#but an abundance of love and a full house always
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Are bd couple the type to have children in future?? If yes then how many ??
i have many thoughts re: bd couple and kids.
i think the scare flicked a switch in both of their heads. they're both a bit scared of it, but like the idea of a family. towards the end of the scare, they were both thinking about idea of family and what theirs could look like together.
before the scare, b would have been content being the cool aunt who shows up at Christmas with a bottle of vodka and gifts from her travels.
jungkook's always wanted a family, but he always thought about having one when he was 'old', 'cause it's how he's always seen his parents -- he's just realising that he's the same age his parents were when they settled down, and that he is what he previously deemed to be 'old'.
i think they both want kids, but are scared for how dramatically it could change their lives, of which they're both very much content with at the moment.
but i think their bad decisions will continue after the book ends. i don't think there will be much, if any, planning involved at all lol
#i imagine b with a sister#and we know jungkook has a brother#but his relationship with his brother isn't close and nor is byeols - they hold their friends closer#i think they (or at least jungkook) holds hurt from the way his brother never gave a shit#and he'd fear it repeating#so...one kid#but an abundance of love and a full house always
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Juno persona chart
The sun in the houses
what is a juno persona chart? looking into juno persona chart gives more detailed insight of how the relationship and marriage overall of you and your spouse will be like. it also describes them in a sense as well. The Greek Goddess Juno is described to rule over love and marriage and hence why the asteroid is looked into for that theme.
the sun represents the self, ego and personality. in juno persona chart the sun can determine how the overall vibe of the marriage will be. what shines and what is most acknowledged in your marriage.
reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.
sun in 1st house: marriage is a main theme in your life. you were meant to be married. as the 1st ruled the self, appearance, way of thinking, your marriage could be very lovey dovey. you admire each other very much. marriage will fit you very well, you may have always wanted to marry. marriage can make you find yourself and allow you to become your truest self. like it can make you do things that you have always wanted to do that you couldn't before. can make you more independent and allow you to take care of yourself and focus on yourself. marriage can be a whole new beginning for you and your approach to life will significantly change. this placement tends to really focus on marriage and really hyper focus on every aspect that comes with marriage life. your appearance may change and people may have a different perspective of you.
spouse can be mars or mercury ruled, have 1st house placements and have dominant aries placements.
sun in 2nd house: the 2nd house rules money, income, resources. marriage can be very financially abundant and can bring lots of income to you and your partner. there is a strong emphasis on shared resources. the couple may share the same values in life and may agree on similar ways of doing things. There will be tendencies to express your love to each other very creatively. your habits can change drastically through marriage or can mean that your spouse and you share similar habits. this placement screams shared finances and sharing income especially through a bank account. marriage is affectionate and has lots of intimacy involved, this may be the glue to marriage through affection and being grateful for each other. there can be strong physical bonds so there can be lots of hand holding, hugging, cuddling etc.
spouse can have taurus prominent placements. they can have dominant 2nd house placements as well. can be venus ruled.
sun in 3rd house: marriage is very communication based and can have you looking at intellectual pursuits. perhaps when you get married you finally decide to pursue knowledge based lifestyles such as learning new things academically. The marriage is very expressive through speech and expressing their thoughts to each other. this placement reminds me of a couple who are just constantly working on their laptops but they work together at home so they still spend time together. its that type of vibe. marriage can feel familiar and you having a sense of familiarity with your spouse. this can be like a sibling bond so very loving and playful and sometimes argumentative. your spouse and you will talk CONSTANTLYYY like i feel like if you are in the same room and don't talk for a few minutes it may feel strange or just out of place. this placement needs constant communication with each other.
spouse can be mercury or moon ruled, have significant gemini placements or have 3rd house dominance.
sun in 4th house: marriage for this placement is very family oriented, both parties take care of each other and are rather traditional with gender roles. marriage can be all about comfort and being there for each other emotionally. marriage can be full of traditions and sharing family roots with each other. heritage and ancestry may be a big theme for this placement and usually value privacy. this placement usually keeps their intimate and personal lives between themselves, this is to make it more meaningful for each other. the couples go to place to spend time with each other is most likely their home and maybe ordering in and watching some movies with each other.
spouse can be moon ruled, have prominent cancer placements or have dominant 4th house placements.
sun in 5th house: this placement will have a very fun and loving marriage. this reminds me of a childhood best friend, you just get each other and have this flicker of romance every time you are with them. this is a good fortune house, so lots of life and memories are going to be created in the marriage. marriage can be full of creativity and risk taking. there may be lots of things that you haven't done before and therefore can cause new beginnings. there can be lots of availability to self- expression, maybe you will have the chance to express yourself to the fullest.
spouse can be venus or sun ruled, can have significant leo placements.
sun in 6th house: your daily routines and your daily lives are significant in marriage. health and well being can be prioritised here as well. Their can be a connection between the sense of self and your daily life in marriage. this means that marriage can influence you to develop a personal daily routine or have a responsibility to provide for others. after marriage this placement can manifest work work work for both parties and frankly may not have time for each other. everything can act very fast paced and it may feel like your days just go by very fast.
spouse may be mars ruled, have important mercury aspects, and have dominant virgo placement.
sun in 7th house: marriage will be on and off. i feel like the 7th house is about balance and you cant have the positives without the negatives. there will be lots of highs and lows and the highs will be very precious. its like whenever there is a very good day for the couple it can feel like the best thing ever. marriage can bring lots of partnerships meaning that you can do lots of things together. and of course there is the romance side of the 7th house so marriage can have romanticised features to it. there can also be open enemies withing the marriage.
spouse may be venus ruled, have libra dominance or have 7th house influence.
sun in 8th house: marriage can be very transformative in terms of daily life, your routine, mannerisms just everything. it will be something very different than you are used to. it will physically and mentally transform you as an individual. marriage may be very awakening and it can act like a total turn around. it is something you have never experienced before. this also reminds me of the couple admiring each other and staring at each others soul, just overall feeling a deep deep connection for each other. spouse can buy lots of things for you or in general can spend lots of money on each other as this house rules over partners money. this couple is a POWERR dynamic and have strong sexual desires for one another. this placement can bond over each others changes and can have a never ending phase of their honeymoon.
spouse may have scorpio and 8th house dominant placements. can be mars or pluto ruled.
sun in 9th house: this placement makes the marriage very educational. either one of the parties will have influence on the other in terms of life lessons. marriage can offer higher education offers and having time to study whether its together or them teaching you. this is a spiritual placement as well so there can be rituals that you may like to do together in marriage or possibly just share the same values and religious beliefs and cooperate those practises in your everyday life. your spouse and you may meet each other minds and may relate to the way the other is thinking. omggg the conversations are longggg. literally this placement allows the marriage to talk for hours on end and usually its about the deeper stuff in the world.
spouse may be jupiter dominant, have sagittarius placements or plenty of 9 house placements.
sun in 10th house: your marriage is known by many people. perhaps you had a will have big wedding or people are invested in your marriage life. as the 10th house is all about public, you may show yourself more in front of others express and show off your relationship in public. this can be a business oriented couple who work in the same business or have a business of their own. marriage can create rules and restrictions and you may feel trapped. the couple values their reputation and may act differently in public than at home. marriage can make both parties realise that they have shared life plans and joint purposes so they work together to reach and accomplish them.
spouse can have 10th house placements or have saturn influence. may also have significant capricorn placements.
sun in 11th house: very social and outgoing placement for marriage. when married you can meet lots of new people and just be part in many groups. will probably meet lots of friends through marriage. may have network influence and elations and may develop a social media following through marriage. lots of eyes can be on you and your marriage, people are influenced by your aspirations of the marriage. of course this placement can feel like you became friends to lovers and that may feel like that throughout the marriage, like you may act like friends one day and the other fall in love all over again. it can feel quite refreshing. you and your spouse will share lots and lots of things together and possibly both parties have joint aspirations and goals which make it easier to achieve something as its done together. your friendship in the marriage is well known and your bond is very clear in public.
spouse may have 11th house placements or are Uranus and jupiter dominant
sun in 12th house: marriage will be quite personal and secretive. i feel like this placement is the type to travel off grid and live life together with no contact. marriage will be full of travel and can feel like a dream at times. marriage can develop hidden enemies perhaps from jealousy or judgement. marriage can be something completely different that you thought it would be, it could make you think a lot about the decisions that you made. marriage can bring endings to attachments or relationships. this relates to the isolation part. also as this house rules old age, this placement reminds me of staying married till your old, its that type of marriage that you stay with them no matter what, through thick and thin through hardships and easy ships. this marriage is most likely karmic as you may have known them in a past life and have met in this lifetime to finish some work together.
spouse can have pisces or 12th house placements. can be saturn or jupiter ruled.
thanks for reading😊🤍
#astro notes#astro observations#astrology#astrology community#astrology observations#astro placements#asteroid astrology#astrology degrees#celebrity astrology#astrology synastry#kpop astrology#astro community#astro tumblr#juno astrology
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i saw u were taking reqs for jacob elordi x reader so what about like cute, giggly morning sex if that makes sense
i’m so down bad for this man 🙏
Yessss ofcccc! Also making this husband and dad Jacob bc I need him so bad too :((( tysm lovey ~ also I didn’t do sex just him eating u out (sex w Jacob soon heheh)
⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡
You woke up to the feeling of budding hands caress your cheek, the softness of his hands were enough to make you doze back into your interrupted sleep. Gentle motions sent waves of comfort down your spine.
Up and down, they graciously glided until you resorted to opening your tired eyes. the sight laid before you left you irresistibly smiling while squinting as the sunlight poured its beam to light up your bedroom. Creating an abundance of bright hues.
Your husband, Jacob, pierced his eyes at you with an enchanting grin that washed over his face; highlighting the esscense of his beauty that reminded you of one of the many reasons he charmed his way into your heart.
Jacob’s hand slowly retracted away from you as you shifted your limp body into a somewhat sitting position, letting your arched back rest on the bed headboard behind you.
“Good morning,” he whispered with radiant eyes.
You let out an amused sigh, your hands rubbing the remainder of sleep that was left inside. “Mmm, what time is it?”
He glanced at the tiny clock on the night side table, “half past seven.”
You groaned in realization that you could get away with thirty more minutes of rest before enduring your daily routine. Shuffling back down to let your head rest on your silk pillow, you admitted, “it’s too early, love.”
He paused and blinked slowly for a slight minute, moving closer to allow his hand to comb through your undone hair.
“Just missed you…” he almost sounded sorry as his tone was full of remorse for not being able to spend intimate moments like this with you all the time.
You knew what he was referring to.
Jacob’s schedule with acting had been extremely busy the past few months. Leaving him to fly out for specific casting calls or meeting with certain producers who admired his talented work. You were proud of him and wanted nothing more for him to continue succeeding in the field of film, but every time he had a last minute flight to catch, your heart ached with a familiar homesick feeling.
One that wouldn’t exit your soul until you got to reunite with your husband. Having the privilege of feeling his warmth and love in physical form was enchanting.
However, you were never alone.
Your little daughter, Lilly, kept you occupied and was the best form of sweet company. The spitting image of her father with her large curious brown eyes and silky chestnut locks, she was always there to remind you of him.
The two of you would lounge around your secluded house, watching movies, making crafts to gift for daddy when he would return home and FaceTiming him whenever he had the rare moment of free time.
And of course, there was Jacob’s beloved angel of a dog, Layla, who was an adorable companion that would cuddle beside you anytime you’d relax on the sofa and played long rounds of fetch with Lily in your large backyard. It was obvious she missed her loving owner just as much as you did.
“We missed you too,” he smiled at your courteous words, leaning to kiss your soft lips, letting his tongue swirl with yours. Loving the taste of your sweet mouth no matter what time of the day.
With no hesitation, his touch starved hands glided down to your tank top, gently tugging the straps down to reveal your chest.
“Jacob!” You exclaimed, followed by a quiet laugh, completely aware your daughter was most likely still sleeping in the room beside yours.
His hands cupped perfectly around your boobs, your nipples growing hard at the smooth contact that was the palms of his hands.
“Come on, baby,” his thick brows raised with his slick charm, “you think all those pictures you sent me while I was away is better than having the real thing right in front of me?
You blushed with hot, red cheeks as he brought up all the little things you’d do for him while the distance between the two of you left him aching for you.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Oh hush you,” you playfully rolled your eyes, feeling him squeeze a tad bit tighter at your breasts.
“Mmm,” he hummed moving down to latch his mouth on one of your exposed boobs. Your nails clutching deep into his hair as his head laid on your chest. You dug deeper as his tongue circled in brisk motions. Leaving Jacob to pause for a swift moment.
“Ow,” he exaggerated in a comical tone. You ruffled his shaggy hair down to his forehead as he licked his lips. “I wasn’t done.”
“My bad,” you winked, letting a tiny yawn escape you.
“Well,” he purred, moving his body down to your stomach as he moved the sheets to go gently over his head. “I’ll just continue down here.”
“Babe,” you pleaded with pouty eyes. “I don’t wanna make too much noise.”
Jacob was just too irresistible.
He perpetually longed for your body laid in front of him. He constantly missed you at all times you were forcefully apart. Having the long awaited freedom of getting to spend a relaxing morning with you was more than a luxury to him.
“Don’t worry,” he assured you, stroking your thigh with his nimble fingertips, “our little love sleeps like an angel. She won’t hear us.”
You pretended to stall, placing a finger on your soft lips for effect. You knew the answer though and you didn’t have to think twice. You needed this—you craved this.
Giving him the look was the green light for the hungry man. He inched himself further down until he was hidden beneath the sheets and placed perfectly in between your bent thighs. The amount of small stubble he had neglected to shave gently tickled you and having no urge to fight off the feeling it provided, you couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“When’s the last time you shaved?” You snickered with amusement, hearing him groan as you lifted the sheets only to not receive a response from him, but his face diving deep into your exposed parts.
He was smooth with his actions, he got straight to business and you could barely remember him taking off your panties.
A build up of heat and tingly vibrations inside of you began to stir your sex drive into motion. Having Jacob’s tongue wither it’s way into your partially wet lips was a luxurious feeling, he knew how to let your tension go by the ways of his mouth.
Your clit was caressed and it felt loving. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t sloppy. It was perfect because he did it with love.
“Taste so good, baby,” you heard a vacant mumble in between his swirls, he always made sure to praise you. After all, you were his main source of inspiration and the very thing that kept him striving for more.
You were his wife; the woman he vowed to spend the rest of his happy life with. You were the woman who gave him the best gift of all; his daughter. With everything he ever did to your body that pleasured you to no end, he always wanted to reassure you that you were more than a heavenly angel to him.
“Keep going, honey,” you tried your best to surpass a moan from exiting you, but failed miserably. Jacob’s mouth playfully tugged around the surface of your wet inner parts, something he knew you adored and always left you with insane build up.
Warm waves flowed down to your inner core, passion from Jacob’s mouth worked its magic into always providing you with a quick release.
You breathed heavily as his tongue surfaced deep into you, feeling so stimulated it reminded you of the old days when the two of you had a free house and could be as obnoxious as you pleased.
He made you feel warm. The pressure of his suctioning lips gave you sanctuary bliss.
You craved nothing more than the simple action of cuming on his face. Watching him suck all of your juices as you’d pour out your ecstasy was more rewarding than anything else in the heat of the moment.
As you could feel yourself letting go into a haze of vibrations there was a small, frail knock at the door.
“Shit,” you heard rumble from under the sheets as you slid up with the most energy you could gather while Jacob eagerly covered you back up with your undergarments.
You slid your tank top back to cover your chest, seeing Jacob mentally cursing at the interrupted moment, but smiling because he knew who was at the door waiting to be allowed entry.
Regaining composure and trying to wipe any of the remaining stamina left in the two of you, Jacob called out, “come in.”
Your daughter slowly opened the door, looking energetic as ever as she appeared to be ready to start the day. Her movement turned quick as her face lit up like a Christmas tree upon seeing her Father. She was thrilled that he was home and raced to his opened arms as she jumped on the bed.
“Daddy, I’m so glad you’re back,” she cried out with glee as Jacob smothered her with his large arms. She still seemed so tiny in comparison to him.
“Of course, angel,” he planted a kiss on her head, smooching loudly as she nuzzled deep into his bearing chest.
She looked up at him with doe eyes, revealing how much she missed her dad, “Layla and I missed you so so much.” It made him chuckle at how much she grew to adore that dog. She was nurturing just like her beautiful mother.
Your heart melted at the scene and Jacob grinned at you with a beaming smile before he turned to Lilly again. “Oh sweetheart, I can promise you daddy missed you more.”
“And what about me?” You poked the young girl, who in response, leaped onto your lap as you kissed her cheek.
“Good morning, my love,” you showered her with affection as she flung her arms around your neck. Slowly cradling her in a soothing rhythm before she left your embrace to sit in front of you and Jacob.
“Sweetie,” Jacob gestured her attention back to him as he began to slowly dress himself, throwing on a loose throwover you placed on the laundry basket next to his side of the bed. “Why don’t you go downstairs and feed Layla and then mummy and I will be right with you, okay?”
She nodded, the loose braids she slept in swayed with her motion. “Yes daddy,” she crawled off the bed as she happily ran out of your room and into the long corridors outside.
Jacob chuckled and shook his head, finding himself so relieved to be back home with his girls. He faced you as you slowly stretched your way out of bed and shuffled yourself to where he was slowly fixing himself up. You wrapped your arms around his waist as your head laid on his back. He shifted your arms around to where you could view his ecstatic face.
“Don’t worry,” he looked down at your twinkling eyes that never stopped sparkling, “I’m not finished with you yet, angel.”
You bit your lip, “I’m looking forward to it.”
What a beautiful morning it was turning out to be at the Elordi household.
#jacob elordi#jacob elordi x reader#jacob elordi x y/n#jacob elordi fanfic#jacob elordi fanfiction#saltburn#felix catton#felix catton x you#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x reader#saltburn 2023#jacob elordi smut#nate jacobs x reader
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🪐Saturn in your life🪐
🦋One thing you should know about Saturn is that Saturn is the planet of restructures, authority, discipline, represent the older people,responsibilities, good and bad karma. And Saturn is protector. He will protect you from the accident & in general from the things that can go wrong. With saturn, we can put too much stress on ourselves and push ourselves over the edge and become exhausted from it. The planet is known for its reality and practicality. Also by a tendency to excessive strictness. His expectations may be too high. Powerful Saturn in the chart it can indicate that we want everything in ours control life to the extent that we consider ourselves to be unsuccessful if we fail to achieve the goals we set for ourselves set themselves. There are some things about Saturn again. 🦋
✨Saturn in 1st house-Saturn in the first house makes the individual very difficult, self-centered or serious. The individual takes himself and life very seriously. You are ambitious, persistent and stubborn. You secretly want to do things in your way. In your own way, you deal with resistance, arbitrariness, etc. In some cases, you want to control others. You are inclined to thinking, withdrawing from the world, thrift and caution. The individual plans, predicts, moves forward slowly and surely. You usually value good reputation and honor very much. Things take a long time to come true. You are also prone to accidents due to negligence or divine intervention. They also showed disappointments, sorrows and heavy responsibilities. You can often feel lonely deep down.
☁️Saturn in 2nd house-Saturn in the second house makes the individual thrifty and conservative, but has an abundance of energy. You have a need to acquire wealth and property. Life progress is delayed or difficult. Saturn in the second house it produces circumstances that do not allow the individual to take full advantage of certain circumstances that may appear in his life. There are constant misdirections, delays that are extremely problematic, and lack of opportunities due to lack of money. At the same time, it can make you a person who works very carefully with money. People will never fool you. But it can create pressure to be able to have money because you can feel that without it you have no power or you are not enough. Saturn here can find enjoyment and live in the moment.
🦋Saturn in 3rd house-these people are very intelligent, smart, thoughtful. They have good concentration and great depth of thought. When they compare themselves to other peers, they feel that they are smarter because their thoughts are much more structured and focused on the chosen topic. A person with Saturn in the third house can be stubborn and dogmatic, if you realize that you are in danger through inappropriate information, you value the knowledge that have been achieved on the basis of experience and practical observations, which you then structure in your memory. A person with Saturn in the third house is very careful when driving vehicles, so accidents and accidents are not very likely.
🫧Saturn in 4th house- The positions of Saturn in the fourth house can be connected with the domestic atmosphere, private matters, relations with parents and family dynamics as a whole. Saturn in the fourth house strongly cools all relationships in the home environment.Home and family may be completely satisfactory, clean and orderly from a formal point of view, but there is emotional emptiness, repulsion and coldness among family members. Maybe it's hard to find or get love. But it is not necessary (some people have a very good relationship with their mother and the mother can be very caring). Here there can be many connections with the father (it is possible that the father is always somewhere on the sidelines or you do not feel a connection with him). You can already feel more independent and less connected to your family at a young age.
⚡️Saturn in 5th house- The ambivalence of this position is manifested in the simultaneous overestimation and underestimation of one's own abilities and talents. A person with this position is not able to openly show his love, but can express it through material forms, for example through gifts. You long for recognition and praise everywhere, because you cannot find it in yourself, and you are so demanding of other people that in the end you can remain alone. These people can be too serious when it comes to having fun. It's hard for you to be childish. You may also be embarrassed to show off your talents or be seen. These people should find their inner child.
🪐Saturn in 6th house you will be happiest when you do work that is related to you and is not tiring. In fact, it is good for these people to do something that is easy and calm. A job that is too stressful can indicate serious health problems and can make you sick many times. The pressures at the workplace are sometimes so difficult that a person is no longer there able to perform his work correctly and with high quality, because he is deeply dissatisfied, hurt and frustrated. Daily habits and tasks (for example, hygiene, cleaning, house order, principles of behavior, etc.)are very precisely determined, as the individual demands absolute order and compliance with the established rules. This position indicates great persistence and patience, which is why a person often keeps a job or a workplace. A person's health is most strained when the individual is stressed day and night with the problems and disappointments he experiences in life, and he sleeps poorly, does not feel well, eats improperly and does not exercise enough.
❄️Saturn in 7th house- these people tend to find true love only later in life. They may have some relationships or one that can change their life. These people can be careful when choosing a person because sometimes they can go too fast into a relationship, which can end up being a big disappointment. You can also be afraid to go into a relationship or you are afraid of disappointment. Maybe you take it very seriously and don't like to get involved with people who aren't serious. Many times you like people who respect themselves and are more like Capricorns or have such traits. These people can also be focused more on people with whom they can be practical and can do something together. This position indicates a marriage with a person who is loyal, extremely hard-working and has a great sense of humor. The other partnerships are also loyal, hardworking on or responsible.
🌙Saturn in 8th house- These people are very connected to mysteries, transformation, things related to death. This position indicates financial problems of a marriage or business partner who is not as well off as the individual. Therefore, this was shown by the lack of benefits in business relations or marriage. Life can be limited by lack of resources. But at the same time, he can bring a person into his life who helps him and together they achieve great power and do business together. Saturn in the eighth house showed a slow death. Old books claim that Saturn in the eighth house, if it is in an unfavorable position and in a water sign, indicates the danger of drowning. They claim that if it is affected by Mars or Uranus, it can mean the danger of accidents that are fatal. Of course, these are just indicators. All I would say is that people with this position can be more optimistic because it will bring them a lot of satisfaction in life.
☔️Saturn in 9th house-you can find faith in something or the meaning of life. That way you will be able to make yourself happy. Too much pessimism can lead you to dissatisfaction and sadness. These people should be spiritual and believe in something. Finding a place that makes them happy is the only way they will be able to deal with saturn. Saturn in the ninth house often indicates the individual's separation from his homeland or the desire to move on to another country. If it is in a good position with the Sun, this is a good indicator of a personality devoted to religion.
💫Saturn in 10th house- It produces an individual with a personality that is highly focused, hard-working, disciplined, level-headed and diplomatic. An individual can have a one-sided view of life that is egocentric. Progress in life is assured, but slow. Saturn in the tenth house is difficult to identify without aspects and sign. In general, it indicates ambitions and the need for a position in society. They have to observe life well and make the right decisions. Sometimes you can push yourself too much when it comes to career business and reputation. You want it all and you can consider yourself as being unsuccessful if things are not going into the way you want it to be.
Saturn in 11th house- Saturn in this house usually means few friends or problems with them. It can also mean that the person has older, more serious friends. This position usually brings an ambitious person whose hopes and dreams are not they have solid foundations. This position indicates a person who wants to succeed in society. It can also indicate that you are too serious when it comes to friendship and that you can quickly resent and leave. You can be a person who is firm and knows what you want and has hard-set goals.
🛼Saturn in 12th house-Saturn in this house causes the person to be modest and timid. A person struggles and has many opponents. This position indicates that he works without recognition or works in solitude. Saturn in this house makes an individual who has hidden pains and disappointments. It is also an indicator of going to prison unjustly. However, it should be understood that prison can be in physical or psychological form. It can also mean being trapped in your own thoughts. But it also means that you can understand life much better than people. This placement leads to a disciplined approach to spirituality, mysticism, and the subconscious mind. Saturn here can also have a hard time letting go.
🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸
-Rebekah🦋🩵🫧
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afternoon ノ dr. ratio
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 4.7k ノ fem reader — vague description of comfy clothes with open buttons and lace ノ either early in the relationship or unspecified BUT with feelings — reader is just visiting ratio in his home ノ oral . both receiving ノ long foreplay . fingering ノ it is so messy and domestic ノ doing it raw . cumming inside ノ sappy and sweet dialogues here and there ノ love confessions during a rough fucking session yum! ノ fluff . comfort . smut — the full course :)
the golden rays of the afternoon sun filter through the linen drapes, casting a warm, ethereal glow upon the house.
the classy furniture and one rug, woven with intricate patterns and vibrant hues, add charm to the overall rather minimalistic interior. throughout the room, various relics and books, both old and freshly published, infuse the space with a sense of elegancy.
veritas ratio thinks you fit the imagery perfectly, finding you exactly where he expected you to be — on the plush cushions on the sofa, adorned with rich fabrics and delicate embroidery, beckoning to sink into their soft embrace. the gilded mirror reverses the soft light, casting a golden glitter on the place where you sit.
you notice him in the reflection before you turn to face him. he looks magnificent with that charming smile of his.
there is something about your appearance that catches his eyes too — perhaps the way the homey clothing falls over your lap or the loosely open buttons that bring attention to your chest? or maybe it’s the lace that hugs your curves.
whatever it is, the fact is that he has always thought you beautiful, even though he rarely compliments anyone. and now you appreciate the peaceful afternoon in his living room as if it was your own.
“hi… how’s work?” you ask to start the conversation.
“work? challenging. however, i would not engage in it if it were overly facile. i enjoy mental stimulation.” his voice sounds proud yet elegant, his figure confident. he stands up straight as a candle, while the back of his hand is close to his chin. appearing more like a statue than a human being.
“mhm… taking a break, then? to clear your mind?”
“yes, indeed. there is only one thing that can help me relax at this hour… that one activity i dearly love when time is in abundance…” his grin is soft and smug as he walks closer.
his approach does not scare you — in fact, it is rather endearing.
enough time for you to put down the book you were reading before he leans against the headrest and asks for your hand.
the contact makes you embarrassed. veritas ratio keeps smiling and leaves a sweet peck on your knuckles. another one on your wrist. and then on your forearm, travelling up along your body.
before you realise, he is already kissing you passionately and finds a way to touch your waist under the comfy clothes, tickling and teasing the skin. when it comes to your attitude, you get shy when he touches you like that — a contrast to his unwavering demeanour, how easily you sway under his confidence.
as his hands trail down, caressing you in sensitive spots and brushing against your thighs, his lips never stop tasting yours, occasionally drawing little patterns along your neck.
he likes you, loves you in some ways even, though it would require another page of explanations — sometimes he just wishes to make sure you know of his fondness, while using you to get rid of the stress that occupies his brain.
“may i touch you? will you spread your legs for me?” he murmurs with that haughty smile of his.
it feels weirdly empowering to hear him say something like that, especially knowing he isn’t used to asking others such questions. you do as he asked, letting veritas’ long fingers slip past the thin layers of fabrics.
you shiver with delight and anticipation as his cool digits press firmly onto your burning flesh. his palm shifts carefully, just barely, testing out what his moves have on you. his other one is resting on your chest, pressing your body deeper into the sofa and holding it still.
in no time, one finger parts your pussy apart and penetrates you in the most careful manner possible — it’s gentle, almost too cautious to be real, ensuring that he’s not setting a pace your body cannot match until you’re warm and wet.
“mmh… that’s an unusual way to rest from work. you’re still thinking too much, you know?” you say with a dreamy sigh, starting to enjoy all these little sparks he extracts from your insides.
veritas chuckles.
“indeed, i am. however, my thoughts now are focused solely upon pleasing you,” he answers. “i must say… i prefer this state of mind.”
you moan softly, but immediately feel ashamed of your reaction, as if it were inappropriate for such sounds to be voiced. veritas looks pleased, though, watching with intent as his digit slides further into your core, easier. you wish you could reach out to touch him in return, but he’s sitting upright and away from your needy hands — so you resort to hugging a pillow close to your chest.
there is a sizable tent forming in his trousers and you wonder if he will allow you to taste him later.
the idea is so exciting and your inner walls squeeze his digit as it sinks with each slow thrust. the firm tip of his thumb rubs gentle circles on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure up your nerves. nothing gets past his cautious eyes. he peers at you intently, drinking in the sight of your squirming form.
instead of adding another digit, he lowers himself down the couch and parts your knees even wider, giving his head room between your legs.
the feeling of his soft, slick tongue slipping over your glistening pussy is heavenly, and your grip on the pillow tightens, as the motions become more demanding, exploring your folds and the area around your opening. his finger continues the agonisingly steady rhythm, guiding you into the bliss.
each flick of his wet muscle has your breathing speed up a notch. veritas doesn’t rush things though. he’s well aware of every move he makes and the impact it has on you — yet you can tell there is something about him that stays collected as he continues.
even through the haze of your lust, you sense that he’s trying to figure out if there are more ways in which he could satisfy you.
just when you think the stimulation will be enough to get you there in a few moments, his hands retreat and his mouth latches onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing the ecstasy to arrive immediately. the unexpected sensation has you cry out, and clamp your thighs around his head for a moment before forcing them back open again. he continues as if nothing happened and slowly coaxes a wave of arousal, swallowing hungrily as it spills onto his face. he does not cease his actions, not until your entire being trembles with release.
withdrawing reluctantly, he licks his lips before giving you one final, sweet peck on your slit, listening to your hiccups. then he rests his head against your lap and looks up with a smirk.
“given the look on your face,“ he comments before reaching for the wipes from under the coffee table and cleaning the mess off your folds and from his chin, “this was far more beneficial than i anticipated…”
“let me touch you too…” you whine weakly, still coming down to your senses, each caress of his palm on your inner thigh making you bounce.
pondering over your sweet plea for a moment, he moves up until straddling your chest, his muscular legs on each side of your frame and his pants in front of your face. the view makes your body tremble in excitement. working on opening his slacks, he keeps the eye contact with you, the amber of his irises warmly burning onto your face.
his cock springs out and slaps lightly against your cheek, his hips inching further down. you immediately grasp the opportunity to swirl your tongue around the tip and lap at the hot flesh eagerly.
not to waste any more time with what’s right before you, you start sucking until you hear a soft chuckle from him.
“quite lovely, this sight of yours.”
your lips pop around the hard girth and you smile while panting, his hand petting your head gently.
“hmm… you can use my mouth, if you want to,” with an adorable giggle, you kiss the glossy head and pump the base lazily with your fist.
his eyes light up at that idea as he slides his shaft more down your throat, making you groan with effort as you struggle to keep up without gagging.
the burning ache of your jaw, combined with his quiet praise, is enough to light the fire in your own core again, your fists clasping around his hips for support as he fucks your mouth in shallow thrusts.
“i would prefer not to make you uncomfortable. this is enough…” he says with a dark timbre in his voice, staring right into your teary eyes.
unable to speak, you only take him deeper, his length tapping at the back of your throat and catching him by a surprise. breathlessly, but no less excited, he smiles and gets the hint that you wish to continue.
“very well then,” he begins to buck his hips, working his way to a better angle, taking care to not go too rough.
your nose bumps against his underbelly from time to time as he eases further. it’s an odd yet pleasurable mix of being choked and suffocating, but it’s the sight of him that’s driving you insane — someone who’s done everything with perfection is now panting above you, a peachy tint of blush on his face as he gets hot.
it doesn’t take much to bring him close to the edge — perhaps it’s been too long since he got some relief, or perhaps it’s your performance that impresses him. either way, it feels wonderful to witness how much he’s enjoying it, and even more, when silent moan slips down his tongue and he stills your head with his cock buried in your mouth.
it takes all of his endurance and patience to refuse to cum, the damp warmth of your throat and mixed saliva with his precum teasing too much out of him. especially when it runs past your lips in a single drop as you cough lightly…
slowly pulling out, veritas holds the head of his still hard dick to your face, stroking himself to ease the strain and the need for release. you blink innocently while he smears the drool around your mouth and cheeks, collecting some at his fingertips to let you suck them clean.
“mhm… very good,” he sighs. “i would ask for more from you… there are plenty of other things we could explore together, in case you are willing.”
he quickly kisses your forehead as you hum happily, nodding and agreeing.
“i will get you water, wait a moment.” he helps you to sit up.
when you drink from the glass he brought, veritas watches with a smile as if he were proud to see you gulp it down, waiting for you to finish.
“will you stay with me overnight? i would love to feel you close during sleep,” he asks with an unexpected, yet honest tenderness in his tone.
it makes your heart race to know that he’d want such closeness with you. you are about to give in when he continues.
“well, you know me — i never ask unless i need something. if you have anything planned, i can take you to your place instead… that is, if you are comfortable with that,” his words trail off quietly.
the last drops of water trickle down your throat and you cough once more to get rid of the sticky residue from the insides of your cheeks, but then you smile at him, flushed and glowing.
“of course i want to… i’ve been missing you quite a lot lately, you know?” you purr at him, cradling his face in your arms as you shift closer.
a pair of sharp brows quirks up with interest. the amber of his eyes shines in golden hues of the afternoon and you swear you can hear him chuckle softly. suddenly, the couch seems warmer, but it’s not from the thin rays of the sun that peek from behind the curtains.
“what an interesting reply. you cannot hide it from me anymore… your yearning,” he notes confidently.
“neither do you.” you point out.
at that, he flips you flat over his lap, your tummy resting on the sofa while your ass perks up nicely right under his hands. a firm slap on your butt has you yelping in surprise.
“true… it appears i cannot, though that was not the answer i was looking for, dear.”
the little squeaks you made only help his palm to fall more freely, spanking you like that — it meets your flesh again gently, playfully even, but he allows the sting to linger this time.
but he does not relish in granting you pain, even if so brief, so his fingers slide down between your legs again.
he can feel that you are still wet from your earlier orgasm — yet there is something in the way his touch makes you shiver, his deft digits trailing along your heated, slick skin, that makes him more eager to get you squirm in his hold again.
“what a marvellous thing you are… just where i want you to be.” he coos.
in a blink of an eye, you find yourself pressed against the embroidered cushions, your clothes once more doing absolutely nothing to cover you up when they get pulled to the side. all you can do is to cry out when his thumb slides inside and he starts circling your clit with his index.
“fuck!” you pant in disbelief, his clever digits setting the perfect tempo, slipping in and out easily while rubbing your sensitive button.
veritas doesn’t utter a word — he seems to be studying the way your body reacts to his movements, gauging your every gasp and twitch. when he finds a pattern that makes you moan louder and cling to the fabric, he does not stop until your pleasure bursts in its peak.
there is no break for you — he uses your thighs to grind his cock into full hardness again, enjoying the feeling of your velvety walls hugging his thumb.
then it stops abruptly, as he’s pulling out with a satisfied grunt.
“would you allow me to feel you in a different manner?” he asks with his chin on your shoulder and his breath ghosting against your neck.
he leans down and presses another kiss just below your ear, his teeth grazing on your sensitive skin, followed by his lips moving down your nape, his tongue licking and tasting as he goes.
“it will certainly take all my remaining energy to make this day unforgettable for you. i truly hope that you will forgive my boldness in that matter,” his whispers travel through the waves of your senses.
there is no strength left within you to lift your head or talk — the impression of his hands gliding over your flesh, massaging your back before sliding lower to cup your ass is maddening. your lips part in a soft groan of pleasure when you feel his naked erection pressing in between your cheeks, sliding languidly between your folds.
“may i?” his voice is tight, like his patience has run thin as he pushes the tip in just a few inches.
you whine helplessly, rutting against the pillows and the couch, desperately seeking friction. you can barely breathe properly, trying to speak while he slides deeper, the pressure of him stretching you against your limit already making you squirm.
“yes, please… f-feels amazing.”
without wasting any more time, veritas draws his hips back only to drive himself in and to pin your body onto the sofa with his weight. it is overwhelming, he fills you up just right, your body convulsing as he brushes a particularly sensitive spot.
there are no more coherent thoughts from you. you cannot help but keen in pure delight, clawing the cushion, his hands resting on your hips.
the first few strokes are slow and shallow, allowing you to ease into the new sensation and enjoy his manly frame surrounding you. he does not miss a single beat — it takes him mere seconds to realise you will probably bruise with his forceful grip on your body, and he backs off to hover over you again, leaving your backside exposed.
“ouch, thanks.” you gasp out in relief, freed from his strength, a moment later asking shakily. “you’re doing alright?”
“ah, well. i cannot complain… in fact, i would appreciate more of this tight heat around my cock… and i can surely fulfil your wishes as well,” he promises, his thrusts picking up the pace.
it is almost overbearing with how rough he treats you now, your clenching pussy spurring him on as he pounds you mercilessly. you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip, while he forces you to accept each swift pump of his girth until you lose yourself.
“should i be gentler? make it more bearable for you?”
“no… really,” you murmur. “fuck me until you are content. please…” you whimper.
your heart is about to jump out of your chest as it thrums against the upholstery. veritas is right behind you, his grip returning on your hips, pulling you backwards each time he bucks his hips forward.
he’s much more demanding now, taking everything he wants from your body as he slams himself in and out with desire, fucking you faster and harder, yet his face shows nothing more than serenity as he continues, completely composed as his pelvis snaps against your backside.
he doesn’t respond, too focused on satisfying his need as he bounces your butt. the tension is rising in you with every stroke, as you bury your face into the pillows and drown your sobs into it.
veritas pushes in as deep as he can go, before slowing down until he comes to a stop, nestled comfortably inside of you.
his chest rests against your back and he finally moves his arms, wrapping them around you from above, pulling you close. you try to turn your head to see his face, but he won’t let you, placing soft kisses along your hairline instead.
“you should get used to it by now. i want you to remember the feeling of me inside of you… for quite some time, at least. besides, we both know you prefer this position, don’t you?” his voice is warm as he speaks in a whisper.
“i love this,” you answer with a struggle. “ngh… you make me so happy,” you add, nuzzling the pillow with a fire dancing on your cheeks.
a rich chuckle resonates in his chest. he lies perfectly still for a while, his length throbbing against your core and bringing a strange comfort with it — in moments like this, it is almost hard to believe he could be capable of being mean.
just when you think you’re getting drowsy, he presses another sweet kiss against the crook of your neck.
“i am delighted to hear that.” he shifts, his tip nudging your inner walls once again and making you whimper. “i do hope i am doing well in treating you appropriately, though. if there is anything you wish for, tell me.”
“well… perhaps you could move.” you wiggle your bum a bit, brushing your swollen core against him.
the sound of his laugh is music to your ears, especially as his gentle hand pulls away to take a firm hold of your butt and starts caressing the supple flesh.
“alright.”
with deliciously slow motions, he rocks his hips forward and back. the slapping sound of his skin against yours growing in volume, despite your own wailing. incredibly tight and sensitive in the cage of his arms — you yield.
“want you… please, yes…” your moans seem to spur him on even more.
veritas pulls back only to snap his hips into you in one strong thrust, the base of his thick girth crowding you entirely, your arousal providing more than enough slick to take him in. your thighs quiver with every stroke, but you feel delirious as you eagerly take whatever he decides to give.
a quiet mewl escapes your lips when he reaches an angle that allows him to rub his shaft right on all the sensitive spots — the sensual massage makes you weak and unable to form words.
the other hand is resting on your nape, keeping your face planted firmly into the pillows. the gentle hum of his voice only adds fuel to the fire igniting deep within your loins, but you can’t deny the pleasure you derive from listening to his ranting, his velvety tone vibrating in his throat.
“hmph, and you shall have me…”
it is possible to tell, even through your pleasured haze, that you have started to satisfy his needs — your tight, soaked cunt gripping him in a way that has him craving for the finale.
he places his lips next to your ear and sighs before his next words.
“i cannot be lenient with you… it seems i really am attracted to that naive individual whose actions brought us to this very desperate situation.”
this makes your heart flutter with affection towards him, yet you do not move. his tender touch and loving words, however, are enough to make you swoon as he keeps speaking, his eyes falling half-lidded.
“this is not the first time i found myself thinking about how beautiful you look while lost in passion. and i really, really would like to help you to come undone. soon.”
the last thing he says before focusing solely on driving his hips flush against yours.
each long thrust is paired with a grunt from him as he rams in and out of your abused hole, your body trapped under him as you lay limp against the plush sofa, while he pins you down.
you feel him everywhere, his hands groping you wherever he finds space between the pillows, his cock pumping relentlessly between your legs as his lower abdomen rolls smoothly against your butt.
you try to suppress your wailing, but a choked moan still slips from between your lips. his chin resting on your shoulder while his cheek rests on your head, close, almost like cuddling. your legs are already shaking, the sensation is so overwhelming that it brings tears to your eyes, your clenching pussy driving him absolutely crazy, the muscles spasming around him forcing his eyelids shut as he begins to breathe heavily.
veritas drops his voice an octave, whispering against your hair as he keeps up the fast pace, not giving you time to recover. he’s close too — your whole body trembles beneath his weight.
“yes, come on… cum for me,” he says with a raw, husky tone.
without the support of the pillows, your forehead sinks into the sofa and you feel him curl his fingers in your hair. he tugs softly at the locks as he holds onto you and uses his other hand to keep you steady for him.
there is no way for you to prevent your legs from twitching violently as the wave hits you at full force, your entire frame shuddering while he fucks you through your release.
his movements get jerkier with each thrust, but he does not pull out to spill onto your skin — instead he rides your high while chasing his own until he stiffens, releasing himself deep into you with a groan.
he collapses on your back, panting heavily as he covers you completely. the room is spinning as he drifts in his pleasure, his palms roaming across your body while you feel your toes going numb, the muscles of your pelvic floor throbbing painfully.
veritas doesn’t seem to pay any mind to the mess you’re both lying in — as long as he stays inside you, he cares not what happens to the couch, it shouldn’t be that bad. his breathing is shallow as he peppers soft kisses over your neck and shoulders before moving up your nape to nuzzle your hair.
his arms encircle your waist, pulling you close, his chest against your back. your head is dizzy, and the room seems to have gone dark as your lids drop down.
“hey, sleepyhead. are you okay?” veritas mutters when you shift slightly beneath him.
you hum quietly, too spent to talk yet, and wrap your hands around his wrists to stop him from sliding them any further than they already have. he presses a soft kiss into your temple and turns your head sideways.
his fingertips brush along the line of your neck before settling against your skin, rubbing tiny circles. you take a few breaths before lifting your lashes to find yourself staring straight at veritas’ face — he is watching you all the same with soft eyes and hot flush on his cheeks.
“did i hurt you?” he whispers, concern showing clearly in his voice.
you shake your head gently. he doesn’t let you speak yet, his pads continuing their path downwards along your spine until he stops with one palm against your lower back, soothing the quivering muscles.
“it was intense for you,” he states rather than asking.
a shiver runs through your body. veritas gives you a warm smile and slowly eases himself from your battered cunt, a squelch following the action and making you both laugh softly.
“how do you feel? better now?” you ask once your thoughts become clear again, looking at him as he props himself up to clean the mess, again.
“a lot, actually.” he responds. he gets a bit flustered when your gaze stays fixed on him. “and i apologise for my rough behaviour. you know i wouldn’t dare to—”
“i enjoyed it. a lot, too,” you interrupt him mid-sentence, though with your weak voice it was more of his mercy to pause to let you talk.
“really?” he looks surprised, incredulous.
“i always have… enjoyed everything you have done to me,” you tell him in all honesty and sigh softly, your eyes flickering up and meeting his as your body sluggishly turns to the side. “you’re just very considerate in bed. the opposite of selfish. you put me first every time, and that makes me happy,” you smile through tired expression.
veritas purses his lips. instead of answering immediately to your unexpected confession — that made him quite flustered, which he wouldn’t like to admit — he focuses on wiping you clean from the slick mix of essences leaking out of you and running down your legs, while humming thoughtfully.
you bite your lip, staying silent. your hand finds its place on his thigh, resting there in a calming manner, his leg trembling under your touch.
when he speaks again, it is nothing more than a whisper.
“i am pleased to hear that you’ve noticed,” he says with a total composure laced in his words, his fingers holding a bunch of tissues between the two of you.
you hum contently, taking his free hand into yours and raising it to your lips, planting soft, little kisses on the back of his palm, trailing his knuckles and then the sides of his wrist.
you can tell he is stunned, but doesn’t seem to mind, or show any sign of displeasure. he returns to his original task after a second, carefully cleaning you before standing up and fixing his pants, placing a loving kiss on your cheek and excusing himself to make some tea for you to drink, since it will soon be dinnertime.
he goes back into the kitchen while you lie undressed on his couch, your heartbeat finally starting to calm down. through the high of satisfation and tiredness, you notice the details on the rug, small indents in the threads where the coffee table was placed before. and the golden embossing slightly worn from the covers of the books he’s reading, probably from the touch of his pads.
you like this place, it feels like your home too.
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . author’s note ノ if i missed any mistakes, i will cry, editing this took years off my life. BUT i really hope it was sweet and worth reading <3 i personally think this is my new favourite fic of mine, i got too emotional writing and fixing it :’) but i love this man so so much — so it was worth it!
#writing ノ#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail smut#star rail x reader#star rail smut#dr. ratio x reader#dr. ratio smut#honkai star rail x you#star rail x you#dr. ratio x you#hsr x reader#hsr x you#fem reader
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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4
(König x F!Reader)
Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.)
Word count: 5.3 k
Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant.
A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^
AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…
The end of the world is here.
Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.
Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it.
Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?
. . .
The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.
She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.
“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits.
“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”
She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.
“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.
“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.
“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”
“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong.
Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.
The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch.
You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.
“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.
“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”
. . .
You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.
You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.
You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.
That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.
Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.
That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.
And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...
He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.
Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius.
A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight.
Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud.
Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child.
Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader.
Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air.
Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you.
You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream.
And he turns.
Death turns.
Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.
The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from.
The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.
You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–
No.
No.
You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.
You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.
He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart.
You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.
“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him.
The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast.
He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual.
But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.
. . .
You are brought to his tent, screaming.
It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.
The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock.
Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.
You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.
He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…
You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood.
It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot.
The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should.
You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle.
The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.
“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.
“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.
“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.
“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.
Because there have been many omens in the air lately.
It’s just that none of them were portents of war.
The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless.
All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.
“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…
“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.
“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.
“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you.
And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?
He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself.
The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself.
Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.
“Müde?”
He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up.
To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.
His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know.
The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.
“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen.
This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.
Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.
He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good…
You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.
…
Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.
Translations
Nein, warte - No, wait
Schön - Beautiful
Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy
Sie redet - She talks
Du? - You?
Müde? - Tired?
#könig fanfiction#könig x reader#könig x you#könig#könig cod#konig x reader#könig smut#könig fluff#historical au#Roman soldier!König#könig x female reader
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Mind of Mine ᡣ𐭩 •｡
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
a look into your lovers thoughts about you
──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!
psa- tarot readings are not set in stone at the end of the day you have full control of your reality not some random hottie on the internet w cards so take what resonates and leave the rest 💓((dm for personal readings prices 💗))
take a deep cleansing breathe
pick a pile that calls to you
──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!
──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!
pile one - The Tower, knight of cups
⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆
pile one your fs views your presence in their life as a huge shift in a good way you came into their life and just flipped everything around. you take up lots of space in their mind pile 1 you’re like all they think about. they think about how much you’ve changed them for the better. you opened opened up a whole new chapter for them a whole new perspective they’ve never seen before. they think of you as an inspiration in their life because you’re determined and have so much drive. they truly view you as their biggest muse. they think of you as impulsive and adventurous to them you’re so compassionate and caring they also think about all the adventures they want to take you on.
⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆extra ⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆
new start, abrupt change, chaos, energy, impulsive, charming , hero , warm,
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
pile two - queen of pentacles, justice
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the way your FS thinks about you is about how well the both of you fit together like puzzle pieces or magnets made to be together. they think about how they finally found their perfect match. they think about how easy it is to be with you how you make life seem so much better like food taste better and color are brighter and songs sound better. they think about how this is the first relationship we’re someone has taken so much care about getting to know them for who they really are they think about what a genuine person they are and how they feel completely safe with you around 🥹💗. they also think about how freaking gorgeous you are pile 2 they seriously can’t believe such a god/goddess they can’t believe what other worldly beauty you have. your fs thinks about how you feel like a blessing in their life like you are some sort of reward for all the shit things they’ve ever gone through. i’m also seeing them thinking about how they can impress you they always want to keep your attention they know you’re a prize and they want you to always be theirs.
⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ extra ⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆
abundance, rocker aesthetic, good luck, charm, creativity, green, romance, honesty, money, wealth, practical skills, prosperity, balance, equality, fairness,
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pile three - ace of wands, queen of cups
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your spouse is very possessive in a cute way tho they definitely think of you as theirs: their prize , their love , their life. they know you aren’t a piece of property they just see you as their most precious thing in their life rn. pile 3 your FS thinks about starting a family and having a house full of kids that our part both of you. pile 3 your FS thinks of you as someone who is smart and wise. they also think of you as soft and femme even if you aren’t a female they still think of you as a soft person who deserves the best things only. you might be younger than your FS pile 3 but they see you as super mature no matter what age you are they feel like they teach you and guide you through life but you also teach them so much. they think about how in touch you are with your feelings and how good you are at expressing yourself they love how sensitive you are with your feelings and those around you they think of you as a nurturing and loving light in their life.
⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ extra ⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆
golden, new beginnings, intuitive, pink flowers, wise , model , swan 🦢, lake , natural beauty, feminine, motherly
───────── ౨ৎ ────
#black tarot readers#pick a card tarot#daily tarot#pick a pile#tarot cards#tarot#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#tarot daily#future spouse
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Astro knowledge
A short more educational post for y'all!
work by astrobydalia
Pisces/Neptune rules marketing while Gemini/Mercury is more about sales. They’re both deeply related but difference is Gemini is the salesman that appeals to your reason and resorts to mind games (Mercury) in a one-on-one to convince you why you should buy into something. Marketing on the other hand is ruled by Pisces because it appeals to the collective unconscious (Neptune). It’s all about crafting subliminal messages that make you see that product/idea as more appealing even when you know what you're seeing is not realistic. Very related to propaganda as well. This is also a field that requires a lot of creativity, they're constantly using metaphors, hyperboles or even making up little fictional stories to sell a product...
I've already said this but for anyone new, the planet that rules real love is moon not Venus. See the full explanation here
Where Sagittarius is in your chart will bring luck and happiness, but Taurus does give off expansive (or dare I say expensive) energy too. Where Taurus sits in your chart is an area of your life that will be more grandiose in nature cause Taurus rules over indulgence and pleasure. You could experience some sort of privilege when it comes to this house, the themes of this house come to you in abundance with little to no effort. Some examples:
Taurus 1st house: have a striking and bold appearance, gives off luxury and attractive vibes regardless of their looks. These people could come across as a "high value woman/man" without trying
Taurus 7th house: very active and abundant love life, lots of suitors and business partners landing on your lab, they want to provide for you and/or give you lucrative opportunities
Taurus 9th house: having access to high quality education or elevated knowledge. Probably attended a very exclusive or expensive collage, payed vacations vibes, easy and frequent relocations
Taurus 10th house: almost untouchable reputation, very respected and liked by others, is always seen as innocent or harmless, lots of success with their ventures
The 2nd house also talks about your roots and upbringing but in a more objective and material sense. This house and the position of its ruler can be very telling of how your actual social and economic context shaped your basic values. It can also talk about your house as the 2nd house rules over real state, lands, properties, etc. The 4th house is more about your home, how you were raised within that reality and how it impacted you emotionally at your core
Example: Libra risings could come from an environment that shaped their values around survival and money gains due to Scorpio 2nd house (I've seen very commonly they come from marginalized groups or humble beginnings or very financially competitive environments). So they have a family that is very demanding and expected them to work or be a boss from a young age (Capricorn 4th house)
Speaking of, 2nd house does not ONLY rule money!!! It rules RESOURCES and anything that you own that is highly valuable and you can put a price on!!!! And yes of course since these things are valuable they can be easily monetized, traded, used to make you money. This can be your skills, assets, real state, etc. The 2nd house is your piggy bank basically
There's a lot of talk about how 11th house is how you make money in your career while 2nd house is how you spend it. Well this is technically true but I'd like to add more explanation to this. In derivative astrology 11th house is 2nd (money) from the 10th (career) so it does show how you actually make money from your career. 2nd house is where you get money but 11th house is how you make money. Your 11th house is the multiplier (credits to @cosmicpuzzle for that fact) while 2nd house is where your financial stability lies on. In other words 11th house is indicative of how you generate more but 2nd house is all about what you already have, its about what you can make with what you OWN already, it deals with money that is already available through your resources' value (again, you piggy bank). This does 'make' you money in a way like if you lose your job and are lacking money your 2nd house where you turn to for example if you own a house you can rent it, you can buy a rare item that costs a lot, selling your art or any other natural skill, etc. The concept of value is important in this house bc it can increase or decrease (while 11th house increases and multiplies). The more valuable your resources are the more potential money you have available which means more financial stability and wealth. Anyways hope all that makes sense
We often refer to water signs when talking spirituality but truth is fire signs are very spiritual in nature as well. Fire symbolizes the spark of life itself, nothing could exist or be created without it. Aries deals with the basic ontological conception of 'I am, I exist', Leo is about how the self manifests and create itself and Sagittarius is about the purpose of the self. Living beings need heat to thrive/live and just like fire radiates heat your spirit radiates energy, creativity, passion, action, inspiration, purpose... and that's what fire signs represent. I'd say fire represents the fundamentality of spirit while water is more about the complexity of inner world.
Just like Aries is the "natural" ASC for a birth chart, Libra is the natural ASC for a composite chart cause a birth chart represents the chart of an individual (Aries) while composite represents the mutual relationship between two people (Libra)
When you develop the themes of a certain house in a healthy manner, you naturally start attracting the themes of the opposite house. This goes to show you that things in astrology aren't as compartmentalized as they seem, everything works together in certain way SPECIALLY axis'. Examples:
You need to focus on yourself first (1st house) to find the right partner (7th house)
You need to investigate and learn (3rd house) in order to find higher answers (9th house)
When you invest successfully (8th house) you earn more available resources (2nd house).
When you develop your hobbies and individuality (5th house) you find keen people (11th house)
When you heal spiritually (12th house) you find healthier habits (6th house)
There's this misconception that you have to disregard your South Node in order to develop you NN, but the thing is the SN is the starting point that can lead you towards developing your NN. This can happen as a harsh and painful lesson tho if you liger too much on your SN. For example NN in Libra need to learn to compromise in this life, there's a lot of focus on the self and independence, but eventually this placement teaches them that if you really wanna develop yourself in full potential (Aries) eventually you'll need others (Libra). If they linger too much on Aries SN they could experience a harsh lesson that forces them to count on others
work by astrobydalia
#astrology#astro#astro observations#astro notes#zodiac#birth chart#astrobydalia#astrology observations
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I blame @valeskafics for reviving my zuko brain rot with that modern!Zuko post! How dare 💜💕
If there’s one thing that you’ve come to learn about Zuko and that’s the fact that he doesn’t own clothes made to keep him warm. He has a plethora of jackets but they’re the thin kind of jackets that wouldn’t protect you from even the smallest of chilly breezes.
When you asked him about this when you first started dating, he only shrugged and said ‘I run too hot for those fleece jackets to ever feel the need to own one of them. I’m warm enough for the both of us as it is.’ Which is true. Zuko ran abnormally hot for a normal human being but that was one of the reasons why you loved cuddling up to him when it’s cold.
‘What happened to those warm blankets you normally bundle up in when you’re cold?’ Zuko asked as you proceed to cuddle yourself deeper into his side.
‘I just happen to have found something better in keeping me warm.’ You replied cheekily as you pressed a kiss to his cheek before you burrowed your face into his chest. Zuko sighs as he looks away from you to hide his flushed cheeks from sight as he smiled dopily, still not entirely use to an over abundance of affection directed towards him in a positive and healthy manner.
‘So what I’m hearing is that I’ve been demoted to your personal body warmer?’ He says rhetorically.
‘Think of it more as a promotion from my extremely warm boyfriend to extremely warm boyfriend who doubles as a personal body warmer.’ You replied, tightening your hold on him as you leeched more warmth off of him. ‘Don’t you find it dangerous?’ Zuko asks as he opened his palm to a small flame. It was practically harmless in your eyes, but Zuko always ingrain into you of the destructive power that even the smallest of flames possessed.
‘No.’ You answered honestly as you reached a hand to hold the back of his own that housed the small flame, enticed by its beautiful colours and flickering image with every movement being made. ‘Not really because I trust you more than I probably trust others.’ You added softly as you looked over at Zuko who was already looking back at you with a soft look in his eyes and an even softer smile. ‘Sounds like you should reevaluate that if you’re willing to put your trust in me.’ He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
‘No I don’t think I will ever want to reevaluate who I put my full trust in.’ You told him truthfully as you helped close his hand, extinguishing the flame as trails of smoke drifted upwards, only to dissipate before it could even reach the ceiling. ‘I’d like to think I am a sound judge of character and I defiantly don’t regret saying yes when you asked me out.’ You then kiss Zuko on the nose and felt his breath hitched in his chest. Zuko always has the cutest reactions to many things, but when it came to being some love and affection, those reactions were the ones you happen to love the most.
‘Then I hope to never make you second guess your choice to trust me with your heart.’ Zuko replied with a smile as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.
‘You never do, now be a good personal body warmer and let me leech off your warmth some more.’ You joked as you snuggled yourself into him and felt him place his arms over your waist, rubbing the skin that had been revealed when your nightshirt raised up a little, causing you to sigh under his touch as sleep slowly began to weigh heavily on your eyelids.
#zuko imagine#zuko imagines#zuko x you#zuko fanfic#zuko x reader#zuko x y/n#atla x you#atla imagine#atla imagines#atla fanfic#atla x reader
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Hiya Mae!! How are you?? It’s been a little bit but I was hoping I could request a poly!marauders fic (+plus Lily if you’re comfortable with doing that if not it’s fine). This week is the 6th anniversary of my brothers passing and this year is a bit harder as I’m turning 18. Having such a milestone coming up and him not being here is sorta making me sick. I was wondering if maybe you could base the fic off of that? Or something to do with grief and them helping reader out. I’ve found great comfort in the abundance of love you portray with their relationship and I could do with a lil of it.
If not it’s totally fine don’t feel obligated. Hope you have a good week!!
Hi sweetheart, sorry I couldn't get this to you during the week you requested it. I was also dealing with a bit of grief at the time and it felt too raw to try for a while. I hope you're doing well and that you really enjoy being 18, even if those feelings are complicated by your loss <33
cw: mentions of death, grief
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 622 words
The sky is turning from deep blue to black outside when Sirus notices you’ve slipped into a melancholy.
The only hint of it is in your tone. You’ve been quipping about the film you’re all watching like you always do, bouncing off his and James’ comments and Remus’ amused grunts, but there’s a falsity to the cheer in your voice. This is something you and James have in common; when Sirius or Remus are upset it permeates the area around them like a thick fog, but the two of you have a way of keeping it contained within yourselves, putting on counterfeit smiles. Sirius often wonders if it doesn’t hurt you more.
He leans away from where he’s been resting his head on Remus’ pectoral, snaking an arm around your shoulders.
“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” he asks quietly.
You shrug. Swallow. “Just thinking about them,” you murmur in reply.
Sirius suspects this isn’t the full story, but he, too, knows the necessity of papering over certain pains. He doesn’t pry.
Before the war—before Regulus—Sirius used to think that grief was the pain that came from the love you had for the lost person being ripped away from you. But even months after his brother’s death, all the love is still there. It’s amplified, if anything, every ounce of it demanding attention now that he can no longer take it for granted even a little bit.
What went was the ritual of it all. The peculiar brand of happiness he’d felt around Reg, never easy but still there, buried beneath layers of troubled history and shared broodiness. The inside jokes they’d barely realized they had, things no one who wasn’t raised in their house would see the humor in. The surety that if they fought, they’d get a chance to make up. Sirius will never have those things with his brother again. In memories, maybe, but now they’ll always be tinged with the love so big it hurts.
He wishes desperately he could keep you from hurting like that.
He shuffles closer, awkwardly wrapping his other arm around you until he’s nearly covering your body with his. It’s like he thinks he can shield you, like he can protect you from grief after he’d failed to protect you from loss.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius says.
You shake your head, turning so it’s jammed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Your face feels hot. “I don’t know what to do,” you choke out.
Sirius squeezes you tighter. He gets it, but he doesn’t. He knows how it feels to grieve, but not how to grieve your person in your way. It’s an ache he can only approximate.
“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds pained, and he gets up from Remus’ other side, rounding the couch to climb onto the armrest beside you. He rubs your back with one hand, the other coming to rest on Sirius shoulder, a comfort in case he needs it. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, my love.”
Sirius feels a hot tear slip down his neck into his shirt, and James winces as your shoulders hitch under his touch. Remus makes a soft pitying sound.
“You’re alright.” He latches onto the last unclaimed part of you, rough hand soothing up your calf. “You’re okay.”
“Sorry,” you manage, and Sirius squishes you punishingly in his arms, pressing a staunch kiss to the side of your head.
“Don’t be silly,” he tells you. James makes a half-choked sound of agreement. “No sorries, okay?”
You nod, the bump of your nose moving against Sirius’ neck. He gives you another kiss to show his approval.
“You’re alright, darling,” Remus says again. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got you.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#marauders era#hp marauders#the marauders#marauders x reader
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Something Sweet - Eddie Munson x Reader
A collab with my beloved @munson-blurbs
An As You Wish story
Summary: When the Munson boys that you babysit ask you to join them for trick-or-treating, how can you say no? Especially when you have a massive crush on their father.
Note: Happy Halloween! Please enjoy the first time that reader gets to spend the holiday with the crazy Munson gang 🧡
Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie, babysitter!reader, male masturbation
Words: 4k
[As You Wish masterlist]
It’s the week before Halloween, and while the weather has cooled and fall decor is in abundance, the Munson boys are still trying to determine their costumes.
“I can’t deciiiide,” Ryan whines to you, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic groan.
You take a seat next to him, scrunching up your nose in thought. “What’re we down to?” you ask.
“Vampire or Scooby-Doo.”
You consider both options, trying to drown out the sound of the Hey, Arnold episode Luke’s engrossed in. “Hmm…my vote is for vampire.” You laugh when his face pinches in a frown. “That right there tells me you wanna be Scooby-Doo. I knew I could help,” you teasingly add.
“Hey!” Luke calls out, startling you briefly.
“Hey is for horses.” You grin. “What’s up?”
“Can—”
The front door opens with a soft groan, and Eddie steps inside. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it on a hook near the door.
“Daddy!” Luke calls, pushing himself off the ground and running full speed at his father.
Eddie catches him easily and tosses the small boy over his shoulder as he walks further into the house. Luke’s little legs kick excitedly against Eddie’s torso.
“Hello, my two jesters.” Eddie smiles, holding onto Luke with one hand and ruffling Ryan’s hair with the other.
“Whatsa jester?” Luke asks from behind his father’s back.
“Like a clown but fancier. For a king,” Ryan tells him.
“And Princess,” Eddie addresses you, doing an abbreviated form of a bow with his son slung over his shoulder, being sure not to drop him.
The name and gesture make you giggle nonetheless, and you can feel the heat climbing in your cheeks.
Eddie heads towards the kitchen, but Luke starts to flail in his grip, legs kicking dangerously close to a light fixture on the wall that’s already had to be replaced twice because of incidents involving the little boy.
“Waaaait! I hadda question!”
“What’s up?” Eddie asks as he plops Luke back down on the floor.
Luke raises his eyebrows. “Not for you.” His tone implies that this should have been obvious. The five-year-old turns towards you and gives you his best pleading smile, complete with batted eyelashes. “Will you come trick-or-treating with me and Ryan? Pleeeeease?”
Ryan instantly loves the idea and bounds over to the stand next to his brother, both of them giving you those large Munson eyes that you’re helpless against.
“Yes, pleeeeeease!” Ryan adds, jutting out his lower lip in a puppy dog-esque pout.
As if you could say no to them. You didn’t want to either, really. It’d be fun to go around with them, and you’d never turn down time with Eddie.
Speak of the devil… “As long as it’s okay with your dad,” you tell them.
As one, the boys spin around to face Eddie, giving him the same longing stare.
“Don’t give me that look; I invented it,” Eddie tells them before looking at you over their heads. “But, of course. You’re always welcome, you know that.”
“Yesssss!” The boys cheer and you give Eddie a grateful smile. He nods in return before grabbing a beer from the fridge, opening it using the side of the countertop. For some reason, it’s incredibly attractive to you, and you smile at him.
“Ryan!” Luke says loudly, jarring you out of your daydreams about your boss. Luke turns to his older brother and places his hands on his shoulders. “I have a very important question.”
“What?” Ryan asks, frowning in confusion.
“Are your pillowcases bigger than mine? Cause we gotta use whatever lets us get the most candy!”
“Ooh!” Ryan lights up at the idea. “I’m not sure, let’s go check.”
Eddie turns to you as the boys dart to their rooms. “How long do you think it’ll take them to realize they’re the same size?”
You just laugh, thumbs dancing around each other nervously. “I’m excited to trick-or-treat with you. Them. All of you.” Heat creeps up your neck in embarrassment.
If Eddie notices, he doesn’t show it.
“Yeah, me too. I gotta warn you, though,” he adds mischievously, “I’m more ‘tricks’ than ‘treats.’”
You furrow your brow. “What does that mean?”
He leans in so his lips are next to your ear, about to let you in on a secret.
“I’m home!” an already irritated voice calls from the front door. You’d been so caught up in your conversation (flirtation?) with Eddie that you hadn’t even heard Brittany come in.
Eddie lets out a small groan under his breath that you don’t think you were meant to hear—it’s just that his lips are so close to your ear.
Brittany strides down the hall and Eddie takes a subtle step away from you. His wife hardly spares a glance in the direction of you two as she continues down the hall towards the master bedroom.
“I should head out,” you say, eager to avoid any more Brittany appearances.
“Drive safe,” Eddie says. “Lots of weirdos out there around Halloween.”
“I’m a college student,” you remind him. “I’m very used to weirdos.”
Eddie chuckles and you give him a wave before walking out of the kitchen, exhaling a long-held breath once the door closes behind you.
On Halloween, Ryan and Luke come bounding out of school, even more hyper than usual. They come bearing crafts that they made in school and chatter on a mile a minute about the fun activities they’d done that day in their respective classes.
“Are you guys sure you need more candy?” you tease. “Looks like you’ve had enough sugar to last a lifetime.”
They just chant “more candy” in response, and you regret even asking. One of them hyper, you could handle no problem. But when it’s both of them? This is how you assume zookeepers feel while trying to care for the monkeys.
“Whatcha dressing up as tonight?” Luke asks once their chanting has come to an end.
“Ah, that’s just gonna have to remain a surprise,” you tell them, a smirk growing on your lips even though they can’t see it from the back seat.
Once they figure out that they’re not going to break you and get the information they want, the car ride is filled with them singing at the top of their lungs, even Ryan, who is usually much more reserved. They jump from song to song: some they must know because of Eddie and some from Disney movies.
Despite their protests to rifle through their bags when you get home, you manage to get them to eat some apple slices with peanut butter for a snack. Something healthy before their mouths feast on the pounds of sugar they’ll collect tonight.
They still have an abundance of energy, so you get the idea to teach them the Time Warp dance. It’s something you remember learning long ago—from your sister, actually. And even though they are far too young to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it’s still fun to pass on the iconic choreography to the brothers.
It also serves as a means to distract them since they’ve now tried twice to peek inside your bag and find out what your costume is. All attempts were unsuccessful. Maybe soon they’d actually start believing that you have eyes in the back of your head.
You’re just finishing up cleaning the dishes as they jump to the left and step to the right, when the front door opens. Fight or flight instinct kicks in as you freeze on the spot, ready to protect the boys against the mystery intruder. But you relax as soon as Eddie calls out, “who’s ready to trick-or-treat?”
Ryan and Luke run over to their dad as usual, even more excited than they normally are since he’s come home early.
“Look what we learned!” Luke exclaims, and the two of them execute the moves to The Time Warp as well as they can without music. It’s a little stiff and robotic, but they give it a valiant effort. At least Eddie was able to figure out what the hell they were doing.
“All right, little Riff Raffs,” Eddie chuckles, ruffling their hair. “Let’s get going before it gets too dark.”
“We’re not afraid of the dark!” Ryan protests.
Eddie points to you as you step out of the kitchen, a shit-eating grin on his face. “She is.”
If the boys weren’t there, you’d flip him off; instead, you stick out your tongue.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he coos, “I—we’ll protect you.”
“My hero,” you playfully gush, hands coming up to clasp beneath your chin and your voice going an octave higher to portray your role as the damsel in distress.
The boys shuffle off to their rooms to change into their costumes, and you go into the bathroom to do the same. You unzip the old, faded gray duffel bag and take your fairy costume out piece by piece, the bright colors contrasting nicely in the mostly black and white bathroom. It would be a little difficult to attach the baby blue wings in the cramped space of the bathroom, so you decide you’ll do that last, out in the living room. The off-white dress you zip yourself into is off the shoulder and the short skirt has layers of cream-colored chiffon resting atop one another. The ballet flats you slip into are the same shade of white as well, with a touch of silver glitter sprinkled on them thanks to one of your friends in the art department at school. Deciding it’s probably easier to put your fake pointed ears on before your flower crown, you struggle to get the right ear to stick. Once it’s successful, you pick up the beautiful, thick flower crown adorned with red roses, pink peonies, and yellow carnations. It takes a little maneuvering to get it to sit on your head just right, but you smile to yourself in the mirror once you’ve got it just how you want it. You inspect yourself as you’re looking in the mirror and decide you’re glad you chose this costume. Of course, since Eddie’s going to be seeing you in it you want to make sure it looks good.
Bringing the wings and bag out with you, you make your way back into the living room.
“What do you think?” you ask Eddie, mustering up all your courage to give a little twirl. The layers of your skirt spin with you, giving a cool breeze to the tops of your legs.
Eddie swallows thickly. “Wow, um, I mean, you’re…” Hot. Gorgeous. Sexy. The girl of my goddamn dreams. “…a fairy,” he decides lamely.
You nod, trying not to show your disappointment at his reaction, or lack thereof. “Yeah, I am,” you say softly. “My friend is going as one, too, so we’ll kinda match.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Which friend?”
“Just someone from school. But we’re both going to the same party tonight, so we figured it would be fun to have similar costumes.”
“Oh, right, yeah.” Of course you’re going to a party. You’re young and carefree. Was he really expecting you to stay here with him and the boys? What would you do, curl up on the couch and watch Charlie Brown and his pumpkin while snacking on candy? And then after the kids go to bed, you and he would taste the chocolate on each others’ tongues—
“We’re ready!”
Luke’s announcement catches Eddie off guard and startles him. He’s quick to compose himself though and gives his boys a bright smile.
“Let’s head on out.”
“Wait, I’m coming!”
Luke’s slightly shorter legs have him trailing behind his big brother as they climb the small hill to the next house. The orange streetlight glints off the golden dog tag resting against Ryan’s, or Scooby Doo’s, throat. The younger Munson brother’s hand comes up to keep his pirate hat in place as he struggles to catch up.
The boys have all but forgotten that you and Eddie are there with them. The pair of you trail along behind the two excited boys, strolling leisurely in the chilly air and enjoying talking with one another.
“Do you think the constant running will balance out any effects from the sugar so that they might actually fall asleep before four in the morning?” Eddie asks. He shakes his head in amusement as Luke barrels up to the next door.
“Unlikely,” you say with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re all hopped up on candy again when you come home from work tomorrow.”
Eddie narrows his eyes at you and even in the dim lighting as you walk in the dark patch between streetlights, you can tell how nonthreatening of a gesture it is on his face. You don’t dare for a moment think that Eddie isn’t capable of an intimidating look. Without a doubt, you know Eddie would flip a switch if anything happened to either of his children. You would never want to see anything happen to your two favorite boys, but part of you is curious what temper Eddie hides beneath the coveralls and metal band t-shirts.
“You want me to fire you, huh? Is that it?” Eddie teases, bringing you back to the conversation at hand.
“Oh, please,” you say, shrugging your bare shoulders. “You wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
You have no idea how right you are, Eddie thinks. He pretends to consider your words though, as he slips his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket—one better suited to combat the wind tonight than his usual leather.
“I don’t know,” Eddie playfully muses. “How about you ask that friend of yours tonight if they’d be interested in babysitting two adorable, if not slightly crazy, little boys?”
Your responding giggle is like air to Eddie; he needs it so desperately that it goes far beyond a want or a craving. Each laugh of yours has him feeling like he’s Tinker Bell who needs applause to keep himself alive.
“Lily serves coffee all day, so she could just as well give that to the kids. I think candy is the better option here,” you say, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts.
Okay, the friend tonight is a girl, Eddie thinks with relief, before it’s quickly replaced by guilt. Why should it matter to him anyway? But it does and he’s in deep enough where he can admit that to himself. She said they were going as fairies, of course it’s a girl friend. But aren’t you glad to have that bit of confirmation? Jesus Christ, Eddie. Stop having internalized conversations with yourself and listen to what the intoxicatingly beautiful fairy next to you is saying.
“…my sister’s for Thanksgiving, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen,” you’re saying as Eddie manages to zone back in. “Do you know what you guys will be doing?”
“Uh…” Eddie stammers as he tries to shake the cobwebs out of his brain. “I think it’s our house this year.” Eddie scratches at his stubble as he thinks back to whatever Brittany yammered on about Thanksgiving a few weeks ago. “My uncle might be coming over. Or Britt’s sister and family. I don’t know, I’d rather just go over to my uncle’s place, honestly. Bring the kids back to the home I grew up in and have a nice dinner.” He’s babbling, but he can’t stop himself. “H-Have you met Wayne?”
You nod, confirming with a kind smile. “A few times. He seems really nice, and he obviously loves the boys.”
“Yeah,” Eddie beams. He’s so used to Brittany bashing his uncle that he’s caught off-guard by your compliment. “He pretty much raised me, so Luke and Ryan are like grandkids to him.”
Your heart soars, yet you’re compelled to know why Wayne took care of him instead of his own parents. It’s not a discussion for right now, so you tuck the thought in your pocket and move on.
“If you need a babysitter to keep an eye on the kids while you get the cooking done, just let me know,” you chirp.
“Thanks, Fairy Princess.”
“Any time, Boring, Costume-less Man.”
Somehow despite all the energy they previously possessed, the boys drag their feet on the way back to the house. At one point, Eddie even throws Luke over his shoulder, the little boy slowing you all down so much with his tiny, tired steps. Happily, you hold his plastic pirate sword in one hand and pillowcase full of candy in the other as Luke is slumped down his dad’s back. Ryan trudges along beside you, each of his steps looking like it’s heavier than the last. You duck your head away to hide your smile; it’s just so nice to see him tuckered out after a fun evening with his family—and you, you mentally add. As much as you’d love to be part of this family, you’re still just a paid employee.
Even through his massive lack of energy, Luke still begs to go through his collected stash before they go to bed. Because he can tell his youngest is wilting fast, he gives the okay while Ryan gets his pajamas on and brushes his teeth.
“Both of you tuck me in?” Ryan asks sleepily, the palm of his hand rubbing his left eye.
“Sure thing, bud,” you tell him, following him to his room. You and Eddie tuck both of them in, watching contentedly as they snuggle into their blankets. They’re happy, innocent kids; just as they should be.
Eddie presses a kiss to each of their foreheads. Luke is nearly asleep, but Ryan musters up the energy to crinkle his nose, looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Can you kiss me, too?” he asks, yawning at the end of his question.
“Me, too,” mumbles Luke.
You look at Eddie for permission, not wanting to overstep bounds. He smiles and steps out of the way, and you place a soft kiss on their scalps and wish them sweet dreams.
“Thanks, Fairy Godmother,” Luke says with a sleepy smile.
Jesus Christ, I wish she was your mother, Eddie can’t help but reflexively think, shaking off the idea. Brittany. You’re married to Brittany, and she’s the love of your life. Something nags at him that he shouldn’t have to constantly remind himself about it.
Oblivious to Eddie’s inner turmoil, you giggle and muss up Luke’s soft curls. “See you tomorrow, First Mate Luke.”
“I’m the capt’n…” Luke slurs as he already falls headfirst into sleep.
Both you and Eddie head back out to the living room and you scoop up your duffel bag that now holds your clothes from earlier in the day.
Eddie takes full advantage of your back bring turned to let his eyes rake over you. “Have fun at your party tonight,” he says as he appreciates the curve of your ass. “Just be careful, yeah?”
His eyes automatically snap back up as you turn around to face him, hoping the pink tinge in the tips of his ears doesn’t give him away.
“Of course,” you assure him. You hike the strap of the bag over your shoulder and give Eddie a smile. “Thanks for letting me come with you guys tonight. I had a lot of fun.” I always have fun with you and the boys, you think.
“No need to thank me, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “You did me a favor being there. Didn’t have to wrangle two hopped up munchkins on my own. Also, I had fun too.” Eddie feels the heat stinging his cheeks at the statement, but it’s the truth.
He walks you over to the front door and just before you reach for the doorknob you remember the wings attached to your back.
“Oh. Would you mind unhooking the wings for me? It’d be kind of hard to drive with them on.”
He nods quickly. “Yeah, uh, sure. How do they come off?” Eddie asks.
You turn your back towards him and maneuver yourself so he can see them better. “There’s a little hook about midway down my back. About where my bra clasp is.”
Eddie bites down on his lip to silence any noises that might have wanted to escape him at the reference to your bra and just how close his hands will be to it. That, plus the way your soft dress feels against his fingers as he undoes the hook and the heat radiating off your body has him half hard in his pants.
Okay, maybe three-quarters hard, but who’s measuring?
A shiver goes down your spine as well at the feeling of his hands so gentle against you. Guys your age just paw at you, treating you like a piece of meat. You’re not used to being handled so delicately. Eddie clears his throat and removes the wings, handing them to you when you turn around.
“Thanks,” you say, giving him a shy smile.
“No problem.” Thank you for giving me a reason to think about your bra.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you then.” He winces as he’s sure he’s coming off cold, but really, he’s just trying to keep his composure. You’re going to a college party with college guys; what could you possibly see in a man of his age, who has two kids of his own?
You open the front door and a chill wind bursts in, making you shiver.
“It gets cold earlier and earlier each year, I swear,” you joke lamely, forcing a smile through your nerves.
Before he can overthink it, Eddie quickly grabs his denim jacket off the hook near the door and drapes it over your shoulders.
“Here,” he says. “Can’t have you getting sick, can we?”
“Thanks. Again.” You pull the jacket tighter around you, reveling in his scent engulfing you. If the smell of his cologne lingers on your skin, you’ll be hesitant to wash it off. “I’ll bring this back tomorrow.”
“I trust you,” Eddie tells you with a playful wink that sends fireworks erupting in your belly.
On the inside, Eddie is thinking that you never have to give him back his jacket. He’d rather see you wearing it any day. Though, if he’s being honest, the sight of you in an item of his clothing is not helping the situation behind his fly.
“Bye, Eddie.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
You give him one more smile before heading out to your car.
Eddie closes the door behind you and lets out a long groan. “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. He rubs his hands over his face as he heads towards the bathroom. Suddenly he has a whole new variety of fantasies about you to play in his head while he’s in the shower, starring one particular fairy princess.
As soon as the water is warm enough, he steps into the tub and wraps his hand around his cock. It only takes a few tugs—coupled with images of you—for him to get fully hard.
You, in your cute fairy costume.
You, flirting with him and showing off your body.
“Thassit,” Eddie mumbles to himself, “on your knees for me. Please.” He pictures you following his orders, opening up your mouth as he taps his length on your lips. “Good girl.”
He increases his pace, groaning as he jerks himself. “Love being in that pretty mouth of yours, honey. So warm and wet. Almost as good as your pussy, fuck.” He blinks the water from his eyes. “You knew what that costume would do to me, didn’t you? Knew how fuckin’ hot you looked, hmm? Would be a shame if someone were to…ruin it.”
He can’t help how quickly he cums, grunting and panting as he spills onto his hand. In his mind, his load drips down your once-flawless costume. “Poor little fairy. Christ, you look even better covered in my cum.”
Embarrassment sets in as his orgasm wanes. He needs to stop thinking about you this way. You’re twenty years old, you’re his kids’ babysitter, you’re forbidden fruit.
What he wouldn’t give to take a bite.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#older!eddie#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fic#AYW#AYWS
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the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk
summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut
word count: 27.7K
chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people.
warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3
chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue
( ← previous | next → )
FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:
Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay
Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down
Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change
Help Them to Help Themselves
Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety
OK . . .
You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.
The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.
Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . .
But . . .
There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to.
It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.
So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.
It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless).
Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him.
That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.
So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.
“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”
Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.
Yeah . . .
It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.
That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)
Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic.
The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS.
Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)
And then it would be your turn.
Actually . . .
You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.
“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.
Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”
You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.
Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”
You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket.
All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.
But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .
(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)
Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.
And that was what always shocked you.
“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.
Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.
Your brows scrunched together. “What?”
But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”
Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.
“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”
“It’s chapstick.”
“Really?”
“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”
Jungkook only grinned.
And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.
“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm.
“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”
“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”
Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”
It was. It actually really was.
“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest.
But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”
Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”
“So I’ve impressed you?”
“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug.
Jungkook snorted. “Well.”
Oh god. No, he didn’t.
Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”
His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought. “Well . . . “
“Kook.”
Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.
“Really?” you deadpanned.
Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”
“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”
And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”
Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—
But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.
Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.
It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar.
“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”
You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.
“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.
“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”
Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”
He nodded. “Really.”
“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”
His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”
A beat of silence.
Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“
“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”
Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”
You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”
“That’s because I can’t.”
“Bullshit.”
“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”
Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.
And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.
(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . .
Supposedly.)
It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face.
“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).
“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”
His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”
A beat of silence.
Another shrug was your only response.
Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”
Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”
“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice.
And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.
“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.
“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.
You raised your head ever so slightly.
To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.
And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.
Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”
You felt yourself grin. “Good.”
The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts.
(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . .
What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.
Whatever.)
And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief.
Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.
It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.
“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.
He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”
Daisy baby. That was a new one.
Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed.
It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again.
It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar.
Did you like it?
You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.
Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.
But what exactly was this?
. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .
Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.
And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“
But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.
The two of you paused.
A beat of silence.
Another knock came.
Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you.
Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)
No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.
“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.
Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.
“What—“
But he was already gone.
His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—
Oh. You blinked in shock.
In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?
Huh?
Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.
Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look.
Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)
That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.
Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“
“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”
Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”
Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”
A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “
As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”
And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be?
With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.
You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.
If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.
If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.
“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “
You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .
Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.
Then . . .
. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.
In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)
And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.
Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!
Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?
But . . . you were . . .
As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.
And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.
“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.
You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”
Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:
“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.
Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.
“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight.
(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))
And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”
Lie.
He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .
But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—
. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.
Until:
“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”
Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone.
“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.
Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him.
He only sent you a knowing grin.
And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.
“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”
You nearly smacked a hand to your face.
“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”
And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.
Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”
“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”
Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”
“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care.
That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.
And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then.
It seemed he always was . . .
That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.
But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.
It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki.
Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care.
It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent?
Were you . . . happy?
And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?
In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . .
A beat of silence.
In it more relief.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat . . .
But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.
You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.
And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.
Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality.
Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him.
Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.
That was weird.
You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?
And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.
Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.
Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.
And you were a step behind him.
“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”
But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.
You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to.
Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.
But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.
So what? You’d find him. You had to.
Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you.
“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.
But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.
Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.
So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!
Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.
“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words.
Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“
The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat.
And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”
A beat of silence.
You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before.
But you really didn’t care.
Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“
But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.
Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”
His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”
“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”
Jimin blinked. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “
“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”
Another beat of silence.
Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . . in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”
Oh . . .
Don’t say it.
Don’t say—
Don’t—
But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”
Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”
You just had to say it . . .
“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”
With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.
But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.
“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.
Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism.
A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”
Instantly, your heart dropped.
He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.
You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing.
But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.
“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”
And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other.
To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.
It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . .
The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”
His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?
“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “
“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.
It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.
But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”
“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”
You raised your brows. “Why not?”
“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”
And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.
“Is it?”
Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”
But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.
The world stopped.
A beat of silence.
Two beats.
Another.
. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat.
And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.
Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.”
He loved you? He . . .
“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”
Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!
“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”
But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart?
You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.
If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.
That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”
Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin.
Had it reached your heart?
“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason.
Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become.
That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything.
And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done.
Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too.
Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.
And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”
Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.
Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”
Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves.
How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?
“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”
I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it.
But no one was to blame.
No one.
Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.
“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”
Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you?
And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?
“Min?”
The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face.
“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.
That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . .
Wait . . .
Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near.
Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean?
No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No.
Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—
Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . .
And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.
The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”
A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.
It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you.
This could be it.
A new leaf.
For him.
For Jungkook.
For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”
“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”
And you nodded back with a smile.
The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.
You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.
Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would.
Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.
Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.
You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.
Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.
How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.
But you had to try. For him . . .
And then you remembered:
Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:
Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay
Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down
Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change
Help Them to Help Themselves
Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety
But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.
Hesitantly, you took a step forward.
But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?
Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just—
“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.
In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”
I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.
It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.
The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.
“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”
Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”
And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.
It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going.
“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.
But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.
Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.
“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”
Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”
And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . .
His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory.
Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”
“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.
“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.
“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”
In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.
Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?
The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now.
Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.
Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.
A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed.
Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”
And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”
“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.
Another beat of silence.
And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”
Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.
It is not the moon, I tell you.
It is these flowers
lighting the yard.
As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.
You supposed it would always end this way.
I hate them.
I hate them as I hate sex,
the man’s mouth
sealing my mouth, the man’s
paralyzing body—
And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.
and the cry that always escapes,
the low, humiliating
premise of union—
Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . .
But . . .
In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.
But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?
How can I rest?
How can I be content
when there is still
that odor in the world?
That odor.
That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.
. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.
But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.
It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.
But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.
Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.
And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.
You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing.
And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.
As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.
Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.
How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?
You were sure you never would.
And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?
Who were you without . . . badminton?
That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?
Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried.
And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia.
You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . .
Those three years . . .
All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.
Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.
Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.
In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more.
The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?
There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.
And you took it every time.
The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?
Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?
You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)
Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.
Anyway.
Focus on the present.
Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.
The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . .
And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—
You checked your phone.
—an hour and a half ago.
It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)
The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too.
But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.
Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring.
It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.
And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.
You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .
“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.
Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.
You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.
“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.
His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.
And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh.
“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”
With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”
You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear.
And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?
Perhaps . . .
It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life.
But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.
It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.
Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."
And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help.
Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?
God, you wished you knew the answers.
“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.
“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”
And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.
So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.
A beat of silence followed your confession.
The world exhaled.
You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."
Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.
Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”
His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."
And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you.
I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.
Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose.
I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.
"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.
His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.
But you had.
Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.
Haunt me.
Haunt me.
Haunt me.
Give it to me, and breathe.
That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.
Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."
His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”
You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”
That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”
And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.
“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.
And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)
So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.
Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.
It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books?
Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.
It was sweet. Innocent.
It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?
And that was when you realized something . . .
“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.
Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.
How could he ever think he deserved this?
Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”
Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”
And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”
The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.
I’m a better person because of you.
How could I ever be unhappy with that?
And you knew you meant every word.
The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now.
Not here.
Not with him.
When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now.
Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.
You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . .
. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.
Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt.
Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page.
But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.
There’s something soft in me—
You remembered reading long ago.
—we killed it and it’s rotting.
And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.
So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.
Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now.
Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then?
Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway?
. . .
Whatever.
It didn’t mean much, right?
There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . .
With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))
“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air.
Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.
Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”
“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.
You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”
And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.
Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.
So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.
But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.
“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.
(There’s something soft in me—
But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.
—we killed it and it’s rotting.)
So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”
His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “
And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).
While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.
Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.
There’s something soft in me—
we killed it and it’s rotting.
It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.
Off the highway like another deer.
You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.
Off the highway like another girl.
What was . . . this?
It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.
You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—
You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.
But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.
I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.
You needed air. You needed to run.
Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.
But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.
Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”
All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).
But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”
“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?”
You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.
But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.
So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”
And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”
That was it.
I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . .
You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward.
. . . And then you were gone.
Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.
And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived.
A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.
But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.
This wasn’t a fire. Far from it.
It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.
And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.
Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?
It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.
Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.
And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true.
Whatever . . . it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.
That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?
Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . .
“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)
Still . . .
. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.
So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge.
Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.
(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)
His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.
Silence for only a beat more.
And then, he spoke.
“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.
And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?).
Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.
Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”
And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”
Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”
Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.
It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been.
But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.
Fuck.
It really was that, wasn’t it?
You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it.
But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.
So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .
Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “
Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”
“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”
A few beats of silence.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “
Oh.
Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.
But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?
“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.
“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”
Home.
He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future.
It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.
Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.
“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”
Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.
Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)
And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”
There.
Right there.
There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.
What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?
It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought.
And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?
“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”
A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”
Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.
You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .
Until . . .
. . . until him.
And you had no idea how to handle that.
“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.
Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.
“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.
“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”
Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”
Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.
He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”
You swallowed hard.
You’re the one who haunts me.
Oh . . .
And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?
You swallowed hard once again.
“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”
“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . .
“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles. “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”
I want you to help me live.
It echoed in your ears.
I want you to help me live.
I want you to help me live.
I want you to—
Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?
But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.
“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”
Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?
Whatever.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words.
OK, he nodded.
OK, he smiled.
OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.
OK.
There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles.
The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.
And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault.
It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant.
But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.
(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)
But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.
You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!
And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.
Then it would be your screams which filled the room.
Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself.
That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash.
. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.
With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.
Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . .
You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.
And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.
But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams.
You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).
Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).
Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).
“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)
“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?
God . . . what had you turned into?
“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).
Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.
“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”
Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.
Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”
You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.
But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.
Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him.
Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”
Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”
Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . .
But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.
And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”
“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”
“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.
Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”
Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”
He only laughed.
A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . .
“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.
This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”
“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”
Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)
He wasn’t kidding.
But . . .
“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”
His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”
Oh no.
No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you.
He wanted you to like him back . . .
So then you had—oh, no!
“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”
Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”
“Yes! Obviously!”
“Oh, shit . . . “
And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.
“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder
“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”
“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.
His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.
“Obviously.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”
In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”
“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.
Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”
“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.”
But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”
“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.
“Mmm.”
Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.
“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )
“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.
And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.
That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.
That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).
A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds.
That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.
Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.
He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.
“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.
“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”
Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.
“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.
He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.
And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.
He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.
“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)
“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.
It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other.
Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.
The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.
It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”
And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.
It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.
But there he was. He was always right there . . .
Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in.
It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.
And it seemed neither could he . . .
"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.
Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"
You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “
His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”
How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?
And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once.
It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features.
(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)
Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?
Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”
And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.
Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.
Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.
“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”
And you knew that was it.
With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.
“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”
“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”
Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.
The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch.
You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.
He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.
Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.
And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . .
“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes.
Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes.
And then . . . then it hit you.
“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”
I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.
And that scared the shit out of you.
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#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenario#jeon jungkook#bts#bts au#bts smut#jungkook series#bts fic#bts x reader#kpop#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jeon jungkook x y/n#bts jungkook
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hiii!! i love how u write theo and i was wondering if u could do another oral fixation!reader x cold!theo nott (it doesn’t have to be smut ofc, pls do whatever makes u comfortable, even if that means you don’t write this at all!!)
have a great night!
🎀 anon (if that’s not already taken ofc!)
oh, my love, i am sososo happy you asked me for this! idk why i have so much fun with cold! theo but i DO and the fact that you also love him makes me giddy hehe.
this is basically like a continuation of the last one! just a different nickname. (🎀 anon is all yours, babe!) i'm too lazy to add it to everything, bambola means doll! hope this lived up to your expectations. enjoy, my lovely! 𓆩♡𓆪
tw: MDNI; fem!reader; oral fixation! reader; princess! reader; jealousy; light hairpulling; fingering; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); sarcastic banter; ends with some fluff; italian! theodore nott
currently, slytherin house was throwing a massive party in the common room. you guys had won in your game against ravenclaw, so of course you were all celebrating with loud music and an abundance of alcohol.
theo was looking for you. the two of you hadn't gotten a moment alone since the library incident he couldn't stop replaying on a loop in his mind.
wanting you was a bad idea. you were from two different worlds, you were polar opposites, but fuck did he need to have you again more than air.
even in a room full of people, his eyes always found you first. unfortunately (for the other guy) you were in the middle of a dance with some guy from the year above you two.
your face was flushed from dancing, your eyes sparkling with joy and laughter as the guy spun you around. your hair was in a ponytail, and he had the sudden urge to wrap it around his fist and tug you to him.
all it would take is one little tug and you would be all his for the taking, the douchebag with his hands on you didn't stand a fucking chance against him.
theo remained cool and composed, but his eyes? his eyes gave everything away. they showed the jealousy sparking deep within him, one misplaced hand away from starting a fire.
you must have been able to feel the heat of his stare on your skin, because you turned your head around and were instantly met with theo's dark gaze.
your breath hitched and the previous smile on your face was wiped as theo approached, instantly wrapping his arms around you. he made a point to place his hand just above douchebags.
"bambola, you didn't tell me you made a new friend." theo mused, his cool and collected smile masking the jealousy, rage, and sudden desire to snap and beat the shit out of this guy for even looking at you, let alone touching you.
"hey, man, who the fuck are you?" douchebag scoffed, his arms still on you as bodies continued to sway and party around you. "someone who's going to kick your pathetic ass if you don't get out of here in the next five seconds."
douchebag looked like he wanted to argue, but the murderous glint in theo's eyes and the fact that he started lifting his fingers in a countdown finally scared him away.
"what the hell was that?!" you huffed, stepping away from his grasp and placing your hands on your hips. "i really like ethan!" you hissed, noticing the muscle tick in his jaw as you said his name.
"you can do better, bambola. he scared too easy, he's not worth your time." theo said coolly, slight smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes. "oh, because you're better? please-"
"you really think you would have enjoyed yourself with him, bella? you think he would have made your eyes roll the way i did? think his fingers would compare to mine? i can still hear your pretty little whimpers, darling."
a shiver ripped through your body at his words, lips parting in surprise at hearing the normally so calm and proper theodore nott speak such filthy words with ease.
"you've got five minutes to meet me by the stairs, bambola... or i've throw you over my shoulder and drag you up myself." he purred in your ear, his voice low and dark and raspy with desire.
of course, you followed theo out almost immediately. you would have been a fool not to follow him, especially with the way you couldn't help but replay the scene of you two in library every time you closed your eyes.
anticipation fluttered beneath your skin as you and theo walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. there was an aching pressure between your thighs as you walked, his hand on the small of your back burning so hot he was practically branding you.
you couldn't take your eyes off him the moment you stepped into the room. you hadn't uttered a word the whole way up, but you didn't have to: you both knew exactly what was going to happen tonight.
theo leaned back against the canopy of his bed, arms crossed as his eyes burned into you. "come here." he finally commanded; voice soft as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms.
you did as told, walking step by step until your bodies nearly collided. "fuck, bambola. you don't know what you do to me." he murmured before finally crashing his lips down onto yours in a rough, deliberate kiss.
his hand fisted your hair, holding you tightly as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip. he shifted a bit, sinking down onto his mattress and helping you straddle him with ease.
he pulled away after a moment, watching the way your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath before he left a trail of hot, fiery kisses down the side of your neck.
you could feel his cock digging into your skin through his boxers, drawing a soft whine out of you as you started to gently grind down against him.
he groaned against your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh until it reached your soaked panties. he pressed his palm firmly against your pussy, making you moan out in surprise and need.
"fuck, you're so wet." he groaned, dipping his hand into your panties and pushing two fingers inside your puffy walls. your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, forehead leaning against his as you relished in the agonizingly delicious stretch.
"theo..." you gasped, mouth falling open as he buried his fingers to the hilt and immediately pressed his thumb against your swollen clit. "fuck, your roommates are gonna come up and see us." you whimpered, sweating beading on your forehead.
"no, they won't, bella." theo hummed, his voice maddeningly calm compared to your breathy whimpers. he brought his free hand up to your lips, pushing his thumb into your open mouth, effectively keeping you from asking more questions.
you rolled your hips down against him, desperate for more as he continued to slowly drag his thumb over your clit while his fingers rubbed against your walls. "need you to fuck me, please." you begged, coating his thumb in your saliva.
"ask me again." he demanded, voice still calm and collected as your tongue swirled around his thumb. "fuck me, theo. i need you to fuck me." you pleaded, opening your eyes to look right at him as he pulled his fingers out of you.
he flipped your positions, pushing you back against the mattress. his fingers made quick work of your clothes, stripping you completely bare for him. he ran his tongue over his lower lip, mouth going dry as he admired just how fucking gorgeous you were.
his gaze was almost predatory as he admired you before leaning down, kissing his way to your chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. he licked and tugged and teased while you squirmed and whimpered underneath him.
one hand gripped your hip tightly, it was definitely going to leave a fresh bruise on your skin but you didn't care. his other hand went down to quickly rid himself of his pants and boxers before lining himself up with you.
"look at me, bambola." he said roughly, waiting until your eyes were back on his. you nearly gasped when you saw him, the theodore nott in front of you was someone you could hardly recognize.
his usually perfect hair was tussled, his sweat making it stick to his forehead, and his eyes were pools of black and desire. "please." you begged, your voice hoarse with desire.
he kept direct eye contact with you as he finally pushed inside of you, inch by torturous fucking inch. it was sweaty and intimate and you'd never wanted this moment to end.
as he bottomed out, your mouth finally opened in a tortured moan. he lifted two fingers back into your mouth as he started to move slowly. you happily swirled your tongue around his fingers, thankful for the feeling as he started to pull back out.
he pulled out all the way until it was just the tip of his cock still inside before thrusting back inside of you. he thrusted deeper, faster, harder, and you wrapped your legs up around his waist to pull him closer.
after that, you could no longer form any thought that wasn't about how good his cock felt pounding into your desperate, soaked pussy. your tongue swirled around his fingers as you moaned and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.
tears streamed down your cheeks as he fucked into you, lips pressing kisses and bites all over your chest while your nails dug into his back. "look at you, bambola. already weeping from how good my cock is fucking your sweet little pussy."
your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the filthy words coming from him practically tipping you over the edge. "fuck, fuck, theo, 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you cried, toes curling as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave.
his controlled, deliberate thrusts quickly grew erratic. he let out a hiss as your nails scraped his skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you. he pulled out a few moments later, coating your stomach in his cum.
you laid there while he got a rag to quickly clean you up, letting you stay collapsed and boneless against his sheets. theo being theo, he had to at least put your things in a pile before eventually laying beside you.
your eyes were closed, but you could feel his eyes staring at you intently. you finally opened one eye, staring at him as you yawned. "what?" you asked, biting your kiss-swollen lip.
"nothing, nothing it's just... i think this might be the longest i've ever heard you go without talking." he teased, a smirk on his face as his shoulders shook with laughter.
you wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was so impossibly hard to be mad when you heard him laugh. he was always so composed, so stoic. any time you could crack through his persona was a success in your eyes.
"mean!" you laughed, reaching up to smack his chest. he grabbed your arm before you could hit him and he tugged you in close. he pressed a soft, gentle kiss on the chunk of skin he'd bitten earlier before covering you with a sheet.
"you're mine, bambola, and now that i have you? i'm not letting you go any time soon."
ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ
#☆lola writes !#☆ lola's requests !#☆ my lovely 🎀 anon#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x you#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#mwah <3
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Punarvasu & Swati: Cosmogony, Reality & Consciousness
Punarvasu and Swati are deeply intertwined nakshatras with very similar patterns and themes. Punarvasu's deity Goddess Aditi embodies infinity and vast primordial space. She is boundless and limitless. Swati's deity Vayu is the ruler of air & wind and connected to the life force or prana (or qi).
Both these nakshatras connect to space, infinity, abundance and are known for being wealth giving nakshatras.
Ruth Handler, the inventor of Barbie had Swati Sun & Mercury along with Ketu in Punarvasu
Margot Robbie who played Barbie has Swati Moon & Punarvasu Rising
I had briefly mentioned this in my Tomie post but Swati & Punarvasu's themes are manifest in Barbie because Barbie is not a person, she is a type of doll, and she can be anyone or anything. Barbie is a whole universe into herself, this is the cosmic abundance and infinitude of Swati & Punarvasu.
My Tomie post also talks about how Tomie is a Punarvasu so do check that out!!
I have always thought that Punarvasu & Swati are related to time travel which makes sense provided the cosmic infinitude embodied in these naks.
Predestination, a time- travel movie starring Ethan Hawke who is Swati Sun (do watch it, its really good))
Bruce Willis has been in several time-travel movies, including 12 Monkeys & Looper. He has Jupiter in Punarvasu atmakaraka
The 1960 movie The Time Machine stars Rod Taylor who has Ketu in Swati.
The Terminator movies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu stellium (mercury, venus & rising). Arnold like many Punarvasus have been in many sci-fi movies that concern the nature of reality, in fact his own autobiography is called Total Recall (he's been in a movie of the same name and its about what is real and what isn't- peak Punarvasu behaviour I must say)
Planet of the Apes stars Charlton Heston who has Punarvasu Moon, Swati Rising
Frequency stars Dennis Quaid who has Punarvasu Moon & Ketu
The Matrix/ The Lake House/Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure are all time travel movies starring Keanu Reeves who is Punarvasu Moon.
Its interesting to me that many Punarvasus have often spoken about "creating your reality".
Octavia Butler, the writer has Punarvasu Rising (the themes of this nak is vv apparent in her work but I'll perhaps discuss that in a future post) and this^^ is a page from her journal that she wrote in the 1970s wayyy before manifestation was a "thing".
Butler grew up very poor in an era of racial segregation and suffered from dyslexia. She overcame great odds to become one of the best-selling sci-fi novelists of all time.
Miranda Kerr- Punarvasu Moon often talks about the power of our thoughts and has referenced writers like David R Hawkins (who talks about the nature of consciousness) a lot. Here's a quote from her book.
“Start each day by saying to yourself: ‘How amazing it is to be alive! What a wondrous feeling I have inside! I am awake, healthy and full of joy!’ Visualise every cell in your body being filled with vitality, health and love.”- Treasure Yourself
Miranda grew up quite lower middle class on a farm in rural Australia and then went on to become one of the best known models in the world and is now married to a billionaire.
Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu Rising (and stellium)
If you've read his autobiography or watched his Netflix documentary yk that he talks constantly about the power of the mind, having focus etc
He grew up in a small town in Austria (after WW2) with an abusive father and also suffered from dyslexia. He then went on to become one of the biggest movie stars of all time and was the Governor of California???
Ariana Grande- Mercury in Punarvasu sings about manifestation and law of attraction quite a lot. She was a side character on a Nickelodeon show and 10yrs later she's one of the biggest pop- stars.
Nikola Tesla, Punarvasu Sun & Venus
Tesla discovered automatic current transmission & generation technology which is responsible for modern day wireless connections. He's also super Punarvasu core as a person, he had eidetic memory, apparently did not sleep more than 2 hours per night, was interested in Vedic cosmology & philosophy (he used terms like akasha & prana to describe the relationship between matter & energy). I find this quote by him very interesting, "To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end". I personally don't believe in the Big Bang theory and I'm inclined to believe that the universe has always existed instead of having come into existence at one point, which imo, is a very anthropocentric idea. Tesla's quote is a reflection of the boundless nature of Aditi, who is the cosmic mother, she embodies creation.
fun fact: Elon Musk who named Tesla after him is Punarvasu Mercury & Rising.
Interestingly enough, several decades before the Big Bang theory gained mainstream acceptance and was studied by scientists, Edgar Allan Poe published a lecture/essay on the matter titled Eureka: A Prose Poem in 1848 (!!!!). He had Swati Rising
Can you believe that he, a man with zero scientific background essentially came up with ideas that would serve as the basis of 20th century scientific discoveries & theories??? That too in 1848???
Analysis of Eureka's scientific content shows congruities with modern cosmology, stemming from Poe's assumption of an evolving Universe and it also contains ideas about the unity of space and time, the mathematical equality of matter and energy, the velocity of light and a rudimentary concept of relativity, black holes (including one at the centre of our Milky Way), a "pulsating" universe that renews itself eternally, and other universes in other dimensions with different laws of nature.
A writer & poet who dropped out of college came up with all that in 1848. Swatis & Punarvasus have the ability to understand complex concepts, systems, and processes intuitively. This is why they are so good at analysis, strategy and planning. They have a futuristic vision because its easy for them to see how current events will affect other things and manifest in the future. Those who don't have these placements will struggle to understand what this is like because most of us aren't endowed with this sort of ability to see the trees and the forest all at once.
Interestingly, the scientist Georges Lemaître who first proposed the "Big Bang theory" of the origin of the universe, calling it the "hypothesis of the primaeval atom", and later calling it "the beginning of the world" is a Punarvasu Sun.
Leonardo da Vinci is known for his foresight and is considered a visionary. He, in the 15th & 16th centuries, pondered upon the possibilities of human flight and left behind diagrams and models of the helicopter, the parachute, the machine gun, the humanoid robot, the revolving bridge, the ideal city and much more. He had Ketu in Punarvasu.
Carl Jung created some of the best-known psychological concepts, including synchronicity, archetypal phenomena, the collective unconscious, the psychological complex, and extraversion and introversion. He had Punarvasu Mercury & Venus and it explains why there was such a heavy emphasis on "darkness" vs "light" in his work (Punarvasu being "the return of the light").
He is the father of Analytical Psychology which seeks to "analyze the relationship between a person's individual consciousness and the deeper common structures which underlie them. Personal experiences both activate archetypes in the mind and give them meaning and substance for the individual. At the same time, archetypes covertly organize human experience and memory, their powerful effects becoming apparent only indirectly and in retrospect. Understanding the power of the collective unconscious can help an individual to navigate through life."
In fact, vedic astrology (Jung did use astrology as well btw) serves as a very interesting way to explore the collective unconscious and the many archetypes that are manifest in individuals possessing them.
I will make a post in the future comparing Freud & Jung and how their different astrological placements contributed to their similar but differing views.
George Orwell, who was a fierce critic of totalitarianism had Swati Rising, if you read his works, you can see how he's able to analyse the effects and consequences of the same, especially 1984 which was sooo ahead of its time in the sense that much of what was written in the book is eerily similar to what's going on in the world right now. The novel examines the role of truth and facts within societies and how they can be manipulated.
Swatis & Punarvasus are super Futuristic, as individuals or visionaries as well as in their art & work. They dominate in the surreal/scifi genre.
Robin Williams- Swati Rising stars as an android in Bicentennial Man which is a movie about a robot who learns how to be human. Transcending humanity is a big theme in the works of Swati natives.
On this note, I have noticed several Swati & Punarvasu natives star in movies featuring/about cloning 👀 This does not surprise me as I had already mentioned this in my Tomie post but it is fascinating how Swati & Punarvasu's ability to be many many versions of themselves is made manifest in this trope of clones.
I have to mention how both Rahu & Jupiter have a very boundless, obese energy that is hard to contain. This can be manifest negatively because its very easy for energy of this proportion to be misused and misdirected but when they're harnessed positively, these individuals are capable of envisioning change that have few/no other parallels.
Moon (2009) is a movie that features the main character and his clones. Sam Rockwell, Swati Sun plays the main character.
Tom Cruise, Punarvasu moon (acc to Claire Nakti) stars in Oblivion and plays a clone of himself. One version of him is good, his "clone" is evil. The battle between good & evil within oneself is a VERY Jupiterian trope (and I shall make a post solely about that in the near future).
Multiplicity is a 90s scifi-comedy about a guy who clones himself so that he can do all the things he wants to do. Michael Keaton who plays the protagonist has Swati Moon
The Sixth Day is a movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger (Punarvasu stellium) and it is about cloning. The title is a reference to the Abrahamic Genesis concept of how God created mankind on the sixth day.
This in itself is very interesting because Punarvasu is the 7th nakshatra and in the Bible, it is said "And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation."
7 is a number that has profound spiritual meaning and is present in many religions as a figure of significance. From this verse taken from the Book of Genesis, it is interesting to note that ""7" is the culmination of creation. It is the day on which God rested because he had already created. It is not nothingness, it is the day on which everything already existed. This is a significant Punarvasu theme.
Replicas stars Keanu Reeves (Punarvasu Moon) as a neuroscientist who tries to revive his deceased family members by cloning them.
Its interesting how in these films, natives appear either as a clone or as the ones who do the cloning, furthermore connecting it back to Punarvasu's creation trope.
Harrison Ford, Punarvasu sun & moon stars as in and as the Blade Runner (1982) where he must "pursue and terminate four replicants who stole a ship in space and have returned to Earth to find their creator."
David Cronenberg is a director best known for making really weird, surreal, futuristic movies that heavily feature themes related to the nature of reality, consciousness etc
He is a Punarvasu Moon & Jupiter
Gakuryu Ishii, Punarvasu Moon is another filmmaker who makes movies that heavily centre around truth, reality, consciousness, the future etc.
I recommend his movie Mirrored Mind which heavily deals with identity, consciousness etc (its vaguely reminiscent of Perfect Blue)
Robert de Niro Punarvasu Rising, stars in the movie Awakenings (based on a true story) as a catatonic patient who has an "awakening" before tragically going back into catatonia, Robin Williams, Swati Rising stars as the doctor who administers a drug that induces this awakening.
In Vedic philosophy, there are 3 gunas, Rajas, Tamas & Sattva.
Tamas is a state of darkness, inertia, inactivity,
Rajas is a state of energy, action, change, and movement.
Sattva is a state of harmony, balance, joy, and intelligence.
Punarvasu belongs to the Rajas guna whereas Swati belongs to Tamas guna.
Tamas can be described as a state of statis or stagnation as there is no transformation and thus no change. Punarvasu natives are prone to passivity and it is only when they face their own destructive shadow, do they emerge out of passivity to their natural state of Rajas. In this movie, Deniro's experience where he emerges from his catatonia with a desire for freedom and to live life to the fullest before eventually accepting the fact that his condition cannot be remedied inspires the Doctor played by Robin Williams to emerge out of his own shell and live life more fully.
Punarvasus are often restricted by situations beyond their control yet they are possessed by a yearning to live life to the fullest. Swatis often have unmeasured freedom and do not know how to utilize it, they are restricted by their own character.
The Gaia Hypothesis proposed by James Lovelock (1972) suggests that living organisms on the planet interact with their surrounding inorganic environment to form a synergetic and self-regulating system that created, and now maintains, the climate and biochemical conditions that make life on Earth possible.
It is a holistic view, which is generally not appreciated in science that likes to favour randomness, chance or whatever instead of the innate harmony and union behind creation.
James Lovelock has Punarvasu moon & Swati rising
Lynn Margulis who co-developed this theory with him most likely has Revati Moon and I will be exploring her symbiotic view of evolution on a different post as it goes beyond the scope of this one.
Edit: as @brundlefly333 pointed out, the French philosopher Henri Bergson (Punarvasu Moon) has a book called Creative Evolution which extrapolates that whilst "evolution of species can come from external factors "like natural selection", it most importantly (comes) from an internal impulse (a creative force). This creative force is inherently unpredictable and non-linear, leading to the emergence of novelty and complexity in living organisms over time.
I find his "Cone of Memory" (depicted above) hypothesis very fascinating.
The Cone of Memory model can be imagined as an inverted cone, with the apex representing the present moment, the base symbolizing the entirety of one’s past experiences, and the cone’s vertical axis signifying the flow of time. As the present moment progresses, the apex of the cone moves upward along the axis, continuously stretching the cone outward as it incorporates new experiences and memories into a person’s consciousness. The memories from our past experiences are layered into the cone, with the most recent memories residing closer to the apex and older memories located further down, towards the base.
Bergson’s model emphasizes the active role of individual perception, memory, and experience in shaping one’s consciousness. The human mind, as depicted by Bergson, interacts with the objective world while drawing from its accumulated memories to create individual experiences in real time. The Cone of Memory focuses on the dynamic interplay between perception, memory, and experience, hoping to account for the generation of novel understandings and interpretations of reality.
Bergson’s emphasis on experience at the personal level also has significant implications for how we understand the self. In his view, the self is not a static entity but rather a constantly developing process, shaped by the dynamic interplay of perception, memory, and experience. This more fluid conception of the self contrasts sharply with many traditional notions of a fixed, unchanging identity. It also invites us to recognize the transformative power of our own experiences and encounters in the continuous interweaving of the past and present in our temporal consciousness.
It can be summed up with this quote:
"To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly"- Henri Bergson
Rudolf Steiner- Ketu in Punarvasu, Swati rising
Steiner's breadth of work encompasses many fields, he pioneered modern-day organic farming, anthroposophical medicine (what we call alternate medicine including homeopathy, massages and frequency work etc rooted in the human body's ability to heal itself) invented the Waldorf education system (alternative schooling) and tried to merge science and spirituality.
All of this is vvv Punarvasu & Swati coded because its these natives who are frequently drawn to non-traditional systems of thought & experience and also merging a vast variety of techniques + being well versed in a lot of different fields etc comes down to having the inner space to hold all of it. This is literally not something most other people can do. Pursuit of knowledge can easily drain/deplete people but Punarvasu & Swati natives have a boundless thirst for knowledge and innately understand the profound truth that everything is connected.
Symbiosis, synergy, syncretism etc are all themes prominent in the works of Swati & Punarvasu natives who tend to view things as a coherent whole and not separate from one another; everything in creation exists to serve one another and exist in perfect harmony. Its not by "accident" that human beings took shape on earth where all the elements exist to continually support human life, every tiny detail is manifest in divine perfection and it helps us understand that we are a part of a larger system and that what we do affects changes at both the micro and macro level.
"Synergetics is the empirical study of systems in transformation, with an emphasis on whole system behaviours unpredicted by the behaviour of any components in isolation. R. Buckminster Fuller (1895–1983) named and pioneered the field. His two-volume work Synergetics: Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking."
Buckminster Fuller had Punarvasu sun & jupiter
I think I had made a post about how Punarvasu natives tend to make geometric art that features repetitive patterns and motifs. I thought Fuller's use of the term "Geometry of Thinking" was very Punarvasu of him.
Pls look him up and his work, its very interesting and if you have Punarvasu placements you might find things you resonate with. I dont want to make this post any longer so I'm not including more of his work although all of it really fits with the theme tbh.
Amartya Sen, the Indian economist and philosopher has Swati Sun, he is best known for his contributions to welfare economics, social choice theory, and development economics. His work incorporates the same holistic view of how everything exists in close interaction with everything else, interconnectedness as well as an all encompassing-ness are themes that dominate his work. Society affects the market, the market affects society, all of this affects interpersonal relationships, it takes a Swati/Punarvasu native to deeply embody this sentiment in their thought/work.
George Harrison aka the Spiritual Beatle had Swati moon, Jupiter in punarvasu amatyakaraka.
"It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one."
This quote by him really sums it up.
Robert A Heinlein had Punarvasu sun, jupiter and rahu
Heinlein used his science fiction as a way to explore provocative social and political ideas and to speculate how progress in science and engineering might shape the future of politics, race, religion, and sex. Within the framework of his science-fiction stories, Heinlein repeatedly addressed certain social themes: the importance of individual liberty and self-reliance, the nature of sexual relationships, the obligation individuals owe to their societies, the influence of organized religion on culture and government, and the tendency of society to repress nonconformist thought. He also speculated on the influence of space travel on human cultural practices.
This is yet another example of the interconnectedness of Punarvasu as well as the analytical nature of these natives.
I will end this post here because I've been rambling for too long but I hope this was informative!! Apologies that this was kinda science heavy and not very pop culture centric :/
#vedic astro notes#astrology observations#sidereal astrology#vedic astrology#nakshatras#astrology#astro notes#astro observations#astrology notes#astroblr#Punarvasu#swati#Jupiter#rahu#carl jung#Freud
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The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.2
sim jaeyun x afab!reader
warnings: smut (mdni). exhibitionism (slightly), fluff, angst, y/n is kinda mean, fingering, oral (m+f rec), pet names, protected/unprotected sex, not proofread, anything else lmk!
wc: 17k+ (sorry)
synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. however, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.
part 1 | part 3
a/n: hi! this part is heavily filled with plot, drama and smut. hope you all like it. this will probably be the deciding factor of if I continue the series (I have written it all now) or not. if you like it and want more please lmk!
To say everything was going well with you and Jaeyun over the next year would be an understatement.You had never felt so loved in your life; not by your parents, not by your siblings, it was only Jaeyun that made you feel like the world had its saturation turned up. The sun had a habit of making life look brighter.
Your 18th birthday party was tonight and you had been planning this for the past few months. It fell right after exams so you were going to use it as an excuse to get everyone together and let loose. Did you have an abundance of friends? Not really, you had your group of all-weather friends. Did that mean you didn’t invite everyone in your year that you liked so you could have a great birthday bash? Absolutely not.
Your friends Ryujin and Yeji were there to help you pick out a birthday outfit which of course you had preemptively chosen knowing that it would have the approval of your best friends and your boyfriend.
“Y/N, you look amazing,” Ryujin said as she eyed you in your short black dress with red lace trimming the bottom and ends, “You look so good, Jake isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off you.” You smile and nod, she would never know you bought the dress specifically for that reason. When you were in the store there were lots of dresses that fit your normal aesthetic but you wanted something bold, something that said you’re no longer a little girl. Of course, you were still a little girl, one birthday isn’t going to magically make you an adult but that didn’t mean you couldn’t look like it.
A few hours later and the party is in full swing, your parents are gone, there is over 50 people in your house, and you have to get to see Jaeyun. You’re getting nervous that he isn’t going to come. His text message stares at you as you read it for the nth time.
Be there soon, Baby. Can’t wait to see my girl! x
That was two hours ago.
“Hey.” A voice from behind you pulls you out of your trance and you look at him, his body close to yours, “You’re the birthday girl, right? I’m Sunghoon.” His sleeked-back hair and perfect features throw your whole state of being off.
“H-Hey. Um, yeah I am! Thank you for coming.” You bow a little and as you come up, your eyes meet his, and your face goes red. He is so beautiful, mesmerising, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. The moon shines on his face as it bleeds through the windows. The freckles on his face add another dimension of beauty, his canines gleaming when he smiles.
“You’re Jake’s girlfriend? Where is he?” where is he? You ask yourself the same question. He is always beside you, always on time, always here.
You shrug your shoulders and fakely chuckle, “I have no idea actually.” Honesty is the best policy but as Sunghoon’s hand reaches for your arm you think it was better if you had lied and told him Jaeyun was only away to the toilet. Jaeyun please come here quick. Sunghoon caught on to your rigid demeanor and nodded. He knew Jaeyun had an unholy hold on you.
“If I was Jake,” he started, “I would never let my pretty girlfriend stand alone at her own party.” Sunghoon kissed your temple.
He was right. Jaeyun should have been here the whole time. Are you too lenient on him? You take a shot of Cherry Sourz, Jaeyun’s favourite you mentally note. An earlier conversation with Yeji pops into your head.
“If you’re going to celebrate your 18th birthday you might as well have no regrets.”
And that’s exactly what you did. 4 hours after the party started you had no sense of yourself, Jaeyun was still nowhere to be found, and you were handed another shot. This was your 9th shot to be exact.
Jaeyun strolls through the door with his friends Heeseung and Jay. His attitude was relaxed, a smile plastered on his face as he said hi to the people in the hallway; that was until he saw you.
Your body in that dress, your hair tussled from the dancing, the way the smile was placed upon your place, those hands that were on your hips. Jaeyun paused, his jaw that was once relaxed now clenched as he saw who was behind the foreign hands holding you - Sunghoon.
Huffing, Jaeyun clenched his fists and walked over to you, jealousy seeping through every part of his body. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he was intimidated by Sunghoon, he wasn’t delusional to the fact that Sunghoon was attractive, probably the most handsome guy at the school and lamentably for Jaeyun, he was clearly into you.
“Baby.” Jaeyun whispers as he wraps his arms around your waist and knocks Sunghoon off of you in the process, resting his head on your right shoulder, “Happy birthday, my love.” You were mad at him, but his touch was almost enough to forgive him. Unfortunately for Jaeyun, the shots didn’t make you forgive but rather fueled your anger towards him.
You brushed his hands off ignoring him as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon. Jaeyun was hurt. In a way, he understood why you were acting like this, he let you down, and football practice lasted way longer than he intended, however, he wasn’t about to let Sunghoon take up all your attention. “Princess,” he whispered, knowing exactly what it did to you. You couldn’t ignore him anymore but that didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. Jaeyun noticed. “I’m sorry I’m late, I feel like such a dickhea-”
“Good. I hope you feel worse than that. I have been waiting for 4 hours. Do you know how embarrassing that is? All so you could what? Kick a ball about? Cheat on me? I don’t understand what was so much more important.”
Jaeyun stands still. He feels sick to think that even for a second you thought that you weren’t the most important person in his life. Cheat. That word echoed in his mind and he started to feel sick. Did he not show you love enough? Why was that one of the first things you thought of? He would never dream of it, he hasn’t even so much looked at a girl since he met you.
“Baby, I’m sorry I got caught up in football practice.” He confessed honestly. Was it an excuse? No, but his coach wasn’t letting him away no matter the excuse he gave.
“Whatever, Jake.” Jake. You hardly ever called him that before, not since you found out he liked being called Jaeyun more. Everyone called him Jake except for his family and you. His face turned pale as he realised how hurt you were by his actions. “Go enjoy yourself, I’m in the middle of a conversation.” His eyes met Sunghoon as you spoke. Sunghoon had a smirk on his face as if he had won in a game Jaeyun didn't know he was playing, and he did not want to be a part of it.
You turned to Sunghoon and continued to speak to him, ignoring Jaeyun’s sad expression as you laughed at whatever shitty joke Sunghoon had to offer.
To say Jaeyun was a sensitive soul would be an understatement. His feelings were so easy to read because he never thought to hide them, and as much as he was bottling his anger as Sunghoon stroked your arm, he wasn’t hiding it well. You were getting dangerously close to Sunghoon, your chest was millimetres away from him, and your head was tilted up to look at him. When Sunghoon leans down as if he is going to kiss you, Jaeyun knows he has to do something.Sunghoon had a reputation and Jaeyun would be damned if he let you be a part of it.
He strides over and hugs you from behind not unlike before. Trying to keep his cool and not come off as jealous he nuzzles his face into your neck and whines, “Baby.” Dragging out the pet name was a tactic he’ll admit. He knew you couldn’t resist it. “Can I give you your present now?”
“Is it to leave me alone? Because I would love that.” You spat at him. As soon as you turned around to look at him you instantly regretted the words that escaped your lips. Jaeyun’s eyes were wide, his brain was working overtime, and his chest was moving heavily. The alcohol in your system was making you react in a completely opposite way to how you would have. If sober you was alert she would have comforted Jaeyun and given him a thousand kisses to apologise, but drunk you was in charge and she was dangerous. “I need you to stop being so clingy, it's embarrassing.” Stop talking you screamed at yourself, “Can’t you see I’m talking to someone?” For the love of god please shut up and apologise.
“Oh.” Jaeyun nodded slowly. He has never gotten angry, not once since you’ve known him, at least not seriously, but right now you see a fire behind his eyes that makes you wonder if you’re seeing things. He pushed his tongue to the side of his mouth and looked down, letting out a half scoff half laugh. “Hope you have fun fucking him.” Jaeyun glares at Sunghoon and with that, he leaves. You call his name but he pushes through the crowded people to escape through the front door.
He hears you calling his name but he is too upset to answer you. Your hand grabs his wrist as you pull at him, “Babe, please.” You plead but he yanks his arm away and continues walking. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”
“Mean what? That I’m clingy? That you would rather speak to Sunghoon? That you think i would ever cheat on you?” His voice turns venomous towards the end and in that moment you realise what you’ve actually done. “Okay, yes I was late for your birthday, and believe me Y/N I am so fucking sorry. I tried to get away and I couldn’t. But you flirting with someone right in front of me? That’s a low i never expected.”
“Jaeyun I never-”
“Don’t fucking try it.” Jaeyun cuts you off. You have never seen him like this. “I’ll take anything you have to say to me, all the criticisms, but don’t you dare ever for a second think I would cheat on you.” Tears are forming in his eyes but he blinks them away and exhales slowly trying to regain some composure. He might have been upset with you but he couldn’t bare to shout at you. “Y/N, I can’t control what you do, or what you think, but you can’t fuck with me like that.”
He was right. You were flirting with another guy because you were mad at Jaeyun. It wasn’t fair to him. You stare at him and bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying. You want to hug him and kiss him and apologise but your body and brain were fueled by the substances consumed earlier. “You know what Jaeyun?” you started, “How am I supposed to know you aren’t going around with other people? Half of your football team were here on time but suddenly the coach only wants you to stay behind? Fucking funny that isn’t it?”
“I fucking love you, Y/N. That should be enough for you to understand I’m not screwing anyone behind your back. Do you not trust me? Have I done something that would make you not trust me?” His voice is angry but not raised. Jaeyun sees the hurt in your eyes at his temper and it almost makes him aplogise. Almost. What does he have to be sorry for? He said he was sorry for being late, it was you who blew this into a big deal.
You knew it too. You knew deep down he would never cheat on you, and he wouldn’t be late for your birthday unless something was holding him back. The alcohol that coursed through your veins wasn’t helping you be a reasonable person, however. You stood in silence, staring at Jaeyun. He scoffs. “You don’t trust me? Fine. You know what?” Jaeyun takes a gift-wrapped box from his jacket pocket and throws it with force on the ground at your feet. “Happy fucking birthday, Y/N. Hope Sunghoon gets you off better than I can.”
Frozen, you watch him walk home angrily. Your first fight and it was over something so stupid, something you caused and could easily have been fixed. No, it wasn’t great that he was late, but it wasn’t worth losing him over.
You bend down to pick up the box and unwrap it. As you flip open the box you see a gold sun-shaped necklace with a rose quartz centre. It’s beautiful and it’s so obviously Jaeyun. You were his sunshine, his love, his everything, and he probably saved up for this necklace which was clearly handmade. The engraving was the date you first started school, the day you first met.
You were an idiot. You had to make it right, you can’t lose him. Losing him would ruin you completely. Running as fast as you can in heels you try to catch up with him but he is nowhere to be found. You spend a good hour outside looking for him before making your way to his house. He had to be there by now.
As you stand before his front door you inhale a deep breath and chap the door vigorously.
“Oh my days it’s like 2 am what do you want.” Jaeyun opens the door quickly, speaking before he has even seen you. His eyes fall on you, red-faced, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, the dress is hiked up sitting just under your ass. “Y/N?”
Bursting into tears you blabber out everything you have to say. “Jaeyun I am such an idiot, I am so sorry for ever thinking you would cheat. To be honest, I knew you would never, I was just drunk” You’ve started to sober up in between the running and crying, “You were late for my birthday and It honestly wasn’t even that big a deal, I was angry and stupid. I love you so much please don’t break up with me.” You rush the last few sentences in between sobs.
Standing in the doorframe, Jaeyun’s eyes are soft, a smile gracing his lips - a complete opposite to how he was only a few hours ago. He hated how blown out this whole thing was. It took him coming home and showering to calm down and assess how undeep the situation truly was.
“Princess, I know.” He brings you in for a hug and squeezes you as if at any moment you could disappear. “I will never break up with you, my love.” A kiss to your forehead. “I’m not angry at you.” A kiss to your temple.”I’m sorry I was clingy” A kiss to your cheek. “I love you so much.” A kiss to your lips.
You pull away with wide eyes, “You aren’t clingy, I was an idiot. I love you, I want you to be clingy all the time. I love it. I was just mad you were late.” Jaeyun nods in understanding and bites his lip, a habit of his you’ve never been able to get over.
“I’m sorry I was late.” He stares at you with his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes are red and puffy, his show clear signs of crying too. You were both so scared to lose each other in this moment that no words were exchanged, just this stare.
He pulls you in for a kiss and grabs your waist as he brings you into his house. “Stay with me tonight.” He whispers, almost unmissable if you weren’t listening. You nod and keep kissing him.
“I’m sorry, Jaeyun.” He shakes his head.
“No, don’t. Don’t keep apologising, we were both silly.” He looks down at your hands and notices the box that contains his birthday present to you. “Did you like it?” You’re confused at first but as your eyes follow his to where they are looking for you to answer.
“I love it, can you put it on me?”
Without another word, he nods and brings you into his room. He quietly shuts the door trying not to alert his parents. Jaeyun was surprised at how they didn’t wake up with you banging at the door but he didn’t give it too much thought. “Turn around, Princess.”
Obediently you turn around and hand him the necklace. As he clasps the jewelry around your neck you shiver at the coldness of the gold. The coldness doesn’t last long as Jaeyun starts kissing your neck, his plump lips pressing softly.
“Jaeyun,” You moan softly and turn to face him, “let me make it up to you.” Your hands trail down his body as you stop at his lower abdomen. It’s only now you realise he’s only wearing his black boxers. “I’ve been so horrible to you.” As you play with the lining of his underwear, Jaeyun throws his head back. He wants this, he really does. You’re beautiful all the time but there is something so ethereal about your lips around his cock. But you’re intoxicated and upset and he doesn’t want to take advantage of that.
“Baby, I don’t need you to do that.” Jaeyun’s heart is beating fast as you trace the outline of his cock. “Please, you’re drunk and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He’s trying to defuse this situation without hurting your feelings. What he isn’t aware of is that you aren’t listening to him, a hand trespasses his boxers and lightly strokes his cock making him mutter an almost inaudible ‘fuck.’
With a hand on him, you guide him to sit on the gaming chair in his room. “Relax, Jaeyun. I know how much you love my mouth.” He could come right there and then. You slide his boxers off, slapping his thigh so he will lift his bum off the chair. “I’ve missed your cock so much.”
Jaeyun laughs at that. “We literally fucked yesterday.”
“Technically it was 2 days ago,” you point to the clock that reads 2.37 am, “and I didn’t even get the celebratory cliche birthday sex.” Pouting while you were down on your knees had Jaeyun’s head in meltdown mode. You were so beautiful, in spite of the tear-stained cheeks and mascara smudging, you looked so irresistible.
His hand comes to cup your cheek as his thumb wipes away the running makeup from your face, “You’re so lovely.” You smile and he mirrors you, “Lovely people deserve to get fucked on their birthday, yeah?” Jaeyun breathes out.
There it is, the Jaeyun you were waiting for, and the permission you needed to take his cock in your mouth. It caught him off guard and his hands instinctively moved to your hair. “Fuck, Princess you’re so beautiful like this.” He looks down at you with admiration and desire. You bob your head up and down, every time you come up you swirl your tongue around the tip, dipping into his slit every second time. You knew everything that made Jaeyun feel pleasure. Over the past few years, you’ve learned and memorised each other's bodies, likes and dislikes. You were convinced no one could ever know you the way Jaeyun does.
A few weeks ago you walked in on Jaeyun jerking off to porn. He threw his phone away and apologised a million times. You’re not the type of girlfriend that has an issue with her boyfriend watching porn, you too have done it sometimes if he’s away for the weekend to football training. What you did notice though was that as you picked up the phone, the girl was giving very enthusiastic head, gagging as he fucked his cock into her mouth. You had never done anything like that before. Jaeyun always held back thrusting his hips up so as to not cause you pain or discomfort. But you wanted it.
So today, you were going to give him everything you got. Apologies can’t be half-arsed, right?
You smile and lift your bum from your feet so you’re hovering over his cock at a higher angle. Smirking, your eyes meet his and you take his full length in your mouth, gagging as the tip breaches the back of your throat.
“Baby be careful.” Jaeyun was always attentive, always caring, but right now you needed to see him lose control. You don’t come off his cock but rather sit with his dick in your mouth and swallow - a trick that wasn’t easy to master but you knew it would drive him crazy. “Fuck, Princess.” As he feels your throat close and pinch the tip of his dick he moans so loudly you’re scared his parents might hear him.
You work your mouth up and down his cock again, you pinch his thighs a little and his hips thrust up, slamming his cock into your throat again. “Shit, baby I’m sorry.” You simply moan trying to let him know that's what you want. You pinch him again and he gets the memo. “Oh? Does my love want me to fuck her pretty little mouth?” You’re dripping by this point and hum around him in acknowledgment. He leans down and pulls you off his cock. “Tell me you want it.” Jaeyun’s hand has your hair in a ponytail.
“I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t speak anymore.” A groan leaves his body. You’re perfect, he doesn’t understand where you came from, or how you both exist in this lifetime together, but he is so thankful.
“If it gets too much just tap my leg three times okay, Baby? No matter what. If it hurts, if you need air, let me know.” Nodding your head and smiling you let out a weak okay and he kissed your lips. It's so tender and loving. You know you’re about to get a completely different Jaeyun in two seconds.
He squeezes your cheeks with his middle finger and thumb to get your mouth to open. His dick is red and frustrated, multiple veins protruding around the shaft. You’re starving for it. Placing his cock in your mouth you take him all in.
Slowly thrusting you can see he is trying to be gentle so you meet his thrusts, sucking up and down. “My baby.” He breathlessly moans as he picks up the pace. His tip is battering against your throat and you love every second of it. You hum in pleasure around him as he pounds faster into your mouth. “Y/N you’re so fucking good to me, such a perfect girl. Always taking what I give you.” He moans and his thrusts become erratic, and sloppy as he gets closer to his high,
His grip is tighter on your hair and he yanks you off before he comes.
“Jaeyun what’s wrong?” Your voice is hoarse and it drives him crazy.
“I need to come inside you, Princess. You can call it another birthday present.” He kisses you and lifts you up with ease, his mouth never leaving yours. “Such a pretty dress,” he states as he lays you down on the bed, “As soon as I saw you in it I knew I had to fuck you while you wear it.” Jaeyun hikes up the dress so it sits above your hips, exposing your red underwear, his favourite. “All for me, yeah?” His fingers lightly graze your slit over the lace.
“Everything is for you.” The loving confession makes his heart swell in his chest. He needs you so bad, and you know it. “Just fuck me Jaeyun.” Your eyes land on his cautious ones. He hasn’t prepped you yet, it’s already a struggle to make him fit when he’s stretched you open. “I can’t wait for your cock any longer.” Frustration is laced within your voice and your body is writhing for some attention.
Jaeyun takes a condom from his stash and slides it on. His sensitive tip colliding with the rubber makes him wince. He looks for lube but can’t find his usual tube. You look at him searching and take the opportunity to shuffle down, grab his cock, and guide it to your entrance.The shock plastered on his face is quickly switched out with one of pure lust. “Princess can’t wait huh?” You eagerly shake your head as you push him in. The stretch isn’t painful due to how turned on you are. Genuine wonder starts to invade your brain as you think back to any other time you’ve been this desperate. You haven’t.
“You’re the death of me, Y/N.” He moans as he bottoms out.
“I need you to fuck me so bad, baby.” And who was he to deny you? His thrusts are sharp and pierce right through you. “Right there, baby, so so good.” Your encouraging words spur him on and he goes at a faster pace.
“Tell me I’m the only one.” He mutters as he kisses your neck. He was still feeling a little self-conscious after the whole Sunghoon incident. To think that you could be taken away by someone else makes his heartbreak, he needs the reassurance.
Bringing his head up and cupping his cheek you stare lovingly into his eyes, “You’ll always be the only one. I don’t want anyone else. I need you.”
Jaeyun practically growls as he picks up the pace again. You’re trying not to moan loudly but he’s hitting all the right spots and it’s got you gasping. His hands are roaming your body, gripping and grasping at every part of you, the action will leave bruises and he’ll apologise in the morning but right now he just needs to feel you.
“Even if Sunghoon wanted you?” he asks quietly and you shake your head immediately. Never for a second would you even spare any time of day for the other, not when you had Jaeyun. You were going to have serious words with yourself once you’re done. You made Jaeyun feel insecure, you’re the reason he’s doubting himself like this.
“He could never love me the way you do,” you bring your lips to his ear, “and he certainly couldn’t fuck me the way you do.”
Pure fire and passion rise through Jaeyun’s body. His thrusts go harder and faster, he places your legs on his shoulders and drives in deeper. “You take me so well, Princess. I love you so much.” Jaeyun might have been fucking you like he was a man possessed but his kind and nurturing personality will always come through.
He was perfect.
You clench around him, “Jaeyun, babe, I’m so close.” Your nails are digging into his arms.
“Me too, Baby.” he kisses you gently, “Come around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.” Jaeyun might be the sweetest man alive but he is still a man after all, always trying to get you to boost his ego. And you come around his cock hard, your chanting his name mixed with a few ‘fucks’ and ‘oh gods’ in there.
Not letting up, Jaeyun is still pounding into you, “Good girl.” he mumbles into a kiss. It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the condom. “Fuck, Y/N.” His moans are loud and desperate as his hips still. “Fuck, Princess. So good.” He lazily kisses down your neck whispering sweet ‘I love yous’ and ‘You’re so perfect’. He wanted to revel in the moment, his cock was softening in your walls as his lips graze every inch of your skin.
“I love you, Jaeyun.” He looks up at you with his big puppy eyes and all you can see is love held within them. You could cry. This is the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. You know it.
“I love you too, angel. So fucking much,” He kisses you deeply, “Let's never fight again.” Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you nod and continue to kiss him. “You’re it for me, Y/N.”
“Sim Jaeyun if you have a girl in here-” His dad barges in, ruining the moment between the both of you. Jaeyun jumps up and covers himself and you with a blanket. Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel. “Y/N? Is that you?” his dad questions trying to see your face which is hidden behind Jaeyun’s blanket.
“Hi, Mr.Sim” Your head pops up and shyly wave a hand. “How’s it going?”
“Dad can you like, leave, please.” Jaeyun wants the world to swallow him whole. He has always been so careful not to get caught. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell his parents it was just that they would never let you stay over again if they knew he was fucking your brains out every time you stayed over.
Mr. Sim runs a hand down his face and squeezes his eyes shut before wagging a finger between you and Jaeyun, “How long have you…how long has this been going on?”
“About two years.” Jaeyun shrugs and mumbles. He wasn’t going to say your 2 year anniversary was a pebble throwaway, he didn’t need specifics. “We’ve been dating for 2 years.”
“2 YEARS?” Mr. Sim’s eyes widened and his mouth slacked open. “2 years and you haven’t told us? You know we would never stop you from dating someone.” he scoffs, “2 fucking years and you didn’t tell us.”
Your head is hanging low, Jaeyun notices your discomfort, he always does, and he reaches for your hand under the blanket and gives it a squeeze.
“Dad we didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you or mum. I’m sorry.”
“Me too, Mr. Sim.” You squeak out.
“Don’t,” Jaeyun’s dad starts, “Don’t keep things like this from me again.” A smile crawls onto his face, “especially if it’s Y/N. You know she’s like the daughter I always wanted.” His eyes soften as he looks at you.
You were so close to Jaeyun’s family after spending 3 years living between his house and yours. His parents knew your favourite foods, what made you tick, and how to cheer you up, they even invite you over on Christmas Eve for a pre-Christmas celebration. His family loved you, you were never scared of receiving their approval, deep down you knew you always had it. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to your mum. And Y/N?” Your head shoots up, “Please tell your parents. I’m sure they’ll take it well.” He nods his head and leaves to go back to bed.
Jaeyun turns to you and a roar of laughter erupts from him making you playfully smack his chest. “That was so embarrassing.” He wheezes.
“I am never coming back here again.” You hide under his blanket, giggling.
You spend the rest of the night cuddling Jaeyun, feeling complete bliss. When you woke up the next morning you received a text from your mum.
Mrs. Sim told me. Jake is NEVER allowed to sleep over again, do you hear me?
I’m happy for you both.
You smile and snuggle deeper into Jaeyun’s embrace. The sun lights up the room, landing perfectly on your boyfriend's face.
________
As your high school life was reaching its end you found yourself searching through college brochures and websites trying to find anything that sparked your interest. That was your problem, you weren’t interested in anything, not anything that you could make a career out of anyway. Jaeyun was what you were interested in if you had to be frank but considering he’s a broke almost 19-year-old you couldn’t exactly become his trophy wife, but god did you wish life was that easy sometimes?
Jaeyun had applied for Apollo College situated in Busan. His dream was to become a mathematical physicist which has been his dream since he was like 10 years old. Honestly, his dedication and passion for the subject made you fall in love with him even more every time the boy would get so hyped when he spoke to you about it. Fair enough you found the subject so boring but something about the way he spoke about quantum theory or one of those old dudes that are plastered on his physics textbook made the subject come to life. He worked immensely hard to even get the grades to get into Apollo, and you couldn’t be more proud.
“What about applying for Apollo? They do some ND-level courses?” Jaeyun says as he scrolls through his phone. He has been trying to help you pick a college for over an hour in his bedroom. You both agreed Busan or somewhere close would be the best option since you both couldn’t imagine doing long distance. ‘It wouldn’t work, I would miss you too much.’ Jaeyun has pleaded when you were entertaining the idea of looking at some in Seoul.
“Babe I am not applying for a smarty pants college.” You laugh and reach for his face taking his glasses from his face. “Although,” You place the glasses on the bridge of your nose, “I would look good as a woman in STEM.” A smile creeps on your face as you seductively look over the frames of the glasses and see Jaeyun bite his lip. Never once has he uttered it out loud but he does have a thing for you in glasses, a fantasy of dressed in only them as he fucks you until they’re steaming up slithers into his mind more times than not.
“My girl looks good all the time, but STEM would make me want to wife you up right then and there.” Placing his phone down beside him he leans over until his face is mear centimeters from yours.
You know what he was looking for, that face of lust painted so obviously and god did you want to give into him, he’s irresistible. But it had to wait and you unsubtly let him know by placing your pointer finger on the middle of his forehead and push him back. “Jaeyun, this is serious,” you say pouting looking back down to the laptop in front of you, “I need to find a college or else I’m gonna be stuck here in my parents’ house forever, and only see you like once a month or something.”
“Y/N, you’ll find something in Busan okay? And if not I’ll look somewhere else. My grades are good enough to get in anywhere.” It's a subtle brag but you know he’s right, he might be the smartest person you know in all fairness but that doesn’t mean he can just give up his dream school that he’s spent countless sleepless nights studying to get into. His effort to get into this school more than proved that him not going sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“I am not letting you drop your dream college because I’m too thick to even get into one measly college. It’s your dream I’m not letting you ruin your chances.” You half-joke before Jaeyun speaks up again.
“You’re my dream, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you, you know that.” His serious expression makes you a little uncomfortable. Hearing him say he’d throw his aspirations for you hurt your heart and you didn’t know why. Maybe because you spent your relationship with him watching him work hard for opportunities to enhance his future and in a millisecond he would give it all up, and for someone like you? It seemed ludicrous.
“Jaeyun don’t say that,” discarding your laptop and shuffling towards him you put your hands on his shoulders and squeezed tightly, “I didn’t watch you need an IV drip from studying so hard just for you to throw it away.”
“I might not get in.” And you laugh, your hands loosening from his shoulders to cup his neck.
“You’re a shoe-in, baby.” A smile forms on Jaeyun’s lips at your encouragement. You always wondered why your boyfriend had such a hard time believing in his own abilities, if it was possible you wish he could see himself through your eyes, maybe then he’d understand how truly remarkable he is. “I’ll find a college, don’t worry.” Bopping his nose with yours you take the glasses off your face and place them on his nose. “Let's look at Yangsan-Si, it’s only 30 minutes away from Apollo. I think they have that independent college.”
Looking up at your laptop you feel Jaeyun’s puppy dog eyes on you and you turn around to see him still in the same position, “Babe? You okay?”
“I mean it, Y/N. Anything you want, I’ll do it. If colleges in Busan don’t work I’ll find somewhere else. Take up an apprenticeship or whatever.”
“Jaeyun, it’ll be fine!” You try to lighten up the atmosphere but his face is stern and his body is tense. “What are you so scared of?” your voice is shallower than usual trying to read him but it seems impossible.
“I don’t want you to leave me, and that’s what long-distance means right? We’ll keep up talking the first few weeks, then we’ll be too busy to talk every day so we Facetime for what? 30 minutes every weekend, then we just stop talking altogether and turn to texting because it’s easier. You’ll find someone less clingy, more handsome, he’ll be there to give you attention and we’ll break up. I can’t watch that happen.”
Smiling sadly you try to hide the burning feeling in your chest as you watch Jaeyun’s mind scramble and come up with this whole plot point you didn’t even think was an option. Does he think about you both not working out often? You etch forward and take his hands. “Jaeyun,” you say waiting for him to look at you before you continue, his watery eyes slowly look up, “I will find a college near Busan. I will be right beside you for as long as you want me. And we will never break up okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”
Deep down you felt his concerns too. And with him saying all this, talking about how long distance wouldn’t work, it made you start to overthink with what ifs. But right now you had to convince Jaeyun everything would be fine, convincing yourself in the process.
His nod lets you breathe a sigh of relief and kiss him lightly on his plumped lips. “I love you so much.” His words make you smile and kiss him a little longer this time.
“I love you too. Now come on and help me get into college. I need that big sexy brain of yours.” Jaeyun’s heaved-out laugh hits your ears and you both spend the night applying for random schools, easing his mind a little.
________
Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.
Opening the next email you sigh, another rejection, your 7th to be exact. It had been two months since you applied for colleges in Jaeyun’s bedroom and time was ticking. You had 5 weeks to get accepted at the earliest, thats when Jaeyun was set to move to Busan, when you were moving with him.
You could never forget the day he got the acceptance letter to Apollo. There was a rapid chap at your door causing your dad to whip the door open angrily, “Who the fuc- Oh, Jake. What’s the big rush?” Your dad calmed down as he saw Jaeyun and his cheesy grin on the other side of your front door.
“Is Y/N here? I need to see her.” His eyes shifted to the upstairs where he hoped you’d be.
“Go on up.” Your dad's head flicks back in the direction of your room. Without a second passing, Jaeyun is taking his shoes off and running up the stairs, missing a step each time. “Who is it?” your mum says to your dad as he laughs. “I think Jaeyun got into college.” Your parents were so proud. Jaeyun had opened your door in a flash and saw you at your desk studying for exams. He examined you; your hair tousled, baggy sweatpants, and the old football jersey he gave you after he won his first game of high school. “Beautiful,” he muttered loud enough to gain your attention.
“Jaeyun? What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later?” He strides over and extends his arms sharply, holding an envelope in his hands. The action made him look so young and innocent, like a toddler proudly handing their mum a drawing they did in the nursery. Gingerly you take the already torn envelope and withdraw a letter.
“Dear Mr. Sim,” you read out loud, “We have received an overwhelming amount of applications for the Mathematical Physics BSc Honours program. We are delighted to offer you a place…” You trail off, “Jaeyun, you got in?” Re-reading the letter you squeal and jump up to hug him, “This is amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Genuine happiness is felt between the both of you and Jaeyun’s grip tightens around you. “You fucking did it.” You whisper as he pulls away. His face is brighter than you had ever seen, his future coming together like perfectly matched pieces in a puzzle. You envied him a lot in that moment.
Snapping out of your memory you mutter a ‘fuck’ as you lock your phone and make your way to class. Apparently, you weren’t good enough for Busan, or Yangsan-Si, or Gimhae. Nowhere wanted you. The prospect of not getting into college suddenly weighed down heavily on your shoulders. You had picked courses about things you enjoyed through school, or rather, got decent enough grades in but it wasn’t enough. There were two colleges left that you are impatiently awaiting replies from. One a mere 20 minutes away from Jaeyun and one 4 hours away on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. Obviously, you neglected to mention this choice but it was apparently the easiest one to get into and you didn’t really think every single other choice would reject you having confidence at least one would offer a conditional place.
There is only one chance.
Walking somberly into class you see Jaeyun wave you over, his chair turned from his desk to face his friends beside him. “Baby come here!” He shouts over to you gaining attention from the other people in your class. The thing about Jaeyun is that he wasn’t quiet about anything, especially your relationship to many of the girls in your class’ dismay.
Smiling at him widely, your once dampened mood is now gone. He had a habit of being able to do that. You go to take the seat next to his friend Jay but before you can pull out the seat Jaeyun is pulling you onto his lap and circling his arms around your waist to situate you in a comfortable position.
“You guys are disgusting.” Jay groaned but Jaeyun paid no mind to him, kissing the back of your shoulder and smiling, giddy at intimacy.
“It's a good thing you guys are going to college together, think my man here might die if he isn’t with you for more than 3 minutes.” Kai chimes in jokingly, slapping Jaeyun’s right shoulder lightly nearly hitting you in the process. That sinking feeling in your chest slowly bubbles its way back up.
There is only one chance..
“Yeah, he wouldn’t last a day if you were long-distance.” Jay continued on to Heeseung’s statement.
There is only one chance.
“As much as I love you all saying my relationship grosses you out,” You start to stand up and remove Jaeyun’s hands, “I need to pee before class starts.” Hiding your discomfort from the conversation you press your lips to Jaeyun’s, “I’ll be back in a minute.” His hand trails down your arm and squeezes your hand.
Quickly you walk out of class and head to the bathroom to compose yourself. It’s not that you don’t think long distance could work for you, it's that you know long distance won’t work for him. All the previous conversations swirled in your head mixed with your doubts.
A ping echoes in the empty bathroom and scramble to unlock your phone. You view the notification as it reads Mail: Offer Update: Kyungsung University. Your heart is in your throat as you read the outcome.
Rejection.
There is no more chances. Shit. You’re gonna lose him. The mirror before you shows the shell of a girl who just lost everything she loves in the space of a minute. Eyes red, lips trembling, a sob escaping your throat, you were crushed. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you. Those were his words a few months ago with the weight of his intent still heavy. He would give it all up for you and that was a hard burden to live with.
Another ping comes from your phone and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the tears that blurred your vision. Mail: Offer Update: Avanti College.
Your eyes widen quickly opening the email.
Dear Miss L/N,
We have received your application. With much consideration, we would be delighted to offer you a place at Avanti College for the studies of Film and Media. As you would be aware our school terms start earlier than others, thus, we have sent you a link to our module assigning system for you to quickly choose your classes. These are filling up and you should confirm these as soon as possible.
We look forward to seeing you next month.
Yours Sincerely,
Mr. Suh Kyung Min
Head of Recruitment.
You smile brightly as you read the email over and over again. You got in. Granted, film studies was the only course at this college with spaces left, but if you weren’t thinking about that, you could learn to love it. It was also 4 hours away from Busan. 4 hours away from the love of your life. Your shoulders sink down and the smiles fades from your face.
You had two choices; tell him you didn’t get into college and have him drop out of his dream university, ruin his future, all for you, or, don’t tell him and go to college, leave Jaeyun without an explanation so he doesn’t destroy everything he’s worked for. That would mean leaving your family and friends behind too because they would cave in and tell Jaeyun where you went. If you just left without a trace he would have no choice but to go and live his future the way he was supposed to.
The second option feels right. There is no way you are going to be the one to leave Jaeyun’s future desolate, you couldn’t offer him a future better than the one he had already set out for him. So you just won’t tell him. Did his happiness and future mean more to you than your own? Absolutely. And fuck did that stab you in the heart.
Looking back in the mirror your eyes are drooping, depressed, void of any happiness you register now you have another choice; make this the best few weeks with Jaeyun, or slowly break away to make the situation easier on you both. Deep down you knew even if you stayed away during this period he would find a way to see you, so you accepted it, giving your undivided attention to him just as you have all these years. Give him all the love you have.
3 weeks. You have 3 weeks before you’re away to live a completely new life. You have to remind yourself why you’re doing this, why you’re hurting yourself by leaving your only love. It was for him, all of it.
_______
Two weeks until you leave for Pyeongchang and you’ve gotten good at concealing any hurt you feel. Jaeyun kept asking if you heard anything from colleges but you just shrugged and changed the topic. He was getting suspicious but you just kept reassuring him there was still a month left and most of the colleges you applied for were clearance so they tend to do it last minute.
With exams over and school finally ending the only logical solution was for your year to host a party. A BIG party. Now you all could legally drink it just meant more alcohol being brought and because the chances of you seeing any of these people again is practically zero, you really wanted to let your hair down. You spent most of these days in worry and dread that you didn’t just want to get wasted, you needed it.
Ryujin and Yeji were on their way to pick you and Jaeyun up from his house - Yeji got stuck on DD duty after losing rock, paper, scissors and she won’t shut up about how unfair it is. Jaeyun was already dressed in his blue double denim outfit accessorised with a graphic white t-shirt, some old silver chains hanging from his black D&G belt, rings that you’ve felt on your throat more than once displayed on his fingers and a pearl necklace he got as a gift from Heeseung. His hair was bouncy and parted the way he liked it, with his forehead showing. Jaeyun was the most gorgeous boy you had ever seen and every day you noticed something different. Walking out of your bathroom you notice how his shoulders have gotten slightly broader.
“Have you been going to the gym?” You question nonchalantly as you fix your earrings, staring at him while he scrolls through his phone. He shrugs and continues with his eyes fixated on the phone. You huff, waiting for your boyfriend to notice you and the clear effort you made in your outfit. The gold two-piece you bought left little to the imagination and you felt so powerful and sexy in it.
Dragging your tongue over your front teeth you walk behind him and rub your delicate hands on his shoulders. “You’ve gotten bigger, width-wise.” You flirt.
“Dunno must be all the extra lifting at work. Shits heavy.” He mumbles, liking pictures on Instagram as if you aren’t there. Usually, you would be offended but you learned that sometimes Jaeyun is just a little dense when it comes to attention. So you take matters into your own hands.
One of your hands never leaves his shoulder as you circle to his front, one leg hiking over so you can straddle his lap, head tilted as you wait for him to look at you. Finally, but not nearly as quickly as you want, he looks at you, his mouth open as his eyes trail up and down your body, absentmindedly locking his phone and throwing it not caring where it landed. “Fuck.”
You nod and smile coyly, biting your lip. “Do I look good?” Your fingers dance up his chest and wrap around his neck as you shift your weight slightly until you’re sitting right on his clothed dick.
“Shit, Princess you look fucking ethereal,” Jaeyun says as his hands rub your arms until they find their way to your waist, “Do we have to go? I don’t want anyone else to see you like this.” He laughs and kisses your lips, his eyes looking up at you with adoration.
“Yes!” you exclaim, “I wanna get drunk and dance.” You shuffle off his lap and pull his hand so he’s standing. Instinctively, his arms circle around your waist. “Plus you get to tell everyone this,” you point to yourself, “is all yours.” Your boyfriend's eyes roll but he bites his lip, probably the sexiest habit he does.
“Baby don’t tempt me, I’ll go into that party and put on a show so they know who you belong to,” You moan as his hands grab your ass, and his eyebrow quirks. “Oh? Do you like that idea? So I should just bend you over in the middle of it and fu-” Swiftly you clamp a hand over his mouth and laugh.
“Shut up. You know what I mean.” Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re so horny all the time.” He shrugs again and takes your hand that’s placed over his mouth, kissing your palm before he intertwines your fingers with his. “We better head down and say goodbye to your parents.” Sauntering away he pulls you back and kisses you deeply taking your breath away.
Jaeyun groans as he tastes your cherry lip oil, the same taste he’s had the pleasure of devouring for 3 years. Desperately his hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer. He can’t get enough of you and honestly, he doesn’t think he ever will.
“Jaeyun,” you whisper against his lips but he simply keeps kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth when you speak only making him crave you more. “Baby, we need to go,”
“No,” He whines and picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, “can’t wait to punch guys in the face for looking at you too long.” his voice whispers in between kisses and you throw your head back laughing.
As your actions expose your neck he places kisses all over, focusing on a spot just above your freckle, a gasp escapes your lip. Jaeyun is sucking and biting at the spot and you realise what he’s doing and your eyes fly open, “Jaeyun!” you warn him but he keeps going and it feels too good to stop.
Pulling away he examines his work and smirks. A hickey. A big red soon to be deep black and purple hickey starts to appear on the base of your neck. “There.” He kisses it once and then proceeds to look in your eyes innocently. “Everyone will know you’re mine.”
Rushing to the mirror you see the red mark and sigh, half annoyed half amused. “What are you? 13?” A rumbled laugh comes from behind you.
“Just possessive. Can’t have another Sunghoon situation now can I.” Jaeyun jokes but it makes you wince. You try to forget that birthday night as much as possible. “I can’t lose you. Not for anything.” His sweet words turn over in the acid of your stomach. You think about what you’re going to do just two weeks from now and you feel sick. You have to tell him, but you can’t. This is what’s best.
Putting on a facade you smile and kiss him on the cheek and walk by him. “That won’t happen, babe.”
A honk from outside diverts both of your attention and you scurry downstairs, eagerly awaiting the party that lies ahead.
Arriving at the party it’s already in full swing, classes from all over the city have come to celebrate the end of an era. Looking around at the dim lights, strobe effects, and some people making out in the corner you wonder if you were actually in a club rather than someone’s house.
“Who’s house is this?” You ask no one but Yeji turns around. “Kobayashi Daigo. Was in your class for like 2 years.” She laughs and shakes her head. In her mind, she knew she shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know him considering you only ever spoke to Jaeyun or your friends.
“I’ll get you a drink, baby, come on.” Jaeyun whispers lowly and guides you towards the kitchen, his hands on either side of your hips. There was something about his big hands on your waist that made your whole being melt and just follow anything he said.
When you get to the kitchen you see a bottle of Tequila Rose with your name on it and as you pick it up there is a strong hand taking it from you. “Princess, you want a double?” Jaeyun takes the bottle and starts to pour his own and eyes you as he awaits your answer.
“Double.” You smile mischievously as you watch the liquid pour into the glass. The pink drink is brimming to the top of a tall shot glass as you lift it to your lips, your eyes never leaving Jaeyuns’. “Cheers.”
“Cheers, baby girl.” He slams the shot on the worktop and then downs it, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he swallows the soft shot. You can’t take your eyes off him as you swallow your drink.
“You’re so hot.” You murmur still looking into his eyes and he chuckles at your statement, pouring another shot.
“To us, to Busan, to forever.” He cheers and takes the shot of happiness, while you chug the shot down and it suddenly tastes bitter. You need about 15 of them to forget the man in front of you is the one you’re leaving.
Suddenly it’s 3 hours later and you’re drunk, still aware, but are one drink away from hanxiety the next day. “Love, dance with me.” Jaeyun licks your ear and leads you to the middle of the living room which serves tonight as a dance floor. Pressing your body against his you start to dance to whatever pop song seems to be playing in the background, your hips swaying against him, your arse pressed to his groin and one hand reaching to the back of his head, the feeling of pure bliss overtaking you.
You can feel his cock growing hard beneath you as you grind into him. You look up to him but his eyes are fixated on someone else at the other end of the room. Sunghoon. Internally you cringe thinking about what happened last time, and honestly, the black-haired boy has been nothing but respectful towards you after your birthday, but that doesn’t mean Jaeyun doesn’t feel his shoulders go rigid as he sees the attractive guy’s stare burn into you. Sunghoon's crush on you never left and Jaeyun was all too aware. He had to show Sunghoon you were his girl, so, Jaeyun’s hand slid down the front of you, his middle and forefinger dancing over your skin. “Jaeyun, what are you doing?”
No answer. But as his eyes fixate on the boys across from you, he smirks and slinks his fingers up your skirt, bypassing your underwear. A gasp suddenly leaves your lips as his fingertips ghost over your clit. “Jae…there are people around, let's go somewhere- '' A hard press to your core stops your sentence and you lose all sense of yourself, Jaeyun’s thumb now rubbing your nub. The music surrounding you is suddenly muted, and the air is too hot as two of his fingers invade your entrance hitting the spot that has your legs shaking. Jaeyun smirks as you try to hold your groan in, his eyes on a furious Sunghoon. It had been over a year but Jaeyun still liked to rub it into dear Sunghoon that he got the girl. “I’m serious, Jaeyun.” you whisper but his fingers only increase the pace, kissing your neck softly, tracing over his previous mark on occasion.
“You want me to stop, baby?” His voice is hoarse and mocking, and all you can let out is a moan, tossing your head back onto his shoulder, not caring if the whole party sees him touching you. His fingers move faster and with more urgency as he feels you clench around him. “Good girl.” thankfully the lights were so low and everyone was beyond obliterated due to the overconsumption of alcohol that no one was noticing, well, everyone but Sunghoon. “Come for me, Princess, show them it’s me that makes you feel this good.” His lips trace your ear as he picks up the pace, eager to get you off. His eyes are not leaving Sunghoons’. Your high comes crashing over you as his fingers hit your sweet spot and thumb traces your clit harshly, it takes every part of you not to moan like a common porn star. Sunghoon awkwardly coughs at the sight and turns away embarrassed and absolutely livid.
You however are riding out your climax on your boyfriend’s fingers. “Fuck, Jaeyun.” you breathe out and he chuckles behind your ear, turning you around to face him.
“Good?”
“Fantastic.” You laugh until he sticks his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste your own release and you whimper, lapping his digits with your tongue. “So beautiful.” He whispers watching you.
This party was exactly what you needed.
________
Two days until you leave. There is an aching in your chest as you attend your job for the last time. It was a shitty convenience store job but you loved it deep down. The regulars, your boss, the people you worked with. You won’t miss the bright blue uniform though. You remember the day you told Jaeyun you got the job and he acted like you became the CEO of some high-end company. ‘My beautiful hard-working girl, I can’t even begin to describe the pride in my heart’ the memory of him picking you up and kissing you all over floods every inch of your body. The way he kissed you and the way his eyes sparkled as they bore into yours, that grin that was plastered on his face as he suggested congratulatory sex - he would use any excuse.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Jaeyun comes behind you wrapping his arms around you and his lips kissing your neck softly. You sink into him, his usual citrus with a woody undertone engulfs your senses. Biting your lip you try not to get caught up in this feeling. “Miss me?”
“Jaeyun I’m working,” Turning around you look into his big, shimmering eyes and suddenly regret everything you’ve been doing. To him, to yourself. He simply smiles and kisses you lovingly, one long everlasting kiss followed by small pecks, feeling his smile with each one.
“You get off soon, just bail.” His plump pink lips trail down your jaw and land back on your neck. It's hard not to give in to him.
“Baby, let me finish.” You pout and try to focus on stacking the shelves of the local mart.
Jaeyun’s hands grip your hips harder leaning in to whisper in your ear, “I can make you finish if you want.” His teeth nip at your earlobe and you feel his smirk appearing. This boy will be the death of you. Jaeyun revels in the effect he has on you as he can almost hear your heart beating through your chest. He thinks only soulmates can notice minute things like that.
“I will attend to your every need when my shift is over, but for the next 20 minutes these cans of butter beans have my full attention.” He laughs and kisses you.
“Butter beans…I love it when you talk dirty.” You slap his chest lightly and laugh. You’ll miss this. Maybe you should just tell him, to change your plans. You could find work in Busan surely. One look at him and you’d drop everything for him, hell, you were even planning to skip the end of your shift just so he could fuck you in his car. You needed him. That was the problem. You needed him, relied on him.
Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind you smile up at your puppy boyfriend and wrap your arms around his neck, “Sim Jaeyun you are the most infuriating person I have ever met.”
The sun creeps in the shop windows and lights up his face as he smiles and pecks your lips.
“You love me though.” He declares proudly, his teeth showing as he beams widely.
“So much.” Too much.
“Good, then hurry up and get this shift out the way so I can have you all to myself.” With that he kisses you, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Jaeyun finds you irresistable whenever he sees you and his heart bursts with pride that you are his. “I have a surprise for you.” His eyebrows raise cheekily as he bites his lip and he leaves the store in a hurry. He goes to double-check he has everything he needs.
While you were at work you had no idea Jaeyun was planning anything.
Jaeyun phones Heeseung to check in and make sure everything is set up. Heesung doesn’t appreciate the interrogation considering the plan was actually his idea but he lets his best friend away with it considering this was a big deal for him.
“Yes Jake everything is set up, i followed your strict to-the-point plan exactly as.” Heeseung rolled his eyes affectionately over the phone. He loved Jaeyun so much, being the only one of his friends that left for college early was hard, but he came back when he could and he would be damned if he missed this.
“Thanks, mate. I owe you one. And the r-”
“In the glove compartment. I told you, everything is sorted.” Jaeyun exhales and checks the glove compartment to see the white box. It's prettily decorated in a pink bow with the edges dusted in silver glitter, “She’ll love it. You know she loves everything if it's got something to do with you.” Heeseung’s voice blares through the phone with endearment.
If there was one supporter of you and Jaeyun it was Heeseung. Every day he had to hear about you through Jaeyun, he felt like he was part of the relationship with you. He had to sit through Jaeyun describing every outfit you wore, every time you changed your perfume, and every new song you recommended because it reminded you of him, Heeseung has been through it all. "Jake, stop overthinking it, you guys are meant to be and if it doesn't then I don't believe in love" he laughs through the phone and Jaeyun joins him. It isn't a question in his mind if you're going to be with him forever, it's a fact.
"Shit, she's coming. Thanks again, mate." Jaeyun hangs up quickly, hiding the box in the pocket of his car door. You've changed into your usual jeans and t-shirt and to Jaeyun you look like the most beautiful being to ever roam the earth. "Hey, my love."
"I wish you would have told me we were doing something, I would have brought nicer clothes with me."
"You say that like aphrodite doesn't worship the ground you walk on even in jeans." Jaeyun passes off the comment nonchalantly but your heart flips within your chest. He had a way with words that no late teen should have the possession to have. Beautiful and gorgeous weren’t good enough adjectives for him to describe you, he always had to go a step further because to him you were worth more than compliments that are used on pets and under celebrities' Instagram posts. Even if he couldn’t fathom the right words to describe you he was still going to try his hardest to make you feel like the most exquisite human in the world.
As you buckle your seatbelt, face still flushed, you hear Jaeyun fiddling with the music. His car was a shitty little black 1998 honda civic he got for pennies from an uncle looking to make a quick quid. It was so old it didn’t have an aux but rather was graced with a cassette player. Jaeyun didn’t mind because it meant he could make cute mixtapes like in the old 2000s movies. One he even made for your road trip you took during Christmas break filled with all the songs that reminded him of you, most of them being love songs with the one accidental Hotel Room Service by Pitbull in there because he couldn’t figure out how to get it off. It soon became your song.
“I think I’ve made the best mixtape of all time,” Jaeyun gloats as he wags the cassette tape between his fingers before slotting it in, “you will love it.” Jaeyun spent the good part of yesterday perfecting each song that went on it and always with you in mind. The first song that blared was ‘Love is All Around’ by Wetter.
“My favourite song.” you mutter and look at him adoringly, noticing the smile creep onto his face clearly proud of himself. His hand clasps yours as he brings it to his lips and kisses it gently.
“It’s slowly becoming my favourite too.” He turns to face you with love glazed over his eyes. You could cry right there. No one will ever love you as much as Jaeyun does. “You know they’re playing a show in Busan in the fall. If you want I’ll grab us tickets since we’ll be up there anyway.” His head turns to pay attention to the road, his hands not leaving yours as he moves the gear stick. Sickness submerges you and the colour rushes from your face. God, why are you doing this? This is so silly just tell him.
“Jaeyun I-”
“I’ll buy the tickets next pay. They’ve had tickets sat there for a while so I don’t think they’ll sell out within the two weeks.” He interrupts and in a way you’re thankful. Swallowing the lump in your throat you thank him and turn to look out the window, your hand still snug in his. Jaeyun notices how you’ve clammed up but he leaves it for now. He knows when to ask you if anything is wrong and it is not right now.
The whole car journey takes about 32 minutes and Jaeyun held your hand and squeezed it intermittently for 31 of those minutes, that 1 other minute he used to take a few gulps of water. His mouth was dry from the anticipation, of going over everything he had planned in his head. It had to be perfect, you didn’t deserve anything less.
“We’re here, Princess.” Jaeyun’s voice and the car coming to a stop pull you out of your thoughts and you smile softly at him. He puts a finger up indicating for you to wait as he gets out of the car and rushes round to your side to open the door, “Right this way.” One hand opened the door and the other elongated to point towards the grassy hill. Nothing was worse to you than walking up a hill but you’ll let it slide this once since your boyfriend has put so much effort into whatever this is.
Side-eyeing him you get out of the car trying not to fall which in your case happens far more often than you would like to admit, “Making me walk after a 6-hour shift should be criminal.” You say as a pout forms on your lips.
Jaeyun’s face however is beaming, “Ah see I knew you would complain about that,” He starts, “I’m going to carry you.” He kneels down in front of you with his back in your sight, “Hop on, baby.”
“You cannot be serious? Babe, you can’t possibly carry me up there.” His head turns and eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with a look of confusion.
“Does my girlfriend not have any faith in her very strong and capable boyfriend?” One of his eyebrows raises as he scoffs seeing the look of disbelief written on your face. “Trust me,” he pats his back, “get on and have some faith in your man.”
A genuine laugh erupts from you and you oblige with his instruction. Straddling his back you hook your legs around his waist as he hoists you up almost effortlessly, “Have you been working out?” you ask curiously. Lifting one arm and posing with it he says, “Babygirl I’ve been packing these guns since I was a kid, John Cena is jealous.” Placing your head on his shoulder you laugh and the sound fills his ears like music from angels. Jaeyun kisses your cheeks and points forward, “To the top!”
“To the top!” You mimic him and he goes forth.
When you reach the top surprisingly with no stops, Jaeyun sets you down gently and you can see his arm veins popping from the tension of holding you up. They’re delicious and it’s the one thing you’ve never been able to get over about your boyfriend and he knows it. In school he’ll roll up his sleeves when he has the same class as you because he knows you’ll be staring, practically drooling over them. One time before coming over to yours he made sure they were protrusive, clenching and unclenching his fists and he was happy with the results of his endeavours, the night ending with you riding his fingers, gripping onto his arms desperate to feel his veins under your touch.
“Baby?” Jaeyun bends forward, his head tilted looking up at you, “you in there?” his hand waving in front of your face snaps you out of your memories as you smile and say a simple “Hmm?”
“I said ta-da!” He exclaims, hopping in his place and outstretching his arms. You follow his gesture and see fairy lights wrapped, or more so tangled, around two trees which illuminate the picnic blanket underneath, two baskets are situated on either side and a bouquet of flowers lies in the middle. You follow the trail of rose petals that lead up to the beautiful scene in front of you. No words can escape your mouth and Jaeyun starts to get nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a half laugh, half huff. “I know it’s cheesy and cliche but I remember you reading about it in one of your books and saying you loved the idea of a midnight picnic. I know it’s not midnight but-”
The touch of your lips on his cuts off his rambling explanation. Jaeyun’s hands settle upon your waist as he kisses you back sentimentally and with relief washing over his body. You liked it and that’s all that matters.
“Come on,” he pulls away and gives you his hand to take leading you up the petalled scattered path and you don’t take your eyes off him. Your heart is so full and it is breaking all at the same time, “I got you all your favourites; kimchi pancakes, tteokbokki, some chicken and spinach samosas,” he continues listing everything he has prepared but you’re too infatuated by the boy who stand before you, his dark hair shorter than when you first met, the side parting of his bangs framing his matured face, those delectable lips that gave you so much pleasure over the years and whispers sweet nothings into your ears any chance he could. Your eyes travel down to his blue and white striped Ralf Lauren polo-necked jumper, he looked so beautiful, so unreal. He was yours, at least for now.
“I love you, Jaeyun.” You blurt out not even meaning to, just pure raw emotion taking over your body.
Jaeyun has heard you say it a thousand times but it doesn’t stop the hairs standing on his neck and the crimson flush kissing the tip of his cheeks. He noted the undertone was a little different this time, not like you didn’t mean it every time but that this confession was more purposeful than the others. He takes your hips into his hands and looks down at you. “I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.” His heart swells so big he thinks it might rupture. The next kiss he gives you has you tearing up. It’s so amatory yet pure, he truly loves you and harbours deep feelings not even psychologists could explain, it was more than consummate love, it’s nothing that can be theorised and dissected. It's yours and it's his. And in 2 days you were giving it up. After pulling you down on the blanket Jaeyun starts to unpack the picnic baskets. The smell invades your nostrils and your mouth waters. Everything looks so good.
Jaeyun notices the hearts in your eyes as you stare at the food. He has to thank Jay for cooking it all when he sees him next. His chopsticks pick up the tteokbokki and hover it in front of you, “Here, take a bite, baby girl.” and you wrap your mouth around the delectable food you know he didn’t make. Jaeyun couldn’t so much as cook a simple lasagne without burning it and setting off the fire alarm. Suddenly a laugh leaves your mouth and your boyfriend cocks his head, “What’s so funny?” Waving your hand dismissively in front of him. The image of him wafting a green and yellow dishtowel under the alarm to clear the smoke is imprinted in your brain. It was the first time he cooked for you, your 100-day anniversary dinner turned into his dad airing out the kitchen and giving a long lecture about how Jake needed life skills. “It’s nothing, I’m just happy.” you say honestly. You were so happy here with him.
He hums and you continue like this, eating and laughing under the twinkling lights. As the food diminishes his heartbeat gets louder, more rampant. The reason for this grand spectacle of a date finally showing its head. “Um, Y/N?” His voice is nervous and you put down your plate giving him your undivided attention.
“Yeah?” Noticing the sweat start to collect on his forehead you start to get worried. Did he know? Was he about to confess that he knew your plan all along and he actually did all this to convince you to stay? Is he giving up everything for you? Or is it simply too warm on this May evening?
“Hoo okay so,” He starts and turns his whole body to face you, taking your smaller hands in his shaking ones. “I love you, so much, and uh, okay um,” Jaeyun had planned this whole speech with Heeseung playing you in the scenario, the elder threatening to put on a wig and some eyeliner, “I need to get into character!” he had proclaimed.
Even after all this preparation he still wasn’t sure what to say to you, he forgot all his words as he looked at your golden hour-kissed face that was staring back at him.
He inhales deeply and calms himself pushing out the air slowly. “I love you, and I have ever since that first day at school.” His eyes flicker down to the necklace he got you for your birthday and then meet your eyes once more, "you took the breath from my lungs and to be honest, every time I look at you I still forget how to breathe. I don't know if there is such a thing as soulmates or twin flames or even matches made in heaven but baby you're all of them to me. I curse the stars every night because they get admired for being so beautiful yet you're the brightest one in the universe, you're my sun, my moon, and all the stars. You deserve all the admiration they get and if I can spend the rest of my life looking at you and studying you like I'm some astronomer then I know I've lived my life well."
A pause, two hearts beating rapidly, enough love shared between you both it could probably initiate world peace.
Jaeyun takes out the box from his pocket and gives it to you. His hands are shaking violently. "I want you to know I'm so serious about us, Y/N." Taking the box from his hands it's now your turn to shake. "Open it." he huffs out, head dizzy.
Peeling off the baby pink bow and lifting the lid you see two rings and two keys. The rings are small, and silver, and there is a mid-sized heart on it which contrasts the thin band. Glancing up Jaeyun scoots forward and takes the left ring out, "Before you freak out I'm not proposing," a half-hearted laugh leaves his mouth as he takes the ring between his thumb and his pointer finger, never taking his eyes off it, "This is my promise to you that from now until forever, I am yours. A pinky ring," he takes your left pinky and slides it on slowly, "until I can get you a wedding ring."
Tears are streaming down your face as you laugh at the adjusted lyrics he's managed to embed in his speech. The ring fits so perfectly on you. Jaeyun had them handmade and saved up every bit of his wages to get them. They were simple because at the end of the day, he's still only shy of 19 and hasn't exactly got cash streaming in but for you, it's more than enough. Enough to show his undying and devoted love to you.
"And this," he picks up one of the keys, "is the key to our flat in Busan. I know we should be living in dorms but I struck a really good deal with a sweet landlady. Don't think I could go a day in this life without seeing you, and if we live together then I'll see you all the time." Jaeyun smiles sheepishly looking at the key as he places it in your now ring-cladded hand.
Don't think I could go a day in this life without seeing you.
The tears streaming down your face once ones of happiness are now overbearing with sadness. You were letting this almost too-perfect boy go, all for the fear of losing him in the long run. It didn't make sense but it was too late. Your mind made itself up. It was easier to leave him now and cut ties than watch him break away from you piece by piece. Surely that hurts more.
Fixing your gaze on the key you sob and Jaeyun starts to panic, "Baby listen if it’s all too fast we ca-"
You forget how many times since you've been dating that you interrupt him just to kiss him but here you are for the nth time. You're cupping his neck as your thumbs situate themselves on his cheeks and he feels the cold ring against his skin, a small smile appearing.
Your hands find their way to his shoulders and massage them lightly. Jaeyun doesn’t beg for any reassurance because in his mind this is enough. Your kisses and touch are enough of a yes for him.
Jaeyun suddenly picks you up and carries you back down to the car. “I need to make love to you so bad but it won't be in a car.” His voice is disappointed but you knew Jaeyun wasn’t a big fan of fucking in the car. You’ve done it twice before but to him it didn't give him the space he needed to 'do you right'.
The car journey is filled with silent but desperate touches. Jaeyun is speeding to his home recklessly, all he is thinking about is you. He glances at the pinky ring and smiles; you are his, and he is undoubtedly yours.
As he parks in his garage and you both make your way up the stairs you feel him pawing at you desperately. Jaeyun pushes you into his room, his lips on yours messily and needing.
“Princess,” He groans as he feels your hand press against his groin, “you’re dangerous.”
You laugh, the last genuine one you’ll let out for a while you think. This will be your last time with Jaeyun, you decided on the way to his home.
His hands grab the collar of his t-shirt and yank it off in a smooth motion, leaving his bare chest in your eye line, the hickeys you gave him last week faded but still scattered. Quickly, he bends slightly, gripping your ass tightly and picking you, his lips all over your face. He lets a quiet ‘so beautiful’ escape his mouth.
“Jaeyun, fuck I need you.” He nods into your neck, gently putting you on the bed, his chest not leaving yours as he feels up and down your body.
“I know, Princess, you’re gonna be a good girl, and wait though, yeah?” The arrogance in his voice just turns you on more, declaring that you’re his good girl in a huffed-out moan that gets him out of his trousers in record time. The button of your jeans is undone and he tugs them and your underwear off, leaving you bare. “All mine.” he whispers to himself as he kisses up the inner of your left thigh, lingering longer the closer he gets to your center.
It’s so wet, desperate for his touch it’s like it’s crying for him. “You’re so wet baby, don’t even think I need to prep you.” He presses a butterfly kiss to your clit teasingly and you rapidly shake your head.
“No, Yunie, please.” You slip out the nickname that only seems to come out when your brain is so fogged in want that you can’t even say his name in full. His breath hits your sensitive spot when he chuckles at how desperate you are.
His hands crawl up to the top of your thighs to hold them down and open as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your hips push up, seeking his mouth where you need it most. Jaeyun presses soft warm kisses across your core before tracing his tongue slowly upwards.
Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping harshly as you plead for more. Being the perfect boyfriend he is he complies, groaning softly as he feels your desperation in your fingers tugging his hair. “Tell me what you want, love. Tell me what you need.” His voice is low and husky, his tongue working you faster awaiting further instructions.
“F-fingers. I want your fingers.” All sense of shame leaves your body every time he fucks you, not caring if you sound needy.
His tongue slides over your clit, hearing your plea, then gently moves his right fourth and middle fingers up to your heat, circling your entrance. “These fingers?” His mocking tone causes you to groan in aggravation, just yearning for him to do it. He swiftly pushes them inside you, opening you up. He watches for your reactions to make sure it’s pleasant for you and by your open mouth and head thrown back, he’s okay to continue. They hook into you and move back and forth in a smooth and sensual rhythm, touching you the way you like it.
Feeling your walls contract he knows you’re close to the edge, “Gonna cum on my fingers baby? So soon?” He inserts another finger which only adds to the pleasure running through your veins, the stretch feels magical.
You’re a moaning mess as he finds your sweet spot, thrusting harshly as he works it. “Let it all out, Princess. Show me how I’m making you feel.” His voice alone could send you tipping over, but it’s his tongue flicking your clit and sucking it that had you screaming his name loud enough for the whole house to hear. He doesn’t stop you, loving the sound of his name falling from your lips. “That’s it, angel, doing so good for me.” The three fingers continue inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm.
Panting, you get up on your elbows and look down at him, his mouth glistening with your release. You stare at him a bit longer, mentally capturing the image and keeping it locked away for a day until you need it again. On a day he isn’t with you. Any day after tomorrow.
“You’re so hot when you cum like that. Like I’m the only one that can do that.” Jaeyun mumbles against your skin as he kisses from your thigh to your stomach. His mouth feels the vibration as you laugh and he looks up, puzzled.
“Jaeyun, you’re the only person I’ve had sex with, of course you’re the only one that can do that.” He looks down at your stomach and laughs with you. Before the next sentence makes you feel like you’re stomach is in knots.
“And I’ll always be the only one, until the day we die, you’re mine forever, Y/N.” It’s innocent on his part but you feel sick as his kisses return to your abdomen. He won't be the only one you touch and you won't be the only one to touch him. “You’re thinking about something,” He doesn’t look at you but lays kisses on your chest and neck until his eyes find yours, “Tell me.”
His iris’ bore into yours and you push down whatever thoughts you have, determined not to ruin your last night with him. “Just that I want you to fuck me.” The back of your hand strokes his cheek and a flip switches inside him that went from concern to lust.
Grabbing a condom from your drawer he slips it on with earnestness.
The head of his cock is suddenly at your pussy, sliding up and down. He slaps it a few times against your clit, his signature move and you can’t get enough of it. “Say please and I’ll think about it.” There he was, typical Jaeyun, but you knew he was just as needy as you were at this point.. As you let out a whispered ‘please’ he kisses you, his tip penetrating, “Good girl.”
A deep breath leaves him as your walls squeeze him. He’s slow and teasing, filling you up slowly at first until he can’t hold himself back and his thrusts become more urgent, determined to make you feel good. Your combined moans echo around the room as you both lose yourself in the moment of the intense act.
Jaeyun’s left hand finds yours, clasping tightly as he fucks you hard. A loving smile plasters over his face when he looks down at your joined hands and feels your matching pinky rings sit next to each other, his love for you so evident, so pure, even in this lustful moment. His heart is filling with adoration for letting him be yours. Bringing your hand to his face he kisses your pinky tenderly.
Your body is so overcome with love and emotion that you start to cry, crying over the love you have for him, the love you’ll lose.
“Hey,” His voice a whisper as he stills in you, “Princess, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” The concern in his voice drifts through our ears and you move your head from side to side.
“No baby,” He hasn’t hurt you, but you’re going to hurt him and it makes you cry harder. “I love you so much.” You sob and laugh knowing how ridiculous this looks on the surface. Jaeyun smiles adoringly at you, the hand that once held yours now wiping your tears away.
His lips kiss the apples of your cheeks to clean the last bit of wetness and sighs, “You had me worried, sweatheart.” He brushes your hair off your face and says, “I love you too. Till my last dying breath.” A sob leaves you again but Jaeyun’s soft thrusts bring you back.
As his hips find the perfect rhythm again your worries leave you for the time being and focus on how good he is making you feel. “S-so good.”
“Yeah?” The cocky face he has falls into a pleasured one as your cunt squeezes him tight, “Jesus fuck, Y/N, take me so well. Love you so much.” The way the raw emotion is pouring out of him you beg yourself to do something reckless.
“The c-condom.” You say breathlessly and he slows down, one of Jaeyun's eyes opens
as he comes out of his aroused daze and mutters a ‘huh?’, “The condom, take it off.” His eyes shoot open and he stops again to your annoyance.
He re-adjusts himself, his hands placed at each side of your head. “I don’t think I heard you right.” Jaeyun was always cautious, always careful. Not once, despite his sometimes desperate need, has he ever fucked you without a condom. “You want me to fuck you without it?”
“I need to feel you.” His cock sits half in you making it easy when you slip off him, “I want to feel it all.” He leans in with his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and his chest moving fast. “Please.”
Running a hand through his hair now perched on his knees above you he thinks about it. “You’re still taking the birth control?” He sees you nod and point to your desk where you keep all your medication. “Every day.”
He huffs and mutters, thinking about what consequences could come from this.
“Fuck it.”
You smile at him, grateful. If this was going to be the last time you had him, you needed to have him completely without barriers. He peels off the wet condom and throws it in the bin beside your desk before crawling forward back on top of you. “You sure?” Nodding you wait for him but he doesn’t move, “Use your words, Princess.” His hand holds your cheek as he awaits your verbal permission.
“I’m sure, Jaeyun. Fuck me.” It’s almost like the first time you had sex with him when you lost yourselves to each other, a new experience to share. Another first.
After your confirmation, he slowly enters you again and Jaeyun wishes he had done this sooner, feeling every bump of your walls cuddle his cock overwhelms him and he lets out a low groan, almost collapsing on top of you and cumming right there and then.
You match his experience, feeling pleasure like never before. “Jaeyun…” You slip your hand down to circle your clit but he slaps it away, “Nu-uh, mine.” His possessive tone and his raw cock have you convulsing around him, two seconds from bliss. His middle finger rubs up side to side on your hard sensitive nub, exactly what you were going to do but better, and you cum for the second time, but this wave so hard that the breath is knocked from your lungs.
Jaeyun doesn’t let up, feeling your raw pussy cumming around him only has him striving for release, the sooner the better. If he doesn’t cum soon he might get addicted and never let his dick have a rest. “That’s it, baby. So fucking beautiful when you cum on my dick like that.” His thrusts get sharper, more determined, and focused as his head falls back, “You’re so fucking perfect. Made for me, only me.” You cry out as he continues to rub your clit and pound into you, he’s overstimulating you but you don’t care, you need it.
“Cum inside me baby, fill me up, please, please.” You grab his face and stare into his beautiful big eyes and he cums. So deep. So beautiful. You feel every drop coat your walls, giving you the feeling of utter bliss. His mewl is loud and his hips stutter inside you, continuing to spurt his seed like an ever-going fountain, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.
“Fuck, Princess. Pussy is taking it so well.” Jaeyun’s kiss is welcomed on your lips as you smile, aware of the cum leaking past his cock inside you and onto the sheets.
As you both regain composure and your eyes meet you both laugh loudly, his body weight falling on top of you. “You’re fucking incredible.” He kisses along your breasts for a while before easing his cock out of you, the sight of his white cum dripping from you almost makes him hard again. He is so pathetically in love with you, and this just made him wish the ring he gave you was an engagement one.
His hands reach out for yours as he stands up, “Come on, Princess, let me get you cleaned up.” You take his hand gladly but he abruptly lifts you bridal style and stares at you, “I’m so happy you’re mine.”
_____
The next morning you wake up with your boyfriend's naked body draped over you, his ring shining in the sunlight. This is it. You had one more day with him but after last night you couldn’t risk another second with him. Every inch of your body is saying your reasoning doesn’t make sense. If you were so in love you could make long-distance work. But you had made your bed so now it was time to wallow in it.
Busan will have lots of pretty girls, far more spectacular and interesting than you will ever be. He’ll be fine. Deep down you know this will hurt him but Jaeyun is strong, he’ll get over it.
Getting dressed quietly and stealing glances at his sleeping figure you hold in tears. You’re so stupid for this. You’re leaving the love of your life because you’re scared of losing him.
Silently, you slip the ring off your pinky finger and place it on his dresser. The thought of leaving a note crosses your mind but as your boyfriend stirs you realise there is no time for that. You need to leave while you can.
As you sneak out the front door, the sun is shining but there is a bone-chilling breeze that cuts through you, you know it’s going to pour down later. Your phone vibrates with an email from your college. During the night you emailed to ask if your accommodation would be ready earlier and you presume this is the reply.
Mail: From: Avanti College RE: Housing Enquiry.
Dear Y/N L/N,
I am responding to your inquiry regarding accommodation. The room is available as of today, however, there is no concierge available to give you your keys. Your assigned roommate has been made aware of your occupancy and is expecting you today and will let you in. Please collect your accommodation key on the date previously arranged.
Kind Regards,
Cho Min Woo
Head of Accommodation and Living.
You let out a breath you never even realised you were holding. It’s now you against the world and a roommate you don’t know whether hates you for intruding early or couldn’t give two shits. Making your way home you start to run, you need to grab your bag, book a bus, and go. No looking back and definitely no overthinking.
Thankfully you took the liberty of packing earlier in the week so you could make a mad dash out the door if needed but you still had to let someone know where you were going. The last thing you needed was your face being posted all over socials on missing persons blogs, they didn’t need to think you were dead. So when you enter your bedroom you grab a pen and pad that are sitting on your desk and scribble a note to your mum and dad. You don’t go into detail, just the basics saying you need a fresh start in a new city. You contemplate whether to include the college but they’d just drive up and drag you home, or worse, tell Jaeyun.
As you sign the note with your name you’re holding your breath and tears. No more seeing this room, or your parents, or Ryujin, or Jaeyun. You fucked up so bad but you need to see this through. For your future. If you give up on your plan now you really don’t have a future and you’re stuck here, and to you, that is scarier.
_______
Incoming Call: My Love <3
Missed Call (67) My Love <3
Missed Call (34) Dad
Missed Call (23) Mum
You sigh and turn your music up. The bus is fully loaded as you managed to book one of the only two coaches leaving for Pyeongchang. Your hands are shaking as you click on the messages sent by Jaeyun.
07:30 am Princess, where are you?
07:30 am Are you coming back to bed? xx
07:49 am Y/N I’m getting worried
07:52 am Pick up your phone baby please talk to me
07:52 am If I pushed you too far yesterday I’m sorry…
08:16 am Why are your parents saying you’ve left?
08:16 am Baby don’t do this
08:17 am What does your letter mean ‘I need a fresh start from everyone and everything’
08:17 am You aren’t leaving, right? You’re not leaving me, are you?
08:23 am Please please please
The messages continue down the same route until the very last few sent only minutes ago.
10:32 am I will search every part of this country until I find you
10:32 am You can’t expect me to just forget about you? Will you please answer your fucking phone?
10:34 am Y/N…I can’t make you answer me, or love me, but just know I love you and I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m leaving for Busan in two weeks. Come home then and you won’t hear from me again. Don’t leave your parents like this baby they can’t lose you.
10:34 am I can’t lose you but if it's what you want…I’ll go.
A new message pops up on the phone from Jaeyun as your eyes are blurred with tears.
10:41 am: I love you, I won’t ever stop. My heart is yours, always. Until the sun stops shining.
You let out a sob so loud the whole bus turns to you. Putting a hand over your mouth you bow in apology and proceed to block everyone’s number, when you get to Pyeongchang you’ll get a new phone.
________
Jaeyun’s heart hasn’t stopped breaking since you left. He thought you were happy about your future together, all for you to have planned a whole other life without him. It hurts. Physically and emotionally he doesn’t have the courage to do anything but try and understand you.
Did he read you wrong? Did he force this foreseeable life on you? Did you just not want him? It’s impossible for him to comprehend and it’s driving him crazy.
As he pulls up back to his house he sees Heeseung’s car in the driveway. He can’t deal with this right now. He loved Heeseung of course but he just wanted to go home and try and think through everything that had happened this morning. Sighing, Jaeyun makes his way up the stairs, ignoring his parent’s questions of ‘Where have you been?’
“Jake my man! Tell me how it went, you went radio silent last night, I’m presuming that meant it went well.” Heeseung says wiggling his eyebrows as Jaeyun walks into the bedroom, his head hung low to hide his swollen eyes. “Jake? You okay?”
It’s a question he doesn’t know how to answer so instead he tilts his head back to stop the tears and exhales loudly. “Did-” Heeseung stands up and cautiously makes his way over to the younger, “did she not like it? What did she say?”
Jaeyun looks everywhere but Heeseung, his eyes hazed with tears and then he catches a glimpse of the ring on his table. Uncontrollable sobs leave him and Heeseung brings him forcefully into a hug. “She left.”
The worry that was on Heeseung’s face quickly changed to astonishment. He was flabbergasted by Jaeyun’s statement. “Jake, what do you mean she left?”
“Me, us, her family, she left everything behind.” The crying only got louder the more he spoke, muffled by his best friend’s chest as he nuzzled in further for comfort.
“Let me call her-”
“No use, she won't answer. She’s going straight to voicemail. Not even her mum can get a hold of her.” Jaeyun steps back and fetches the note from his jeans pocket and silently hands it to Heeseung. As Heeseung reads the letter, Jaeyun walks towards the ring and picks it up, anxiously biting his lip as he looks at it. His promise to you lying in the palm of his hand. Jaeyun starts to remember all the times he spoke about marrying you, even when people said young love doesn’t last you both just shut them out. A part of him wonders if they got in your head and he was too wrapped up in everything he didn’t notice, didn’t give you the reassurance you needed. But then, wasn’t this ring reassurance enough?
“What the actual fuck!” Heeseung exclaims, pulling Jaeyun out of his trance. “Jake…fuck, what the fuck is she thinking?” Somehow Heeseung is more angry than Jaeyun. He grips the letter tight and waves it in the air, “So she didn’t accept the ring?” The glint from the silver flashes in front of Heeseung as he stares with wide eyes.
“She accepted it. Last night went better than I could have imagined,” Jaeyun starts, “It was this morning she left.” A slow tear falls from his right eye as he finally makes eye contact with his best friend. “What did I do, Hee?”
Nothing. Heeseung knew the puppy-like boy had done nothing wrong. With two long strides, Heeseung pulls him back into a hug and almost crushes him with the pressure. Jaeyun liked hugs like this the most, ones that had intent and emotions. Heeseung was fuming and Jaeyun was breaking. Fire and Ice reacting to the same situation.
“You did fuck all wrong, Jake. I don’t get what's going through her head.” He huffs and pushes Jaeyun so he is arm's length away, his hands gripping his shoulders as he stares into his eyes, “You did everything right, she’s just-”
“Don’t. Don’t say anything about her okay? You don’t know her. She wouldn’t do this without a good reason.”
“And what? She couldn’t tell you what the reason was and instead pussied out and left? She should have told you she was leaving last night before she got your hopes up and accepted that ring, no?” Jaeyun knew Heeseung was right but his love for you was still as strong as ever so his instincts kicked in to defend you.
“Fuck you man you don’t get to speak about her like that. I might not understand it now but I don’t doubt in my mind she did it for a reason she thought was valid,” Jaeyun is pushing Heeseung out the door, his voice low, dangerous, “She wouldn’t have told me last night to protect my feelings.”
Heeseung looks his friend dead in the eye, a flame behind them Jaeyun hasn’t seen before. “Yeah? How are your feelings right now then? Do they feel protected?” Silence. The whole house is still as he scoffs and sticks his tongue in his cheek. “Think about that.”
Heeseung storms out of the Sim residence and Jaeyun slams his door. How could Heeseung say that when he doesn’t even know the reasons behind your departure? Jaeyun is envious of him in reality. He wants to be that mad and get out all his feelings. But for now, he’ll wallow in this hurt for a few more days. Everything will come crashing once he leaves for Busan to your shared-
His flat.
#enhypen smut#enha smut#jake sim#jake sim smut#sim jaeyun smut#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#jake x reader
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Text
Wood You Be Mine?
Pairing: Lumberjack!Joel Miller x reader
Word Count: 2,667
Summary: Your work and Grandmother bring you away from the city and into the mountains and you find more than just some peace and quiet.
Author's Note: I'm really enjoying these AU's with Joel! Been fun to explore and he wears enough flannels LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: it's fun and flirty and reader is sassy and Joel is grumpy and it's fluffy and soft too!
Joel Miller Masterlist
After several miles of driving along a bumpy dirt road, the cabin appears. A puffing chimney tops a two-story log house, and red checkerboard curtains line the windows. You park your car in front of the porch. The only other vehicle you see on the property is an old blue pickup truck.
When you step out of the car, a rhythmic pounding echoes from the backyard, somehow in tune with the abundance of sounds from the surrounding woods.
You sneak around the side of the porch hoping to catch a glimpse of your newest client. He’d reluctantly agreed to have his cabin featured in your magazine but only because the story was about eco friendly homes built by their owners.
You round the corner of the house and stop dead in your tracks. You had no idea what the man looked like from the front, but from the back…well you liked what you saw.
His strong arms raise an axe high above his head, then crush it down on a log propped on another stump. The corded muscles of his forearms flex with every movement and his biceps are barely contained by the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel.
Faded and worn blue jeans hug his ass and thick thighs and a pair of scuffed up work boots complete the ensemble. A real-life lumberjack.
He stops momentarily, leaning over to grab a rag, and wipes the handle of the axe. He swings the axe again, splitting the log in front of him, and the two half pieces tumble to the ground.
Whatever noise of appreciation comes out of your mouth was not meant for his ears but suddenly, his head whips around and he levels you with an aggravated glare.
He drops the axe to the ground and stalks over to where you stand, his dark brown eyes narrowed and his soft lips tight with his gritted teeth.
“Can I help you with somethin’? Since you’re trespassin’?” he rumbles.
His eyes rake over you and he glances toward the sky.
“From the city?”
You bristle. “Yeah, and what’s it to ya?”
He snorts. “Those boots look real practical darlin.’ I’m sure they’ll come in handy for the next snow storm.”
You look down at your heeled feet. “We plow snow in the city. Super convenient. You know since people like to get a life. Do things. Instead of hiding away in the mountains.”
He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Uh huh. Well, good for you. Any reason why you’re interrupting me.”
“Just here to take the pictures for Mountain Living magazine.”
You rummage through your bag and pull out some papers, passing them his way. You can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf them.
“So you’re the photographer.”
“Yep,” you answer, popping the p and giving him your name.
“Joel Miller,” he grunts and stands to his full height, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.
You smile brightly and bat your lashes.
He scowls.
“Let’s go inside so you can take your pictures. And then you can get back to your fancy city life.”
You follow him inside, careful to avoid the mud puddles. A loud, keening screech shatters the silence and you yelp in surprise. You slide in your boots and bump into Joel, grabbing his thick bicep for safety.
A huge bird swoops by and lands on a nearby tree branch, ruffling it’s feathers and eyeballing you. Your fingers flex on his muscle and you gasp.
“What is that? It looks like a dinosaur! Is it going to eat us?”
“It’s just a hawk darlin’,” he answers with a shake of his head. “Shit, don’t they have any birds in the city?”
“I mean sure,” you begin, “but they are small and hop around a lot.”
He stares at you, unmoving. “Well, you’re not in any danger. Unless it decides to take a shit on your head.”
He says it without cracking a smile.
“Aren’t you hilarious,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.
“Why exactly are you up here in the wilderness?” he asks. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”
“Other than work…I’m visiting my grandmother. She lives up here and I’m staying with her for the next month. Getting some fresh air and all that.”
“Just as you step up onto the porch you hear a whining noise. A fluffy yellow lab ambles over and sits on your boot, wagging it’s tail and looking up at you with big brown eyes.
“Who’s this?” you ask as you lean down to pet the dog.
“That’s Winston.”
“He’s a lab right?”
“Yep.”
You cough to hide your laugh. “He’s very cute but I thought it was mandatory for all people living here to have some huge breed like a Pyrenees or Saint Bernard.”
“Does your grandmother have some giant dog?” he asks.
“Two Swiss Mountain dogs actually. Bert and Ernie.”
He surprises you with a huge smile. His whole face lit up, his eyes even crinkling at the corners.
“Nice names. I like your grandmother.”
“She’s the best. Even if she worries too much about me. She wants me to move out of the city and come up here for the cleaner air!”
He opens the front door and ushers you inside. “She has a point. It’s much healthier here.”
“And boring-er.”
The door bangs shut behind him.
“That’s not a word.”
“It should be. At least up here.”
He doesn’t look amused and instead walks over to small desk in the corner and shuffles some papers.
You take a look around and blink in surprise. It’s gorgeous. The granite fireplace is surrounded by hand-made wooden furniture and the high ceilings and large windows create a rustic and beautiful scene.
“You look shocked,” he chuckles from behind you.
“Oh,” you startle. “It’s just…it’s so beautiful. How did you do all this?”
He smiles again. “It took a lot of time and sawdust.”
You walk around, running your fingertips over the curves of the furniture and firing off the names of all the different woods it’s made of.
“How do you know so much about that?”
“I’ve taken enough pictures of furniture and asked enough questions to know most types of wood,” you explain.
“Well, now, isn’t that funny. City girls knows all about timber but is scared of the outdoors.”
“I never said that!” you grumble.
“I could see it all over your face when the hawk flew by! You look around like somethin’s gonna jump out and eat ya!”
You narrow your eyes and step closer to him. “That’s just not true. I’m not scared of the woods…I’m simply afraid of…of…certain large mammals that might enjoy life in the woods…you know rubbing up against trees, eating berries and honey and maybe an occasional human!”
“What in the world…?” Joel smirks.
“I’m afraid of bears!” you say as you sit on his couch and slump back.
He tries to stifle a laugh. “I’m guessin’ there’s a story hiding somewhere darlin’.”
“I’m guessing my grandmother is expecting me for dinner. I better get started on the pictures so I’m not late.”
You shuffle with your camera equipment until you’re satisfied then start snapping shots. You’re in the zone and hardly feel Joel’s eyes on you as you work. When you’re done you pack up and hold out your hand to him.
“It was nice to meet you Joel.”
Your hand is engulfed by warm, rough skin and so much strength. You peer up into his face and expect a snarky smile but instead you gasp softly at the winded look you find. He blinks slowly and he tightens his grip before tugging on your hand.
Your boots slide across the hard wood floor until your inches away from him and his gaze drops to your mouth.
Your knees buckle when Winston slams against your legs and wiggles his body between the two of you.
Joel sighs. “Damn dog.” But he leans down and affectionately rubs behind his ears.
Winston sits on your feet and presses his body weight against you, relishing the ear rubs.
“Winston,” you coo as you join in.
“Sorry about him. He’s a big fan of affection.”
You clear your throat. “Isn’t everyone?”
His eyes level with yours and you get caught in his gaze, a warmth spreading along your skin.
“I better get going. I’ll be sure to e-mail you the proofs of the pictures so you can be part of the selecting process.”
You fly out of the house and into the car, tearing down the dirt road then peeking in your rear-view mirror to see Joel standing out on his porch.
“I need a drink,” you mumble before turning toward the small town.
Joel runs a hand through his already disheveled hair after he pulls into the parking lot of the general store in town.
He knows a hot cup of coffee will help and one of those muffins that the owner’s wife bakes.
The general store has it all…coffee, muffins, dog biscuits, a new axe…and you.
There you are, smack dab in the middle of the aisle stocked with wine. You grab a bottle and round the corner toward the register.
The owner, Mark, chats you up as you check out.
“Celebrating something tonight miss?” Mark asks.
“Actually no, just visiting with my grandma but I needed a drink,” you explain to Mark.
“Not sure that’s somethin’ your grandma should be drinkin’.”
At the sound of that familiar deep voice you grit your teeth and turn to face him.
The look of indignation on your face almost makes Joel laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching with his suppression.
“Grandma loves her wine Mr. Miller. And she’s old enough to enjoy it!”
Joel can’t hold back any longer and lets out a bark of laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
He steps closer and gives you a once-over before taking a sip of his coffee and raising an eyebrow.
You want to stomp your feet. “I’m surprised you even have wine in this town!”
“It’s not the middle of nowhere. We have electricity, indoor plumbing and the internet! It’s all very modern.”
“Oh yeah sure it is,” you tease. “That explains the jars of penny candy then! And if that’s what you call coffee…well…”
You look to Mark standing at the cash register, “no offense Mark.”
“None taken,” the old man says kindly, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Thank you Mark. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy this with my grandmother!”
You grab your bag of wine and march out the door, this time feeling the heat of Joel’s stare at your back.
“Is there anywhere else you want to go before we head back Grandma?”
She smiles and asks you to take her to the general store to visit Mark and get some coffee, telling you it’s been ages since she’s been in to see him.
“Sure Grandma. I’d get coffee too but I think I’ll pass…”
Your Grandma chuckles and pats your knee, still smiling.
As you walk around the store and listen to your Grandma talking with Mark you can’t help it as your thoughts wander back to Joel and the undeniable heat you feel whenever you’re near him. When you make it to the register your Grandma and Mark are talking in hushed voices, glancing your way and looking suspicious as you get closer.
“What’s going on?”
Your Grandma looks at you knowingly. “Mark here was just telling me that you took the pictures of Joel’s cabin for your magazine.”
Your eyebrows come together. “But how did he know that?”
“Joel told me,” Mark explains. “Said you took fantastic pictures. Really captured the heart and soul of his place.”
You smile at that and your Grandma’s face brightens.
“He’s a good man. A bit gruff, but good. Better than most actually.”
You look at your Grandma, letting her words sink in as you become more confused. “You know Joel?”
“Everyone knows everyone ‘round here baby,” your Grandma says. “And when I tell you Joel’s one of the good ones you best believe it.”
“Why should it matter to me?” you ask as realization dawns on you.
Your Grandma and Mark share an entertained expression.
“OH NO!” you say, far too loudly. “No way! There is no way in hell I’m getting involved with a big, cranky, grumpy, Lab-owning, house building, bearded lumberjack who lives in the middle of nowhere!”
Both your Grandma and Mark smirk and glance over your shoulder.
“Hi Joel,” Mark says. Good to see you again.”
You narrow your eyes at Mark. “Funny. You expect me to believe that he’s standing behind me?” Just how naïve do you think I am!”
A low rumble in your ear raises every hair on your body.
You turn until Joel’s face comes into view, his beard, complete with patches of gray, only inches from your lips.
“For the record, I’m only grumpy when people trespass on my property.”
He smiles and places some dog biscuits down on the counter before walking off down another aisle.
Your Grandma cackles. “Oh he definitely likes you.”
Mark nods enthusiastically in agreement before you look between them both and stomp off in a different direction.
Unfortunately that direction takes you smack into the hard chest of your grumpy lumberjack.
“Oof,” you mutter, closing your eyes when his strong hands close around your waist.
“You ok darlin’? You were comin’ round that corner so fast I didn’t have time to move. Sorry.”
“I’m fine,” you whisper, slowly opening your eyes until your vision is filled with the soft brown color of his.
“And by the way,” he continues. “I might be slightly grumpy, a lab-owner and a builder but I ain’t no lumberjack.”
“Really,” you muse, still standing close enough that you can feel his chest brush yours with his inhale. “Let’s see,” you point at his flannel shirt. “Plaid shirt. Check! Axe? Saw you use one of those! Check! Beard,” and you glance at his chin, your fingers slowly lifting until your brush them over his cheek.
“Check.” The last one comes out breathy and light.
Joel chuckles, dipping his head until his warm breath fans your cheek and his lips brush the shell of your ear.
“What do you say to lettin’ me take ya out for a bite to eat? There’s a local dive that makes decent food and I think they even have wine.”
You pause, trying to steady your shallow breathing.
“Well, I guess that might be okay. Considering there’s wine…and Grandma says the college boys are really cute here in town.”
Joel frowns. “College boys? I don’t think college boys would know how to satisfy a sophisticated city woman like you.”
He strokes his callused fingers over your soft jaw. “I think you might need a real man for the job.”
You still beneath his touch, then let out a slow breath.
“What makes you think I’m looking for a real man? Maybe I’ve sworn off all men for a while.”
“I don’t think you have any idea what a real man can do for you darlin’.”
Your eyes linger on his mouth and he clears his throat, but his voice still comes out gravelly and strained.
“Lumberjack men don’t fool around. What you see is what you get. And when we see what we want…”
He stares at your lips, pouting and inviting. “We take it.”
Your lips part on a breathy gasp before you recover and sass him with, “but you said it yourself, you’re no lumberjack.”
He just smiles and waits, softly tracing the outline of your jaw.
You run your tongue over your lips and stare at him.
“Okay. You can take me out.”
He grabs your hand and turns on his heel, pulling you right past the register and out the door.
(Don’t worry, Grandma got a ride home and is safe and sound- neither Joel nor our reader would never leave her hanging).
@pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey @littleseasiren @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @kmc1989 @hallecarey1
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#lumberjack!joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#lumberjack!joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller au#lumberjack au#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal
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