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mosaickiwi · 1 month

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Fall Unto Me (part two)

Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.

You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.

Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.

So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.

“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon.

You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.

“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.

You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”

“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"

The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.

Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.

“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.

“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall.

Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.

You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.

Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek.

A dull ache began in your back.

You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.

Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you.

“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.

Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”

“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.

It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.

Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.

The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason.

Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.

The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.

You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.

He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.

Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #o boi #heyyyy angelll #it's me the devil #angel!angel says feeling feelings feels bad!!!#except when it's good!!!#this was in rewrite hell sorry #the original thing was 3 parts but i cut a lot cause some bits didn't hit right in my brain #i am my own worst enemy #i mean i'm super happy with how it ends here bc ominous yearning and longing angst?? love her #if i decide to write more it'd be the absolute last one #and then infodump #or i could infodump now teehee!! shout out to the people in my askbox waiting for 4 months pls forgive meeeee

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pocketgalaxies · 2 years

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C3E12 || C3E34 (requested by anonymous)

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another-clive-blog · 4 months

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HOW HAVE I NEVER NOTICED THIS

LAYTON USES TU FOR FUTURE LUKE BUT SWITCHES TO VOUS THE SECOND CLIVE'S IDENTITY IS REVEALED.

Tu and vous both mean you but Tu implies closeness : in the entirety of Unwound Future, Layton only ever uses Tu with Flora, the Lukes and Claire

#I'm shaking crying throwing up #WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME.#He immediately uses tu for Future Luke which is A LOT #In real life we often stumble trying to know which one to use because vous is distance but also respect like for a boss or teacher #(Everyone except Claire uses vous for Layton because he's a highly educated adult and a gentleman)#Layton must really appreciate and trust Luke. He immediately went 'Oh that's a Luke of course he's a close one'#And it makes sense that he would discard the tu when he finds out that nope this is a total stranger manipulating us all #But also normal people would go from tu (affectionate) to tu (derogatory). Of course Layton doesn't as a gentleman but. Ouch #And he never goes back to tu not even after finding out Clive is the orphan he saved #I'm crying why are you doing that to me. It's so subtle I had NEVER noticed but it's there #Maybe the vous will go back to respect or pleasant distance one day but Clive isn't deserving of a tu. He's not Luke. He's a stranger #I HAVE to do a complete pronoun analysis one day. I've talked about it here and there but I need to do a big analysis #Professeur layton et le destin perdu #Professeur layton #hershel layton #clive dove #Been posting a lot of angst lately oops #Professor layton and the unwound Future #Professor layton and the lost future #Unwound Future spoilers #Lost Future spoilers

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askdarkpinky · 10 months

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#mod: you guys have NO IDEA how long I've wanted to upload this #this is something I've been thinking about for about a year and it's finally here #plus theres... more. thats all I'm gonna say xD #it feels so good to get this out finally even if it is almost 4am #I've been working on these in between commissions for so long dude omg #ask blog #ask dark pinky #dark pinky #pinky and the brain #animaniacs #angst lol

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snowthatareblack · 3 months

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he says, even though when we die in the second ending, he's on the floor carrying our lifeless body, crying his heart out, as his tears stream down his face and drip onto the floor where our body used to be, but is now gone without a trace like a ghost.

#yes i'm a writer #haha detailed angst i chose you!#no writer's block has been on my ass since the beginning of time so all this “talent” has been stored... s o m e w h e r e #yes I've been aggressively pumping out posts about Casper and A Date with Death because i love our babygirl too much #yes whenever i screenshot him or picture him (or both) i always include his whole hand and fingers cause yes #yes yes yes #a date with death #a date with death casper #adwd casper #a date with death grim #adwd grim #a date with death vn #casper a date with death #i legit just posted a couple of seconds ago now here's another one

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inhuman-obey-me · 1 year

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Heavy is the Crown

Word count: 930 Description: Being the leader of an entire realm is no easy feat, especially when you're not like rulers past. Inspired/based on Lesson 9 in Obey Me: Nightbringer, so beware of spoilers. Can also be found on AO3 here.

“When it comes down to it, you don’t accept us either, do you Diavolo?”

The Demon Prince isn’t sure what stings more – the alcohol making its way down his throat, or Lucifer’s sharp words from their earlier confrontation.

He sits alone now, the chill of the night settling in his bones despite the flames of the fireplace mere steps away. He watches how the flickering light passes through his glass, turning his current poison of choice to a fiery amber. A slight tilt of his hand and the slightly viscous fluid reminds him of honey, but the only taste left on his tongue is bitter.

Diavolo had become used to swallowing his feelings, his role as future ruler of the realm always priority. It did not matter how suffocating it could all be – the constant gaze and judgment of the House of Lords, the responsibilities of ruling an entire realm suddenly left to him as his father disappeared into the shadows, the strain of keeping the peace as his realm was shaken with instability – he had to be ever noble, ever present, ever ready-to-lead.

But it was in these moments, these quiet nights where he requested to be left alone, where he could allow himself to feel it all. The stress, the anger, the fear, the despair, the hurt. It was just all too much sometimes, too hard and too stifling and too complicated and oh, it was just too much! He has been raised for this all his life and yet still he feels he is finding his footing, trying to make sure what he does appeases those he disdains and those he favors, while also trying to always remain true to himself.

So, what was he to do? A strange human had suddenly appeared before him, with even stranger events occurring soon after. The former angels he had been trying so earnestly to support were finding themselves in unexplainable predicaments, one of them having gone on a rampage and destroying his home. The tension in the Devildom was at an all-time high, and the nobles were watching his every move, just waiting for him to slip-up so they could decry him as unfit to rule and nothing but a child with foolish dreams.

He downs his glass and pours another.

There had been so much he had wanted to say to Lucifer in that moment, to make him see that no, of course he didn’t feel that way! He wouldn’t have done all he had up until that point if he had seen them somehow as lesser, as not belonging. But he knew that had he not spoken carefully, even those words would have been twisted and misunderstood – a struggle he was seemingly dealing with more and more these days.

Diavolo slowly rises from his seat, glass still in hand, and begins to quietly wander through the hallways of the castle. He passes by numerous paintings – some portraits, some tales of Devildom history. Even these walls had eyes – always watching, always waiting.

He’s not sure if he meant to come here, or if his feet had just decided a destination on their own, but he finds himself in the Eastern Hall, looking upon one particular grand portrait that dwarfed the entire room with its emanating presence.

“What am I supposed to do, mother?”

Diavolo winces as he hears his own voice, meek and feeble. He rests his forehead against the gilded frame with a sigh, his gaze towards the worn stone floor. What was he doing, asking a portrait of the mother he never got to know? He might as well go asking his father, who retreated to the depths of the Devildom into an even deeper slumber. The answer would be the same.

Hah, he thought, have I always felt this alone?

He knew, despite all of his tumultuous thoughts and emotions bubbling deep in his chest, that he would have to once more go out with a charismatic smile and a steady hand. There was no one to make these decisions but himself, no one who could tell him what to do, what to say to make it all better and right. He had to lead, to show all those nobles who underestimated him that he was worthy of his position, even if they disagreed with his ambitions.

“Young Master?”

With a start and a flourish of his wings, Diavolo turns around to see Barbatos, looking upon the prince with a hint of concern in his dark eyes.

“...You’re bleeding.”

He’s confused at first, but soon he feels the ichor dripping down his hand – ah, he had cracked the glass in his grip. When did that happen?

“Oh – I’m sorry, Barbatos. I didn’t mean for you to see me in such a state.” Diavolo clears his throat, murmuring a spell to heal the cut. “I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“You don’t need to apologize, My Lord.” Barbatos gives him a kind smile, taking a step back and motioning back down the hallway from where he had appeared. “Why don’t you come back and have a cup of tea with me? I even prepared some of your favorite, hellfire mushroom cigar cookies.”

“...Thank you, Barbatos.” For the first time that night, Diavolo felt a smile curve his lips, a weight slightly lifted off his head and heart. “That sounds lovely.”

That’s right, he wasn’t alone – he had, at the very least, a friend here beside him who chose to stand by him and his ideals.

He wondered if he could perhaps soon find more.

#i'm not particularly happy with how this came out but it's out of my system at least #i've gotten rusty u_u #anyway here's some dia angst #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me diavolo #om! diavolo #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #omnb #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #writings

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jungkook97 · 1 year

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fling;; jjk

pairing: canon idol!jungkook x reporter!reader

word count: 4.6k

rating: ma

genre/warnings: romance, angst

summary: you were interviewing bangtan and couldn't help but felt a level of closeness to the youngest member. soon after, jungkook ended up taking a liking to you, proposing that you two should meet up throughout the week while he was in town for a little fun.

notes: this has been a fantasy of mine. it's angst as usual, but it's more so of lost connections that the boys may have upon going on these promo cycles overseas.

this also exists within the decision to leave jungkook fictional universe from the perspective of the reader.

You were nervous. Very nervous.

Your hands were shaking a bit, clammy as you wiped the sweat off on your dress as you checked your Apple Watch for the fifteenth time. It wouldn’t really change anything but more so of a tick that you had whenever you were nervous.

It was the first time you were assigned to interview with an A-list celebrity, or rather, an A-list group. You followed their careers from nearly the beginning, slowly becoming a major fan (minus the unhinged nature of being a stan, of course). It was as if you were living your dreams out in reality, something that you never thought in a hundred years or even this lifetime that you could do.

And so, you held your breath as the time ticked closer and closer to their arrival. The staff had arrived to go over some topics that you couldn’t talk about, the usual: dating, anything super personal, and anything that would be anti-capitalistic (although you had a feeling that some of the members wouldn’t have minded having such conversations). You knew the drill at that point as you zoned off, thinking about how you would be interviewing the biggest band in the world, talking to them and them actually responding back to you in real time.

It was hard to grasp for you. Like everyone else, you always saw BTS as a group that meets a lot of people every single day, not really being able to distinguish faces or fully pay attention like operating on autopilot. The idea that they would be perceiving you drove you insane as your heart thumped ever so loudly in your eardrums, wondering who you saved in a past life to deserve interviewing a group you admired for so long.

Eventually, the time came to usher them in, and you held your breath in anticipation, continuing to self-soothe yourself by rubbing your hands on your thighs as they walked in one by one, looking exactly the same. You had seen them in concert in the press boxes, maybe a few times up close as a fan, but having them bow to you in greeting…it was a lot.

“H-hi,” you mustered all the courage to start the greeting, meeting eyes with every single member slowly, taking it all in. They responded, leaving your heart leaping for joy and also with an uncomfortable, but not uneasy feeling in your throat. You felt like it caught a mass while you were waiting for them, but you knew it was just simply nerves. “S-sorry if I’m too nervous around y’all–”

All of them started chuckling, with Namjoon putting his hands up in attempt to comfort you (it did a bit).

“It is totally okay,” Namjoon spoke in his usual deep voice, perhaps an octave lower than you anticipated. “We get this pretty often, actually.”

You flushed in embarrassment, shifting in your seat trying to feel a bit more comfortable. You could feel the heat of all seven of them having their undivided attention to you, and the studio lights being as hot too. You weren’t sure if you were sweating everywhere else, if you smelled, if you shaved enough to get rid of any peach fuzz, or if you put enough makeup to look just as gorgeous as they were.

It didn’t matter anymore. You were in the moment. Too late to go back now.

You took a quick deep breath, exhaling slowly as you heard your cameraperson stating that they were ready to roll.

“Let’s begin.”

It was easier than expected. Your nerves got the best of you at first as you stuttered the first few questions out before taking a five minute break. It was embarrassing, but the boys understood, trying to coax you and comfort you by stating that they get it often.

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to be another young fan acting like a high school girl around their crush!” you laughed, wiping your tears away from the welling of tears as you were overstimulated (you had disclosed to them awkwardly about your neurodivergence, something that Yoongi immediately nodded and expressed his understanding much to your surprise).

“You’d be surprised,” Namjoon reassured, smiling. “There was a male reporter earlier that kept freaking out about Jin-hyung.”

“Really?” you chuckled as the members nodded in agreement, talking to their oldest in Korean, probably teasing him. You weren’t fluent in Korean, but you could tell from Jin’s red ears that they were making fun of the situation.

“Yeah, it was funny,” Hoseok said, his light and bouncy voice filling up the room. He had become as fluent as Namjoon was over the past year after having spent a year in the U.S. after his enlistment. “Like, I think he got a…crush?”

“Ey, no~” Seokjin protested, you understand for him to disagree. He spoke some more, in which the interpreter from the earpiece all of you had translated, “He was a fan of all of us.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was just you,” Hoseok pressed via interpreter. “I can tell he was one of us,” he pointed to him and Jimin (the both of them had come out to the public two weeks ago together as a part of the LGBTQ+ community).

“A crush, huh? Worldwide Handsome getting everyone!” you laughed as the interpreter did as well, translating for the rest of the team. Everyone agreed, giggling as well.

“Can we continue?” Namjoon piped in, his index finger imitating an old film camera rolling. You nodded, gesturing to the cameraman to continue.

You and BTS talked about a lot of things at length, questions that you never thought you would ever say to them. Surprisingly, a lot of the more “controversial” opinions got past the company, perhaps from all the work the boys had done to be as transparent to the fans as possible. Most of what you speculated the boys had felt during their hiatus were validated, and some were debunked to your surprise. You were shocked to learn that most of them had a lot of control over their solo activities, if not complete control despite what the conversation was at the time on Twitter.

Eventually, the boys turned the mic back to you, asking something that caught you off guard.

“We heard you’re a huge fan of Jungkook’s,” Jimin beamed in mischief, nudging the youngest to pay attention. Jungkook had barely spoken at that point, but you had felt his eyes on you the entire time, getting you a bit flustered sometimes.

Jimin wasn’t wrong. You were the biggest fan of Jungkook’s, mostly ever since his sudden glow-up with his tattoo sleeve. You had a soft spot for the kid (you were a few years older than him), and seeing him grow into this confident and sexy late-20 something was satisfying for you to see.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered out, your hands covering your mouth in shock. “How did you guys know?”

“Ah…” Jimin trailed off, looking towards his other members. “I think Namjoon-hyung found your Twitter fan account yesterday?”

Fuck.

“What?!” you exclaimed, standing up. The members cracked up as Namjoon began to protest, putting his hands up. “You stalked me?!” you asked teasingly.

“No! It’s just…” Namjoon started stuttering as well, caught in the act. “I heard from our translator that you were a big fan and so, I did some digging…”

“Well, you did a lot of digging!” you argued back, laughing and flushing madly. You didn’t want to look at Jungkook at this point, although you felt he was embarrassed based on how much he was shifting in his seat from the corner of your eye.

You felt like you wanted to die. Die in a sense, you now knew that Namjoon saw your unhinged tweets about the group’s maknae. You wondered how far he scrolled down, if he saw your tweets crying about Jungkook’s sparkly ensemble at the last concert stop a few days ago that amassed to tens of thousands of tweets. You wondered how he even found it, considering that you didn’t even follow your fan account on your public one. Maybe you forgot to unlink it on your YouTube account, or maybe you had accidentally shared the numbers on your Instagram. It didn’t matter: Namjoon found it.

It grew awkwardly quiet, and you could still feel the gaze from the youngest. You were too scared to even look at him. What if he thought you were insane or unhinged? Did Namjoon even show the tweets to him? You were mortified at the thought of him staring in disbelief.

What was even worse is that he knew before you guys officially met, meaning he had been staring at you the entire time in silence, probably mortified that an obsessed, crazed fan of his was conducting the interview. In fact, it made sense as to why he was so quiet: he probably was judging you for being batshit nuts on your stan account about him.

“Ah, I shouldn’t have said that,” Jimin sighed loudly, his words being translated. “Now it’s all awkward…”

“N-no, it’s okay,” you lied, shuffling your interview cards. “I had a feeling you guys have your burner Twitter accounts just watching us,” you squinted your eyes at Namjoon. His cheeks turned red as you did the same, your heart fluttering.

“It’s just Namjoon,” Hoseok emphasized, even though you knew that to be a lie. “He has too much time in his hands.”

“Ey, shut up,” Namjoon said in Korean, chuckling. “Well…don’t you want to say something to Jungkook, maybe?”

You blinked.

“Say what?”

He shrugged, smiling.

“I don’t know, I thought you guys would be the type to want to say something to someone you really admire. I’m sure Jungkook would like to hear from his biggest fan,” he teased.

You blushed madly, laughing nervously.

“I didn’t prepare or anything,” you began making excuses, your eyes slowly moving toward Jungkook’s direction to gauge his reaction. It took a few seconds, probably from the interpreter for him to understand what was going on before he sat up straight immediately, clearing his throat.

“Yeah!” Jungkook exclaimed a bit too loudly, clearing his throat again. “I wanna…hear.”

The rest of the members echoed the same sentiments.

“Ah fuck,” you muttered. Not BTS putting you on the spot to confess your feelings. It wasn’t something you really wanted to do in front of the entire group and the crew, but the crew kept pressuring you to do it. After all, it would make great TikTok content. It was then you turned away from the group, just dying from embarrassment.

“Come on, it would be so cute,” your PD encouraged you.

“But it’s so embarrassing,” you whined as you flushed wildly, your back toward the group. “I have so much to say.”

“I’m sure Jungkook wants to hear all of it. He seems to really like you!”

Your heart skipped a beat from hearing that. That was true, the group and you kept having great laughs and teases throughout the entire interview.

“Fine, fine.”

You took a deep breath, nodding towards Nicole, their interpreter. You could see Jungkook leaning in closer as you began.

“You’ve always been my favorite,” you began. “And uh, I always admired that you always did what you wanted no matter how many people said you shouldn’t. You’re strong and rebellious, something that I admire because I wish I had half of that strength…”

You closed your eyes at this point, your eyes swirling in its eye sockets. You couldn’t believe you were saying this to Jungkook who was right in front of you. For a moment, you forgot that you were interviewing him, that it was a professional setting. You felt like you needed to say all of this, knowing full well how much Jungkook had felt insecure about his image change and how he was being perceived. He was pretty explicit about that in the recent lives you were able to catch, and you wanted to comfort him.

“And I know that a lot of people have a lot to say about you, and as an older fan, I just want to say…not all of us are like that. I’m not, at least. I want you to be happy, to be loved, to be able to not be restricted by society’s standards. I want you to know that I will always love you no matter what, that you will always be my favorite person. I hope one day, you will find someone or something that will make you feel like home, Jungkook. I want…”

You swallowed.

“I want you to be comforted. And unconditionally loved.”

You sighed deeply, shaking your head as you opened your eyes, looking right at Jungkook. You felt a bit confident after all of that as Nicole continued translating for him. He was listening intently, crossing his arms trying to digest all that you said.

“Ah…” he vocalized a few times, nodding his head. His eyes grew glassy as he closed his eyes a bit.

There was silence, this time more comfortable than before. You held your breath in anticipation, wondering how he reacted to that. Was it too much? Were you being a little too extra?

Fuck, that was too much was it.

“I’m sorry if that’s a lot,” you blubbered out, putting your hands up in defense. “I…kind of lost myself there.”

A moment of silence for the translations.

Jungkook laughed.

“Ah, it’s okay,” he said in Korean. “Uh…”

He smacked his lips together, his eyes looking at the floor sheepishly. He then looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness and joy.

“Thank you,” his voice echoed in your skull as he thanked you in English.

You looked away abruptly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. It was a lot, and you felt like you could die at any moment.

“Uh, let’s take a break, yeah?” Namjoon piped in. You agreed, taking your lavalier mic off and running straight to the bathroom.

Or rather, let’s end this so I can die in a corner, probably.

It wasn’t long until the interview was over, much to your dismay. While it felt like you were floating on clouds, it felt too short, too professional for your liking.

Ever since your confession though, you felt a pair of eyes intently following your every movement, or so you thought anyways. You never once coded Jungkook’s stare to be intense, but he was quite attentive after your little spiel, nodding and laughing at your jokes (even though it was off by a few seconds for translations). You wished that you were native in your own tongue, but as the interview went on, you surprisingly knew more than you thought, laughing at the supposed inside jokes they had. You guys went briefly over the infamous dumpling incident, which, at this point, had its own lore.

The boys felt approachable for once, although you knew for quite some time that they would be. You were similar in age with them after all, the same age as Namjoon give or take a few months. It felt like you were talking as friends rather than an actual interview that you were being paid to do.

Nonetheless, the interview was a success, and you were packing your things up to go home.

That was, until Namjoon approached you.

“Hey,” he began, startling you. Your eyes widened at him coming up, being his normal self.

“Hey,” you managed to say back, trying not to freak out. Is he about to do what I think he’s about to do? “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Namjoon put his hands in his pockets, smiling sheepishly. “I was wondering if you wanna get dinner with Jungkook and I. He told me he really liked your energy today, and was wondering if we could talk more over some food.”

Holy shit. Is this real?

“Uh….” was all your stupid self could say, gawking at him as if he said something completely unintelligible. “Um…”

Say yes, you asshole.

“It’s fine if you have to like, uh, edit and shit,” he continued, his eyes averting away from you, his voice trailing off.

Fuck, dude. Say something back. Say YES.

“Um…”

Then, you saw Jungkook at a distance, overwatching the whole conversation. His lips were pursed into a pout, his neck extending toward the direction of you two, perhaps trying to hear what was going on. There was no way you could be making this up. Jungkook seemed… interested in wanting to spend more time with you.

Romantic? Unsure. But definitely interested.

This wasn’t the first time a celebrity has asked you to dinner (in fact, you were a looker yourself, whether you liked it or not), but with BTS? They were more definitely out of your league. However, you felt like you had been friendly at this point, so why not?

“Yeah, why not?”

Dinner was a blast. In fact, it was the most fun you ever had.

While you and Namjoon exchanged even more funnier quips, teases and passionate arguments about life, you and Jungkook sat next to each other, just feeling rather comfortable. It wasn’t to say that you two were feeling each other up, but Jungkook, an avid fan of Namjoon’s, was taking your side the entire time, initiating contact here and there to definitely show more than just platonic interest. You were taken aback at first, recoiling your hand when he “accidentally” brushed his hands against yours, but after a while, you leaned into him, showing your desire to get closer too.

Jungkook wasn’t as shy as you thought he was, and by the time dinner was over, he was playing footsies with you, his shoulder leaning against your own but disguised as him getting a bit too drunk for everyone’s liking (well, Namjoon’s anyways). Namjoon showed signs of feeling like the major third wheel, but he was, after all, the wingman in all of this, awkwardly smiling his infamous smile when he felt out of place.

“Ah, you guys look really comfortable, huh?” Namjoon pointed the obvious out in his native tongue as you laughed. Jungkook leaned into you as you cupped his face with the biggest grin ever seen.

“He’s adorable,” you replied back. “Cuter off-camera, if you ask me.”

“Gag,” Namjoon teased. “You guys need a room?”

You were staring into Jungkook’s doe eyes at this point, the chocolate pools of wonder. He was deeply in love, or at least, enamored by your presence. It turned out he was feeling you as well throughout the interview, and something in the air felt right to him. Not per se, bells ringing in his ear (he was past the romanticism), but he wanted more. So much more than what you two could do in front of Namjoon.

“Can we use yours, hyung?”

It didn’t take long before you two fucked after Namjoon and the two of you parted ways. In fact, both of you leaped onto each other madly the moment the door closed behind you. Of course, it was met with the typical NDA the morning after, something that you were quite used to at this point. It was a given that your night with him would be done in secrecy and with a contract to never speak of it, but to be honest, you weren’t planning to do that anyways. Jungkook was yours, even if it was for a split second.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, you know,” Jungkook breathlessly said after some time had passed, your bodies entangled with each other under the pillowy white sheets. “I never felt like I could just connect with someone I just barely knew.”

You grinned back, kissing his lips and the rest of his face.

“Call it karmic,” you replied back.

Jungkook, not knowing what the word was, leaned back in confusion.

“Kar…mic?”

“Uh…” you struggled to find the Korean word equivalent, trying to run through your shoddy vocabulary. “Um…it’s like…fate…?”

You weren’t sure what the word was, although it seemed to be received well with Jungkook. His pupils grew dilated as his mouth relaxed into a comfortable smile. He closed his eyes, leaning against you.

“Ah…fate, right?”

You blushed wildly.

“Yeah…fate.”

For the next week, you two met up every night in between your guys’ respective craziest schedules. Thankfully, it was easy because you were able to attend their next show (at the request from the artist, of course). While the others were in the press box though, you were in the family and friends’ box in which Jungkook may or may not have secretly passed by to steal a kiss or a hug. The two of you had agreed that this would be a short thing, nothing too serious. After all, the language barrier was a bit rough, and you two were working professionals.

However, you couldn’t help but to feel more of a connection besides a little fling because well, both of you were totally into each other. He eventually gave his personal cell (or at least, the U.S. one he used in the States) to text, something that Jungkook admitted he didn’t do often. Adoringly, he had his read receipts on, and it looked like he always checked to see what you wrote, even if it took a good hour or two to respond.

“I’m getting better at it, okay? Heh,” he would write, sending butterflies in your stomach. He was making an effort, although you can never be sure if he was like this with other people. Not that it mattered, you knew what it was, and you weren’t going to be caught up in it.

As the days went on, you and Jungkook started sharing intimate details about each other, something that you only had when it was a real relationship. This confused you, but maybe it was because you used to be the only one who did it as a part of the neurodivergence part of your personality. You found out more about his flings, how much he craved for more than just fucking around.

“I don’t know,” he said one night as you brushed your fingers through his hair, his face buried deep into your chest. “I feel like…you know, I want something more with all of these people. Like…I’m wasting my time whenever I do these things, but…I can’t help it. How can I find someone when I’m Jungkook of BTS?”

It was a lot to take in, but you took it on like a champ. There were thoughts that you wondered what Jungkook would think about, and it felt unreal that he could say all of these things to you in the comfort of his hotel room, away from all the lights and the glitz and the glamour. In this moment, in this scene in your guys’ story together, he was yours.

“Do you want more?” you asked quietly. You weren’t sure as to what you were saying, but it felt right to ask.

He shifted his head and moved it up to see yours, closing the gap between you two.

“Always. I always want to be loved unconditionally.”

It was getting complicated, fast.

You weren’t sure how to end it. In fact, time was ending it for you. It was Jungkook’s last day in the States, and it seemed like Jungkook suggested you go on tour with him for the next stop, Central America. While you weren’t entirely opposed to it, you knew where this was going. Last time, a celebrity had suggested that you to do a documentary film on them, and while you were flattered, it was just another way to keep you around at their convenience.

It wasn’t to say that Jungkook was being selfish. Rather, it was the circumstances that made him think this way. With how restrictive the industry was, and how incredibly famous Jungkook was as well, it was hard for him to see people besides those closest to him, which at this point, had began to warn you during your time in the family and friends’ box at the shows about Jungkook’s quick attachment to people.

“I know he always says he doesn’t get attached, but he really does,” an ex-fling told you in confidence in between VCRs. “He told me he was going to keep it professional, but the guy lies.”

You were dreading it. Although you felt great that you slept with your favorite, it wasn’t your intention to get anything more out of it because well, what is there left? You signed an NDA, the company regularly asked if you two used a condom…it was getting invasive, weird, and it was starting to turn you off.

And so, the last night came through and you two met up again. This time, you knew it was the last time, and to Jungkook, maybe the start of something new.

As you began to pack up your things, Jungkook laid on the bed sprawled out underneath the sheets.

“So…Mexico…” he began. You sighed, knowing it was coming.

“No, Jungkook,” you replied, turning toward him. “As much as I liked this, I can’t travel with you.”

“I’m not asking for you to travel with me,” he rebutted, sitting up and grabbing his shirt to put it back on in one hand. “I’m just saying, come with me to the next show! It would be great coverage for the magazine.”

“Jungkook-ah, that’s not how it works,” you doubled down, zipping up your weekend bag before putting your jacket on. “I have to get approval from my editor. Plus, people are starting to talk, and frankly, I started getting texts from your fans about us.”

There it was, what you had been hiding. Honestly, you were used to it from the last celebrity you hooked up with, but this time, his fans, or his stalkers to be exact, knew everything about you, threatening to ruin your life if you didn’t stop fucking him. It was getting emotionally taxing, but you wanted to hide that from him. After all, you were confident that wasn’t his first time hearing this.

“They’re not my fans and you know this,” he argued, now getting up and putting on his Adidas track pants. “The real ones will know it’s a little fling.”

“Do they though? Do you though?”

There it was, the hard truth.

Silence enveloped between you two, and Jungkook stood there in the dark with his hands in his pockets. He was staring at you, his eyes clearly pleading for you to not leave.

“Don’t leave,” Jungkook’s words came after. “I know this seems a lot, but I really like you. We can make it work.”

Make it work…as if that could ever be a thing.

You walked toward Jungkook with your weekender bag slung over your shoulders. Slipping your shoes on as well, you came closer to him, his breath hitched as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you began. “We can’t keep doing this. This is our last night together.”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes closing slowly.

“I know.”

It didn’t take long before you two blocked each other on everything, pretending that you two didn’t exist to each other. It took a few more weeks before the fans stopped bothering you, probably focusing on the next fling Jungkook had.

And so there it was, you had a fling with one of the biggest stars in the world.

If only you knew what would happen next.

END.

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #writing #mine #this jungkook has been haunting my dreams for ever tbh bc you know. i'm in media and i can't imagine being in this position kdlahglshg #he totally would be so in luv but knows it can't go any further than that you know #but yeah i figured i can make a bit of a wong kar wai universe thing for decision to leave jungkook to flesh him out better #and someone did request to make stories in the pov of the reader so here u go!#yes i left it like that on purpose haha #dtl

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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Chef Au! A date night with fast food (chosen by Ava) and cheap wine (chosen by Bea)

it's not that beatrice's little chef outfits aren't simultaneously endearing and also hot, but when you open your front door and see her in sunglasses and a comfortable crewneck sweater, light, loose pants cuffed casually — although you're sure she was exacting about those too — and sneakers, you realize that you've kind of been missing out. or, really, maybe, she's a fuller person that you could've ever really imagined, only seeing her at her restaurant and a few vineyards nearby you'd tasted at together.

she smiles, a little hesitant, and hands you a simple, beautiful bouquet of lavender wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine. 'from my garden.'

'that's so gay,' you say, before you can stop yourself — but then she laughs and scratches at the back of her neck and you lean forward to kiss her cheek. 'i love them,' you amend. 'thank you.

she nods. 'of course.'

'let me put these in some water and then we can head out.'

'you can dry it, if you want.' she clears her throat, nervous and fidgeting with her watch. 'it's good for simple syrups and reductions. or baths.'

'that sounds dope. i love baths.' you wink and know she's blushing as you put the bouquet on your entry table — artfully cluttered — and then lock the door and turn back to her. 'ready?'

'yes,' she says, unlocking a practical and perfectly spotless electric small bmw suv, and then opening your door for you.

'why thank you, sir knight.'

she rolls her eyes and closes the door, then walks around to her side. 'where to, your royal highness?'

you grin, take her hand in yours while she starts the car. 'arby's.'

'fair enough.'

'i was going to pick panda express, but that seemed... weird?'

she laughs, which delights you. you don't think you've ever heard her laugh like that before. 'i love their orange chicken, honestly. but that's a god tier secret, okay?'

you mime zipping your lips and throwing away the key, which keeps a smile on her face. while she's driving, you get to take in the whole of her, greedily: her dark brows and the gentle sharp of her jaw, the soft buzz of her hair, the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of her sweater, the freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. and her hands: sure and precise, even just on the steering wheel. she's beautiful, and you're a little overcome. you count your blessings that you wore your favorite bralette and overshirt, wide-leg jeans that make your butt look incredible. your eyeliner is perfect and when you're at a red light, she turns and smiles at you like there's no one else in the world.

it knocks the breath out of you a bit, and you cannot start crying over how pretty a girl is within seven minutes of a first date; you thank your lucky stars when she fiddles with her phone and then some music starts to play.

'shit,' she says, scrolling desperately.

'carly rae?'

'i didn't mean to play that. i don't even know why it's in my liked songs.'

'here,' you say, and put your hand out for the phone because the light is about to turn green. you laugh when you see every single carly rae jepson album fully saved in her liked songs, and you take in the delicious pink of her cheeks when you look over at her with a laugh. 'well, emotion: side b is probably the best album of all time, so no judgement here.'

she bites her bottom lip.

'what were you trying to play, though? what did you think would, like, seduce me?'

'who says i'm was trying to seduce you?'

'well, the gay little flowers, for one. and the fact that you agreed to this silly plan in the first place.'

she waits until the next red light to lean over the console and kiss you — short, and gentle, and very sweet — and you revel in the feeling.

she backs away and turns her attention back to the road in front of you as you start to move again. 'is it working?' she asks.

you laugh.

you settle into her trunk after she parks on the overlook; she's put comfortable blankets and pillows in it so you can eat and watch the sunset, and it's tender and thoughtful and she puts a little fisherman's beanie on that softens her, even more, and it's all driving you a little bit crazy.

'well,' you say, after you both settle in with your chicken fingers, curly fries, and ranch — your order, which she'd promised she would eat — 'please break out the perfect wine to pair with the best dinner of all time.'

she nods very seriously, going along with your antics; beatrice is ultimately extremely serious in the kitchen, even if her food is playful: she hasn't gotten to where she is — one of the youngest chefs to be nominated for a james beard, among a billion other accomplishments she refuses to mention and you had only found out about through a recent write-up about the soft opening of her restaurant — without incredible determination and focus.

she's more playful than you had imagined, full of laughter and willing to be silly; willing to indulge the goofy idea you'd had for this date. she reaches around behind her and pulls out a small cooler filled with ice, then presents the wine with a flourish: 'only the very finest three dollar trader joe's chardonnay. it pairs wonderfully with chicken.'

her little posh accent and her genuine smile make the whole routine even better. 'that is... incredible.'

'you know,' she says, 'i've never failed an assignment.'

'now that i believe.'

she fishes out two red solo cups — which makes you laugh even harder — and unscrews the top of the wine before pouring it carefully. 'do you want to give your review?'

you go through the motions of how you would normally taste a wine, all a little exaggerated. you're one of the most sought-after sommeliers in the world: you can make or break vineyards and their yearly releases; you've been a part of a handful of opening restaurants that have won every award in the book. and, even with all of that, 'this might be one of my favorite bottles of wine i've ever had.'

bea scoffs. 'this wine is absolutely horrendous.' she pulls apart a chicken tender and dunks it in ranch, though, eats it without any complaint.

'sure,' you steal one of her fries even though you have a whole pile of your own. 'but the company elevates the entire thing.'

she turns toward you, the sunset fading orange behind her, turning her eyes gold. 'you make everything better.'

it makes you a little breathless. 'plus, you have to admit, these chicken fingers slap.'

it gets her to laugh, just like you'd wanted. just like you think you could spend your entire life wanting. 'maybe we'll put this pairing on my menu, then.'

'lilith would love that.'

'you know, it could be worth it, just to see her face.'

you scoot closer to her, talk about how her partnership with a local farm is going, how she's sourcing her cod from a fisherman nearby; you talk about your favorite vineyard, a tiny one tucked into the oregon coast — and those things are safe. those things are more of what you already know: she cares deeply about the earth and how her food fits into it; you want to share a stormy grey day and perfect pinot noir at a firepit with her.

and you eat your greasy fries and drink wine that is surely going to give you a headache in the morning. you talk about how she felt finally herself when she finished cooking school and took a job on the line, young and eager and fabulously talented, at a kitchen where she had support, where no one yelled at her, where she had a mentor that cared. you talk about the wine grapes you remember your grandfather growing in your small back yard, how you would eat them when you were small and describe the taste while you sat on your mom's lap. she teaches you her favorite word in chinese and you teach her your favorite word in portugese.

the sun sinks below the river, and you love her.

'do you — ' she bites her bottom lip — 'do you want to come back to my place? for dessert?'

'depends,' you say, and watch her face fall for a split second; you kiss her jaw to rectify that, 'what's on the menu?'

she huffs a laugh. 'i bought nestle chocolate chip cookies, for the occasion. they're in my freezer.'

'oh, fuck yes,' you say. 'i'm so in.'

'and, my company.'

'well, yeah, sure.' you roll your eyes playfully and pull her in for a kiss: cheap wine and grease and the softness of her skin under your fingertips. 'and that too.'

#restaurant au #honestly i'm calling it that bc i don't wanna leave ava out but i simply cannot spell sommelier right on the first try to save my life #avatrice fic #prompts #wn #one day i will research how one becomes a sommelier but for now... imagine whatever you want. i'll get to it lol #they're... very gentle & funny. no angst here

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