes an appearance.
Rulue's Spring Break of Fists, where like many other characters, she talks a lot... because it's a visual novel. She only appears in one story route, like almost every other character in the game.
Arle Man'Yuki, where she's uh. There.
Madou Saturn, where she's a playable ally, but a temporary one.
Waku Puyo Dungeon and it's manga, where in the manga, she fights against and alongside Rulue.
So let's talk about her role in Saturn first. She's been chained up alongside Witch due to Incubus being Incubus, and you're given a choice to save her or Witch first. Today, it's Draco.
Arle and Rulue save Draco, and Draco's first thing to do is go to a beauty pageant...to find out that she's late and it's already over.
And it leads to this. She's gone, bros. To the point where she doesn't help fight Schezo 3 minutes later. However, after said fight, she regains her senses and enters a whole other contest since the reward is a key that opens literally anything. You know, so they can save Witch.
Unfortunately, Yog Smoke is appearing, and it's not looking so good for our heroes, but we skim some smaller details, some fights later, it's honestly quite similar to Witch's route, down to the Schezo Refight and Jaan appearance, I guess to give players similar experiences. It's honestly a very nice role Draco has at least, where she's able to kinda bounce off Arle and Rulue decently well, and she's no slouch in combat either.
After saving Witch, she does leave you, but reappears at the end of the game at the very least. And that's mostly her role, she has her own quirks and her personality, while a little one dimensional as always, still leaves room up for some unique conversations with Arle and Rulue.
And even then, her role in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon and its manga are at least more than that, to an extent. It depends on the Route.
In Arle's Route (yeah, sorry for not translating in a hot minute. School work over that, sorry.) she relies more on her stupid self and assumes Arle is there for a beauty- basically the usual. However, at the very least, she does canonically say she can make 5 chains, before realizing they her and Arle are gonna PROPERLY fight rather than Puyo battle, which is neat. And even after defeat, she just trains to become even better, which is honestly a nice change of pace.
And in Schezo's route, it relies on Schezo also being partially a Grade A dunce, since the boss dialog is him misunderstanding Draco completely about "Something," before she says it's a Battle, leaving him to feel stupid for not thinking that. And after defeat and near the end of the game, Schezo runs into her again, and he says that he's not really interested in appealing to women or anyone, leading to Draco assuming he's gay, much to his annoyance. And on another talk, Draco mentions if he was more in touch with how people feel and watched his wording, Schezo would be even more popular with the ladies, before he's shocked that he's popular in general.
Notice how I haven't spoken about Rulue yet, and it's because...I dunno how she acts there. But I do somewhat know how she acts in the manga.
(This requires context. Believe me.)
Like in the game, Draco is the boss of Fire Mountain, and since Rulue and Minotauros are there...to put it bluntly, the three fight. Draco's no slouch though, as she's able to actually fight Rulue competently and WIN round one, so to speak, which is the top image of the entire post.
When knocked out, Rulue begins to dream about Arle...and Satan. The rest is history. Round two happens, and it's a real back and forth, honestly. Draco lands good hits, Rulue gets good hits, before out of nowhere, steals the Naruto Handbook and Shadow Clone Justu's, shocking Draco and ending the fight there.
It's worth noting that it appears Draco might (or definitely does,) like or even crush on Rulue herself. Since this stupid 10 image limit it kicking my ass, you can probably find many pages online of those moments. Draco even tags along in fighting... these guys, who are basically traumatized from fighting Rulue.
(They're in Saturn, that's for sure.)
And as such, ends our talk about Draco. She's a very fascinating character, since she hasn't changed a whole lot throughout the decades.
She's been fairly two-note for years now, but it doesn't really stop her from being a good and fun character, especially when Compile/SEGA decide to give her a little more than "Is she stupid?" and beauty pageants.
That'd be all from me. Adios.
#puyo puyo#madou monogatari#sega#waku waku puyo puyo dungeon#rulue puyo puyo#arle nadja#arle puyo puyo#puyoposting#draco puyo puyo#draco centauros
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